Hey Mr. Wonderful!

Thanksgiving around the Stewart household was always an interesting affair. Between Shayn, the children, Tetsu and Morgan, and any of the other friends and family that would pop in at random intervals, it was a relief to Madeline that she now had a house to host in. With Christopher in tow, Glory-May had arrived to help Madeline prepare, and the two friends had sent the men from the kitchen to watch the children as they cooked. Phee and Mel were there, always delighted to see their nieces and nephews. Bless them, they never left Jake and Ainsley out of their affection, and the laughter and delicious smells that filled the house always caused Madeline to smile and enjoy the day much more.

Outside of the kitchen, things were not as serene. Between Mel and Phee being constantly kicked out of the kitchen, and the men either trying to sort out problems between their respective children, or being thankful that they didn't have children, it was quite a stretch. While there was a football game on, it was clear that no one was watching it. Morgan had pulled Tetsu onto the couch with him, and the two were bickering like the married couple that they were. Morgan and Glory-May's husband were grilling Phee or Mel's dates intermittently, and now and then Jonathan would throw in a comment, and Shayn was actually off playing with the children, though it was clear he did it only because Ainsley had crawled into his lap, and asked him quietly, and Jake had sent him pleading looks. Now and then, Jon would glance longingly at either the kitchen or the direction that the children had disappeared to. He really felt slightly out of place in the conversation around him.

After much work on the part of Madeline and Glory-May (something that neither of them complained about), lunch was served, and the large family crowded into the dinning room, laughing and sharing good times over the wonderful food that the two had managed to cook. Jon sat between Madeline and Ainsley, and between complimenting his wife and cutting his five-year-old daughter's food, he found himself quite busy. Not that Jonathan was complaining about that, either. The meal was, as always, the favorite part of the evening, and when everyone had eaten their fill, the children were sent off to play, and all of the adult females retired to the kitchen to clean and gossip, leaving the men to once more mind their children.

Morgan and Tetsu were once again on the couch, only this time watching something that was, mercifully, not football. Glory-May's spouse and the boyfriends of Morgan's sisters had all volunteered to go out and get something else for dinner, as no one wanted leftovers. This left Jonathan and Shayn with the children. And so, Jonathan found himself on his bed, with Ainsley in his lap, and Isobel curled against his side, both watching Star Trek, while Shayn sat on the floor with three very bored boys.
"Christian, this is boring."

Chris looked at his cousin, a good year and a half older than him, who clearly thought that this was a boring way to spend their time. He glanced at his younger half-brother, who rolled his eyes. Jake often found Christopher to be tiring, and Chris could see where the younger boy could think so.
"So, what should we do about that?"
"I dunno. Something."
Now it was Christian's turn to roll his eyes. Christopher was not being specific, and not helping at all. He turned to look at his twin, and could tell that Izzy was bored too. She liked Star Trek, but they were on their third episode, and she was bored.
"Jake? Any ideas?"
"Oooh, let's play Cowboys and Indians."

Christian should have known the answer to that, as it was Jake's favorite game to play. He was hoping that his cousin wouldn't shoot down his younger brother. He looked at his uncle, and knew that Shayn wouldn't let it go if Christopher said anything to hurt Jake. Chris held his breath, turning his eyes to Christopher.
"Cowboys and Indians? Hmmm, haven't played that in a long time. Alright, squirt. Which side are you?"
"Cowboys!"
Shayn ruffled his favorite nephew's hair, and nodded to Chris.
"I'll be a Cowboy, too. Christopher, you wanna join us?"
As his cousin nodded, Chris looked over at his sisters, who were both watching him. Izzy with eyes that sparkled excitedly, and Ainsley with serious, somber eyes. Ainsley made the best Indian.
"Alright, so it's you three against me and my sisters."
He already knew who would win.

