A/N- *Gasps when I see how many favs and followers I now have on this fanfic.*
Holy *bleep!* Guys, this fanfic has now reached around 100 favs on here! This is… just wow! I never would've seen this day coming! Seriously, I never imagined myself reaching this milestone with one of my fanfics, but here we are now! Not only that, CatRoN is currently in the top faved and followed fanfic in the Secret of NIMH fandom on this website! It is not often something like this happens, and I am beyond joy! This is literally a dream come true! When I started out writing fanfiction, the views naturally came in slowly, but the fact that in about five years, CatRoN has this many favs, followers, reviews, and views now is just mind-blowing, and it's because of everyone who gave it a chance and gave it a read! To everyone that has faved, followed, and reviewed this fanfic, thank you so much! I am so grateful my fanfic is where it is now—even when it has its typos and such—and it wouldn't have been possible without the people who have supported it! Working on this fanfic has been a fantastic ride, and I am more excited than ever to finish it. I hope you all will enjoy the following chapters when I get to them.
Speaking of chapters, I thoroughly enjoyed working on this chapter, and you will soon see why. Have a happy reading, and I'll catch you all later!
Reviews:
Lelouch-Strife: Well, all I can say is that you'll just have to keep on reading the chapters ^^
Fan Boy 101: Thank you! Lol, Jenner is a real rat indeed XD
Queen Kiara 36: Thanks! And if you have come this far along in the fanfic, you now have officially seen how Chris ties in with the rats of NIMH ;)
ric castle: Haha, you and me both, my friend XD
UNNES1000: That we are, and thanks a lot! Happy to know that you're enjoying what I've brought out so far ^w^
Chapter 24
Revealing Fully Blossomed Feelings
They scoured all the places Chris's flashlight and pocket knife could've been—outside Nicodemus's living quarters, the library, the training area, etc. But no matter where they looked, Chris, Mrs. Brisby, and Justin couldn't find them. About half an hour passed, and they couldn't keep everybody waiting anymore, so with a heavy heart, Chris had to board one of the boats with Mrs. Brisby and Justin without his items.
How could he have allowed this to happen? He should've double-checked to be sure his flashlight and pocket knife were snug in his jacket pockets, but because of his vacuousness, they were now gone. Chris was angry at himself, guilt hollowing in his stomach for solely losing the pocket knife, and if it never turned up, he would never forgive himself. He could almost see the disappointment in his late father's eyes plaguing his mind.
When Chris, Mrs. Brisby, and the rats' forms of transportation arrived at their destination, Justin promised Chris that they would find his flashlight and pocket knife and not give up hope. All the tiny human could do was nod and give him a weak thanks before he and Mrs. Brisby departed to the Brisby home so they could wait until dusk fell over the farmland and then meet Justin at the west side of the farmhouse. In the meantime, Justin, Nicodemus, Mr. Ages, and Arthur would go over the plan with the rats that came along to help move the Brisby home and assign them tasks while Chris and Mrs. Brisby would try to preoccupy themselves the best they could to try and kill some time.
Chris and Mrs. Brisby traversed through the thicket, and while they did, they were silent the whole time—mainly the tiny human. All Chris could do was live out each scenario in his head, like what he could've done better to prevent this, how he could've kept his flashlight and pocket knife much safer, and so on. He had no one else to blame but himself, and he internally cursed at himself.
"Don't worry, Chris," Mrs. Brisby said, breaking the ice. "If Justin says we'll find your flashlight and pocket knife, then we will. There still is hope."
Chris appreciated his friend trying to lift him up with her words, but it did not subside what guilt he had left gutting him. "I can always get a new flashlight if it doesn't show up—that's if the amulet will ever unshrink me," he responded, having tried to smooth out the downcast expression on his face. "It's the pocket knife I can't afford to lose."
Mrs. Brisby's gaze held that wealth of understanding, but there was also a hint of concern and agog. "It means something to you, doesn't it?"
A warm, fluttering feeling flowed over him. could read Chris like a book, and a sense of contentment wormed its way through his chest. God, he loved that she didn't outright tell him to grow up and get over it but was willing to take the time to speak and listen with an open mind, which was a good quality about her. Another reason he liked her so much. Up to the point that it stirred his string of emotions—the better parts.
