Topic: In His Hands

Elena · Date: 2013-08-12 23:20 EST

((Takes place a few days after A Moment of Calm.))

"....here at Thurgood Marshall United States Courthouse in Lower Manhattan, where the court has now convened to try Samuel Nicoletti, son of Marcus Nicoletti, under federal law. Mr Nicoletti was arrested in September 2012 on multiple counts of fraud, embezzlement, drug trafficking, assault, and first degree murder, and has been in jail since that time awaiting trial, while the New York District Attorney's office compiled the case against him. The trial was delayed following the unexplained disappearance of Desmond Granger, who was heading the investigation under the D.A.'s jurisdiction. However, in light of Mr Granger's reappearance to head the case once again as it goes to court, allegedly following an unsuccessful attempt on his life made in February of this year, the Nicoletti case has been brought to the fore once again.

"Mr Nicoletti, a well known businessman on the Upper East Side, has remained stoically silent on most of these charges, maintaining his innocence through the intervention of his attorney, Samuel Laguna. It is believed he may been offered a deal of some kind in return for the proposed indictment of his father, suspected Mafiosi Marcus Nicoletti, also on multiple counts of fraud, drug trafficking, people trafficking, and murder. However, if such a deal was offered, it was not taken, as no legal proceedings have been begun against Marcus Nicoletti.

"In a strange twist, Samuel Nicoletti was originally arrested for speeding, a charge which is also to be tried during the course of this trial, while in the company of his then-girlfriend, actress Elena De Luca. Despite having been under close protective custody since her own release in November, Miss De Luca has been named as the premier witness to the strongest charge of murder in the first degree, and is expected to appear in court on the fourth day of the trial itself to give evidence.

"Others who are expected to give evidence over the course of the trial are Andre LaRosa, a former employee of Samuel Nicoletti, as well as Anastasia Komarova, the noted ballerina, and Hugo DiMucci, the forensic analyst who has been working with the N.Y.P.D. since the case was first brought to light. Marcus Nicoletti is expected to be in court to witness his son's trial, and though security has been tightened, it is clear that the police are prepared for any disruption to the proceedings. It remains to be seen how long the trial will last, given the weight of evidence that the D.A.'s office intends to put forward.

"This is Louisa Bouchard, FOX News ..."

There was a click as the T.V. was turned off. Elena sat, staring dumbly at the blank screen, her finger still on the power button of the remote control. She couldn't believe it was really happening. Almost a year ago, she'd watched Sam Nicoletti kill a man in cold blood in her own apartment, she'd been forced to help him clear up the mess he had made. After being arrested that night, she'd jumped at the chance to give evidence against him, wanting nothing more than to be out of the hole she'd dug for herself.

Yet for almost a year, it had all seemed like some distant nightmare, happening to someone else, not to her. It galled her that her counselor was going to have to give a character statement on her behalf before she even took the stand, to swear to the fact that she hadn't had a drink since that night, but she knew it was essential. The jury had to understand that she was a trustworthy witness, that she knew what she was saying. But she was so scared. Sam's legal team were bound to rip into her, to try and trip her up, and she was terrified that she might fall into one of their traps.

But what scared her most of all was the fact that Tony and Mataya, her brother and sister, and Michael - the love of my life - were going to be there. They were going to hear all about everything she'd seen and not done anything about, everything she'd heard and tried to forget she'd heard. They would know, beyond any shadow of doubt, just how weak and despicable she really was; just how many lives could have been saved, how many innocents could have been protected, if only she had spoken out sooner. Tony was already disappointed in her, already furious that his Anya had been dragged into the situation, 'Taya was struggling to have faith in her, and Michael ....he wanted so much to believe in her. Elena was certain they would all hate her by the time she was done on that stand, and she knew she would have to prepare herself to be all alone in the aftermath, whatever happened.

She didn't even want to think about the danger of returning to New York, the fact that she had a target painted on her back and would for the rest of her life. If she survived this trip, she would come back to Rhy'Din, but she would never be able to go back to Earth again. You didn't give evidence against the mob and expect to live, not unless you had somewhere very secure to hide in. She just had to hope that Nicoletti's goons never found their way to Rhy'Din. Ever.

But there was so little time to think about that now. She had two days to prepare herself - she was going back to New York on the night before her appearance in court, booked secretly into a hotel the police assured her was secure and that Mataya's personally picked security (borrowed from the GrangerGuild security team) were in the process of securing themselves. Two days in court, that's what Desmond had said. She could expect to spend two days being examined and cross-examined, with little let up, and then she would have to stay in the city until the sentencing.

