Holy hackamore and oh my word! It's been forever…and I mean forever! Two years? What the-

So…we usually end a story with "Happily Ever After"…not this time! XD muheheheh…I made it past a landmark in the story, but I know…I must go on…the adventure isn't over yet, folks. Thanks for all the reviews, everyone. And sorry it's so stinking late…with school, writer's block, plus this chapter was a REALLY pain in the tuckus to write. I was originally going to have them honeymoon in London, but I chose somewhere else instead.

She was on the balcony, looking through the dense fog to try to see the sea and very much ready for the rest of the day to come. The wind raised her locks from down her back into a nearly straight cluster of yellow, but at least it was nice outside. It was cloudy and foggy but not raining, thank goodness. Feeling the spill of hair leave behind her, she returned to the shelter of the hotel room she and her husband were staying at for their honeymoon at a coastal town in southern England. She grabbed hold of a strip of cotton cloth, quickly weaved her hair back into a braid, and twisted and pinned it down into a snug bun.

"This area has a rich history." Jeffrey said suddenly behind her.

"You said that." Charlotte noted, immediately reaching into her big brown leather satchel for her camera. "You ready?"

"If you are."

The young pair ventured from the warm security of the hotel into the cold climate of the outdoors. It was lightly misting, making it perfect weather for a coat and hat to wear, but windy enough to blow the hat off.

"So…where to?"

"Well, there's Hastings Castle." Jeffrey pointed towards a barely visible lower hill by the seaside. "Here, darling. I'll show you." He took Charlotte by the hand to a peak, carefully leading her on the wet, slippery terrain and occasional stone steps. "Aha…can you see it?"

"Yes." She replied, spotting rocky, crude remains scattered about in the midst of a light fog. "Wow…"

"Indeed. That's been around for about nine hundred years, I think. After all the damage done throughout the years, it's amazing how it hasn't been completely demolished."

He took her by the hand again and led her carefully down in a slope to see the ruins at an even better view. Enthralled, she stared at the desolate castle, a remarkable piece of England's history. The oldest piece of United States' history would in no way hold a candle to this. She pulled the camera up to her face and adjusted the ring around the lens. She stared intently at the castle through the viewfinder until she felt like she could capture the ruins just right. And with the rewinding of the film and a click took a shot of the site. She repeated the cycle two more times for the sake of awe yet security.

"There we go." She smirked and pulled down the camera and wiped off the small rain sprinkles with the dry hem of her shirt hiding behind her coat before covering it with its protective cap. And down the newlyweds carefully stepped the hill back into the just as wet streets. Christmas wreaths decorated with red ribbons and sprigs of holly bushes still hung onto lampposts and shops and homes' doors despite being drenched and wind-beaten.

Suddenly, the wind and rain began to blow and come down harder. The example of another couple's umbrella turning inside out showed that such coverings were futile unless you held them against the direction of the wind. That would work, yeah, but you'd be just as wet.

"I think we'd better get inside." Charlotte advised, looking in the direction of the hotel and quickly pulling her husband under the shelter of the awnings for a series of shops. "Oh boy, good luck getting back without taking a shower."

Suffice it to say, the journey back to the hotel wasn't too pretty. Seeing the rain pouring and hearing the wind howling most of the time, the newlyweds were out of a lot of options during their five-day honeymoon. They spent the mornings together enjoying fine breakfasts and the rejuvenation of each other's company. The rainy afternoons were spent reading books (whether a couple books bought from one of the shops or one of Charlotte's in-progress photo albums) and playing games. At night, music played softly from a record player to which they danced and danced, and they talked into the wee hours of the morning. They were near to never a moment away from each other.

The one other time outside was when the rain became a gentle mist and the winds into blowing, smooth constant breezes, thus allowing Jeffrey and Charlotte to venture down to the coastline and walk along the tides. Charlotte didn't bother bringing her camera this time and walked barefoot on the moist sands, contently hanging her shoes on her curled in fingers like a clothes hanger. She enjoyed freeing her warmly kept and covered feet, not to mention she hated the never fully successful task of emptying amounts of sand from her shoes. Jeffrey had mutual feelings about accomplishing that difficulty but wasn't exactly in favor of the chances of catching cold so he kept his shoes on.

Despite the lack of glowing light from a coveted sunbeam, they were very elated on scouring through the heaps of sand for various seashells, beautiful stones, and wave-tumbled and fined agates. After sorting through and choosing the best of their findings, they brought their souvenirs into their room. Under the bright light of a sans-shade lamp, they analyzed each discovery with the help of Jeffrey's expertise of basic rock nomenclature. These of course would be taken home for further investigation and learning.

However, with the young scientist's new occupation and potential career, they were sure that such matters would have little attention in the midst of spare time. He would be studying and researching worlds that could change the whole world. She would be burying herself in homemaking and possibly a part-time job. She enjoyed very well glancing at and learning the basics of what most of her new husband studied, but she knew she wouldn't be catch up and understand the incredible and sometimes nearly celestial understanding and knowledge Jeffrey and a few other individuals around the world possessed.

