((Contains adult material unsuitable for work.))

Despite the summer warmth of the daytime, when night fell on St. Petersburg, it brought with it a chill that was crisp and refreshing to a tired mind. Natalya had acquiesced to Rhys' request to visit a certain hilltop outside the city, with one slight alteration to the plan - he was driving. At some point during the afternoon, she had had his Mustang transferred to the hotel garage, putting herself entirely in his hands with only a few directions here and there to keep him on track as he drove from the city and out into the green that surrounded St. Petersburg. The hill rose ahead of them, a gentle incline seemingly abandoned by everyone who had taken advantage of the sunshine during the day. It was quiet and still, and just as she had said, the stars sparkled like diamonds set in midnight velvet above them, clear and sharp.

The sadness of the past that had dampened both their moods earlier in the day seemed to have passed, or at least, neither was willing to delve further into the discussion that had ended without being completely discussed or decided. They had spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering the city on foot, hand in hand like young lovers. Natalya had answered all Rhys' questions, and he'd had quite a few, pointing out this place or that and giving him a brief history lesson, like any good tour guide. They weren't really planning on staying in the city long, and Rhys wasn't sure if they'd ever be back. They'd returned to their hotel for dinner and to grab jackets and keys before heading out again, and once Rhys got behind the wheel of the Mustang, he was in heaven.

Settled beside him as he drove away from the brightness of the city into the relative darkness of the country beyond, Natalya felt herself relaxing once again. The precious little box they had gone to so much trouble to retrieve was nestled in a pocket of her coat, close to hand but out of sight. And for the first time since they'd come back to Russia, she felt on an even keel, humming softly to herself as she watched the fields pass them by on either side. "This was a good idea, dusha moya."

At first he thought she meant the trip to St. Petersburg, but he quickly realized she meant the drive away from the chaos of the city to a place where they could enjoy the peace and serenity the evening offered. It felt good to be behind the wheel again, and even better that the car he was driving was almost an exact duplicate of the car he'd loved most. He still couldn't get over the fact that she'd found one so close to his old Mustang, but for the color. "We should go on a road trip sometime. Just you and me. Hell, I'll even let you drive, if you want." He tossed a teasing smirk her way, wondering what she might think of the idea. There were still a lot of things he hadn't seen, a lot of places he hadn't been, on both sides of the pond.

"My goodness, milaya," she chuckled fondly, pleased by how much he seemed to be in love with his new car already. "You have not had it for a full twenty-four hours and already you are offering me the wheel" I am honored." It felt good to be teasing him, and to be teased, once again, after the emotional turmoil of the day. Away from the city, everything seemed to be more peaceful, more in control. She would have to hold onto that feeling until they were away from St. Petersburg altogether.

"No," he started. "I am offering you the wheel if and when we go on a road trip. Not now. It's too early for that. We're just getting acquainted, she and I. Right, baby?" he asked the car, leaning a little bit forward to give the dashboard an affectionate pat. "I'm not too sure about the green yet, but maybe it'll grow on me."

She giggled at his quick clarification of his offer, crossing her ankles comfortably. "I maintain, it is a horrible color," was her take on the shade the car had arrived in. "But it would not take much to have her sprayed black. My Jaguar came in bubblegum pink with electric blue racing stripes when I bought her. That was revolting."

He barked a laugh at the thought of her Jag being covered in such a ridiculous color. "Now that is horrible," he agreed. "Who owned it before you, Barbie?" He asked, assuming she knew who Barbie was. "I still can't believe you managed to find one in such good shape. It must have cost a small fortune." He pulled the car off to the side of the road as they reached the top of the hill and shut the engine down. "You sure it's okay if we park here a while?" He wasn't normally too concerned about such things, but he didn't want any trouble tonight.

"It is fine," she promised him as he drew the car to a halt. "For the next thirty hours or so, this is our land. No one can throw us off it." She hadn't told him how much land the Pimenov family owned around Russia yet, and she was unlikely to tell him the whole of it. Her family had been prominent in the Imperial nobility, though they had long since sold their title. Centuries of power had given them too much land and too much wealth, and to be honest, it was a relief to be shedding that part of her past.