Once that was done - once Sam was behind bars, hopefully for more than ten of his remaining lifetimes - she'd be free. No more Watch, no more checking in, no more protective custody, no more eyes on her all the time. She'd be free of it all, free to try and pick up the pieces and start again. She just had to hope that she wouldn't be picking up those pieces all on her own.

Elena · Date: 2013-08-12 23:21 EST

Once the TV was turned off, the only other sound was the tapping of fingers against a keyboard as Michael edited and put the finishing touches on his latest masterpiece - a new novel entitled appropriately Rhy'Din Nights, which was a sequel to his best seller and was based in part on his own experiences since falling through the rabbit hole into Rhy'Din. He had penned it quickly, faster than he had his first novel, now that his muse had seen fit to return - quite literally, in fact - though he still thought it was all some crazy dream which was the product of an alcohol-deprived brain. No matter, the words had returned, and that was all that really mattered. So engrossed was he in his work that he didn't realize right away that the TV had been turned off and that Elena was over-worrying herself quietly in the other room.

For once, Elena was oblivious to the sound of Michael's typing, too. Ordinarily, she watched the clock to be certain that he ate and took breaks, but today - and for the past couple of days, in fact - her regimented watchfulness had suffered under the strain she was putting on her own shoulders. She knew, rationally, that the trial was not such a huge deal; she knew that all she had to do was manage two days of speaking in court and being picked at by highly trained legal minds. But she was an anxious person, and that anxiety was spiraling out of control. She was convinced that everyone she loved was going to hate her by the end of the week, that Sam was going to get off no matter what she did or said, and that even if he didn't get off, his father would find some way to have her killed. Catastrophes rose and fell in her mind's eye every waking moment. If it hadn't been for Desmond Granger's careful training of her, she would be a wreck.

It wasn't that Michael was oblivious to Elena's anxious state of mind, but he knew that if he followed her around for every waking moment of every day, his own neurotic behavior would drive her - and probably both of them - nuts. And so, he had distracted himself from his worries and kept his mind busy with his book, like any good writer. The thing had become unwieldy, and he'd been ordered to chop at least one hundred pages, but he was making fast work of it and if all went well, he should be ready to send off the final edit to his publisher in a few weeks' time. Had he known how anxious she was feeling, he would have come to her rescue, but he was lost in the editing process, at least for the moment. As far as her worries were concerned, they were just that - completely unfounded. Nothing she said on the stand could make him love her any less, but she was just going to have to find that out for herself when the time came.

After what felt like a minor eternity of just sitting and staring at the dead T.V., Elena suddenly drew in a sharp breath and shook herself, pushing herself up onto her feet with jerky movements, almost as though she was moving under someone else's control. Her bare feet took her halfway to the kitchen before she altered her course, not really aware of where she was going. She altered course again before she reached Michael's office, and within seconds, she was pacing back and forth, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Worrying wasn't something she was good at pulling herself out of, especially when she actually had something to worry about.

There was a strange sound of silence as the pounding against the keyboard came to a sudden stop. Michael reached for his coffee cup and much to his chagrin, found it empty, already drained nearly an hour ago. He glanced at the time that was displayed on the computer screen and frowned. He couldn't have been sitting here for three hours already, could he" Oh, crap! he thought, realizing he'd left Elena alone with the remote while he tinkered with his novel. "El?" he called, hitting the Save function on his document before swiveling around in his chair to find her pacing back and forth in front of his doorway. He frowned at seeing her there, arms crossed in front of her, looking like a mouse caught in a trap and waiting to be swallowed by a cat. He sighed and moved to his feet, feeling guilty for getting to lost in his own little world when she needed him. "Elena, you're going to wear a groove in the floor with your pacing."

She came to an abrupt halt as he spoke to her, turning her head toward him with no attempt to hide the wild anxiety in her green eyes as she hugged herself. "Hey." Making an effort to pull herself together, at least on the outside, she summoned a smile from somewhere a long way away. "I was just coming to get you, it's been ....a while."

"Sorry," he said, with a rueful frown. "I get lost in it sometimes," he explained, though she more than likely knew this already. Too often she had to remind him to eat, drink, dress, shower, sleep when he was lost in the depths of the story. It was a crazy way to make a living, but once he was done with the novel, he could take a well-deserved break for a while. Still, she was more important than the book and always would be. It was hard trying to find the right balance sometimes between the world in his head and the world of the living, but at least, he was trying. "You hungry' I was just gonna make myself something to eat." It was a lie, but he did have to eat sometime and so did she, and the book wasn't going anywhere. She needed him more.

