New Year's Eve came and went. Desmond's friends and co-workers had tried to drag him away from work for a few hours to celebrate, and though he'd promised to catch up with them later, he'd gotten lost in the case he was working on and had lost all track of time, eventually falling asleep in a chair in his office missing the celebration entirely, despite the ruckus in the streets outside the building. It wasn't until mid-morning that he'd awoken, bleary-eyed and groggy, despite missing the party that had gone on the previous night. The office was quiet, everyone else home sleeping off a hangover or spending time with family, while there he sat - rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching the ache from his muscles, alone and with a mound of work still waiting for him on his desk.

He'd gone over the case a dozen times or more in preparation for Grand Jury, but he knew no matter how many times he went over it, he'd never really feel ready, until he stood in the court room and faced the jury. He hadn't meant to stay so long, but time had gotten away from him, as it had a habit of doing when he was knee-deep in work, and the promise he'd made to visit Rhy'Din had been nearly forgotten amidst all the pressures of his blossoming career.

A soft giggle made itself known in the quiet of the office. It sounded tiny - not small in sound, but as though it had issued from some tiny creature. A rustle shook the papers on his desk; a breeze that came from no open window rattled the blind on his window. A loud thump resounded from the cabinet against the wall, and suddenly everything was still again. But it was an odd sort of stillness, the sort of quiet that came when many eyes were watching. Patiently waiting for an opportunity.

Des had awoken to the sound of a soft giggle and the rustle of papers, but it was the unexplained thump that had startled him awake, and he looked around the room for the source of the sound, a strange feeling creeping over him that he wasn't alone. But he was. There was no one in sight, and he quickly dismissed what he'd thought to be something as nothing more than a dream. Pushing himself to his feet, he frowned as he glanced as his watch and realized what time it was, remembering his promise to Piper and wondering if there was still time to see her and get back before he was due in court.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself, angry he'd lost track of time. He'd intended to leave for Rhy'Din Saturday or Sunday at the latest, before he'd gotten bogged down in details and obligations, despite it being a holiday weekend. This job, as important as it was to him, was starting to take over his life.

Another thump from the cabinet rattled the contents violently, and if he strained his ears, he might just be able to make out the sound of furious whispering, perhaps even an argument in voices so small as to be almost imperceptible. Another rustle shook the papers on his desk, followed by the quiet clink of a glass ....and with nothing more than a blur in the air, a full glass of water now stood on the desk where before there had been none. Another quiet giggle flickered through the room, seeming to sweep past Des' groggy head, and a quiet crash of metal announced that his keys - previously in the pocket of his coat hanging quite some way away - had been dumped unceremoniously on the desk beside that glass.

Des blinked in disbelief at the mischief that was going on around him, his eyes not wanting to believe what they were seeing. He wasn't drunk and he wasn't sleeping, and had no logical explanation for it, other than the possibility of madness, forgetting, at least momentarily, Piper's claims regarding Lyneth's true origins. Even if she was telling the truth - and he had no reason to suspect she wasn't - the last thing he was expecting was to be plagued by fairies here in Manhattan in broad daylight. "What the hell..." he muttered to himself, suddenly wide awake, despite his recent grogginess. He stepped closer to his desk, knowing for a fact that he hadn't poured himself a glass of water or left his keys on his desk.

"He's late." Quite where the little voice had come from was difficult to tell, but the words were clear enough to understand. "He made a promise and he broke it." There was the sound of a small scuffle near the window, and quite suddenly tiny hands grasped hold of a hank of Des' hair and pulled. Hard. Yet ....there was nothing there. Or perhaps, whatever was there was just too fast to be caught. "Oath-breakers don't get second chances."

"Ow!" Des exclaimed as someone or something tugged at his hair, and he swatted at whatever it was, as though he was swatting a fly. As unbelievable and impossible as it seemed, he realized he wasn't alone. There was someone else - a few of them by the sound of it - there in the room with him, either invisible to his eyes or too small to see. "Who's there?" he asked, narrowing his eyes and turning this way and that toward the sound of the little voices. He'd heard pieces of what they were saying, but hadn't quite put two and two together yet.

The little voice spoke again. "Oath-breakers are bad people." Another voice picked up the theme from a different corner of the room, still tiny in size, but vehement in casting aspersions. "Oath-breakers don't deserve little friends." A shattering of glass sent an explosion of glittering shards and water across his desk, wetting various papers and leaving his keys in a treacherous pile of sharp glass fragments.

His brows furrowed at the accusation. He was nothing of the sort. He was only late and having a breach of faith, wondering if he'd imagined the entire trip to Rhy'Din, like Ebenezer Scrooge had more than likely imagined being visited by the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future. But certain he was awake and not dreaming, he was not imagining this. "I am not an oath-breaker!" he found himself protesting to the unseen forces that were tormenting him, gasping as the glass on his desk suddenly shattered seemingly by itself. He hurried over to try and blot the water and save all his hard work from being ruined, cursing again as a shard of glass found a finger and drew blood.

Another giggle, harsher and less forgiving, made itself known. "You made a promise," the voice attached to it declared, and for the briefest moment, a blur in the air resolved into a tiny figure, wings fluttering. "You broke your promise." The figure became a blur once again, and hit him squarely between the eyes with a force that was completely unexpected given the size of the fist it came from. While he was distracted, another sweeping blur buzzed over the desk, and his bleeding thumb was suddenly dressed in a neat little bandage. "You hurt our Lyneth."

Too stunned to defend himself, at least at first, Desmond stumbled backwards, knocked off balance by that tiny fist and back into the chair where he'd spent the night. He didn't notice the bandage on his finger at first, too stunned by what was going on around him. "I didn't..." he started, blinking to make sure he wasn't imagining things. "I promised I'd come for dinner!" he pointed out, remembering the promise he'd made to Piper that he'd later dismissed as a dream. "I thought....I thought I was dreaming." He rubbed at the tiny bruise that was forming between his eyes. It was then that he noticed the bandage and wondered if at least one of the little creatures was on his side.

He couldn't deny what he was seeing. If this was real, then was Rhy'Din real" It seemed too unbelievable, torn between logic and the need for proof and his desire to believe and make a leap of faith.

An ugly face peeked out at him from behind the wet papers. This one was still small, but seemingly distracted, twitching uncomfortably until finally it seemed to give into its nature. In yet another blur of speed, it rushed across the desk. In its wake, glass was swept up, water was wiped away, and even the papers that had been sodden a moment ago were left as good as new. A low mutter made itself known from a corner above Desmond's head. "Stupid brownies ..."