"It was a gift from my old man," Chris elucidated. "He wanted me to have one in case of emergencies, but also because he felt I was responsible and mature enough to have one. In his words, I was becoming a man, and a man needed to take on responsibilities."
The tiny human remembered it like it was yesterday—the pep talk his father gave him and the proud look rising on his face. Chris vowed he wouldn't let him down, and they embraced one another. His father had taught him as well as his mother, and he continued to carry their advice with him any day he could.
In retrospect, though, losing the pocket knife was like Chris had already broken that vow, and his face crumpled.
"Regardless of what becomes of your pocket knife, I know your father would still be proud of the man you came out to be," Mrs. Brisby forbearingly said. "Just because you lost your pocket knife does not mean you are a bad son. That was not your fault; you could not have foreseen that." Her fingers then wove through Chris's, sealing his breath in his throat, even though it was not the first time they held hands, and gave a light squeeze. "Life or death, your father would've understood, and remember what I said: don't lose hope."
The tightness in his chest, which Chris didn't realize was there until now, eased; her words were a balm to his self-reproach, giving him the equilibrium he needed. What would he do without her at that moment? The ghost of a smile tilted Chris's mouth, and he returned the squeeze.
"Thank you," he said, meaning it, "and I won't forget."
A small smile touched Mrs. Brisby's lips. "I know you won't."
Chris and Mrs. Brisby eventually arrived back at the Brisby home, and Teresa, Martin, Cynthia, and even Jeremy were there to greet them. It didn't take long for the duo to spill the beans about what went down in the rosebush, and they even showed the children and crow the red stone and Thunder Blade. It was mainly because Jeremy noticed the trinket Mrs. Brisby was donning and went into that hypnotic state of his like when he first saw Chris's. But it didn't last long when the tiny human's fingers snapped a few times in front of his eyes, bringing him back to reality, and that got the children to chuckle. Chris and Mrs. Brisby had to make it very clear to Jeremy that he wasn't having the pendants as they could tell he was considering asking for them as he did a few times when it came to Chris's—perhaps for his yet-to-be-found future soul mate—and they had to explain why. After they did, though, the subject wasn't pressed further by their feathery friend, for which they were thankful.
The day wore on, and everyone tried to entertain themselves. Although Jeremy didn't stay too long as Chris and Mrs. Brisby requested some string from him—lots and lots of it—since they knew he was making a love nest out of them, just in case of an emergency when moving the Brisby home. With such luck, the corvid professed to have plenty of them from different colors and was happy to bring them by. However, it would take the whole day to gather them all, but he would bring over as much as possible if it meant that it would help his friends if such an emergency came up. Chris and Mrs. Brisby thanked him before he left, and though Jeremy could be cloddish at times, they knew he meant well.
Five o'clock rolled around, and dinner was almost ready. Chris had been helping Mrs. Brisby prep dinner, and at first, his friend tried to decline his offer, but he insisted. After some convincing, the field mouse eventually caved in, and together, they'd been making a vegetable broth. While the tiny human wasn't a natural cook, trying his hand at it with some guidance from Mrs. Brisby was nice, especially when she came from behind him and showed him how to cut certain vegetables properly they were going to use in the dish, hands on top of his hands as she guided one of them in a specific cutting motion until it flowed naturally to him. The contact was essential, yet it did not stop a zing shuddering through Chris's veins.
"Children, dinner is almost ready," Mrs. Brisby called out to her children.
On cue, the kids came out of their rooms—except Timothy, who still had to remain in bed. "Mother, Timmy tried to get out of bed again," Teresa informed Mrs. Brisby as she and her siblings took their seats at the makeshift table.
Mrs. Brisby whirled around upon hearing that. "What? He is not supposed to be out of bed yet." She heaved a sigh and ran a hand through the fur on top of her head.
"We said the same thing to him," Martin chimed in, "He's been wanting to meet Chris after what we and you have been telling him."
"Timmy's been curious," Cynthia added in her cute voice.
"Is that so?" Chris said, joining the conversation.