Dropping her arms from around herself, she hooked her thumbs into the belt loops of her shorts, curling her fingers under to try and at least look as though she wasn't spending every waking moment worrying about something that really was completely beyond her control. "I ....I should eat," she conceded reluctantly. Stress had taken a toll on her appetite; even after just a few days, she was beginning to look noticeably thinner. "How's the editing going?"

"Yes, you should," he agreed, and without wasting another minute, he reached for her hand to steer her toward the kitchen with a bright smile on his face, trying to look supportive and encouraging, even if he felt like a failure. "We both should. Come on. Let's see what we can scrounge up around here." He shrugged as he tugged her toward the little kitchen of the apartment they shared. Though it might be small, it was cozy and at least for now, it was home. "It's going. I'm a little ahead of schedule, so it can wait for a while."

Her smile relaxed a little as he took her hand, comforted just by his touch, even if it came with a pang of pain. She was expecting the worst, and determined to enjoy what she had while she had it, hugging to his arm as he drew her away from his office and into the kitchen. "I guess that's a good thing. We're gonna be in New York for a couple of weeks, I don't want you to be behind in your work because of me."

"They want this novel, they can be patient. Rome wasn't built in a day," he remarked with a smile, letting go of her hand once they arrived in the small kitchen. "What do you feel like" I was thinking pasta." Mostly because it was quick and easy and filling, but mostly because it was easy.

Elena · Date: 2013-08-12 23:22 EST

Elena actually chuckled at that, proud of him for having worked so hard and being so close to his reward for that. "Ah, but you're a genius and your agent must have gotten over that heart attack he had when you sent him the manuscript by now," she pointed out, leaning back against the counter as she glanced about the kitchen. "Wait ....you're cooking?" Another chuckle was swiftly swallowed as she smirked over at him. "Pasta sounds good."

"What' I can cook," he replied, a little defensively, and looking mildly insulted, though his eyes betrayed the fact that he was amused by her question. "I just usually choose not to," he pointed out. He pulled out a stool and taking her by the arms, steered her into it. "Sit and watch the master, padawan." He smirked playfully before tweaking her nose, trying really hard to help her relax - maybe a little too hard.

She couldn't help rolling her eyes as he steered her into a seat. He was trying so hard to be relaxed and calm, to make her feel better. It was heartbreaking, in its way. "Baby, you don't have to try so hard, you know?" she told him softly. "I know I'm edgy and agitated and it's no fun to be around. I'm trying, though, okay' I don't want to be a downer."

"You're not a downer! I'm hungry, and we both have to eat sometime, so unless you feel like takeout again, you're eating spaghetti and you're going to like it," he said, mustering a cheerful smile. If she wanted to lean on him and cry on his shoulder, all she had to do was say so, but for now, he was going to do his damnedest to lighten her mood. He moved around the kitchen to gather what he was going to need to cook them dinner - a couple of pans, a box of spaghetti, a jar of sauce. It might not be homemade, but it was better than what he usually cooked for dinner.

"I'm not complaining about the food!" she protested, a little hurt that he had turned her apology around like that. She was anxious enough not to be able to see the attempt at lightening the mood, instead feeling worse because she thought he had taken her apology as a complaint about his cooking. "I'm sorry."

He paused as he stuck a pan in the sink to fill it with water, furrowing his brows at her, looking a little confused. Were they speaking the same language" He wondered where the disconnect was. "I didn't say you were," he said as he turned on the water to fill the pan. "Elena, what?s wrong" Besides the obvious, I mean. Did I do something wrong" I'm sorry, I know I....I shouldn't get so caught up in the novel. I just start writing and time gets away from me," he explained apologetically, feeling like a big, dumb, insensitive jerk.

"No, baby, it's not you, it's really not you." She was looking panicked now, wanting to wrap herself up in his arms and never let go, but that huge storm cloud was hanging over her head, threatening to strike with the lightning she was expecting to destroy everyone she loved. Elena could feel tears welling up, pausing to take a deep breath, to try and suppress them and keep herself from upsetting him any more than she had already. "You couldn't do anything wrong if you tried. I'm just ....I'm scared, and I'm not coping, and I don't want to hurt you."