Another voice shushed the first loudly, and a third finally made itself known, recognisable as the one to whom belonged the fist that had handed out the tiny bruise between the human's eyes. "She was waiting," it said from its hiding place, seemingly angry with him. "She was waiting and happy. And then she was disappointed and sad."

The first voice piped up once again. "You made the Mummy sad, too." And again, the second voice spoke. "Oath-breakers don't deserve them."

Desmond wondered not for the first time whether or not he was going mad. Was he working so hard that he'd lost his mind, or was all this real" His memory traveled back to Christmas - the most magical Christmas of his life, it seemed. The night he'd met the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen and been completely and utterly charmed by her pixie of a daughter. He frowned at the memory, almost too afraid to think it might have actually been real. The harsh reality of his own life had overshadowed the beauty and magic of Rhy'Din until he'd believed it all to be just the product of a wistful imagination and a little too much alcohol. "It was real?" he asked, eyes wide, heart pounding in his chest at the possibility.

"You don't think we're real?" And quite suddenly, where there had been nothing but his empty office, Desmond found himself surrounded by little people. Some wore wings and floated in mid-air, tiny human-like beings that seemed delicate to the eye; some stood on the ground, a little larger, sturdier; others on the desk, ugly little beings who couldn't help obsessively cleaning and tidying even when making a point. To a man, they were all looking at him as though he had personally insulted them.

If it was at all possible, the lawyer's eyes went a little wider, a little rounder as he took in the beings that were surrounding him, feeling perhaps a little like Gulliver when he'd awoken surrounded by the little people. "I...uh..." Des broke off, his jaw falling open, uncharacteristically speechless. Either he was still dreaming or he was surrounded by a small band of angry fairies. "Oh my God," he muttered to himself, though he guessed the Christian God had very little to do with what he was seeing. "I thought..." Well, obviously, he'd thought wrong.

"No, you didn't," the first speaker declared. She was a tiny winged creature, stark naked and apparently very comfortable in this state, hovering entirely too close to his face for comfort. "You made a promise. We don't like oath-breakers." There was a murmur of agreement from the many little watchers.

The brownies snorted laughingly, rolling his mismatched eyes. "You think I can tell you what happens in a bigger's heart or head?" he asked with a low guffaw of laughter. "They're real, right 'nough, and they want you. Can't say why; you'd have to ask 'em yourself." He heaved himself up a little way, pointing one gnarled finger further down the alleyway. "There it is. Keep walkin', big man."

Des' frown deepened at the little creature's words. They want you. The words echoed in his head, touching his heart, and he remembered that night again and the bittersweetness of it. It wasn't just one heart that was at stake here, but three. "I'm sorry," he heard himself muttering, though it wasn't really the brownie he was apologizing to so much as it was Piper and Lyneth. He really didn't want to be like his father. He started down the alley at the brownie's behest, remembering the first time he'd stepped through the portal, only a little over a week ago. The closer he got to Rhy'Din, the more real it seemed, and he found himself growing anxious to see it again.

The air around him began to crackle with energy, a sure sign that the portal was very close indeed. "Oh, crikey, here we go," the brownie muttered, and folded himself down into Des' pocket, bending the tips of his long ears down and tying them beneath his chin as he braced himself for the crossing over into the heart of the hub of the multiverse.

Des felt the crackle of energy more than saw it, still not quite sure how it managed to open for them, when it clearly didn't open for just anyone, or there'd be an overabundance of stray cats, mice, and winos on the other side of the portal. He hesitated a moment, just as he had the last time he'd stepped through, drawing a deep breath finally, closing his eyes, and stepping through, feeling the surge of energy flow over and through him as they were whisked away through the portal.

The words that came from his pocket were a resounding plethora of curses as the brownie held on for dear life, riding the wave of Nexus energies as human and fairy were swept from Earth and onto the plane that held Rhy'Din and it's wonders. Des' next step onto solid ground brought him into the Marketplace of the city itself, a very respectable destination and pretty handy, too, given that he was now going to have to find his way to the little house he had visited only once. As the magic of the portal ebbed away, the brownie peeked his head up over the edge of Des' pocket once more, and untied his ears, letting them spring back up to wave over his head. "There we are, sonnie," he declared, feeling much better now they were in a place where magic not only thrived but imbued almost everything around them. "No time like the present. If you're gonna throw up, do it behind that bin there."

Des didn't need much coaxing, his stomach revolting against the trip through the Nexus almost as badly as it had the first time around. Fortunately for him, he hadn't eaten yet and had only gulped down a hasty cup of coffee before they were on their way. He didn't bother to look around to see if anyone was watching, the need to retch too urgent for such luxuries, and he just made it in time to empty the contents of his stomach behind the garbage bin, marking his return to Rhy'Din.

While the contents of Des' stomach were taking a trip to see the cobblestones of the market, the brownie climbed out of his pocket and disappeared into the mingle of vendors and consumers enjoying the New Year's Day sales. A minute later, he'd returned, bearing with him a cup of something that smelt of nothing and fizzed pleasantly. "Drink that up, you'll feel all better," he declared. "And then we'd better run, 'cos folks round here know when they've been burgled by a brownie."

Des straightened, his stomach still turning a little in his stomach, and gratefully reached for the little cup of what appeared to be Alka-Seltzer. He took a sniff, deciding it was more than likely what it appeared to be or something like it, and threw it back, wincing at the taste of it. "Can't just use a little magic to cover your tracks?" he asked, arching a brow at the little fellow. He tossed the empty cup in the trash bin and offered a hand to the brownie so he could scramble back up into Des' pocket again.

"Nah, not 'round here." Oisin jumped up onto Des' hand gratefully and after a moment of climbing, dropped himself comfortably back into that proffered pocket. "Besides, that was a hag I nicked that off. They're canny, they are. Off we go, sonnie."

"A hag?" he echoed, glancing toward the many vendors and booths that littered the Marketplace. He guessed that the word hag meant something very different here than it did back home, where magic was not the norm. He turned in place to try and get his bearings and a sense of direction, where Piper's home was concerned. The last time he'd been there, he'd gone by car; this time, he was on foot. Still, his memory being what it was, he had little trouble remembering and started off in the direction toward Piper's house, stopping at a booth to haggle over a bouquet of flowers.

It was a strange little journey through the city during daylight and on foot; certainly stranger than it had been past midnight by car. There was certainly a great deal more to see, not just activities but the people performing those activities. Perhaps trying to be helpful, the brownie kept up a commentary, explaining what was going on around them as Des found his way to the correct District, and from there, the right road.

