What a difference time can make. This time yesterday, Vicki had been something of a gibbering wreck, clinging onto Jon and not allowing him to go more than an arm's length away from her at any one time. Yet, after medical checks and a long, long sleep, she had risen determined not to let the frankly terrifying events of the morning before drag her down more than it had. Nothing had ever been solved by giving in to fright and bad precedence, and even if Jon had a heart attack trying to convince her otherwise, she was already positive that she was not going to cower away in the manor for the next month and hope the world and its nasties went away. Well, unless he came up with a good enough reason for her to stay inside and out of harm's way, that was. Ready to get moving with the day when she woke up, even if all she was going to do was visit the hospital for an ultrasound just to make sure everything was okay, the redhead for once didn't waste time pretending the morning wasn't half over when she blinked herself awake, rolling out of bed and proceeding straight to the bathroom, taking the bed covers with her. Whether he liked it or not, Jon was getting up.

Thankfully for Jon, Vicki was an unsinkable Molly, exactly the opposite by nature to himself. As Vicki knew well, Jon was prone to moodiness - angst, his family called it. He'd gotten better since he'd met Vicki, but he was by nature something of a worrier. In Jon's estimation, it was his job to keep Vicki safe. He'd promised as much and had failed. For her sake, he was trying not to let her know how the guilt was eating away at him, but she knew him better than anyone, and sooner or later, she was bound to find out. Exhausted as he was, it had taken a while to fall asleep, too worried and distraught over what had happened, what had nearly happened, watching Vicki for some time as she slept, his hand resting against the bump that was their baby, relieved each time he or she moved beneath his hand, until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, falling into a deep, but troubled sleep. Not until Vicki arose before him, stealing the blankets and his warmth along with her, did he even start to waken, grumbling under his breath as he tried to get comfortable and stay asleep.

Wrapped up in the quilt, Vicki wasn't exactly enthusiastic about the morning herself, but at least she was out of bed. With her toothbrush sticking out of the side of her mouth, she returned to lean in the bedroom doorway, a cocoon of soft warm quilt with bright copper hair and bare toes sticking out top and bottom. "C'mon, stud muffin, wakey, wakey," she called indistinctly through her toothbrushing. "Don't make me call Cosmo in here to bounce on you."

"Mmm..." he grumbled. "Five more minutes." He would have pulled the blanket up over his head, but Vicki had stolen the covers, so that wasn't happening. He pried one eye open to glance over at his lovely wife with the toothbrush attractively sticking out of her mouth, the events of the previous day coming back to him and settling on his shoulders like a ton of bricks, but he didn't want her to know that. He'd never seen her that terrified and upset, and even if she did pretend that nothing had happened, they both knew better, and more than anything, he wanted to be there for her. "Cosmo is probably downstairs eating Humphrey's sausage." Wait, that didn't come out right.

His opening comment for the day about their dog brought forth a decidedly filthy laugh from the depths of the quilt, one hand appearing from the folds to point at him. "I don't really want to be thinking about Humphrey like that, matey boy," she informed her husband, embracing the inadvertently funny start to Jon's day with relief. She knew he was going to obsess over the events of the last day for weeks to come, so this was all about setting boundaries for that worry and upset. "You, on the other hand ..." She left that hanging, blowing her hair out of her eyes long enough to show him a cheeky wink before she turned back into the bathroom.

He blinked, surprised and yet not surprised by her sauciness. Her irrepressible good mood was, after all, was part of what had attracted him to her. Perhaps there was something to be said for the old saying that opposites attract. "Uh....I won't argue if you want to eat my sausage!" he called to her as she retreated back into the bathroom. Despite his glum mood, he had to chuckle a little when he realized how he'd stumbled into that one. He wondered if she'd gotten in the shower yet. It didn't seem like it, or she'd be wearing a towel and not the blankets. He sat up and shoved a hand through the mess of curls on top of his head, stifling a shiver from the chill. "Doesn't anyone believe in turning the heat up around here?" he grumbled to himself, clad in nothing but his boxers.