"Very so," Martin confirmed. "I'm starting to think we shouldn't have told him about you. That way, he didn't try to get out of bed often."
"Well, he was going to find out about me eventually, and even if no one had mentioned me, Timmy likely would've tried to get out of bed either way, not only to stretch and relieve himself but also to try and get some fresh air since he has been cooped up in the house all day. But yeah, he should not be out of bed fully or anywhere near the cold air until he's cured."
"You sound as though you've been sick yourself before," Teresa commented, noting what the tiny human said.
Chris let out a chuckle. "As a matter of fact, I have been sick a few times before. While it's not the best feeling in the world, all we can do is try to get better like your brother will."
From the edge of his vision, Chris perceived a thin smile hovering over Mrs. Brisby's mouth while he was being nice to the kids once again, but it did nothing to banish the sadness in her eyes. She was likely still worrying about Timmy, which was understandable, but simultaneously, she seemed drained from the day they had. Mrs. Brisby barely had a break, and Chris knew that she needed to check on Timmy in just a bit when she brought him his dinner… and that was when he thought of something.
Chris turned his attention to his friend. "Why don't I bring your son his food?" he suggested. "I can check on him for you."
"Oh, Chris, I couldn't ask that of you," Mrs. Brisby tried to turn down. "You've already done so much for me and the children and I–"
"It's okay, I don't mind at all. You need a little break; you've been on your feet all day. Plus, Timmy can finally get to meet me properly."
Mrs. Brisby's lips were arranged into a thin line, gazing downwards as she mulled over his words. She indeed did have a long day, especially when she still seemed to be reeling from the long story Nicodemus had divulged to the both of them—not that Chris could blame her as he felt the same way, and he was sure the children were too after what they told them. Besides, when was the last time his friend had a break? After Jonathan's death, Mrs. Brisby had to become the family's breadwinner and work to the bone, but today, Chris wanted her to try and relax before the house moving occurred, even if it meant only for a bit. He was concerned for her well-being and was willing to do all he could to give her a helping hand.
He also wanted her to know she wouldn't face today alone.
After a bit of thought, a sigh spilled out of Mrs. Brisby before conjuring a meek smile. "Once I pour Timmy's portion of food, you can bring it to him. Thank you, Chris. I truly appreciate it."
Chris emulated the same smile as hers. "That's what I'm here for, to help you."
Five minutes later, the final touches were added to the vegetable broth, and Mrs. Brisby began spooning portions of it for everyone, starting with Timmy. After getting Timmy's bowl ready, she placed it on a bed tray table, along with a spoon, and Chris took over from there. He gripped the tray with both hands and picked his way over to Timmy's bedroom. The last time he had been anywhere near it was when he observed Mrs. Brisby spoon-feeding Timmy his medicine, which was dissolved in some soup, while the kids were beside them, watching. At the thought of how the young lad had looked when his eyes were upon him, an ache began in Chris's chest.
He's okay, Chris assured himself adamantly. He's going to be just fine.
Chris slipped by the patched cloth used as a curtain, entering the mouth of Timmy's room. The boy was tucked in bed, and he seemed better than when Chris previously saw him. Instead of looking weak, frail, and breathing heavily, Timmy appeared more lively, and the contours and complexion of his face were barely pale in fur color. There was a look of sheer boredom on his face, the type any child would have when they were sick and had to be in bed all day, and he was just staring up at the ceiling, likely counting how many fissures he could pinpoint to pass the time.
Huh, Chris thought, sizing up the boy. The more I look at him, the more I can see the resemblance between him and Jonathan. He looks a lot like him.
"Hey, kid," Chris greeted Timmy in a friendly tone, grabbing his attention. "You're looking better."
Upon seeing the tiny human, Timmy's eyes flared as wide as the blue and red stones. "It's you," he somehow managed to word out, his voice a little croaky. "You're the human my mother and siblings have told me about."
A chuckle escaped Chris. "In the flesh." He approached the boy and set the tray over his lap. "Your mother made vegetable broth, and I thought I'd bring it to you personally."
Timmy half sat up, a bit of a smile taking place on his face. "Wow, thanks… uh, Christopher, right?"
"That it is, but you can just call me Chris for short."