Des probably could have taken any of several forms of transportation, but it was far more interesting and entertaining to explore his surroundings on foot. He made a mental note to call on his uncle before he left, even if it was only a brief phone call, as amazed by the sights as he was on his first visit here. "I feel like Dorothy in Oz." Or Alice Through the Looking Glass, he thought to himself, unsure the brownie would even understand the reference. Hopefully, there were no wicked witches around to cause him any trouble.

"Any number of shops you could've stopped at to get yourself some pretty shoes, then," was the brownie's response to this. "Somethin' in red, with a high heel, maybe?" He sniggered unpleasantly, and began to climb out of Des' pocket. "If you'll 'scuse me, work to be doin'. Don't you change your mind and head back home, or you won't get a minute's peace the rest of your natural. Friendly warning." He dropped down onto the sidewalk, and a moment later, was nowhere to be seen.

Des scowled at the brownie and the insinuation that he might prefer women's shoes. "Gulliver then," he corrected, choosing an alternate fictional character that was actually male, wondering if the brownie would see the irony in his comparison. He watched as the little fellow scurried away, taking the warning to heart, but feeling a little coerced. Still, a promise was a promise, and had he not believed all of this to be a figment of his imagination, he might not have left in the first place. Continuing along on foot, it wasn't long before he found the house he'd been looking for, standing outside it for a long moment, as if to make sure it really existed.

Not only did it exist, but the inhabitants were readily visible. One small, beautiful child was sitting in the windowseat of the main room, brushing the long pelt of a noble-looking Malamute and singing cheerfully, if a little out of tune. And one tall, beautiful woman was visible through the other window, reading through a sheaf of letters and rubbing her temple as though trying to stave off a headache. It seemed a typical day in a typical house, unless you knew about the disappointment of the day before. Knowing that, it was clear that Lyneth was singing so she didn't upset herself any further; that Piper was trying to distract herself so she didn't remind her daughter - and herself - of the hope that seemed so cruel now.

He watched the quaint little house for a moment and its inhabitants, one as lovely as the other and as sad, though in different ways, and his heart ached to ease their pain, just has it had the first time he'd met them. What would they say to him now that he'd disappointed them and let them down" Would they be happy to see him or angry that he hadn't come back when he'd said he would" Would they even try to understand" Were his excuses nothing more than excuses" His gaze drifted from one to the other, and it seemed that though they had each other, something was missing. Did he dare hope that that missing something might be him' He waited a moment more, as if to make sure they were really alone, that no one had arrived to insinuate themselves into their lives and usurp what might have been his.

There was no one there, no one but the two ladies who had captivated him so much he believed them to be a dream and a dog whom he had yet to meet in person. No one, that is, except the fairy folk. Now Des had seen a few of them, there was no way he could miss seeing how alive with movement the carefully tended garden of the house was. Little creatures flitted back and forth, playing, laughing, tending to their plants. Even the trees seemed to hold the face of something mystical, watching the movement of smaller brethren through the sunlight.

Des paused as he started up the path to the house to watch the little creatures frolicking in the garden, eyes wide with wonder. How was it he'd missed them before? Even in the winter, they tended the garden, the evergreens and the plants that would bloom again come spring. He felt suddenly silly for ever having doubted what his senses had clearly proven to be real. This world was at such odds to the world he called home that it was almost impossible to believe in such things as magic when he was faced with the harsh realities of life back home. After another moment of contemplation and observance, he continued up the path to the porch, and drawing a deep breath to gather his courage, he rapped his knuckles against the front door.

A low bark greeted him from within, the sound of paws on polished wood scrabbling for purchase as Loki, the big Malamute, thumped down off the windowseat and loped toward the door, announcing to everyone in the house that they had a visitor, regardless of whether or not they'd heard the knock to begin with. "All right, all right," Piper was audible as saying, her voice growing louder as she came closer to the door itself. "Get back, you silly mutt. We do not eat visitors in this house." A small giggle declared that Lyneth was also close to the door, just before the latch turned and the portal was swung inward, revealing the little family to the man who stood on the stoop.

"Desth!" A loud squeal of excitement resounded from behind Piper, and Lyneth came barrelling out of the house to impact into Des' legs, hugging on tightly with Loki bounding along after her.

She paused, the raw shock in her chest easing off the more he spoke, the closer he came. "You came," she said quietly, turning to face him, leaning back against the counter behind her. "And you're really you. That marks you out from the others right away. In a good way," she hurried to add, her wide blue eyes widening at the implication that she was insulting him when that had not been her intention.

He sighed, able to read people's body language enough to know she misunderstanding him a little. He hadn't become one of New York's most promising lawyers without having learned how to read people, but there was something about her that he couldn't quite ascertain, a piece of herself that she kept locked safely away, but he understood that, too, sharing that quality, that fear of opening his heart only to have it broken, like his mother had before him. "Look, I....I'm an idiot, okay?" he started, spreading his hands. "The truth is, I'm having a hard time believing all this is real. Haven't you ever thought something was too good to be true" That it was so wonderful it had to be dream?"

Piper met his gaze without a flinch, knowing that feeling perhaps better than he could imagine. He felt it because he was afraid of being hurt once; she held it close because she'd been hurt more than once. It was a frightening step to take, for both of them. "Yes," she told him simply. "But if there's one thing that the last year has taught me, it's that you have to take the wonderful moments and enjoy them. Because you never know when you're going to get hurt again. Good memories should always outweigh the bad ones."

"I don't know what I'm doing, Piper," he continued, dropping the barriers he'd built around his heart, just as he had the last time he'd been here. "A few weeks ago, I didn't know anything about Rhy'Din. I didn't know it existed, didn't know anything about it. And suddenly, I find I have a family here I knew nothing about. People who seem to care about me, for whatever reason. You, Lyneth..." He gestured toward the living room to indicate the little girl who was curled up with her dog. "I come from a world where there's no such thing as magic. At least, as far as I know. I'm a lawyer, for God's sake. I'm not supposed to believe in fairy tales, only in what can be proven in a court of law, but I can't deny what I've seen, what I've experienced. I just don't know what to think or what to do about it. What am I supposed to do, Piper?" His voice lifted an octave, almost bordering on panic. She'd been where he was once, and he needed her to understand.