"You need to get out of bed if you want me to do that," was called back to him, far more clear now she had removed the toothbrush from her mouth. A moment later came the sound of the shower, preceding a wash of steam that billowed out from the bathroom. It wasn't that the manor was cold, or that it was poorly heated this morning, but Jon and Vicki shared a preference for staying warm right after waking up that they both used against each other when one had to wake the other up. "Surely there should be some way of getting into a hot shower without getting cold taking your clothes off first ..."

There was that blink again. It wasn't exactly unusual for them to share a morning shower, and Humphrey had only grumbled once about them using up all the hot water, but after what she'd just been through, he wasn't sure she was really up to a hot shower and all that implied. Then again, the best way to forget what had happened was to go on with their lives, and take comfort in each other. He climbed to his feet and trudged into the bathroom, taking a moment to relieve himself and then frowning at his reflection in the mirror, rubbing his fingers over the stubble of growth on his face. To shave or not to shave, that was the question.

What Jon didn't seem to have realised was that Vicki was more than capable of explaining away her fright and upset. She didn't think she had been through such a terrible ordeal as he had - after all, she had only been tied down and threatened; he had been hands on, face-to-face. He had killed to save her life and the life of their unborn child. In the face of that, she didn't see that she had been through so very much. Aside from rope burns on her ankles and wrists, and one thumb-shaped bruise on her throat, she had come through unscathed, and she was confident that the scan today would prove that the baby had, too. Jon was the one who had been injured. Behind him, she turned away from the shower, peeking over his shoulder at his reflection, opening up the quilt to wrap him up with her with a kiss to his shoulder. "Chin pie or baby's bum today, love?" she asked him impishly, phrasing his internal question to himself in a uniquely Vicki manner.

But to Jon, it was Vicki who'd been through the more harrowing event, helplessly strapped to a metal table, her life and the life of their child threatened. It wasn't the first time he'd killed a ghoul, but he sure as hell hoped it would be the last. The only thing that was important was Vicki and the baby; nothing else mattered. It seemed neither was in a hurry to mention their ordeal, though Jon had noticed Vicki's bruises with a heavy heart, despite his own injuries. His injuries didn't matter; they would heal, in time. "I don't know," he replied, rubbing his chin as she wrapped the blanket around them both. "Any preference?" he asked. He was leaning toward shaving, now that they were done promoting Fifty Shades, and he was on break from the Shanachie. "No more prickly chin if I shave," he remarked, thinking of her for obvious reasons.

She smiled, rising into her toes to comfortably lay her chin on his shoulder, the curve of her belly pressed into his back. Time for Jon to learn the wonders of the pinpoint accuracy of their baby's kidney shots. "Don't take too long," she suggested, touching a second kiss to his prickly jaw. "Humph'll kill me if we use up the hot water while there are other people staying here."

Jon smirked as a thought came to mind, turning his head into the kiss. "He could just ask Johnny to stand in as a water heater." Oh, that would be evil, but might as well make use of the Torch's talents! He felt the baby give a whollop of a kick to his back. "Somebody's awake," he said, turning to face her and sliding a hand against the swell of her belly.

Vicki laughed at this suggestion, loosening her grasp as he turned, enjoying the way the baby followed the press of his hand along the curve of her womb. "How would he do that, stand in the cistern for half an hour?" she asked cheerfully, tipping her head back to look up at her husband. She'd slept surprisingly well, only awakening once or twice in need of the facilities, but she had a feeling he had been haunted with nightmares. One corner of the quilt fell away as she raised a hand to return his caress, stroking the line of his jaw tenderly. "Love you."

"Nah, he probably only has to touch it," he replied, still smirking, despite everything that had happened. He wondered how Storm would feel about being the target of their humor, and yet, he really did appreciate not only what he'd done for them, but more importantly, that he'd been there to help. No matter what he might think of Liv's brash boyfriend, Jon would be forever in his debt for coming to their rescue. "Love you, too," Jon returned, his voice softening, as well as the expression on his face. "I'll just be a few. Promise." He had the art of shaving down to an art, so long as he didn't fuss too long to make sure it was perfect.