"Wait!" Isobel exclaimed, sitting upright immediatly. The others all looked at her quizzically, and waited to see what she had to say. Dramatic as always, Isobel let the silence stretch out, before she pointed dramatically. "We Indians need a captive!"
The others looked around, to see who was willing for that part in the game, when a soft chuckle caused them all to look at Jonathan.
"I'll be the captive."

Within minutes, the children were busy. The 'cowboys' were shooed out of the room, and the 'Indians' set about with a way to tie up their captive. They finally found four silk scarves that belonged to their mother, and carefully tied Jonathan spread eagle to the bed. Isobel and Christian left immediatly to play, but Ainsley made sure that her father was comfortable, and tied the remote next to his hand. Kissing his cheek, she grinned and ran off to find her siblings. After several hours had passed, Jonathan assumed that the children had forgotten him. It was dark outside now, and from the noise outside, Madeline had managed to wrestle them all into bed, and get the couch ready for Shayn downstairs.

He waited for a little bit longer, and heard the bedroom door open.
"Ah, there you are."
"Been looking for me?"
Jonathan turned his head, smiling at his wife, as she crossed the room, and knelt on the bed.
"I asked Ains where you were, and she told me they tied you up. I had no idea where they meant."
"Well, here I am."
"Indeed."
Madeline leaned down, kissing Jonathan. Jon wanted to wrap his arms around her, but he couldn't move them. He sighed slightly, deciding that he didn't like this at all. He wasn't sure why other people found it so appealing. He couldn't touch Madeline, or put his arms around her. He couldn't share with her. This system seemed to be for the pleasure of one person, not two.

After a minute, Madeline pulled away, shaking her head.
"I don't like this."
"I don't either."
She chuckled softly, and untied his wrists and ankles, and then moved to lay beside him. Jon wrapped his arms loosely around her, grateful to be able to do so.
"I guess we just aren't fun and experimental types, are we?"
"Do we have to be?" He asked her. Madeline thought for a moment, and shook her head.
"Nope. I like us just the way we are."
Jonathan shifted positions, so that he was leaning over her.
"Me too, Mads. Me too..."

Our Father...

Maybe things were finally getting back on track. It finally felt like things were clearing up, after the tragic deaths of her mother and brother. She was finally back to school, and picking up where she left off. Last night, her father had smiled at her, laughed with her, and kissed her good night. This morning, for the first time in weeks, he’d gotten up and gone to work without Abbie having to prod him out of bed and without having to nag him to do so. She was happy, and she’d smiled and laughed at school. Things were settling down, as everyone had promised her that they would. She owed a lot of people apologies, especially Father Manuel, her school’s Priest.

The walk home from school was beautiful. It was an overcast day, and cold drizzling rain fell on her face. It was Abbie’s favorite sort of weather, and it brought a smile to her face, and caused her to pause and spin slowly in the rain, arms open wide. She often chose to walk home from school, because it gave her a chance to be alone, and to work through the thoughts in her head. Just now, she was planning the beautiful dinner that she would cook for her father, and deciding which of his favorite desserts to cook for him, imagining them sitting together, laughing and talking like they used to do. It made her happy, just to think that she and her father were healing, and that they might be okay after all.

Happiness had settled in her stomach, but as she rounded the corner that took her to her street, something in her stomach began to sour, causing the happy feelings to be replaced by dread. There were three cars parked in her driveway, and none of them were her father’s nor did they belong to anyone else that she might know. Her steps slowed, and a sad suspicion crossed her features. Walking up her driveway felt like torture, and she had the sudden feeling that her world was going to turn utterly upside down. Shaking hands fished in her sweater pocket, before producing the key to her house, and she unlocked the door, and walked inside. Silence greeted her, and by now her whole body had begun to shake. She had a very good idea what this meant.

The last time her house had been this silent, Mom and Kyle had died, and Abbie had been forced to deal with it, before rushing off to find her father. Well, the cops had. Abbie had spent the night in the precinct, cold and alone. She didn’t want it to happen again, and she defensively wrapped her arms around herself, refusing to cry. Her slow steps took her to the living room, where two men and woman, all in business suits, waited for her. One man she knew- he was Mr. White, her father’s attorney. He looked unhappy, and that frightened Abbie more than the stern man and the overly happy-looking woman.
“Mister White?”