Her sad eyes held his as he expressed himself, sensing the panic, the need to have some kind of answer, and knowing that the only answer she could give him was unlikely to make him feel any better about what he was facing. "You have to make a choice," she told him, with soft honesty, refusing to lie to him or soften the blow. "You have to decide whether or not you want magic in your life. If you don't ....if you can't find a way to reconcile it with yourself ....then you should leave and forget Rhy'Din ever existed. Forget we ever existed." Her eyes lowered to where her hands lay at her waist, twisting uncomfortably together as she drew in a slow breath, not wanting him to make that decision. "If you can live with magic, well ....I'll help, as much as I can. But I won't expect anything from you, Des. I'm not asking you for anything you're not comfortable to share."

He found himself reaching for her hands without even thinking. Maybe that was the trick to it all - don't think, just do. He'd been trained to do just the opposite, to think about everything, to carefully formulate every word that came out of his mouth, to plan everything that he did. "I can't, Piper. I can't forget. I tried. It worked out fine during the day, when I was busy, but as soon as I closed my eyes to sleep, I'd see this place in my head. I'd see you and Lyneth and everyone else. It all seemed so wonderful I thought it was only a dream. Just some crazy dream. My life back there..." He broke off, lowering his gaze, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest for some reason, searching to find the right words, which seemed so very important.

Long, slender fingers wound into his, alternately squeezing and caressing as she watched him struggle, wishing she could help him to make sense of his feelings in some way. Even if his feelings were complicated by a desire to be around Lyneth, as she suspected, she knew she couldn't stand there and tell him yay or nae. It was his decision to make; only he knew which side of the fence he would be most content on. "I missed you," she heard herself say softly, shaking her head with a dismissive snort of laughter. "That sounds so strange. One night talking, and I missed you. I don't want to influence your decision, Des. It has to be your choice, but it isn't a choice you have to make right away. Lynnie's not going anywhere, and unless you're from exactly the same Earth I am, I'm sure she could visit you, if you wanted her to."

He listened intently as she laid it out for him, his heart leaping when she admitted that she'd missed him, too, despite his continued effort to shield his heart, but that wasn't what caused his mouth to drop open in obvious surprise. "Lyneth?" he asked quietly, realizing suddenly that she thought he'd come here for Lyneth more than for her. "You think I'm here because of Lyneth?" he asked, purposely lowering his voice in hopes the little girl didn't overhear them.

Her cheeks flushed, ashamed of herself for the jealousy she still felt when it came to how easily her daughter could bind people to herself. How easy everyone found it to prefer the little girl to the mother. It would be a long time before the memory of the last summer past did not intrude on her fears. "Everyone comes here for Lyneth," she answered very softly, not daring to look him in the eye. "Why shouldn't they?"

He stepped closer, sensing her confusion, misunderstanding his intentions completely. One hand let go of hers to gently tip her chin upwards to meet his gaze. "I'm fond of Lyneth. She's an adorable little girl. But make no mistake, Piper. I came back because of you." Forgetting Lyneth was close enough to watch, to see what her mother and Desmond were up to, even if she couldn't hear them clearly, he made no attempt to hide the kiss he offered to Piper, warm, soft, and tender, hinting at the feelings of longing and loneliness that they both seemed to share.

Her eyes searched his as he lifted her chin, frightened of seeing the detachment she had come to know so well first in Ollie and then in his doppelganger, reluctant to be pushed aside in favor of her daughter once more, to watch as Lyneth found someone else to love who wasn't her mother all over again. But despite that fear, she felt her heart open a little more as Des laid her out as his reason for returning, the unexpected answer drawing a startled sound from her lips even as he captured her mouth in that soft kiss. Her body leaned into his, free hand touching her fingertips gently over his heart in the moment before she drew back, gazing into his eyes. "I'm sorry," she heard herself apologise. "I don't mean to mistrust you. I'm so frightened of losing everything, I ....It's not a good enough excuse, I know."

He let her break free, not wanting to push her too fast, though everything seemed to be happening so quickly, quick enough to make both their heads spin. Was it magic or was it simply something more real, more meaningful than that' Was this what it felt like to fall in love" "It's okay," he reassured her with a warm smile, unsure how the tables had turned. He'd been trying to explain, to ask her forgiveness, and suddenly it was Piper who was apologizing to him. "You've done nothing wrong." He brushed his fingers against her cheek in nearly the exact same place where Lyneth has placed a burning kiss against his. "You're not going to lose me, Piper. I just need some time."

She nodded lightly, selfishly enjoying the brush of his fingers to her skin as her tiny, shy smile made itself known on the full lips he'd tasted more than once, her eyes lighting up with the expression. "Of course," she agreed softly. "It takes time to, to get your head around everything that you've seen here. I understand."

"It's not just that," he replied with a small frown, breaking away from her and dropping his hand, needing her to understand completely. "It's work. I've got this big case going. It's supposed to go to grand jury this week." He turned to pace the floor a moment, clearly agitated about something, debating how much to tell her.

She watched him pace away, her gaze flickering for a moment into the main room, where she caught Lyneth hastily looking away. She couldn't help a smile as the little girl then launched herself at Loki, suddenly engaging in a loud and enthusiastic game to cover the fact that she had been eavesdropping quite blatantly. "You don't have to tell me all the details, Des," Piper said softly, returning her eyes to his face. "I do understand that your work doesn't allow you to share things like that with anyone not already involved. I don't mind."

"You have a right to know, Piper," he said, turning momentarily to watch Lyneth and Loki, wondering if he was ever that young or that innocent. He turned back to Piper with a frown and a sigh, arms crossed against his chest. "It's this case," he told her quietly, unfolding his arms to gesture with a hand. "It's sucking the life out of me." He took a lean against the cupboards, looking suddenly tired, having spent most of the holiday weekend at the office working while everyone else was out having fun.

She held his gaze for a long moment, deep blue eyes marking the signs of strain and stress that littered his face and form, the tense line of his shoulders, the weariness in his eyes. She bit her lip thoughtfully, knowing there was very little she could do to help, but also knowing that what little she could do was very simple indeed. "When do you absolutely have to be back at work?" she asked him softly.

"What day is it?" he asked, having lost all track of time, which was part of the reason he'd been late, but only part of it. "I'm due in court on Wednesday," he continued. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Sure, there were normally other lawyers who could handle things in his absence, but not this case. It was too important.

Piper just about managed to hide the flicker of disappointment in her eyes as he named the day he would have to be back on Earth. "It's Tuesday," she told him quietly. "But is there anything stopping you from spending the night?" She realised belatedly that this must sound like a particularly bad attempt to get him into her bed, and blushed a delicate shade of rose, falling over her tongue to try and correct her own soft mistake. "I mean ....well, I don't mean ....I might ....Oh, hell ..."