The boy nodded and then stirred his broth slowly. "I've never seen a human up close before. I always knew they were taller than most animals, but I'd never imagine seeing one that is small."
Chris's eyes danced in amusement. "Honestly, I can't say I blame you. An animal seeing a human is one thing, but a shrunk one? That's an odd concept, but I guess anything's possible in this world. And it all happened because of this amulet." He showed off the pendant to Timmy, and seeing the boy's intrigued expression, the tiny human proceeded to say, "Wanna have a look?"
The boy seemed hesitant at first for a split second, but in response, he nodded.
Doffing the necklace, Chris brought it closer to Timmy so he could examine it.
"Can I… hold it?" Timmy then queried.
Chris nodded, and when he did, Timmy reached out with both hands and gingerly took hold of the amulet. Even while he had phenomena, his strength had built itself back up to the point that he managed to keep hold of the trinket, though he still had some ways to go to replenish all of it. Timmy's brown irises roved over the blue stone, his finger tracing the details and design. Though he had a disease that needed to be snuffed out, he still had a child's wonder about him.
"I find it hard to believe that this is the sole reason you shrunk," he finally said after a moment of stretched silence, giving the amulet back to the tiny human, "but it is beautiful."
A chuckle bubbled out of Chris as he ensured the necklace encircled his neck again. "You know, I sometimes find it hard to believe myself. It's strange what life can throw at us sometimes, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it sure is. Kind of like how no one was expecting me to get pneumonia." Timmy emitted a sigh, ears pinned against his head. "I wish I could finally get out of bed. I'm tired of it."
At that, Chris's smile faltered a little. The poor lad didn't deserve such a disease to fall over him, but at least he was recovering steadily. The more progress, the better.
"Don't feel glum, kid," Chris said, masking his emotion for an inspirited one in hopes that it would cheer up Timmy. "Before you know it, you won't be stuck in bed all day and will get to move around, go outside, et cetera. You just have to stay positive and let your body do all the work while resting in bed. I know it can be tedious being in bed all day, but I can say that it'll be worth it in the end because you're allowing your body to recharge. And once you feel better, you'll come out of bed stronger than ever."
What resembled hope sprouted in Timmy's brown eyes. "You think so?"
"I have no doubts about that. As long as you keep fighting, you'll get what you're pining for in the end."
Silence coiled around them as Timmy drank in Chris's words like water, but he eventually said, "I suppose that is a good thing to look forward to." He aimed a feeble smile in Chris's direction. "Thanks, Chris."
"Anytime."
Finally, Timmy dipped his spoon into the vegetables bathed in the seasoned liquid and shoveled a spoonful into his mouth. After swallowing, Timmy asked Chris a question. "Do you like my mom?"
This took the tiny human off guard. "I…"
"I only ask because my siblings have told me they think you like her. So is that true?"
Chris's cheeks flamed. Had it been that obvious to Teresa, Martin, and Cynthia? Not only did they know, but now their brother did, too. Chris internally swore a word that Timmy did not need to hear.
What were you to say to a kid who had lost his father that you had caught feelings for his mother? Timmy and his siblings more than likely loved their late father, and Chris, of course, didn't want to be one of those people who would force a child to forget about their late parent and look to him as a replacement or make their mother neglect them. He was not here to ruin a family; he just so happened to develop feelings for Mrs. Brisby. Besides, he wasn't even sure if she felt the same way about him.
"And if I did?" Chris pressed in a carefully worded manner.
For his reply, Timmy shrugged and went on to say, "I wouldn't mind. Ever since my siblings and I lost our dad, our mom poured all her heart and energy onto us just to make sure we were happy, safe, and taken care of. I know she loves us and tries to put on a smile around us, but we don't fail to notice the sad glimmer in her eyes and how stressed she gets sometimes." The boy then looked Chris straight in the eye. "I don't know much about you, but from what my siblings told me, you seem to care about my mom and treat her well. If you and her end up together, will you promise to protect and care for her? My mom means everything to me, and I want to see her happy like she'd want for me and my siblings."