"Good." She pressed her smile to his in a last soft kiss before sweeping the quilt off her shoulders and around his, turning toward the shower and its ever-thickening fog of steam to draw her tank up and over her head. A moment later, her shorts joined it in the laundry basket, and she was stepping underneath the hot flow of water with an audible groan of delight. "God, this is almost as good as sex."

He actually laughed at her remark. "Baby, nothing is as good as sex," he said as he slipped the blanket from his shoulders and hung it on a hook on the back of the door before turning back to the mirror to spread shaving cream across his face, preferring to do it the old fashioned way. "Hungry?" he asked, doing his best to avoid bringing up the subject of the previous day.

"Well, I did say almost," she countered with a low chuckle of her own, pleased to hear him laugh so soon in the wake of their encounter with the ghoul. Part of her was wondering just when he was going to break down and turn into Mr. Guilty - an unknown and unpopular member of the Mr. Men, whom she hoped a book was never written for - but the rest was just relieved that he wasn't wearing that guilt over his heart as he had done in the past. "Of course, this would be even closer to as good as sex if you were in here, too." Perhaps not insatiable, but Vicki had learned in the wake of Jon's vampire adventures that he took a lot away from frequent intimacy when he was recovering from something traumatic.

"You didn't answer the question," he pointed out, as he finished up shaving, and she could take that "hunger" to mean whatever she wanted. He rinsed what was left of the shaving cream from his face, which was now as smooth as a baby's bottom, the cleft in his chin quite prominent again. The room was warming up quickly from the shower and he quickly slipped out of his boxers and into the shower to join his wife. "Your wish is my command, Master," he quipped with a grin, doing a decent job of hiding that guilt.

"Mistress," she corrected with another soft laugh, relieved that she'd had time to wash the soap from her hair before he slipped in with her. She had a bad track record of getting him in the eye with shampoo or conditioner when they showered together. Turning to face him, she slid her arms up and around his neck, sharing his grin fondly. "Unless you think pregnancy is somehow providing me with junk downstairs for the next few months." And no, she still hadn't answered his question.

"Mistress, right, because you're definitely not a guy," he remarked, looking her over and admiring those assets that made her female. "No, not unless it's a boy, but even then, that's not your junk. It's our son's." Just saying that brought a surge of warmth to Jon's heart, despite everything. He slid his arms around her slowly expanding waist and pulled her close, his eyes suddenly suspiciously wet, and it wasn't from her getting shampoo in his eyes, this time. "God, I love you so much, Vicki," he told her, overcome with emotion. He didn't wait for a reply, but showed her how much he loved her with the tenderest of kisses.

Indeed, in the space of a single year, he had learned her better than she had ever learned herself, drawing pleasure as much from the lightest of touches or softest of sounds as the firmer confidence of other gestures. He could bring her screaming to the peak of pleasure, or guide her through those peaks and valleys to a calmer climax, however he wanted to, whenever he wanted to, and this time was no different. It was something slow and gentle in these moments, but no less powerful for that, leaving her in a lazy daze that she only stirred from to return the loving attention in her own way, sharing the languor of her warmth with him through the soft tenderness of her hands and lips, paying special care to the split in his hairline, the shallow cut on his arm, the bruises on his knuckles, the marks of his defence of her that she would never begrudge him.

She brought him to a slow soothing release as easily as he did her, the two of them sharing and savoring these quiet moments that would be all too rare once the baby was born, but Jon wasn't worried. He knew their love would endure, and that having a child took nothing away from either of them, but only enhanced their love for each other as they shared it with a child of their union, a child who was part of them both, a child who would be as loved as the love they shared for each other. It was true, that Jon had returned to Rhy'Din with the hope and dream of getting married and raising a family, and though he didn't remember it, he had nearly achieved that dream, and it was all because of Vicki. Once the baby was born, his life would be complete, and all his dreams would become reality.

Lying with him in the warm quiet they had cultivated together, Vicki could easily have drifted back to sleep once again, were it not for the tell-tale rumble of her stomach, loud and intrusive on the quality of the moment. She rolled her eyes, falling to soft giggles at the sound of her own hunger. "Maybe you should ask me that question again," she suggested playfully, curling her palm to his cheek as she kissed him once more.