The man’s face carried a look of sympathy, and he took her hand, leading her to a couch, and sitting on it, tugging her down next to him. Allan White had been her Father’s god-brother, and had spent a lot of time with Abbie Lindheim and her family. He slipped an arm awkwardly about her shoulders, and gave her a one-armed hug. Abbie half-expected what was to come.
“Miss Lindheim-“
The detective was cut off by Mr. White, who glared alarmingly well for a man his age. The lawyer turned to Abbie, taking her hands in his one free one.
“Abbie, I know this is hard for you. It’s- It’s hard enough for me.” He cleared his throat. “Abbie, your father died this morning.”

Abbie said nothing, letting the words sink into her soul, where they rested. She didn’t remember any words after that, just the facts that the detective gave: Her father had seen her off to school with a goodbye kiss and a packed lunch he’d made, he had then written her a letter that they held in their custody, and then driven to work, where he’d left a letter explaining that he didn’t want Abbie to be the one to find him. He’d then taken a gun, and blown out his brains. The awful truth sank to the level that the news had, cutting into her soul again and again. Still, the child said nothing, and she didn’t cry. Then the woman spoke, arguing with Mister White. Allan said that Abbie’s father had wanted her to go with the church.

The woman argued that the Church had no right or reason to take custody of the child, and that she would have to go into the Foster Care System. They looked at Abbie, but she said nothing, only holding the rosary that her father had given her, and sat on the couch, praying. She even refused to pack, only pausing to pick up the bible that her family had given her for her First Communion. Allan White hugged her with tears in his eyes, but the woman dragged Abbie away before she could reply. That night, she slept in a strange bed, in a strange home. She refused to dress the next morning, or to go to school. She didn’t eat or speak. Abbie simply knelt in the center of the bedroom, and prayed. After three days of this, the mean woman returned.

Abbie refused to speak to her, and only cried when the woman ripped the rosaries from her hand and the bible from her side, telling her that she couldn’t hide in religion. That night, Abbie ran away. Father Manuel found her, kneeling in the school’s sanctuary, crying out in a loud voice to God, begging and crying. He let her stay the night, but the next morning, he called the Bishop. After a long battle, Abihail Lindheim was given to the custody of the Church, and was assigned directly to Father Benjamin Wolf. Still, the child said nothing.

That first day, when she was taken to Father Benjamin’s office, she stood stone silent. Her only words for nearly three months had been in prayer, and her body was rail-thin from only eating enough to survive. The man had no idea what to do with a grieving child, especially one who watched him with haunted eyes, and clutched a worn rosary to her chest. After a long moment of staring at each other, Father Benjamin Wolf knelt in front of her, and covered her small hands with his.
“Can I pray with you?”

Another long minute followed, and still Abbie said nothing. Finally she nodded, and smiled very slightly at him.
“Please?”

'Cause I'm broken, when I'm lonesome

He often wondered if this is where he should have ended up. He was one of the most brilliant minds in his graduating class, graduating Valedictorian, and having offers from any hospital he could have wanted in Scotland, and many in the United States. He could have been a prestigious doctor, dealing with rich women who ate too much, and whose children were hypchondriacs. He could have gone anywhere, done anything, and been anyone. Why then, as his mother often asked, was he a young Doctor in a poor hospital in Brooklyn? He didn't have the best equipment, and all of the doctors here were second rate, though only in education and not in passion or drive. He'd taken the least paying option, and everyone in his family had been confused.

Everyone, that is, save for three people. The three who knew him the best, as it were.