Chris was amazed by how selfless, regarding, and mature the lad was. He could tell that Timmy meant every word that came out of his mouth, and quite frankly, he also wanted that for Mrs. Brisby. However, that promise was not what he expected, but with the weight of those words hanging in the air, Chris found himself trying to compose a response amid the whirlwind of emotions that now enveloped him.
"And if I'm being honest? I think my mom likes you as well."
That made Chris's heart jump. Did she really? It was hard to say if it was true, but then he recollected what Jeremy had told him yesterday. The corvid's words echoed in his mind, word for word, and clear as crystal. Perhaps tonight was Chris's chance to confess his feelings to Mrs. Brisby. No more hesitations, no more putting it off. Tonight was it, even if they had to focus on the house moving… and drugging Dragon. He wouldn't let anything hold him back from getting it off his chest, and whatever happened next, he would finally be relieved to have the truth set him free.
A faint smile appeared on Chris's mouth, and he nodded. "You have my word, kid," he promised. "I will do what I can."
An at-ease expression washed over Timmy's face. "I'll take your word for it," he stated. "Though I think I won't have to worry about you breaking my mom's heart."
Mrs. Brisby went to check to see how things were going with Chris and her son, praying that everything was going okay, but that was until she overheard their conversation about her. Her heart jolted. Did she hear that correctly? There was only one answer: Yes, yes, she did.
A quiet and shaky sigh rolled out of her. While Mrs. Brisby had to prepare for tonight, she couldn't keep her mind off what she'd heard and had to bite down her astonishment and excitement—mostly the latter—so the two in the room didn't know that she had inadvertently eavesdropped on them. She didn't realize until now that her body had tensed when Timmy asked Chris if he liked her, but after what the tiny human told her son, everything inside her loosened up.
She had been hoping that Chris felt something towards her, and now that she knew he did, a newfound confidence overtook her. Mrs. Brisby had to tell him she felt the same way about him, and she wouldn't let nervousness prevail and laden her tongue.
After everyone ate their dinner, Teresa, Martin, and Cynthia went outside to wait for Jeremy—after swearing that they wouldn't get hurt and such—with Timmy obviously having to stay in bed. At the same time, Chris and Mrs. Brisby took the time to clean the dishes, floor, and table. It wouldn't be long until the two had to depart for the west side of the farmhouse, and admittedly, Chris felt his nerves knotting each minute that passed, knowing that his friend would soon be risking her life to drug Dragon. That cat was practically a beast when it came to hunting small critters such as mice, but the tiny human tried to quell his worries and inwardly tell himself that all would be okay and that Mrs. Brisby wouldn't fall prey to Dragon as her late husband did. If he kept doing that, surely that would indeed be the case.
Not only that, he still had to open up his feelings to the field mouse.
When the duo finished cleaning and putting everything away, Chris itched his jawline, only to realize how prickly it felt. Stubble had taken its time to crop up on his face, and he hadn't had the chance to shave for a few days due to everything that had occurred. His fingernails scratched his cheek more, the stubble irritating his skin.
"Chris, is your cheek bothering you?" Mrs. Brisby questioned upon noticing what he was doing.
"I just haven't shaved for a while, that's all," Chris admitted.
Mrs. Brisby tilted her head, puzzlement filling her sapphire blue irises.
Chris went to elaborate. "Meaning I haven't gotten rid of the unwanted hair on my face. If I don't shave within a few days, a stubble appears, being a nuisance to my skin."
The field mouse appeared to have slowly comprehended what Chris was trying to get at. "If you don't shave, that means you will have more hair on your face, right?"
"Pretty much." Chris returned to raking his nails across his cheek like a nail file.
"Oh, Chris, your cheek is turning red. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Chris smoothed his lips into a flat line, gnawing on his gum in thought. Maybe there was something she could do? However, he shook that thought away. He didn't want to burden her with anything and treat her like a servant.
"It's okay, you don't need to," Chris replied, wishing he had his pocket knife at that moment. "I just need something sharp, like a knife, and I can just go to the pond and–"
"Whatever you need, I can fetch it for you, but at least let me assist you in shaving. I have an idea of how it works, and I'd rather you not do something that might get you injured since I don't think you're used to shaving with a different utensil or without certain items."