"Mm, it wouldn't be the same," he mumbled, as quietly, sleepily content as she was. He, too, could have easily fallen back asleep and probably have rested easier than he had the night before, but the day awaited and there were important things that needed to be done. If it wasn't for Vicki, he might have languished in bed all day, but the rumbling of her stomach reminded him that she was eating for two now, and they had an important doctor visit later in the day that would ease both their worried minds. "I guess we'll just have to wait for an encore until later," he remarked, with a soft smile and a brief kiss to her cheek. "I love you, Vicki," he reminded her, not for the first time that morning.

"It's a date, Mr. Granger," she smiled fondly to him, nuzzling tenderly for a long moment before giving in to her body's demands for fuel with a long sigh, pushing herself to sit up and finally stand. "You get to walk out through the door first, though," she added, opening up the closet to rummage for something warm to wear. "Cosmo'll run me down like he does to Liv otherwise." She flashed him a grin over her shoulder; their hyperactive border collie couldn't have run her down even if he'd wanted to. Obedience to Vicki was too well ingrained into his doggy psyche.

Jon chuckled at the thought of that. "I think I better get dressed first," he remarked, feeling lazy, but rolling to his feet. Once he got some coffee and food in him, he'd be fine. He picked up the towel and comb and put them where they belonged before going to the closet to pick out his clothes for the day. "I was thinking maybe we'd stop some place for breakfast, unless you'd rather eat here."

Despite her initial misgivings, Vicki had given in on the subject of maternity clothes when Humphrey had started to join in the conversations, ensuring that everything she dressed herself in now - shirt, jeans, and cardigan, right down to the underwear - was made to fit her comfortably right up until the end of her third trimester. Dragging a brush through her hair, she looked over at Jon with a half-smile, proud of him for making the suggestion rather than taking the easy way out and insisting on their staying in the manor as much as possible. "I think that sounds like a great idea," she nodded cheerfully, shaking her fingers through her hair a moment before turning to face him, as ready to greet the outside world as she was ever going to be. "Anywhere particular in mind?"

Jon chose a pair of jeans and a gray henley shirt, topping it off with a black leather jacket. It seemed he was slowly but surely dressing more casually now that he was with Vicki. As strong as the temptation to hide was, Jon thought it would be good for them both to get out of the house and go about their business, as usual. Though he'd had Liv cancel all his appointments for the next week or so, he knew they couldn't hide forever and doing so was, once again, letting their stalker win. "I was thinking pancakes. What do you think" Maybe with fruit." Something healthy and vegetarian friendly, both for Vicki's sake and the baby's. If Jon had doted on her and spoiled her before, it was probably only going to get worse as the pregnancy wore on. He finished dressing, shoving his fingers through his damp hair to untangle the mop of curls that were always quick to grow out and hard to tame, clean-shaven for the first time in months since the promotional tours for Fifty Shades had begun.

She eyed him with teasingly suspicious eyes, her English upbringing making her resistant to the prospect of pancakes for breakfast when she had known them only as a dessert for most of her life. But life with Jon had rubbed off on her in a number of surprising ways. Through a small smile, she conceded his idea as having merit. "Loath as I am to admit it, I'm drawn toward the idea of pancakes this morning," she confessed with wry humor. "I think my Englishness is peeling away at the edges."

"And rubbing off on me," he admitted with a smile. He'd been loathe, as she called it, to drink tea, but ever since meeting her, he didn't mind it so much. It would never replace coffee as his choice of breakfast beverage, but every now and then, he felt like a hot cup of tea - so long as it was sweet to accommodate his penchant for sweets. Having spent so much time in the States, his eating habits had become closer to that of an American than a Rhy'Dinian. "We should say good morning to Uncle before we go. I think he peeked in on us earlier. He's probably worried."

"And if Johnny and Liv are still here, we should say thank you," Vicki added, stamping a little to settle her feet into her sneakers as she moved toward him, hugging her arms about her husband's waist fondly. "Liv strikes me as the type to think it was all her fault, and if she caught your uncle at a bad time yesterday ..." She didn't need to elaborate. Everyone who had ever spent time with the Old Man when he was in one of his moods knew he could be more than caustic given the right incentive.