The brisk, cold wind rushed through her hair like a brush and a blow dryer doing their jobs at the same time. Like the transformation of a show horse's mane into the one of a wild mustang, it unraveled the blonde locks and had gradually turned the elegant curls of the wedding day, which she adored, into messy but just as lovely waves. The gusts made her shiver and tighten the collar of her robe more closely. She embraced herself, rubbing her covered upper arms to keep warm. The ocean's mist didn't help much with her state of being, but she didn't care.

There was no moon or stars, all hidden behind blue-grey clouds. It had been this way for all the past few nights of the honeymoon. She stared into the seemingly endless space and listened to the roaring and crashing of the waves against unseen rocks. The distant yet so close sound soothed her mind like a lullaby as she breathed in the salt-sprinkled, fresh air.

Charlotte stared down at her bare feet, her toes white and a bit numb. The light behind her cast a faint shadow, reminding her where she was. It was the last night of the honeymoon, just she and her husband. She turned around and watched Jeffrey button up his pajama blouse. His back was to her, but the full-length mirror in front of him reflected his every move, how he stared intently at his fingers and thumbs working together to slip the round small buttons through the just as small holes.

Even as she smiled in admiration at him, all of a sudden she remembered a still startling fact. She remembered that only a few days ago, she strolled down the aisle in a white dress, said "I do," shared a love's first kiss, and leaving the altar a married woman. So many dreams came true that night; life was more perfect than ever, and she felt she was ready it. Ready to live with one of her dearest friends and their love for each other for all eternity. Ready to stay with him in England and not with her family in America. Ready to go far beyond these first moments as Mrs. Hawkinson.

She futilely pulled back a strand or two of her hair behind her ear only for it to fly in her face again. She stepped off the wooden balcony into the room and shut the glass French doors, hiding the room with the help of a pair of large flower-patterned curtains. Then she thought of another thing; was he ready? Ready for…well, most of whatever she thought of?

She could've thought on and on, but one thing caught her attention—Jeffrey was smiling right back at her. "If you stay out there too long, you'll catch cold." He told her. "It's been nothing but wet and cold outside."

"Alrightie, Doctor." She smiled again. He wasn't really a doctor of medicine but rather a professional dance instructor taking on the title doctor in his career as a scientist. "Ready to return to the laboratory?"

"I can wait." He responded, turning around to face her. "Right now I'm fonder of today rather than what tomorrow holds for us."

He was indeed fascinated by the different pronunciations of the word 'laboratory' in her conversation. She pronounced it 'LAB-ratory' whilst he said it like 'la-BOR-atry'. Growing up with a British mother, she had a good know-how as to how to pronounce certain words placed in British phonics rather than American.

As she walked towards the bed where he sat, she thought some more of readiness. Then again…She thought before saying aloud, "What would I do without you?"

"I don't know really." He said. Half the time he knew the answers to so many questions, but to this question he was sure yet not. "What do you think?"

"Well," She began, sitting down on the bed with her legs crossed over the comforter. "…if nothing happened, I'd be back in New Hope now, missing England,…probably coming over every few years in the future…living something totally different from this. But never mind that."

"That's all right." He said under his breath. "I wouldn't have life any other way than this."

Her small smile turned into a contentedly delighted grin. That smile stayed as she plaited her hair into a lightly fluffy braid and bound the end with a small strip of cotton material. Being relieved of the cold, brisk outside world, she felt relaxed and tired. She looked at the small round alarm clock; eleven-thirty, it read. It had been a long yet short five days. She untied the soft terry cloth strap of her robe and laid the robe over a chair, revealing a teal sleeveless, lightly baggy tunic and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.

One would have to admit that the nightwear was feminine, a bit charming and having little ability of sexual stimulation, but she didn't care. And he probably he didn't either. If he loved her, it was because of her personality and who she was on the inside, not on the outside.

She lifted the thick comforter and lazily climbed under, stretching her legs until her toes draped over the bed. She heard Jeffrey climb under as well and sigh tiredly while lying on his right side. "Good night." She muttered.

Jeffrey lay there, staring at the ceiling. This was really happening. He would be spending the rest of his being with her. In an almost trance, he could meditate on the come-true concept all night. But...he couldn't.

"Good night, my darling." He responded, rolling over to face Charlotte only to see her fast asleep. He kissed her goodnight on her uncovered temple and rolled back over into his own sleep.

The next morning…

Anybody had to admit, the honeymoon of the newly married Jeffrey & Charlotte Hawkinson wasn't the most luxurious start to a married life. They had left the partly snowy Hertfordshire to the foggy, misty southern English coast. Despite the lack of good weather and wide variety of recreation activities, they managed to make the best of it. With creativity and invention put into it, it was a rather nice honeymoon.