"That wasn't quite what he was getting at, Lynnie," Piper told her daughter warmly. "Manners, like Grandma told you."

Lyneth sighed, rolling her eyes. This was a part of her Fae heritage - she balked at simple human rituals such as manners, but she was learning them, nonetheless. "Pleasthe, Mr Desth, will you come an' thstay with usth next weekend and cuddle Mummy in her thsleep an' play gamesth with me?"

Desmond found himself smiling, once again charmed by a mere child. It wasn't so much that he preferred her over Piper, but she possessed a childlike innocence and honesty that he found refreshing, especially given the nature of his job, which involved the darker, seedier side of humanity. It wasn't the work that was eating away at his soul so much as it was the evil he had to face on a daily basis. Driven as he was to do his part to clean up the city, if he didn't balance that darkness with some light, he'd burn out and turn bitter before he turned thirty. He smirked, blue eyes shining with light that hadn't been there before he'd arrived here, darting an almost playful glance at Piper, hoping to see another blush color her face at her daughter's innocent audacity. He reached over to gently tweak the little girl's nose. "Since you said please, I'll think about it," he teased back.

He got to see the blush he was hoping for, Piper's expression promising death to her daughter for a split second before the fondness replaced it once again, her gaze caught by Des' playful glance. Lyneth, however, wasn't impressed by the half-answer, screwing up her little face with a stern frown. "Yesth or no," she told Des firmly, hands on her hips. "It'sth not fair if you don't thsay yesth or no."

Des tried to hide the smirk on his face as the little girl turned solemn and assertive, almost breaking into laughter at her boldness. He cleared his throat to hide the laugh and made a visible effort to wipe the smile from his face and turn serious. It was a serious question, after all. "Lyneth..." he started, not wanting to sound too stern, but she needed to learn that life wasn't always fair nor was it always simple. He sighed again, looking to Piper for help, but decided he needed to answer her himself. "People....adults....can't always drop everything and do whatever they want. I want to come back, and I will try, but I can't promise. I'm sorry."

The wide, turquoise eyes studied him as he spoke, ignoring the brief foray into laughter as the little girl took in what he was telling her. "Thso ..." she said thoughtfully, looking at her mother with deep concern for a moment before looking back to Des, "you might not come back at all?" The shock of this was pronounced, showing itself on her face as she sniffed suddenly.

Piper caught the signs quickly, knowing that look, and lurched from where she was leaning to wrap her daughter up in her arms. "Don't take it like that," she told Lyneth softly, stroking her daughter's hair as the little girl clung to her. "He didn't say he wasn't coming back. He just said he might not be able to come back next weekend. That doesn't mean Des is never coming back to see you."

The little face looked up at Des from Piper's embrace. "Really?"

Des frowned, not realizing what kind of effect his words would have upon the little girl until she was nearly crying in her mother's arms. She couldn't be that attached to him already, could she" His heart nearly breaking with hers, he remembered how often he'd asked for his father, only to be told his mother didn't know if he was ever coming back. "Really," he confirmed, reached across the short distance between them to brush a finger against her cheek and offer a warm smile. "I'll be back, Lyneth. I promise. I just don't know when."

The little girl nodded slowly, her big eyes fixed on his face with innocent hope. "And will you come back you?" she asked quietly, catching his finger in one small hand and giving him a pull. Piper would have straightened and stepped away at this, seeing what she believed to be a preference for Des, but Lyneth didn't let go of her, pulling both adults closer than they seemed comfortable with.

He moved closer, close enough that he could wrap them both in his embrace, if he so chose, but he maintained a small distance, his fingers clutched in hers. He furrowed his brows, another brief glance at Piper before looking back at Lyneth, remembering what Piper had told him about his absent cousin. "Of course I'll come back me. Who else would I be?" he replied gently, realizing she was worried what had happened to Ollie might happen to him, too. Maybe they both were, but though he was a Granger, he wasn't Ollie, and he wasn't his father either. "Tell you what. Let's figure out a way you can always tell if it's me."

"The ..." Piper hesitated, glancing down at Lyneth as her daughter set her mind to thinking of something that could be uniquely for Des. "The other one," she said finally, "he knew most of what Ollie knew, but it didn't come easily to him. And he was ....strange. Almost as though he'd never had a body before."

The little girl standing on the chair between them nodded suddenly. "Loki'll know if you're you," she declared confidently. "Won't he, Mummy?"

Piper looked down at her dog, remembering the wariness in the canine around the Fae creature who had entered their lives. She smiled faintly, looking up at Des. "She's right," she agreed. "Loki will let us know if something isn't right."

Desmond looked between them, before glancing thoughtfully to the dog. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt them or cause them pain, but he wasn't sure how his cousin had become possessed by a fae creature. Hell, a few days ago, he didn't even believe in faeries or magic or anything that couldn't be explained logically. He wasn't quite sure how it all worked, but there had to be a logical solution. "Is there any way I could protect myself against that' An charm or an amulet or something?" While it was all well and good that the dog might know if something was wrong, he wanted to prevent anything like that from occurring in the first place. He didn't even want to think about what might happen if some creature took possession of his body.

Lyneth frowned thoughtfully once again, looking up at Piper as her mother nodded gently. "I know one charm," the sable-haired young woman said quietly, unwinding her arms from around her daughter and turning her back to both man and child. Her fingers found the hem at the back of her shirt, and she lifted it, revealing the smooth, pale expanse of her lower back. And there, in the dip of her spine, was inked a Norse rune, a six-pointed star marked with specific lines and curves, almost like a black snowflake against her luminescent skin. "This is the Aegishjalmur," she told them over her shoulder, knowing that Lyneth would be as fascinated as anyone else. "It's a shield against influences."

Des watched as Piper turned her back to them and revealed the mark that was inked on her back. The mark itself didn't mean much to Desmond, but it obviously meant something to Piper and Lyneth. Des found himself leaning forward and reaching out to touch the mark at her back, hesitating uncertainly and withdrawing his hand. "May I?" he asked, looking to Piper for permission, not wanting her to think he was trying to be too forward. He was merely curious.

Piper smiled faintly, nodding her head. "Of course, it's fine," she assured him, aware that Lyneth was already leaning on her hip to look curiously at the mark. No doubt her daughter had wondered why none of her little charms worked on her mother, and now she knew why. The runic mark was warm to the touch - not so much as to be unnatural, but noticeably warmer than the skin around it. To a normal human, it was just a tattoo; to most magic users, it was just the visible mark of a shield that protected the young woman from the influence of most spells intended to influence her, either physically or mentally.