Jon frowned, even as Vicki's arms went around him and his around her. "It's not her fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I should have been more careful. I promised to protect you, and I failed." So, there it was - the old familiar guilt creeping back in, only this time, he really knew it was his fault. If only he'd listened to Liv and not been so stubborn. If only he'd done this or done that. What was done was done, and there was no changing it. All he could do was learn from it and move on, but the guilt hung heavily upon his heart and mind.

"It wasn't your fault. None of this was your fault." Vicki had a feeling she was going to be repeating those words fairly often over the next few days, but she wasn't afraid of repeating herself until the message sank in. She leaned close, laying her forehead to his as she looked up into his eyes. "You saved my life," she reminded him, focusing on what was important. "You saved our baby's life. You should be proud of that, love. I know I am."

While that much was true, he wouldn't have had to save her life or kill anyone or anything if only he hadn't been so stubborn, but then, the stalker will probably still be out there, and they'd still be living under a cloud of fear. It was all a matter of how one chose to view things. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you," he admitted soberly, not proud of the fact that he'd had to kill someone or something. Jon was, at heart, a pacifist - he didn't really believe in killing - and yet, there were times when it was necessary, and this had been one of those times.

"I'm not asking you to be proud of taking a life, however twisted that life was," she clarified her statement, sensing his unease with the way it had originally sounded. "But you stepped up, you did something that very few people could do. And more importantly, because of that bravery, you didn't lose anything." Her palm stroked his cheek gently, lips softly caressing to his as she willed him to take away the good from the experience and leave the bad in the flames with the perpetrator.

He stilled beneath that kiss, knowing she was right, but still feeling a little guilty. It would be a little while to get past the guilt; hopefully, the nightmares would follow suit. "I'd go up against an army of undead to protect you," he told her, adamantly. His life was meaningless without her, and he'd do anything and everything in his power to protect her. "Luckily I remembered what Shen Lei taught me."

"I really need to buy that girl a fruit basket or something," was Vicki's mildly impish response to his mention of the Slayer who had kept him alive during his hunt for the vampires who had attempted to turn him last year. "I hope she also taught you the importance of feeding your hungry pregnant wife before she starts eating the furnishings, too."

The corners of his mouth turned upwards into a faint smile. "And here I thought I fed you already," he teased, knowing she meant real food. One couldn't live on love alone, after all, though sometimes he wondered. "Shall we before we get distracted again then?" he asked with a smirk, knowing his wife's mind - and his own - all too well. She might be pregnant, but that had done nothing to slow down her libido.

She laughed, glad that his guilt wasn't holding him back from being himself. Bouncing up to kiss him gently, she slid a hand into his and pulled him toward the door. "Come on, stud muffin. Let's get your uncle's mind settled before Miranda has to overdose him on sedatives." She flicked him a cheeky smile, opening the main door that led onto the main hallway and revealing the impatient shape of Cosmo, bounding toward them from the top of the stairs. "Whoa!" Laughing, Vicki stepped smartly out of the way, leaving Jon entirely undefended against his dog's excited greeting.

Jon moved to his knees and opened his arms to greet his beloved dog, who, though he had been spoiled by Liv and Johnny and Humphrey, seemed overjoyed to see his master and mistress. "Hey, boy," Jon greeted the dog as Cosmo bounded into his open arms and licking his clean-shaven, smooth cheek. "I missed you, too," he smiled as he rubbed the dog's fur fondly.

Anyone would have thought that the hyperactive collie had been shut up indoors all day, abandoned and neglected by the trio of people waiting to see that Jon and Vicki were as well as could be expected when it was clearly not the case. The redhead leaned against the door, lowering herself to one knee to rub Cosmo's ears as he impatiently turned back and forth between his owners, apparently so excited to see them he didn't know which one to love first. "Something tells me he's getting used to being spoiled by everyone but us," Vicki grinned as she watched, giving the dog and affectionate push toward Jon to help him make up his mind.