He turned off the water, sensing that dinner could wait for a bit. They might both need to eat, but he knew her well enough by now to know something was eating at her and it wasn't just the trial. "Elena, talk to me," he said as he moved over to stand in front of her and lift her chin to meet his gaze. "The world isn't coming to an end, sweetheart. This is all gonna be over soon, and I'll be right there with you. I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

She was shaking as he lifted her head, forcing herself to meet his eyes and let him see her distress. "I'm so scared," she heard herself repeat, sliding from the stool to wrap her arms about him, pressing close into the comfort of just touching her Michael. "I'm so scared I'm gonna lose you." Well, Mr Granger had said to tell her boyfriend in advance, hadn't he" She just had to take it on faith that whatever she said this evening wouldn't completely break her own heart and spirit.

He looked a little bewildered for a moment. He had never seen her quite like this. She had seen him at his weakest, lowest point and she hadn't fled in terror or disgust. She knew all his dirty little secrets and still she loved him. He was convinced there was nothing she could tell him that would ever make him leave her or stop loving her, short of telling him she didn't love him anymore. He wrapped his arms around her to hold her close, glad she couldn't see the confusion on his own face or the fear that he was going to lose her. He wasn't going to tell her not to be scared. Only a fool wouldn't be at least a little bit scared, given the circumstances, but she needed to understand that she wasn't alone and would never be alone again so long as he was alive and kicking. "Baby, you're not gonna lose me. What makes you think that' I'm not going anywhere, Elena. I love you."

She sniffled softly, too frightened of what she had convinced herself of even to cry, holding onto him so tightly it had to have been painful. "But you don't know what I did," she admitted unhappily. "You don't know all of it, and in a couple of days you will, and you'll hate me because I'm so weak and stupid." She was still shaking, barely able to get the words out. "Everyone's gonna hate me."

His forehead crinkled deeper, as further confusion set it. What had she done that was so terrible she thought everyone would hate her" "Did you kill anyone?" he asked, assuming she hadn't. He thought he knew most of the story already. He wasn't stupid, after all. He assumed Nicoletti had held something over her head to keep her under his thumb, and it didn't take a psychologist with a Ph.D. to figure out what it was. Fear, plain and simple. Fear was a huge motivator, but she didn't have to be afraid of him anymore. There was nothing Nicoletti could do to her anymore, and if he so much as looked at her the wrong way, there were half a dozen people who'd step in to protect her, and Michael would be at the head of the pack.

Elena · Date: 2013-08-12 23:22 EST

"No, I ....but I might as well have done." Pulling herself together seemed to take a monumental effort, but she managed it, drawing back to wipe her dry face as though looking for the tears that hadn't come. "There's so much that I saw and I heard, that I did nothing about. So many people got hurt because I didn't do something, and I could have done something."

"Okay," he said, absorbing all that, but still not finding anything to fault her with. "So why didn't you?" he asked, turning it back around on her so she could figure it out for herself. No, he wasn't a shrink, but he wasn't stupid either and one way or another, she had to realize she was not to blame for any of what had happened.

Elena was quiet for a long, long time, swallowing hard against the urge to cry and the urge to get up and run away. "Okay, I'm gonna tell you," she said quietly, looking down at her hands where they lay against her stomach. "I'll tell you everything."

And she did ....not in the words of her statement, but as they came, wet and snotty and blubbering through the remembered fear and pain. Not just the statement either, but the entirety of the eighteen months she had spent as Samuel Nicoletti's girlfriend - everything she had seen and heard, everything she hadn't done, everything he had done to her. Everything. It took well over an hour, and by the time she was done, her voice was hoarse, her throat dry. There were no more tears to come, her blotchy face turned toward his with unhappy despair in her eyes. She was braced to see the disgust in his eyes, to watch him walk away from her. To see her for what she so clearly believed herself to be ....worthless.

But when she looked into his eyes, unless she didn't know him as well as he thought she did, it wasn't disgust she'd find there. Instead, she'd find his own eyes suspiciously moist, a look of mingled sympathy and sadness and horror. There was anger, as well. Rage really, but it wasn't directed at her, but at the man who had hurt her. Michael had never really hated anyone before. He had never wanted to cause anyone harm, but he found himself hating the man who had hurt her and wanting to see him get everything that was coming to him and then some.