Des touched the mark at the base of Piper's back, noting the warmth that radiated from the mark, warmer than the skin surrounding it. "It protects you against magic?" he asked, unsure what precisely the mark did, but understanding it was protection of some kind. "Does it have to be activated or something?" He wasn't sure if it was just a tattoo, or if there was some sort of spell work involved. All this magic mumbo jumbo was new to him, after all.

Piper shook her head, unable to hide the way her back arched prettily under his touch before she lowered her shirt and turned back to face him. "I was pregnant when I had it done," she explained, opening her arm to Lyneth as the little girl leaned into her, sneaking a hand underneath her mother's top to touch the mark for herself. Piper winced a little as the familiar pain of a magical being pushing against the magical shield made itself known, and gently removed her daughter's hand with a smile. "But it doesn't need any special ritual or anything. It's the mark that holds the power, not the person who puts it down."

It was the first look he'd had at Piper's back, and though he said nothing about it, he couldn't help admire the slender curve of her waist and the graceful arch of her back, even as he tried to focus his attention on the rune and not let his mind wander. He blinked as she drew her shirt back down and withdrew his hand, straightening to face her in time to notice the wince, but once again, not mentioning it. "What's it do exactly?" he asked, with interest, wondering if he should save his questions for later, when Lyneth wasn't there to overhear.

Her smile rose again, but before she answered Des, she looked down at Lyneth. "Baby, why don't you go and lay out the blanket in the living room?" she suggested. "We're going to have a picnic for lunch." The little face screwed up in a knowing grin as Lynnie looked up at her mother. "An' you don't want me hearin' what you'n Desth isth talking about," she added, hugging her mother as Piper laughed a little helplessly. "Okay, Mummy." Holding onto Piper's hip, the tiny girl let herself down onto the kitchen floor and skidded out, Loki loping along behind her. Piper watched for a moment, before looking over at Des. "I'll tell you when she goes down for her nap," she told him quietly. "I don't want her knowing some of the things that happened when I was pregnant."

She had his attention as she tried to explain, and though her explanation wasn't lost on him, he wasn't completely buying it. She was frightened, certainly, but she was a lot more frightened for herself and her daughter than she was letting on. Still, there was little he could do to reassure her, but prove to her that he had no intention to hurt either of them. Words were just words. Anyone could make a promise; keeping it was another matter entirely. "I'm not Ollie, Piper, and I'm not afraid." His tone of voice softened as he tried to let down his guard a little, enough for her to see he wasn't completely cold-hearted. "I didn't come here to hurt you."

She looked up into his eyes, seeing the warmth there and feeling a flood of warmth in return, deeply grateful that he had some control over that odd shift in his projected mood that could seem so very detached and unfeeling at times. "I know," she whispered. "But I'm still frightened." And if her daughter hadn't been impatiently waiting for lunch in the next room, that would have been the perfect moment to kiss her, to wash away a little of that fear in an embrace that couldn't lie.

He gazed into her eyes, losing himself for a moment in those deep pools of sapphire blue. It would be so easy to fall in love with her, so easy to turn his back on everything he'd worked so hard for and stay here forever, choose family over career. He'd been without a family for so long, it seemed a strange prospect to be faced with. He'd given up on that pipe dream long ago, when childhood dreams had been shattered and promises broken once too often. He lifted his bandaged finger to touch her cheek, leaning in to do just that, to kiss away her worries and her fears, almost forgetting they weren't alone.

The eyes that gathered him in were wide as he leaned down to her, soft with longing and hard with fear in the same instant. But in the split second before his lips touched hers, the fear fell away, her eyes began to close, and a small voice called from the other room. "Mummy, I'm hungry!" Piper sighed, kept from the kiss by her imperious daughter's demand to be fed, and leaned back. "I'm sorry," she apologised to Des gently. "She'll go down for her nap after lunch."

He was just about to kiss her, just about to tell her not to be frightened, to ask her to trust him, when a small voice broke the silence and reminded them that they weren't alone. He smiled as he drew back, blue eyes lively with what appeared to be amusement. "It's okay. Kisses can wait. Hungry little tummies can't." And he had to admit his own stomach was starting to grumble at the prospect of being fed, not having eaten in hours, but for a hasty cup or two of coffee.

"Yes, they can, she just has fantastically appalling timing," Piper told him with a wry smile, turning to pick up the tray. "Come on then, Desth. Little Miss Magic is waiting for you." She moved to slip into the living room, where Lyneth had very carefully laid out a large checked blanket on the wooden floor in front of the fire. Loki had been banished to the edge of the blanket, his head on his paws as he watched his little mistress wave her hands importantly at the adults.

Des finished off his coffee and set the empty cup in the sink before following Piper into the living room and the pretend picnic. It had been a long time since he'd relaxed long enough to do anything one might consider to be fun. He chuckled at Piper's remark, coming to a halt a few feet from the blanket and reaching to loosen his tie and step out of his shoes.

As Piper set the tray down, Lyneth crawled forward to help take the plates and bowls from it, submitting to having a napkin tucked into her collar with a patient grimace. She did, however, laugh when Piper then advanced on Des with another napkin. "First troll is ready," the sable-haired woman declared with a playful smile. "Second troll?" And yes, she was going to tuck the napkin into his collar if he didn't stop her.

Lyneth snickered from her place on the blanket, patting the checkered fabric cheerfully. "Come'n thsit down thso I can eat!"

He pulled the tie away from his neck and unbuttoned his collar, arching a brow as Piper tucked a napkin there, replacing his tie. Well, at least his crisp white shirt wouldn't get soiled. "Troll?" he echoed. "I thought trolls were big and ugly and turn to stone when the sun comes up." At least, that's they way he remembered it from tales told or read during childhood.

"Only if they come from Middle-Earth," Lyneth piped up, her mother grinning to herself as they settled on the blanket. "There'sth other trollsth, too. Thsome from Earth are little, like me, and all flesthy and thsad. Or there'sth other kindsth of trollsth that're made of all rocksth and thstonesth and thstuff." She held out her hands for the plate Piper passed her, loaded with sandwiches, fruit, and other little bits and pieces.

"Or there's the kind that lives in this house and know exactly how to make trouble without lifting a finger," Piper added, making a face at her daughter which set the little girl off into a fit of the giggles. The woman looked up at Des. "Nothing is poisoned, I promise."