She jumped as Cosmo made the decision to join her, smiling down at the dog for a moment. Her fingers squeezed Jon's, promising not to be long without needing to actually say the words, and a moment later, she was out the door, audible in her laughter at Cosmo's skittering and sliding over the newly polished hardwood floor.

Humphrey watched her go, leaning back in his chair as he looked over at Jon thoughtfully. "Are you sure you're okay, Jon?" he asked quite seriously, the worry of the past day showing now that the so-called fragile female was out of the room. "That was quite an ordeal you went through yesterday."

Jon's smile faded, turning thoughtful as he watched Vicki and Cosmo step out of the room, all pretenses and pretending dropped, now that it was just him and Humphrey. "I'm fine, Uncle. I'm just worried about Vicki. I'll feel better when they tell us the baby is fine." Jon chewed at the corner of his mouth a moment as he leaned against his uncle's desk. "I was an idiot, and I almost lost her because of it."

"You're both idiots," his uncle informed him matter-of-factly. "Obviously under some kind of divine protection, but still idiots." He shifted forward in his seat, leaning his forearms on the desk as he looked up at Jon. "Security is arranged for a reason, Jonathan. I know it is an inconvenience, but it is far less inconvenient than waking up tied to a table."

Jon contained a barely repressed shudder at the mental image that came to mind at his uncle's reminder of their ordeal - Vicki secured to a metal table, ready to be cut open, like a Thanksgiving turkey. As the mental image that was in reality a memory replayed itself in his mind, he was unable to repress that shudder any longer, turning his back in hopes his uncle wouldn't notice it. He slumped down into a chair, leaning against an elbow, fingers digging into his curls. "It was horrible, Uncle. Terrifying. I don't know how she can be so blas" about it."

Humphrey twisted his chair about to face his nephew, concerned but fairly certain that between Vicki and Cosmo, Jon would be fine in time. He reached over to grasp Jon's shoulder firmly. "I don't think she's being blas" about it, lad," he told him quietly. "I think she'll talk to you about it sometime soon, in a quiet moment, when she thinks you're not holding onto your misplaced guilt over what happened. That girl knows you a lot better than you think, and you know her. Instead of blas", why not see her behavior for what it is - she's trying to protect you from your own heartache, Jon, any fool can see that."

Jon wasn't exactly comforted by his uncle's response, no matter how well meaning. They'd already been over the guilt part, and he knew his uncle would only get annoyed if he insisted on beating a dead dog. Despite Vicki's best efforts to save Jon from heartache and his talent as an actor, it was plain as day to see how it was eating him up inside. "I'm the one that's supposed to be protecting her, not the other way around. What am I supposed to tell her" I'm sorry I screwed up" All's well that ends well" This isn't Shakespeare. It's real."

Humphrey gave him a long look, absent-mindedly rubbing his chin as he did so. "Jon, what do you think marriage is, exactly?" he asked slowly. "Do you truly believe that it is a union of equals, or are you trying to hold onto some outdated mode of thought that somehow the woman is the weaker one and needs a man to look after her" Because, frankly, that is ridiculous. If you're going to spend your life trying to protect Vicki without letting her protect you in return, you've got a lifetime of clashing ahead of you, young man."

"No, I..." Jon frowned, knitting his eyebrows in thought. Maybe he was a little old fashioned, but he had vowed in not so many words to love and protect her for the rest of his life, and after only a few short months of marriage, he'd already failed. He blew out an exasperated breath. He was never going to win this argument, and he knew it. "I just don't know what to do to make things better. How am I supposed to pretend nothing happened when every time I close my eyes, I replay it in my head" How am I supposed to make her forget when I can't forget it myself?" But then, it had only been a few hours since their ordeal; it would take time for them both to forget what they'd been through, but at least, it was over.