Ainsley understood the most, he supposed. Like him, she'd chosen a career that many considered beneath her. Ainsley was smarter than he was, and she could be doing anything her little mind aspired to. Instead, his baby sister was a cop, walking the beat. She knew why he was here, because it was the same reason that she was there. They wanted to help people, they wanted to save people, and feel as though they were doing something tangibly good in their lives. Yes, Ainsley certainly understood his motives here, where he was needed more than anywhere else.

Two of his uncles understood him, too. Daniel, his father's brother, had understood inasmuch as going where he wanted, and not caring what others thought. Shayn, his mother's brother, understood him better. It was doing what you felt you needed to be doing, despite the scorn around you. Admittedly, it was going easier for Jacob Stewart than it had for Shayn Munroe. Jake's family still loved and encouraged him, even though they were utterly baffled by what was going on with their youngest son. Nevertheless, Jake knew that these three people supported him the most and he leaned heavily on that.

Today was one of those days that he wondered if he was really doing any good. He'd already lost one kid to a drive by shooting, wrestled an angry man to the floor to keep him from attacking a man in a rival gang, and been told by one irate old grandmother that she wasn't letting some foreigner touch her. Though Jake had tried to explain that he was born right here in New York, his Father's accent combined with eight years living in Scotland had added a touch of the accent to his voice. He felt lost today, and he was relying on dinner tonight with Ainsley, to put it all back into perspective for him. His baby sister was good at that. Izzy might be the fire in the family, and Chris the only one who could handle the fire, Jake might have been the most responsible, but Ainsley was their anchor, and all of the siblings turned to her when their life was in an upheaval.

Tucking one hand into the pocket of his white coat, and draping his stethoscope around his neck, Jake pushed past the door that led to the ER, picking up a chart to observe the people around him. It was always difficult, to assess someone's injuries, and to know who should be treated first. Triage wasn't a fun place to work, and the death and gruesome pain that Jake had witnessed here matured him rapidly. He was about to call the next patient, when an Ambulence pulled through. Knowing that it would be his priority, Jake walked over.
"Doc, we got a Cop here. Shot in a gang incident, we've got 'er stabilized for the moment, but that bullet's still lodged in her chest, and if it moves, we're gonna lose her."

Cool brown eyes assesed the chest wound, prodding at the skin, hearing the woman moan. Her shirt was already gone, cut off in the Paramedic's attempt to stabilize her, though they'd covered her with another shirt for modesty's sake. Pity welled within him at the sight of her, and he turned to her face, brushing back her hair comfortingly. And that was when he saw the young face, the rich brown eyes filled with so much pain and terror that they were insensible. Jake felt as though his heart were being ripped from his chest, and he choked back a sob. He wanted to hold her close and weep, but he knew that he couldn't help her. Not unless he calmed down. This was a serious injury, and he was the best doctor in the building, youth and relation to the patient or not.

"Wheel her into the Prep room, page Nancy, we've gotta prep her for surgery." The paramedics paused, glancing from Jake to the head nurse. The nurse shook her head, and touched Jake's arm.
"But Jake, that's your-"
"I said, page Nancy. We're prepping for surgery."
"Doctor, that is your sister, and you can't-"
"All the more reason to keep her alive, don't you think?"
The people hesitated, and Jake crossed his arms, feeling one of the infamous glares coming on, the ones that he'd inherited from his father.
"Move."

Everyone reacted after that, and soon Jake found himself standing over his beloved little sister, operating on her to save her life. It was a moment that he had hoped he would never have to face, but here it was, and Jake would do his best to see it through for the better. As soon as his sister was finished, he got her through post-op and to her room. The family wasn't allowed in yet, though he knew that his mother and father would be sitting in the waiting room. He hadn't spoken to them, instead having sent out another doctor to share with them the news, and the name of the operating doctor. They'd been grateful that he was here to take care of his sister. Jake disagreed. Had he really been there to watch for her, she wouldn't have been in this situation.

