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Liv did, indeed, come out of her shower feeling the effects of the brain tubes. A cheery smile, a rummage through the closet to find something to wear, and she declared her intention of baking a pie. Major went out to get firewood, imagining a cozy night in front of the little wood-burning stove, just the two of them.

By the time he had chopped enough for a couple of days and piled it next to the fireplace, the air in the house was filled with the aroma of fresh-baked pie. "Olivia?" he called. The more formal name seemed to fit better than the nickname at the moment, so he went with it.

From the kitchen, she replied, "Just a moment, darling!"

He dropped the last of the firewood and followed the sound of her voice and the scent of the pie, smiling. When was the last time he had smiled just because he felt like it? He couldn't remember.

As Major leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, Olivia turned around with the pie, baked to perfection, in her hands, an answering smile on her face. She was wearing a pretty flowered dress, her hair and makeup done, the very picture of a charming wife. Major sighed happily. This was the way life should be.

"Now doesn't that just look marvelous?" Olivia asked. She meant the pie, but Major thought she was the real sight for sore eyes.

"Not as marvelous as you, dear."

She fanned herself teasingly. "I may have freshened up a bit." Gesturing to the dress, she said, "I found this in the bedroom closet. I sure hope the lady of the house won't mind my borrowing it." She smacked him gently on the arm with her oven mitts. "You could have packed an overnight bag for me, you stinker! Why, I don't even have a nightie."

"Can you ever forgive me?"

Olivia sighed, giving him that look that said he'd been naughty—and she kind of liked it.

Major felt his smile stretching wider, just thinking about the rest of the day ahead of them. "You know, I've fixed the broken front step and brought in the firewood."

"Well, I think that deserves another martini."

He followed her to the living room, where the cocktail supplies were set out.

As Olivia began to mix their drinks, she asked, "So, who does live here?"

"This is a safe house operated by Fillmore Graves, darling." He turned on the radio, searching for a good station. "One of our married couples lives here, and I can't for the life of me figure out where they've gone." Underneath the artificial good humor of the brain, he was really a little worried. The house seemed like the couple had just walked out, leaving everything in place, and that felt wrong to him. But it was hard to hold on to the concern when the strains of a beautiful and familiar song came through the radio, and with Olivia there with him just as life should be.

"Then we'll pretend it's ours till they return," Olivia declared. "If we wind up staying, we could put a tomato plant right outside that window."

Major tapped her on the shoulder, turning her around and taking her in his arms as the strains of "Only You" filled the room. Olivia gasped in pleasure as they danced, their bodies moving to the beat like they had so many times before. Major was vaguely aware that he was conflating his own history with Liv and the brain's history with the other brain, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that they were together.

Olivia laughed up at him. "Now, what will the neighbors think?"

"There are no neighbors. It's just us."

Her smile faded, her hand clasping his more tightly. "How I've missed being held in your arms."

Was that the real Liv, or the brain? It was hard to know, but he believed at least some of it was her. It had to be.

"Aw, that's just the gin talking," he murmured.

"No, it isn't. It's me." She frowned. "Isn't it?" Major looked down, unable to meet her eyes. "You sneaky pete, those brain tubes we ate weren't the regualar kind, were they?" She asked it with a smile, but he suspected that the Liv underneath the brains was seething at his little trick. If only he could make her understand …

"They come courtesy of a blissfully happy married couple who died together at the ripe old age of ninety-five." He dipped her, enjoying her gasp of delight. "I always did want to grow old with you." Which was nothing more or less than the truth, no matter whose brain was talking. Olivia laughed as they straightened and continued dancing, and Major added, "I know it's not real, but I'm having too much fun to care."

"Now, the brain isn't in total control," Liv told him, "and the truth is … I'm rather fond of you, you big Magilla."

"That suits me just fine." He dipped his head and kissed her, soft and slow, savoring the moment, because he had no idea how long it would last.

As the song ended, Olivia stepped back, straightening his jacket lapels. "What about some pie?"

"I love pie."

"Why don't we look and see if there's some ice cream in the icebox? And then maybe we can play some cribbage."

Olivia hurried into the kitchen. Major looked after her with a sense of well-being that he hadn't felt in ages. Ice cream and cribbage. If only that was the way they could spend all their nights from now on.