His uncle rolled his eyes, making no attempt to comfort when good-old-fashioned common sense would do far more good in this case. "You don't pretend nothing happened, but at the same time, lad, you don't hold onto it or use it as an excuse not to live," he told Jon in his gruff, affectionate way. "You have so much to hold onto instead - you have your life, a wife who is obviously worrying about exactly the same thing as you are right now, and a child on the way. You have your sister, who should be coming 'round this evening for your weekly dinner for three and who won't feel left out if the pair of you man up and tell her what?s been going on. You have your job, which you excel at and enjoy. And you have me, though admittedly I come slightly lower on the list of priorities." This was added with a faint smirk; Humphrey knew the reason Jon had moved into the manor, he was just fishing for a little reassurance himself. He reached over and patted Jon's hand fondly. "You're making things better all the time, Jon," he promised his nephew. "Just by being alive and well and not locking her up in your rooms like a mad old hermit. Stop looking at the bad, or it'll tear you up inside."

"You do not come lower on the list of priorities, Uncle," Jon was quick to point out. As a matter of fact, Humphrey was close to the top of the list, higher on Jon's list of priorities than the old man probably thought. He frowned a little as he considered his uncle's words, knowing he was right, and not just because he was older and wiser. "I wish you'd been my father," Jon blurted out, before he had a chance to realize the thought had passed his lips.

Humphrey snorted a little at how quickly Jon rose to reassure him, forcing himself not to laugh aloud right now. He might be gruff and prickly, but he could tell when a declaration of mirth would be a bad idea. But it was Jon's second blurt that stilled him, raising the suspicion of tears in the old man's eyes, making him look away in a faintly guilty silence for a moment. "No," he said very quietly. "No, you don't. Without David, for all his faults, you wouldn't have become the man you are. My brother would never have come back to Rhy'Din if he hadn't had a son to raise, and though I never spoke to him, I was grateful to have him home." He shook his head. "Life is too short for wishes and might have beens, Jon. Take it from an old fool who should have known better. We're here now, and what we have is very special to me in my dotage. Be content with that, lad."

There was that frown again, this time because Jon had noticed his uncle turn away and had caught the hint of sadness that Humphrey always tried so hard to hide when anyone mentioned the past. "It doesn't matter. I don't remember him." Whatever had made Jon the way he was, whether it had been due in part to his father's loathing and abuse, no longer seemed to matter. There had been a time when Jon had wanted nothing more but to recall his past, but that had changed. Now, he thought of it as almost a gift. Memories of the past couldn't hurt you if you couldn't remember them. It was almost like starting life over with a fresh slate. "Better late than never. Isn't that how the saying goes?" he asked, watching Humphrey with sharp eyes.

The old man drew in a slightly shaken breath before he replied, knowing the truth in that oft-repeated saying better than most. He knew his own failings and held the blame for what they had caused in the past still close to his chest, though he rarely spoke of the worst weight he bore. His gnarled hand reached out to grip Jon's almost too tightly for comfort, brown eyes turning to meet those of his nephew with burning insistence. "It's truth, not just a saying," he said firmly. "Just ....never say never, Jon. It's a long time to regret what you could have changed."

Humphrey had told him a little bit about his life story and the regrets he had for things he could no longer change, and he knew he wanted his nephew not to make those same mistakes. The truth was while there were a few loose ends in Jon's life, a few people who he felt he had wronged or who had wronged him, he hated no one. There was little room in his heart for hatred, but the pain of betrayal was another matter. He held onto Humphrey's hand longer than necessary, a troubled look on his face that went deeper than the events of the previous day. It was his turn to glance away before the old man could see the inner turmoil he was trying to hide as he debated whether or not to tell Humphrey the truth about his stalker.

Humphrey's eyes narrowed as he watched Jon look away, wondering what else was on his nephew's mind. A simple shock and fright such as the one they had described to him the day before shouldn't be weighing so heavily on the younger man, not like this. Jon knew something he wasn't telling, and Humphrey didn't like secrets like that. "Jon?"

Jon said nothing for a long moment, debating back and forth whether or not to let Humphrey in on his little secret. Vicki already knew, but hadn't said much about it, and he hadn't had a chance to ask if she thought he should reveal what he knew or keep it to himself. There were people who might get hurt by what he now knew, and yet, those same people deserved to know the truth. "It didn't have to happen, Uncle," he started, staring at an invisible spot on the floor, remembering all the arguments he and Lena had had about Jon putting the family in danger, when someone else had done far worse.