He'd never tell her that, though. He could hear her response clearly in his head.
"You were there when it mattered, Jake. That's all that matters- you were here when I needed you most."
It made sense, and Jake stroked his sister's head, regretting that he couldn't actually hear her voice telling him these things, and regretted that they would have to put off the dinner that they were to share. A meal in a hospital room didn't count. And, odd as it was, this had made his day better. After all of the doubts and irritation of the day, his sister was alive, and she'd reminded him of why he did this.

Jake had to invent some good, or he knew that he would break down and cry.

She has her father's puppy eyes

"Lyssie, c'mon sweetheart, pick up the phone! I know you're there! Stop kissing your bloke, and pick up the phone! Lyssie, Lyssie, Lyssie, I'm just going to keep calling you over and over again! Lyssie! I need you! LYSSIE PICK UP THE PHONE!"

Alyssa Hendrix looked up from her book, and over at the phone rolling her eyes. She didn't know if she should pick up the phone, even though there was a time in her life when she would have killed to hear her father's voice on the other end of the phone, however that had been before college, and before her father had been a large influence of her life. It was also before she had a gorgeous man on the other end of the couch, watching her with dark eyes, waiting to see if she would actually pick up the phone, or if she would ignore it in favor of their date, and of reading aloud to each other, which is what they were currently engaged in.
"Aren't you going to get that?"
Gerard had a very lovely Scottish accent, and she loved the sound of it, and loved every word it said, if only for the sound if not for any other reason.
"And interupt our date? Gerry, I can talk to my dad any old time."
"And I only live across the hall, and we can pick up the book when the conversation his over."

Gerard leaned over, pressing a small kiss to her lips, and touching her cheek, a small smirk on his lips as he prodded her nose.
"Pick up the phone, and talk to your dad." He pulled his reading glasses from his pocket, and picked up a different book. "I'll be waiting." Alyssa laughed, and leaned over Gerard to pick up the phone, and smiled against the receiver.
"Hey, Daddy. What's wrong?"
"Lyssie, I don't know what to do."
"About?"
"Julie."
"Ah..."

Alyssa leaned back, giving Gerard a knowing look, and propping her feet on her boyfriend's lap, winking at him as she listened to her father.
"Lyssie, it's not what you think. I don't want to, say, leave her or anything..."
"But-"
"No, no, no! There's no but this time, Lyssie."
"There's always a but, Dad. You leave the girl in the end. What'd she do this time?"
"Alyssa, I am not leaving Julie."
"Fine, fine, so what's the emergency?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Alyssa grew concerned. Something had her father upset enough to call her for help and advice, but not upset enough to leave the woman that he claimed to love. She didn't know what it could be, but she was pretty sure it had to be serious. Gerard had noticed her discomfort, and rubbed her leg comfortingly, to which Alyssa responded with a smile.
"Dad?"
"Alyssa, Julie's pregnant."

Alyssa didn't know what to say, as shock rippled through her. She wasn't sure what to say and she didn't know what to think. She was going to have a sibling twenty years younger than herself. She and Gerard had talked about having a child in the next couple of years. Their aunt or uncle would only be a few years older. Looking helplessly at Gerard, she could feel her eyes filling with shocked tears, and envy for this child who would be the recipient of everything that Alyssa had missed out on. Gerard, as always the best fiancee a girl could imagine, pulled her into his lap, stroking her hair as Alyssa found her voice.
"Isn't she old for that?"
"That's why I'm worried, Lyssie. And me? What kind of father would I be?"
"The best."

She was trying not to sound as distressed as she felt, and curling in Gerard's arms was helping, but even still, Alyssa felt as though her heart would just vanish from her chest, shredded to pieces. Derek's claims that he was a dreadful father were not helping. She leaned her head against Gerard's chest.
"Really, Lyssie?"
"'Course, Daddy. You're the absolute best."
"Thanks, honey. You know, I should let you go- I-I'm sorry I interupted your evening."
"No, it's okay, honest. We can, we can talk."
"You really think I'm a good father?"
"Of course."
"Then I learned what I needed to know. Thanks, Alyssa, I love you."
"Love you too, Dad."

