a/n: Quincy is struggling to ask for what he needs, but he's doing his best. Hope is being supportive.

Tenses are all over the place, please understand.

All the good things belong to Monolithsoft.

Finally Quincy broke eye contact with her. It felt like a shock, and Hope worried he had changed his mind, even though he had sounded so urgent a second ago. He took a determined step away from her, and her arm slipped out from his. He plucked at his chest, detaching a plate on his torso armor, and started digging around in an inner pocket. He pulled out a small silver box, about the size of the palm of his hand and flat enough to slip between the plating. His hands blocked her from seeing the markings on the top as he struggled to open it. She realized what it was and relaxed. She had seen enough of these on the Whale, on BLADEs in the city, to recognize it for what it was. She was ready for what he was going to ask. She knew she would say yes.

She prayed she could do right by him.

Quincy was still struggling with the slim metallic case. Maybe it was his gloves, although they were designed for the most delicate Curator work. Maybe he was nervous. In one terrible moment, he fumbled it, grabbing for it desperately, a curse of despair slipping from his lips. Hope reached to catch the case just as he managed to recover it, and together they stood, holding it safe. Their hands and fingers were cradled together, and Hope could examine the decorations now, intertwined rings with decorative swirls. When she looked up at Quincy, he was staring at her again, eyes pleading.

He slid his hands out from hers, leaving the box. "You should open it. I want you to keep it."

Hope held it out to him, already forgetting her decision. "No."

He didn't move to retrieve it. "I can't stand what a stranger might do to it."

"You won't be a stranger." They both knew that wouldn't be true after Quincy's procedure. She pressed the case against her chest, protecting it, protecting herself from the loss of her friend.

"Please. Could you open it?" Quincy asked her.

She couldn't refuse. She spared a second to take a better look at the cover. There were three butterflies, two small ones resting on the rings and a larger one with a trail of stars behind it. All of these, rings, stars, even the butterflies, were fairly common motifs for this sort of momento. Butterflies for rebirth and stars for hope and rings for devotion. She couldn't tell if the rings were made from original rings, and she didn't want to know right now. She could ask Quincy later.

Her confidence was returning. She could do this, not just as a way to pretend to help Quincy. She could do this for real.

She opened the case with the slightest click and turned it so that both of them could look into it. A family scene sprang to life, a tiny lighted tableau, silent but twinkling with motion. Two adults were seated in a garden, tiny infants in their laps, while a toddler, no, she was quick and graceful, she must be almost in school, a little girl was running around them. A third adult walked into the scene, clearly having set up the recording unit a moment before. He bent to take a wiggling baby from the mother. The infant calmed and rested its head on his shoulder, while the father put a protective hand along its back, keeping it safe. His back? Her back? The little girl joined the group, leaning down on the mother's knee. The scene froze and deepened, becoming more than a ghostly play. The colors became rich and solid. A family portrait.

Hope brushed the image, careful not to break into the light that made the forms. "Marie and Starr. She's four."

"Was four. It's okay. My daughter was four, almost ready for kindergarten." Weeks ago, Quincy had said the exact same words to her, struggling not to weep, when he'd told her about the family he'd lost on Earth. Now his voice only held a soft and sad love. "That was the plan for the fall. Starr would go to kindergarten, and the twins ... they weren't quite 6 months there."

Hope pointed to the other seated man. "Marie and Starr and that's Davey, and ..." She faltered. "I'm sorry, I don't know which twin is which."

"No one could tell from photos," Quincy said gently. "Barely anyone. That's okay."

"No, I need to learn this," Hope said firmly.

Quincy almost touched the image of Davey and the baby he was holding. "That's Jane. I'll tell you a secret: I'm almost always the one holding John. He did better when I held him. I told myself that." Hope glanced at Quincy, but his face was calm. The colors of the image lit his face, making him look less tired for a moment. "I think this was the only time all six of us managed a photo. I was involved with the Whale by then, thinking it would matter. I should have stayed with her, instead of Davey. Let him get his shot instead."

Hope ignored the swerve into might-have-should-have. "It's a lovely photo."

"Hope?"

"Yes?"

He was going to ask and she was going to have to find a way to say yes to him. She shouldn't make him say it out loud but she also couldn''t take that task from him.

a/n: Power outages may delay things, but you can't stop this ball of tropes that easily!

Next up: Quincy pops a question.