"I take it from that comment that there was more involved here than a girl who took her obsession with you beyond the grave," Humphrey said calmly, his own brows knitted in a frown as he watched Jon. "Something to do with us, perhaps?" he ventured, tilting his head to the side, studying his nephew's expression thoughtfully. "Something you're not sure you want to share."

"I'm not sure there's any point," Jon explained. And yet, if it had happened once, it could happen again, couldn't it' "You won't like it," he continued, knowing instinctively that if he let Humphrey know what had really happened after he'd been shot, he'd be livid. "I don't want to cause trouble for anyone. I'm sure they thought they were doing the right thing."

This earned Jon one of those looks from Old Man Granger, one of the expressions that the board room now ruled by Caroline was infinitely glad they didn't have to deal with anymore. "Right thing or not, something has been done that put you and your family in danger," he said, his voice stern. He didn't know what had been going on, nor what Jon had to say, but it didn't take a genius to recognize the turn of phrase that was protecting someone from being outed. "Tell me, Jonathan."

Humphrey's frown deepened, but it wasn't so much in concern as it might have been. The way phrases had been used and sentences constructed implied that Ollie, the real Ollie, was elsewhere but still alive and well. That was something to be thankful for. As to Piper ...."If my spies can locate her new address in time, I will be sending her an invitation," he nodded, utterly shameless in admitting that he effectively spied on everyone in the family just to keep up with them. "If they can't, I can only hope she'll bring Lyneth anyway. That little one has grown enormously in just one year, you know."

Jon smiled a little at the memory of the last time he'd seen Lyneth and the thought of all the new little Granger children who were popping up lately, including his own, which made his brain circle back to Vicki and the fact that they hadn't had breakfast yet and had a doctor's appointment in a few hours. "Crap! Vicki! I promised her breakfast!"

The look on his nephew's face brought a loud cackle of laughter from Humphrey, banishing the worst of his thoughts in a gale of laughter. "Yes, you had better go and feed her before the Hugest Torch or whatever he's calling himself decides to show off and sets fire to our kitchens doing it himself," he suggested with a warm grin. He actually quite liked Johnny, but he was never going to admit to it.

Jon chuckled. "Human Torch....I think. He's a superhero or something back on Earth." Jon didn't really follow comic books much or know much about metahumans, except when it came to the movies. He'd been up for the part of Superman, but had lost out to some guy named Cavill, whoever that was. Once again, Jon wrapped his uncle in a warm, familial hug - the kind that sons gave to fathers. "Thanks, Uncle," he told the old man, the closest Jon had come to saying I love you without actually saying the words. "I better rescue Vicki from Johnny before he sets fire to something," he said, practically echoing his uncle's statement.

"Or before she challenges him to do something stupid," Humphrey added, embracing his nephew warmly, a good deal less put out now that he knew all the details than he had been when they had first come in. "I expect the pair of you to come and show me the pictures as soon as you get back here, you know," he added with a smile. "I demand to know what my great-grand-nephew or -niece thinks of all this hoo-har."

Jon smiled warmly, now that the conversation had turned to happier matters, feeling relieved now that Humphrey knew everything, like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders, at least temporarily. "Maybe we'll find out if it's a girl or a boy," he remarked, letting his uncle go and turning toward the door. "We won't be gone more than a few hours. Promise."

"I promise not to send out search parties until midnight," was Humphrey's parting shot, though they both knew it would be far sooner that he would start worrying about his family if they didn't return by nightfall. "And Jon ....take care."

"We will," Jon promised, waving a hand back at his uncle. He knew without asking that they were going to have a retinue of security following them everywhere they went for a while, and so long as they kept their distance enough to give him and Vicki a modicum of privacy, he promised himself he wouldn't complain. "Try not to spoil Cosmo too much while we're gone!" he called back and out he went to find and reclaim his wife from Johnny Storm.

((Whew, another long one! A cookie or two to anyone who made it through the whole thing. The usual thanks to my partner-in-crime. Will it be happily ever after for Jon and Vicki from here on out' Only time will tell. :) ))