Death was too easy a punishment. Michael wanted him to suffer. But those feelings were pushed away, down deep for now. That wasn't what she needed to see right now. What she needed right now was to know he still loved her, no matter what she thought she'd done to make him hate her. He knew there were very few words he could say to take away the pain and hurt and fear she must be feeling. He couldn't turn back time and make it all go away, but he could forgive her and help her try to forgive herself. He waited until she was finished and then he wrapped her in his embrace again, holding her close, rubbing a hand against her back, trying to offer her the comfort she both needed and deserved. "Shh, it's all right. It's not your fault. He can't hurt you anymore. I won't let him hurt you anymore. It's going to be okay, baby. I promise."

Confusion flooded her as he pulled her back to him, shocked by the compassion, the forgiveness, that she could feel from him. Where was the anger, the resentment, the insistence that she could have done so much more than she had" Hadn't he understood what she'd told him' Hadn't he been listening" But slowly, his words began to sink in. It's not your fault. I won't let him hurt you anymore. And her arms rose to wrap loosely about his waist as she shuddered. "Why aren't you walking away?"

His heart ached when she asked him that question, realizing with a pang of heartache that she had expected him to reject her, to walk away, to stop loving her just because some *sshole had treated her so badly she thought she was unworthy of his love. He pulled back from her just far enough that he could see her face and meet her gaze. He needed her to look into his eyes and see that he wasn't lying, that he loved her regardless of everything that had happened, and that he wasn't going to stop loving her. She wasn't the one who'd done wrong here; she wasn't the one who was on trial. She was as much a victim as anyone else who'd been a victim of Nicoletti's brutality, maybe more so.

"Elena, listen to me....None of this was your fault," he said tipping her chin up to meet his gaze once again. "Do you know what he would have done to you if you hadn't cooperated?" he asked, turning the question back on her again to try and make her see that she'd only done what she had to, to survive, nothing more.

She bit her lip as she looked into his eyes, deeply confused by his continued affection, the fact that he was still there. And just as deeply touched by it, her heart aching for the fact that she had hurt this man years ago ....by the knowledge that if she had given him a chance then, they wouldn't have been having this conversation at all. She sniffed again, wiping the heel of her hand over her cheek before she answered. "He did enough when I didn't do something fast enough," she replied. "I don't know why I stayed, I ....I was scared of him then." She'd told Desmond Granger that Sam Nicoletti didn't scare her, but that had been a lie. "I'm still scared. I have to sit in a courtroom and tell all of them about this, and he'll be right there. What if I can't do it' I don't even understand why you're telling me this. I love you, so much, and ....what happens when you realize how despicable I am?"

Ever so gently he pushed her hand away from her face so that he could brush the tears away himself, wanting and needing to touch her, wishing he could take away all her pain, but not sure how. "But you told the truth, Elena. You told the police what happened, and because of you, that son of a bitch is going to go away for a very long time. Because of you, he's not going to be able to hurt anyone anymore. Do you know how brave that is" You are the bravest person I know and no matter what you think of yourself, no matter how horrible you feel, I'm never gonna stop loving you. Ever. How can I make you understand that?" he asked, his own eyes filling with tears, though they were more for her than for him.

Elena · Date: 2013-08-12 23:24 EST

She stared into his eyes as he spoke to her, utterly at a loss as to how to accept what it was he was telling her. She could understand it on a rational level, academically finding coherence in what he was saying, but she knew it would take time before she would be able to feel it. It would take time before she gave herself permission to feel it. But just the fact that he was saying it, the fact that he hadn't walked away, the fact that he was there, holding her, speaking to her, still loving her ....Elena had no clue how to react. She closed her eyes, breathing in deep the scent and warmth of Michael for a long moment, rising up onto her toes to kiss him. The affectionate gesture was gentle, but burning, fierce as she clung to him. "I don't understand," she admitted, "and I don't think I ever will, but ....I'm not gonna talk you out of loving me. I hope you never stop."

"I wish I could take it all away, Elena. I wish I could make it all go away. I wish..." he broke off, not wanting to drop his own regrets and self-recriminations on her when she needed him most. "There's nothing to understand," he told her, not quite trusting his own voice, his own emotions taking him by surprise. "I love you. I always have. What's to understand?"

"How you can still love me, even knowing what I've done," she told him softly, her fingers caressing his cheek tenderly. "I was so sure you'd hate me. Tony, and 'Taya, and everyone else ....they'll hate me for not doing something in time. There's so much I could have stopped, if I'd just gone to the police sooner." Her hand curled to his neck, pulling him close to kiss him once again. "I need you. I can't face this without you."