As they hung up the phone, Gerard wiped at Alyssa's tears.
"You gonna be alright?"
"Yeah, I think I will."
He smiled at her, and leaned down for another kiss.

Pushing Me Away

(So, I felt like drabbling my Mortal Kombat OTP, which is Sonya Blade and Kobra. Don't ask me why I ship them, I just do. ^-^ )

The years had stretched long between them.



She'd thought about him many times in the years since she'd seen him last. Often she would think that she'd seen him from the corner of her eyes, or when she was taking on someone in combat training. She thought about him many times during that, actually. He was the only man known to put Lt. Blade on her butt. She was too fast, and too strong for anyone else. Even the DIs, which had gotten her into loads of trouble. Everyone said that no one would ever want her in their unit. Of course, they were wrong.



There was always room for her under Major Jackson Briggs' command.



In fact, her best friend listened to her advice, and she was considered the unofficial second-in-command. They worked well, his clear-headedness balancing out her impulsiveness. Jax was her dearest friend, and to him alone had she confided the events of that night, and her first kiss, the one that she barely remembered having at all. Only Jax knew that she still longed to meet with Kobra once more. Only Jax would understand the concept of being attracted to someone who could lay a hit on you.



But at the same time, he didn't understand.



She'd never dialed the number that she'd been given, though she still even had it. It was tucked into her wallet, where she could see it every day, and know what she had given up. Her lifestyle was insane- constant danger, and deployments, and moving. It was not exactly the place or manner in which to form a relationship, and so the number remained where it was, the name and numbers printed boldly across the very worn piece of paper. Every now and then Jax caught her looking at it, and told her to call the number. She always merely shook her head and put it away.

Perhaps it was time to put it away for good?

Seven years was a long time to wait for anyone, especially when there was only a brief meeting and little chance of a repeat experience. Yet, she could never quite bring herself to destroy the scrap of paper, or to throw it away. It was not only a reminder of what could have been, but of what she wanted. Sonya knew that should she ever fall, it would be for a man like Kobra had been, a man who was able to best her and love her simultaneously. But, it was time to stop reminiscing. A nice good workout with Jax was just the thing she needed to ignore the melancholy feeling that was welling up inside of her.

Besides, Jax had found a new gym for them to try....

Looking at you, holding my breath

It had actually been fifteen years.

Looking at her children, she had to wonder where those fifteen years had gone. Isobel had grown into a beautiful young woman, with bright blue eyes and a heart-stopping smile. Christian was a solid and dependable young man, responsible, and always looking after his siblings. Jake was a quiet boy, smart and always reading some book, or experimenting with some scientific law. He'd followed his father's passion, and Madeline was grateful for that. Ainsley, she was an adoreable little girl, with her big brown eyes always so solemn, her hand always tucked into Jake's or Chris'. They were beautiful children, but when had they grown so big?

When had she grown so old?

She could vividly remember each important event in her life, and it didn't feel like they should add up to forty-two years of life. She could remember learning to tie her shoes, Shayn teaching her to ride her bike, Alex helping her with school. She could remember meeting Morgan, and their beautiful relationship, and the cold reality of it's ending. Madeline remembered meeting Jonathan Stewart for the first time, and seeing those passionate brown eyes that still had the ability to bring her to her knees. She remembered the night she'd conceived the twins, and the morning she'd learned of their existance. She could recall the births of each of her children, and the sweetness of each anniversary with her husband.

Why was life so quickly speeding by?

Isobel and Christian would soon be graduating from school, each of to their own destinations. Isobel, who was so adamant about attending Juliard, and Chris who kept his own counsel. Jacob was about to enter Constance Billiard this next year, and Ainsley, her little baby, was beginnning to step away from her parents, needing them less and less often. She wasn't needed to soothe her children back to sleep anymore, or to listen to them pour out their bad days to her. It was hard, and on this day of remembering, it was even harder to avoid these pessimistic and bittersweet thoughts.