He waited for Piper to finish tucking the napkin into his collar before lowering himself onto the blanket, choosing a spot opposite that of the dog, somewhat warily. He'd been teasing when he'd mentioned the trolls, almost forgetting that Lyneth was more than likely an expert on the subject. "I only know about the kind I've read about in books, and that was a long time ago," he replied, perhaps a little too serious about the subject, or a little too thoughtful, at least for a moment, but the moment quickly passed. He smiled as Piper teased her daughter, sending Lyneth into a fit of giggles. "No poisoned apples that might put me to sleep until a beautiful princess breaks the spell?" he teased with a smirk.

"Not if you want to go to work tomorrow," she teased back sweetly, passing him a plate to help himself from the array of food. Her gaze lingered on him for a long moment, enjoying how easily he could integrate into such a familial setting, before her eyes slid over to Lyneth. "Baby, don't play with it," she sighed softly. "Eat it."

Lyneth looked up from where she had been carefully removing the upper slices from a cheese sandwich and a jam sandwich and switching them over, offering her mother a sweet, if somewhat haughty, smile. "M' gonna eat them," she promised. "Jus' making it taste better is all."

"The trick is..." Des started, falling into that odd almost childlike state that seemed to come over him whenever Lyneth was nearby. He plucked several sandwiches from the tray and placed them on his plate, mirroring Lyneth by taking them apart and then restacking them to make a double decker sandwich made of cheese, coldcuts, and jam all at once. He took a huge bite, a silly grin on his face as he spoke around the mouthful. "To eat it all at once!" he exclaimed, though the words were muffled by the mouthful of food. Most adults would be horrified, even disgusted by the mashup of sandwich materials, but it all went into the same stomach, after all.

"Va' only worfs iff -" Lyneth paused, her eyes skidding to Piper, who was watching them both in with mild disgust as she nibbled at her own chosen sandwich. The child chewed and swallowed, remembering her manners a little belatedly. "Only worksth if you have a big mouth," she informed Des cheerfully. "Your mouth is huge!" Giggling, she stuffed another mouthful in, her gaze flickering back and forth between the adults.

He chuckled at Lyneth's innocently blunt remark, chewing and swallowing the huge mouthful of sandwich before replying, "I'm not sure whether that's a compliment or an insult!" He gobbled up the rest of the sandwich, as if he hadn't eaten in days, which was closer to the truth than he cared to admit.

"I bet your mouth'sth big enough that birdiesth can clean your teethsth!" was Lyneth's cackling response to that, even as she removed a large piece of cheese from her sandwich and blatantly fed it to Loki, who chomped it down quite happily despite Piper's faintly disapproving gaze. Cheese was the dog's greatest weakness; it hadn't taken the little girl long to find that one out. "Can we go to the park, Mummy?"

Piper blinked, unsurprised by the question, but surprised to be addressed when Des was so much more entertaining than she was. "Later," she promised her daughter. "When we take Loki for his walk."

Encouraged as he was by the little girl's attention, he flashed her a toothy grin as if to prove her point, but he turned quickly quiet as Lyneth's attention moved on to feeding cheese to the dog and inquiring about a walk in the park. He plucked a few pieces of fruit from the tray, popping one into his mouth. "How long have you had him' The dog, I mean," he asked, ever inquisitive, it seemed.

"All my life," the little girl promptly answered, assuming the question was for her, since she was obviously so much more interesting than her mother. It wasn't that she didn't love Piper, but Lyneth was of the opinion that since Piper needed to be taught so much about what was patently obvious in the world around her, that her mother was somewhat subnormal. "But Mummy'sth had him longer."

Stifling a soft chuckle, Piper waited until her mouth was clear before giving Des a slightly more helpful response. "I've had him for four years. My father gave him to me when he was a puppy when I first went to university. I think it was supposed to be some kind of incentive to stay and get decent grades."

He smiled in amusement at Lyneth's response, but it was Piper who really answered the question. He seemed to have become an adult again, the childlike mood having passed. He'd managed to make Lyneth laugh, and it was enough, at least for now. "Four years," he repeated, doing the math in his head and sorting out her age. She was at least a few years younger than him. He'd turned twenty-nine only recently, his birthday passing without much fanfare. "Did you? Get good grades, I mean."

Des studied Piper closely, even as he rinsed and dried the dishes, once again noting her body language and the way she broke off before saying something she might regret, though he was intuitive enough to put two and two together and assume what it was she was going to say. He said nothing about it, not wanting to make her feel worse. He knew enough that he didn't really need any more clarification about that. As if it hadn't been bad enough, he knew it could have been a lot worse. He wasn't yet sure which of them was hurt more by what had happened, but in his experience, children were a lot more resilient than adults gave them credit for, and he guessed it was Piper who would be haunted by the events a lot longer than Lyneth. "What about you? Do you have nightmares, too?" He wasn't sure why he was asking, and she had every right to tell him to butt out, but the question wasn't asked out of nosiness, but out of concern.

She stilled for a moment, leaning against the edge of the sink with tense shoulders. Her profile was solemn as she gazed through the window into the garden laid out at the back of the house, her jaw clenched for a long moment before she made the effort to relax herself and answer his question. "I don't know whether you can call them nightmares," she said finally, rubbing a dishcloth repeatedly around the rim of one of the coffee cups. "It's just flashes, but they always wake me up, and ....and I can't get back to sleep afterward."

He continued to watch her with those carefully observant eyes of his, noting how she tensed her shoulders, watching even as her gaze went to the window and the garden out back. Though untrained in psychology, he'd seen enough to recognize the signs of trauma, an almost haunted look in her eyes as she went silent. For a moment, he felt anger rise up inside him, the way he always did when he learned of some injustice or crime against humanity, but the feeling was quickly replaced by compassion and something a little deeper - some feeling he felt deep inside that he could not quite find a name for yet. He found himself reaching for her hands, to pull them away from the cup and turn her toward him. "You can talk to me, you know. You can tell me anything. I promise I won't run away, and I won't break."

She paled as he drew her about, before a flush touched her cheeks that sadly had nothing to do with him. It was shame, pure and simple, and it showed in the burn deep within her blue eyes as she met his gaze. "I let a lot of things happen," she confessed in a tiny voice. "A lot of things I shouldn't have allowed. I tried to pretend everything was okay, that there wasn't a complete stranger in our lives changing everything. I won't ever forgive myself for letting Lynnie get hurt like that, but ..." She shuddered, dropping her gaze from his to look down at the curl of his hands about hers. "I feel sick when I think about all the times I let him touch me, or kiss me, or ..." She swallowed, unable to even say the worst of it. "I should have said no. But I never did."