The closing of their suitcases came along with the closing of their kickoff getaway. Now it was time to go back to reality. They would leave the coastline and take a few taxi and possibly bus trips from there to Watford. Even still, they couldn't wait to see what life and fate had in store for them. Jeffrey had just finished calling his once home and announcing that he and his bride would be arriving home sometime later in the evening; now he fidgeted with his blue criss-cross print tie. Charlotte adjusted her neat little hat over the crown of her yellow-laden head and no sooner had to help him out. She vowed to herself that sometime soon she would teach him to properly tie a tie and succeed, even if he insisted time and time again that he could not for the life of himself figure out this puzzle.

They checked out of the hotel and walked a block to the nearest bus stop. This day's weather featured mist and clouds, no rain, wind, or fog. Even still, Jeffrey popped open the small black umbrella and held it over his head as well as Charlotte's. Unbeknownst to him, the American had brought her camera satchel outside of her suitcase and was now taking pictures of the little houses, buildings, and still life in sight from the security of under the umbrella. With no automobiles coming, she took the opportunity of stepping in the middle of the street and walking a few steps forward to capture the glorious essence of the finally visible coastline and large tidal waves. All the while, Jeffrey walked beside her and carefully held the umbrella over her head.

"Move the umbrella up." She directed.

"Yes, of course." He said. He lifted the portable shelter to remove the mysterious black thing hovering at the top of her potential pictures.

Snap!...Snap!...Snap!

"Okay; looks like that's it." With that, Jeffrey and Charlotte hastily walked back to the stop as a car came their way.

Very noticeably, it wasn't until now that the clouds began to part like curtains and show off the sunlight. A bus hadn't arrived yet. She looked at the victims of her undeveloped but taken pictures.

"Well," She began. "It wasn't as prominent and popular as New York or Washington, D.C. or London, but it was beautiful…very beautiful…"

"Mmm…yes." He agreed. "Not the most pristine place on earth, but I don't blame you."

"Maybe even more beautiful than anything from New York or Washington; from what I had seen in my past."

"Or London."

A bus finally arrived. With a sense of chivalry and good mannerisms, Jeffrey carried both suitcases and allowed Charlotte in first. The two found the fortune of being able to be seated together in the middle-right of the crowded vehicle. One and three-quarter hours toward home from the coast passed, and they switched rides between bus and taxi. The suitcases were settled nicely in the trunk whilst the couple sat in the back.

"Watford and near Belmont Road, please." Jeffrey requested.

"Yes, sir." The taxi driver affirmed.

Meanwhile, Charlotte carefully removed the recently used roll of film from the camera into the safety of an empty canister.

First day, second and third day, our final day… She mentally labeled each of the five canisters in total before saying out loud, "If only we could get these in color."

"That would be very grand." Jeffrey agreed, eyeing the protective canister.

"I know color photographs have existed since the 1850s, but they're still uncommon." She said. "I almost bought a camera last summer that takes color pictures, but they were expensive. And with the wedding coming on, there really was never much of a chance to buy one."

She saw his smile drop.

"Hey, it's all right." She touched his chin in the suggestion of "chin-up."

"So, we'll stop at my parent's house and spend a couple days there for Christmas, and once the festivities of the holiday season are over, we'll see out the home I presume we are to have." As soon as they finished watching the camera being kept away in the satchel, Charlotte's set of light brown eyes sparkled in anticipation and silent excitement. Jeffrey loved those eyes and could stare at them forever.

Feeling the taxi stop, she looked at him and asked, "Ready?" He smiled as if he knew something she didn't. "What?"

"My darling, we're Hawkinsons;" He seemed to assure, lightly squeezing her cold, lightly pink hand. "We're always ready."

"Always?" She repeated skeptically.

"Sounds like a wisecrack, doesn't it?" He eyed her as she eventually went from shaking her head no to sheepishly nodding.

"Yes, it does, I guess." She admitted defeated.

"I don't blame you. Although almost no one of the Hawkinsons uses it anymore, 'Always Ready' is our family slogan."

Being one who had the lesser tendencies to be absent-minded, Charlotte remembered that the taxi had stopped and that the driver wished to have them out as soon as possible. She handed the driver whatever charge was needed, opened the vehicle's door, and stepped out. It was a bit chilly, and the snow from their wedding day was gone, a mound of what used to be a snow man across the street being the only thing remaining. Jeffrey stepped out quickly and fetched the suitcases from the trunk. As soon as the lid slammed shut, the taxi was off.

They awkwardly walked up the steps to the front door of the Hawkinson household.

"So are we ready?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Before Charlotte could answer, the door flew open. No sooner than that, they were face-to-face with the exuberant, widely smiling Amelia.

"Hey, hey! Welcome back!" She greeted, grasping their wrists and leading them into the house.

Ready we are. Charlotte thought.

One more note: the MvA TV series. Any thoughts, comments, viewpoints on it? I saw all the aired episodes and…well… the show wasn't a passing or failing grade and had the usual flaws of a TV series adapted from a cartoon. Except for a couple things, I won't accept the show as canon. The show was basically a series of not-so-good-quality MvA fandoms, but hey, for the most part I'd rather watch it than read some badly written Dr C/Susan or MvA character/extreme Mary-Sue OC story.

And it appears I must have set a trend of "The Fly" being featured in the MvA fanfics about Dr. C's past.