Today, she'd been married to Jonathan for thirteen years.

She watched Christian herd his siblings out the door, Isobel and Jake amiably discussing something that they were both learning in science class, and about what it was like to have Jonathan as their science teacher. Chris was kneeling in front of Ainsley, helping her button her coat, and then offering his hand to his baby sister, carefully leading her out to where Shayn was waiting to take them to the movies. Morgan and Tetsu were to pick them up for a 'Sleepover' at the twins' father's house.

That left Madeline and Jonathan with an evening alone.

Madeline lifted a hand, waving her hand to the children as they drove off, safe in the hands of her older brother, who would watch the movie with them. As she stood there, an arm gently wrapped around her waist, moving her slightly out of the doorway so that the door could close. Madeline's hand covered the one at her waist, and she leaned against her husband, the man who had been with her closer to sixteen years than the official thirteen. Using the hand at her waist, Jonathan turned her to face him, one of his hands resting lightly on her hip, the other taking her hand in his. Seeing his intention, Madeline lifted her free hand, wrapping her fingers lightly around his shoulder.

She tilted her head to look up at him.

Jonathan Stewart had weathered the years well, only the lines around his eyes showed his age- nearing his late forties- as his hair bore no gray, and his hands hadn't weakened or wrinkled over the years. In fact, Madeline felt that he looked too good for his age; she was sure it was illegal somewhere, though she wouldn't turn him in. She herself hadn't aged so gracefully, as the gray strands that graced her hair proved. Her face had given in to laugh lines around her eyes and mouth, and her hands looked worn, with a few wrinkles on them as well. But anytime she looked into her husband's fathomless eyes, she felt young and beautiful, as when she had first met him, all those years ago.

Was it really nineteen years since they had met?

Jonathan looked down at the slight woman in his arms, and smiled. She was still so beautiful, though yes, she had succumbed to some signs of aging. Yet, to Jonathan, these marks were not hideous signs of aging, but signs of the vital and vivacious life his wife contained in that small body. Each gray hair was a sign of her love, that she had worried over her children, and her best friend, and yes, even Jonathan himself. Each laugh line was a sign of the humor she possesed, and the good nature that let her laugh even at herself. As for her hands- well, they proved that she'd worked hard for what she had, that she'd earned each and every happiness that could be showered on her. Even now, those creases on her forehead, proved her worry; he knew what it was, that she worried she didn't make him happy.

He pressed his lips to those creases of worry.

"Mads, don't go there."
Madeline blinked, confusion replacing the insecurity that had plagued her just a moment before, and she let her hand slide closer to Jonathan's neck, playing with the thick brown hair at the base of his skull.
"Beg your pardon?"
"You're worrying."
Maddie couldn't help but let a soft laugh out at that statement of the obvious. Wasn't she always worrying? She shook her head, holding her breath for a moment as the worry returned. Was Jonathan mad at her? Jon sighed, pulling his wife closer.
"Jon, I'm not-"
"After nearly twenty years, I think I can tell when something's bothering you."
The amusement in his voice was close to irritating her, but Maddie let it fall away. Sometimes, in order to love someone, you let the little things go.

"I'm not young anymore." She lifted her hand to Jon's lips, cutting off whatever it was that he was about to say. "It's true. I'm getting old, and Jon, I just...I'm-"
"Stop." The command was softly spoken from behind her finger, but it was still a command no matter how softly spoken.
"Don't interupt me, please."
"I'm your husband, Madeline, now and then I have that right. Like now."
"But-"
"You're beautiful, Mads. I didn't sign up for this expecting you to never age. I wanted this, I wanted to grow old with you, and raise a family with you, and fall asleep every night with you in my arms, and wake up each morning to the sound of your voice. Ten years from now, or forty."

There were no words she could say, not to that.