Very gently, he dried her hands with the towel, his eyes never leaving hers, seeing that haunted look in her eyes again, the guilt and remorse, feelings he knew only too well. He'd heard similar stories over the years from victims of various crimes, and over time, his heart had hardened a little. He'd had no choice but to harden his heart if he wanted to seek justice for those who deserved it, to punish those responsible for hurting them, or the job would have consumed his soul long ago. Maybe, in a way, it already had. But this was different. This was someone he knew and cared about, someone he wished he could have protected, someone he'd promised to protect in the future. This was personal. He drew her in, wrapping her in his embrace, his heart going out to her and to Lyneth, anger seething just beneath the surface, contained behind that carefully constructed wall. "It's all right. It's over now. He's never going to hurt you again."

She didn't cry. But there was just a suggestion of something being let go as he folded her into his embrace, as she pressed close and hid her face away from the world, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling protected in the strong wrap of his arms. It was trauma, of a sort; nothing so violent as others might have experienced, but close enough in mind that it could overwhelm her if she didn't face up to it, learn how to let it go entirely. "I'm a very weak person," she said quietly, her voice a little muffled against Des' shirt. "If I was stronger, none of it would have happened."

Something gave way inside him as he held her close, feeling something deeper than sympathy or compassion, a deeper kind of caring, the likes of which he hadn't felt in a very long time. She was right when she'd called him cold. He had learned how to lock his heart away, distance himself so that no one could reach him, no one could touch him, no one could hurt him. His mother's illness and death had cracked a little of that resolve, but it was a little girl and her mother who had somehow managed to touch a heart that had tried to hard to remain aloof and untouchable.

He held her close against his chest, his fingers sliding through her hair to gently rub her back, desperately wanting to soothe and console her and take away her pain. He gently pulled away a moment to catch her gaze and look into her eyes. "You're not weak, Piper. You did what you could. Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." How many times had he given someone that speech until he sounded like a broken record" But somehow those words seemed so much more important now.

Her eyes were clear as she looked up at him, regretful that they were even having this conversation, ashamed of herself for her perceived weakness. But grateful, too, tenderly warm in thanks for his reassurances and certainties. "Thank you for not agreeing with me," she said in her soft, gentle voice, a quirk of her lips suggesting the rueful smile that flickered on her face for a moment. Her hand shifted on his back as she looked up into his eyes, and there was that look that had made itself known on the night of Christmas Eve, just before she had thoroughly embarrassed herself by kissing him more passionately than even she thought she was capable of. She swallowed again, blushing at the desire to repeat that encounter as it rose inside her, and a shy smile lit up her face as she ducked her head. "You're a good man, Des. Thank you for listening."

He seemed reluctant to let go of her, and yet, he had no claim on her heart, no claim on her at all. He wasn't sure what he was to her, if anything. A friend" More than a friend" Where was their relationship going" Where did she want it to go' A small uncertain frown flickered across his face before the expression - and any feelings that went along with it - was hidden behind a smile, warm and gentle and sincere, no sign of any of the cold aloofness she had accused him of possessing. He noticed the blush, but was unsure what had caused it, wondering if he dared kiss her again, or would she construe it as taking advantage. He shrugged his shoulders as she ducked away from him, the opportunity lost. "I've been told I'm a good listener," he replied, making no comment about whether or not he deemed himself a good man.

Weak, she might well have been; timid, yes, on occasion. But sometimes Piper could be bold - bold enough to break through a moment of shyness and take something she thought had been offered to her. She thought she had seen his uncertainty, and after little more than a second or two's consideration, she lifted her head again, her hand uncurling from his back to gently smooth up along the angular line of his jaw. "You're a good man," she insisted softly, rising up onto her toes to dare a kiss brushed lightly to the corner of his mouth.

One brow flickered upwards as her lips touched the corner of his mouth in a brief but warm show of thanks or affection, and though he trying hard to contain himself, he felt a rush of desire the likes of which he hadn't felt in a long time. It wasn't just a desire of the flesh, but a desire of the heart - the desire to fill the aching loneliness, to open his heart once and for all and let someone in, let her in, no matter the risk. "Piper, I..." He broke off, searching her eyes, realizing he was just as frightened as she was, though he chose to deal with his fears by pushing them aside and pretending he didn't feel a thing.

"Des." She breathed his name as though it was a part of her, a perfect fit on her tongue, sweet structure to the gentle sigh of her breath. Despite the fear in her, the uncertainty that perhaps she was just setting herself up for another fall, Piper was brave with her own aching heart. Her thumb stroked over the curve of his cheekbone as she gazed into his eyes. "Kiss me?"

How many women had asked him that very question over the years" Ever since puberty, it seemed. How many times had he agreed" Countless times. And yet, it had been rare when he'd felt anything deeper than casual affection and carnal desire. Maybe once, but that had been long ago and mostly forgotten, but for the wound of the heart that held him aloof. Since then, there had been countless women, but he'd never loved any of them, not really. In order to fall in love, one had to let someone get close, and ever since that one fatal time, that was something Des had been careful to avoid. Until now.

He looked into her eyes, as sparkling and lovely as sapphires; her lips, as soft and red as rose petals. He felt that familiar yearning deep inside again, like a hole in the middle of his heart, an empty chasm that ached to be filled. Her touch sent a tremor through him, partly desire and partly something that went far deeper. He lifted a hand to brush the soft fall of raven hair away from her face, such stark contrast to the pale complexion. "Snow White," he remarked, unthinkingly, remembering a story his mother had told him when he was still a boy.

Piper blinked, confused by the reference to a fairytale she had not read and was utterly unfamiliar with. He hadn't moved to do as she asked, sparking a gentle flicker of mistaken uncertainty in her gaze as she considered that perhaps she had read him wrong, perhaps he didn't want her as much as she wanted him. She would be content with his friendship, she told herself, if that was all he was prepared to give her, though her heart ached to be touched once more. "Snow White?" she heard herself repeat in soft confusion.

"Skin as white as snow, lips as red as roses, hair as dark as night," he replied quietly, brushing a thumb against her cheek, almost as if he was charmed by her beauty, lost in a spell. He dipped his head toward her, hesitating a moment, where he'd never hesitated before, always having taken what he wanted when it had been offered.

To her ears, it was a litany of compliments she could never live up to, blossoming a delicately pink flush on her cheeks beneath his touch as her expression lightened, softening ever further as his breath found her lips. His hesitation was agonising, her own breath catching in her throat as she suffered through a split second of thinking him about to pull away. But her gentle courage flared once again, and she rose that little way further to close the distance and taste him with a soft, sweet sigh of pleasure.