She had him there. Like many men, Chris shaved with a razor and shaving cream, but without those items, it would indeed be tricky for him to shave properly. He thought he could make it work, though. He just needed to be careful, and, of course, he didn't want Mrs. Brisby to waste her time and energy on something minor.
Just as he was about to decline once again gently, Mrs. Brisby plowed on as if knowing that Chris would do so. "Please, Chris. Let me do this. You helped me with the cooking and cleaning, and now I wish to requite the kindness."
That was fair. In fact, whenever they did something for the other, they returned the gesture by any means possible. While that seemed vexingly repetitive, it at least went to show that their hearts weren't filled with selfishness and that they truly cared.
Eventually, Chris gave in, and Mrs. Brisby gathered what alternatives she could get her hands on. When she got the items and ran them by the tiny human to be sure that they would do, and he approved, she piled them on the table. Chris plopped down onto one of the improvised seats, and Mrs. Brisby covered him on the front with the blanket he'd been using since he'd been crashing at her house for a few days now. It was almost like he was in a barber shop instead of the Brisby home.
A few minutes later, Chris instructed his friend on what she needed to do once everything was ready, ensuring she understood. Mrs. Brisby listened very carefully, and after sopping it all up, she dipped what was meant to be a knife of some sort that she would be using for the shaving process into a bowl of lukewarm water, ready to take on the challenge. She then raised it to the tiny human's face, resting her free hand along one side of his jaw, holding his face steady as she carefully moved the blade along his other cheek.
Chris's jaw clenched at her touch, his whole body stilling. Mrs. Brisby's hands were warm and soft as she moved slowly along his jaw, working carefully as the blade's sharp edge cut through the stubble. Nothing was rushed as Mrs. Brisby's eyes were leveled on her work, never once losing her concentration, and Chris couldn't help but notice the closeness between them, making his pulse gallop rapidly. Everything about her was just amazing. Even her eyes alone made him want to get lost in them. He felt sparks flitting over his face, down his arms, and to his toes. Did Mrs. Brisby feel it while she was touching him, too? Either way, these feelings were nothing to be ignored.
Chris's face was half shaved now, and although he looked much neater on the shaved part, it almost seemed a shame. Stubble still covered half of his chin, but he knew that Mrs. Brisby was trying, even when he couldn't get a good look at his face. His mind was not on that, though. It was mainly on the field mouse as he tried weighing out how to reveal his feelings to her. Time was ticking, and dusk would paint the sky at any moment now.
He eventually settled on small talk before getting to the big reveal of his feelings. "For your first time, you're pretty good at this," Chris complimented.
Mrs. Brisby smiled at him tenderly before returning to where she left off. She shifted the blade across to the other side of Chris's face, her fingers lingering on the smoother skin where she'd already worked. "Well, I try," she said, almost quietly. "But I suppose I'm just used to doing things such as this. When you have a family to care for, doing what you can for them comes naturally."
"You truly are something, you know that?"
Chris noticed how her hand stumbled a little while dragging the blade before quickly keeping it back on track. "I'm just a mother trying to raise her children to the best of her abilities."
Chris didn't believe she was just that; he felt that there was more to her. "I'm sure that you do other things in your spare time. Is there anything in particular you like to do?"
There was a slight pause, but Mrs. Brisby said, "Well…" She then shook her head. "No. I shouldn't say it."
"Go ahead, tell me," Chris encouraged her with a smile. "I won't judge."
Seeing his expression, Mrs. Brisby's face lit with a smile within a few seconds, all hesitation rippling away. "I like to do pottery."
Chris's eyebrows hit his hairline. "You like pottery?"
Mrs. Brisby nodded. "Not so surprisingly, Jonathan introduced me to it, and it didn't take me long to fall in love with the idea of shaping clay into whatever ceramics I coveted. I still have a few of my works lying inside the cabinets. And the bowls from which we ate our broth and the bowl I'm currently using? I made them."
Now that she mentioned it, Chris did notice how nicely detailed and smooth the bowls looked earlier but never imagined that they were made by Mrs. Brisby's hands. He kind of assumed that it was the rats' or even Jonathan's doing, but now knowing it was the field mouse the whole time made it all the better. She had a hobby as much as anyone else, and Chris thought pottery suited her.