But she still had to try, though it took her a few minutes to find something to say to words that powerful, to words that true. What she finally came up with was rather inadequate.
"Really?"
"Would you believe me if I told you that I love you more now, than when I first fell for you?"
Her suprised silence was expected, and Jonathan smiled at her, giving her a little spin, and pulling her snugly back into his arms. "It's true. Now I have so many more reasons to love you. Like the way I love how you still tuck the children in, when they're fast asleep. Or the way that you smile at me from the other end of the dinner table."

Now she was flushed.

Julienne had once told her that someday, Jonathan would show her real romance. Julienne had always said that Jonathan had romantic Morgan to live up to, and he didn't intend to be second best. He never had been, but in all of their years together, as friends, and dating, and lovers and marriage, Jonathan had never been so romantic. He'd always been better than Morgan, but now he'd blown his old competition right out of the water.

Knowing he had her, Jonathan leaned down to give her a kiss.

And as those familiar lips carressed hers, Madeline realized that there was no reason to be bittersweet. Time might have flown by, and her children might be growing up, but life wasn't over. There was a new phase of life to explore, and a man who loved her to explore it with. As she kissed Jonathan back, she realized that she loved him more now, too.

And she realized that there was still plenty of time to express that.

Necklace part 1

"Lee?"
Leeland looked up from the small clasp that he was attempting to latch. His hands both delicately held the ends of a thin necklace chain, where he was trying to help his wife fasten the necklace around her neck. After another minute, he paused, smiling warmly into the mirror across from him, so that Adiva could see. He was so proud of his beautiful wife. She was stunningly beautiful in body, mind, and spirit. She'd just received a degree in nursing, and the two of them were trying to decide what to do with their lives. Leeland felt a strong urging to continue his work on the missionary field, though he also desired to settle down and add his own children to Madison, who already called Adiva mother.

"Yes, dear?"
He certainly hoped that this wouldn't result in a long conversation. Not that he didn't love the long and complicated conversations that the two of them shared, but they were going to be late for the dinner at this rate, and since his parents were the guests of honor, it would have been quite rude to be late. At least they'd already taken Madison over to Aidan and Josephine. Josie and Adiva had been good friends in high-school, and Aidan had been a driving force between getting Adiva and her niece settled in Constance Billiard, and seeing to the payment of their education.

"I've been praying lately, Leeland."
This was no big suprise. Both of them had been praying quite a bit lately, together and seperate, over the matter of their future. Slowly, Leeland settled the necklace along Adiva's neck and back, so that he could slide his arms around her waist. He really did want to know what she was going to say, and as good couples can, he gave her a look that indicated that he wanted to know what she had been praying over. "I've been praying about our future, and I know where God wants me to be. Lee, I know that I need to go to India, to the red light district, and save the souls of the girls there, perhaps find a way to get them out of their situation.

He froze, terror flooding through his body. The Red Light District was a place of Human Trafficking and sex slaves. It was a place where most missionaries didn't dare to go, and even his own parents had avoided it- and with good reason. It was perilous, particularly to female missionaries. And here his wife was asking him- no, telling him that God wanted to send her there. He couldn't let her go! Not there, not to a place where it would be difficult to protect her. Her very presence in that area could cause her to become one of the very women she wanted to help. But how could he say no?

One look to that mirror showed him her eyes, filled with compassion for not only those women, but for him. One look told him just how true this was, and how filled she was with the burning desire of the Spirit to go and help these women, to offer them hope. Slowly he turned her, pulling her close against him, and kissing her temple. He loved Adiva, more than anything. Maybe that was the problem- maybe he was too close to putting her life before God. She clearly wasn't putting herself before the desires of God. With movements so slow it was painful, Leeland turned her back around, stooped to pick up the necklace that had long ago fallen to the ground, and looped it around her neck.
"Well?"

She sounded anxious in her desire to know if we would allow her to go, or if he would accompany her, or whatever was going on in his mind. Leeland pressed another light kiss to her neck, and then stood up.
"I'll talk to people tonight, and see if I can't get us in."

With that, the clasp latched with a sense of finality, securing the necklace in place.