"They're not gonna hate you, Elena," he assured her, leaning her forehead against hers as her hand curled around to the back of his neck. His lips touched hers, tasting the salt of her tears, wishing he could take away all her pain. "They love you, and because they love you, they're going to forgive you. You just need to forgive yourself." He kissed her again as if to reinforce his words and prove how much he loved her. "I'm here. I'm always gonna be here. You're not alone. We'll get through this together."

She didn't believe him that her family would forgive her; couldn't believe him, not yet. She could accept that because he loved her, he'd forgiven all her transgressions, but there was still lurking in the back of her mind the way Tony had turned his back on her once before, the way Mataya just tolerated her, the way Tess deeply disliked her ....the way her mother, Rosita's, heart would break when she found out how awful her youngest child really was. But Michael was there, real and immediate, and he had never lied to her. "I love you," she whispered to him fervently. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, baby," he said, once again brushing the tears from her face, even as those same tears were mirrored in his own eyes. "Didn't you know love means never having to say you're sorry?" he asked, with a soft smile. Too bad he hadn't thought of that himself, but he'd stolen the quote from a sappy love story he'd caught on T.V. late one night.

She snorted with laughter, the quote bringing a smile to her face that was finally all hers. Nothing hidden behind it, nothing forced in the curve of her lips as she giggled quietly. "You're so corny," she accused him fondly, hugging her arms about his waist as her forehead rested against his once again, nose to nose with the man she loved. "Shouldn't you say sorry for using that line on me?"

He shrugged his shoulders, a real smile on his face, not forced for her sake, a little bit sheepish. "Guilty as charged. I'm a writer. I'm allowed. What's your excuse?" He laughed as she came nose to nose with him. He seemed to consider a moment, screwing up his face as if he was in deep thought. "Hm, no. I don't think so. It got you to laugh so it was worth it."

Her expression softened as she held his gaze, her shaking long since calmed by his insistence that he wasn't leaving her. The tip of her nose nudged his even as he screwed up his face, wondering just what she'd done in eighteen months of screwing up to have gotten lucky enough to have Michael in her life. "I wish I knew who to thank for dropping you in my bed," she murmured lovingly. "You're the best thing in my life, Michael."

"The Nexus, I think. Or maybe my fairy godmother," he replied with a smirk. He was kidding and couldn't know just how close he had actually come to the truth with that statement. He leaned in to drop a kiss on the end of her nose, his smile warm and loving and affectionate. "That goes double, Elena. You gave me something to live for again." And he wasn't just saying that. She literally had given his life new meaning, and he wasn't sure he would even still be alive if it wasn't for her.

She smiled again, softer this time, more tender, her eyes closing as she sighed quietly. Leaning forward, she laid her head on his shoulder, brushing her lips against his neck affectionately. "I love you." And she was never going to get bored of saying that, nor of hearing it. Just three words that could be meaningless, but meant the world to her. Michael loved her. That was all the courage she needed.

"I love you, too," Michael replied, just as softly. Like her, he would never tire of saying it or of hearing it. He had loved her for so long, it was like a dream come true, and once they were past this little bump in the road, they were going to be home free. They had both survived a trial of fire and he had to believe they would be stronger for it. "So, what do you say, Miss De Luca" Care for some pasta" Can't live on just love, you know. It won't fill your tummy."

Elena giggled again, hugging him tighter about the waist. "It could if I stopped taking my pill," she teased him impishly, her good humor slowly returning in the wake of her confession. The worry was still there, the anxiety over the days to come, but she felt far better knowing that Michael, at least, wouldn't turn away from her. "You want me to help?"

His mouth nearly dropped open. They had never really discussed the possibility of children, and it had never even occurred to him that she might want them someday. He had considered asking her to marry him, but had yet to gather enough courage to actually do it. "No, I want you to relax," he told her, tweaking her nose playfully. "I can cook this once."

His reaction to her tease made her laugh once again, each expression of amusement relaxing her a little further from the tight tension she was carrying around with her. She rose up onto her toes, brushing a kiss to his lips one last time before conceding. "Fine," she sighed, playful as she gave in. "But I'm not going far."

"You better not. I might burn the water!" he teased back with a grin. It felt good to make her smile and laugh and wipe her tears away. He owed her so much, it was the least he could do. He only wished he could make her understand once and for all how much he loved her, but maybe he would still get the chance. Once her nightmare was over.

((Many awesome, mega-mungus thanks to Michael's player! And yes, finally we're getting somewhere with the trial. With any luck, it'll be done within a couple of weeks, and then, who knows"))