"Elizabeth, that's amazing," the tiny human praised the field mouse. "You should be proud of yourself."
"Thank you." Mrs. Brisby then sighed wistfully. "It's been a while since I've done pottery, and I would be lying if I said I don't miss it."
Chris's green irises softened. "Well, it's never too late to get back into it; perhaps when all this is over, you'll make more ceramics in no time." A heartbeat passed before Chris blazed on. "And maybe one day I'll see your process and more of your creations."
If her eyes would've, Mrs. Brisby's eyes would've been smiling benevolently.
A delicious tension hovered between them, as sweet as sugar, and Chris tried to resist the temptation of leaning forward and tasting what Mrs. Brisby might have to offer. It was hard to do, though, and he felt his fingers fidgeting.
Without another word exchanged, the field mouse carried on with her task, and the two fell into a comfortable silence. Eventually, Mrs. Brisby finished, lowering the blade with a hand that wasn't as steady as it should have been. Chris's shave wasn't perfect, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like anyone would notice the minor errors anyway.
"All done," Mrs. Brisby said thickly, attempting to speak lightly as she nodded at Chris's mostly clean-shaven jaw. "Much better."
At that moment, Chris was suddenly aware that she was pressed almost against him, and Mrs. Brisby seemed to have also realized that. Her hand still lay against his face, and reluctantly, she went to pull it away as she put the knife off to the side on the table, but Chris's hand flew unexpectedly up to cover hers, trapping it in place.
Mrs. Brisby inhaled a sharp, involuntary breath.
Chris blurted a crude word in his mind, wishing he didn't do that… but Mrs. Brisby didn't try to retract it again. Instead, her other hand met with Chris's chest, making his heart stutter. Their eyes locked with the others for what seemed to be a while. Nothing was said, but it was as if their looks alone were communicating what they had wanted to express for a while now, as if they were seeing through each other.
Chris could hardly think as he craned his neck, and Mrs. Brisby's head dipped toward him. Their eyes fluttered shut as their faces drew close enough that they could feel their breaths. A tingle of anticipation passed over Chris as his nose brushed against Mrs. Brisby's, and before they knew it, they closed the distance between them, a kiss so rapturing and exquisite it was almost like a dream. There was so much passion in it that the two were gasping for breath between each pass of their lips. Chris threw the blanket that was his cover cape aside and hooked his arms around the field mouse, which she accepted and was now sitting on his lap.
There was nothing but them at that moment. They blotted out all worries for now and shared what seemed foreign between a human and a mouse. They poured out the warranted emotions in that one kiss, living it while it lasted and feeling the moment like it was their last days on Earth.
After a while, they eventually detached their lips from each other, breathing heavily. There was only one word Chris could describe it: breathtaking. While he had initially planned to proclaim his feelings to Mrs. Brisby, that kiss spoke volumes. And the best part? Mrs. Brisby didn't stop it, like she had wanted it all along, indicating that she, too, must've felt the same way about him.
"I don't think I even need to say it," Chris said in a husky whisper.
A teensy smile tugged at Mrs. Brisby's mouth, and she whispered a little out-breath, "I'd like for you to say it, though."
Chris matched her smile, running a hand of his up and down the small of the field mouse's back. "Within these few days, I've become crazy about you. I don't know how it's possible, but at this point, I don't care because you're the complete package I didn't realize I desired until now." He traced his thumb across Mrs. Brisby's lips, and her breath hitched. "And I desire nothing more than to make you and the children happy."
Mrs. Brisby's eyes swelled with content tears, and a few slipped down and stained her cheeks. "I feel the same way about you."
So much joy beamed in Chris's smile and sparkled in his eyes. And to think that at one point, he assumed that Mrs. Brisby had these feelings for Justin. "Do you think we have time for another one?"
At that, a laugh ripped out of Mrs. Brisby's mouth as she wiped away the tears. "I believe so."
With that said, they brushed their lips against each other's, and it was just as breathtaking as the first one. Whatever happened next, at least they finally unbottled their feelings for each other before the time came to move the Brisby home and drug Dragon—for better or worse.