He arched a brow at her, not quite grasping her meaning. In fact, he had absolutely no clue what she was talking about. Did she mean that her family actually owned the land they were standing on, or rather, that the car was parked on' "You really don't plan on ever coming back here, do you?" he asked as he put the car in park and turned off the engine.

"Never," she said quietly. "My life, my future, is with you. There are too many ghosts here for me to ever feel safe. Even what memories I have of my mother are tainted, but I will never feel unsafe when I think of her, or of my brother. But Natasha, she has a future here, when she is released. I do not wish to be within her reach. Ever."

He absorbed her answer in silence. There was no point in arguing with her about it or in trying to change her mind. If she ever wanted to come back here for some reason, nothing was stopping her, but there was no point in discussing it further, and he didn't want to reopen the wounds that just seemed to be healing. How could he argue with her when she put it that way' St. Petersburg represented a past she wanted to forget; he was her future. That much he understood. He smiled softly at her from the driver's seat. "Come on. Someone promised to show me the stars."

"Just someone" Perhaps I should have called one of the professors from the university to give you a little guided tour of the skies," she teased, setting the moment of solemnity to one side as he smiled at her. Leaning over, she kissed him fondly. "Out," she chuckled. "The view is better without a roof in the way."

As far as Rhys was concerned, magic was just science that wasn't as yet understood or had been explained, but he was no scientist. He wasn't even an angel anymore. He was just a man, searching for his rightful place in the world and hoping for a little peace. "Life goes on," he said, as if echoing her thoughts. This was what he'd fought so hard for, and the sight of it filled his heart with a strange love and longing. Why did everything of beauty have to be so fleeting" Was nothing in life permanent' He found himself overcome with emotion at the beauty of it. It was like seeing his first sunrise all over again. There were so many things in life that people took for granted, and this was only one of them. Every day was a gift, a precious gift to be savored. Of all people, he knew this to be true.

Very slowly, as the lights began to shift and fade, Nat withdrew her hand from her pocket, the precious box within her grip. She felt ready to open it now; she'd shared the worst with Rhys, but this was something good, something special. It had been years since she'd looked upon the contents. Drawing in a slow breath, she lifted her head from his shoulder, lifting the carved lid in the light of the moon. Within were two rings, and several small objects, each carved by hand, identical but for the rippling of the stone from which they had been made.

He wiped a hand across his face as she lifted her head from his shoulder, the lights slowly fading from view. He had come here to see the stars, and she had given him so much more. If this place hadn't caused her so much pain, he might have been happy here, but there were other places. Each place he went had its own kind of beauty for those whose eyes could see. He echoed her sigh, watching the sky with rapt attention as the lights faded from view, his heart aching to see them again. Life was still full of little miracles like these.

Gently, she lifted one of the rings from the box, letting it settle about the upper knuckle of her forefinger. It was obviously made for a man, yellow gold set with a dark stone, the band worked with unending spirals. Her thumb stroked over it, feeling the gentle tingle of magic that still resided within it with a softer smile once again. She knew the story of this ring, and now it was time to add another chapter. "Rhys ..." His name was a gentle prayer on her lips as she lifted her eyes to his face once again, waiting patiently for him to draw his gaze from the sky. "I want you to have this. It will protect you."

He turned his face to her at the sound of his name, tears still glittering in his green eyes, not unlike the stars amidst the green lights of the Aurora Borealis that was fading from view. He wasn't sure what she meant at first, until he realized she had withdrawn something from her mother's box, a glimmer of gold against her forefinger. "What is it?" he asked, eyes curiously shifting to that gleam of gold.

"A ring," she said, little superfluously. Chuckling at her lack of explanation, she laid the ring into his palm. "Mama made it, for Micah's father. She wanted to keep him safe, so she spelled the stone with healing and protection. The power is still there, I can feel it. And I want you to have it. I want you safe."

Rhys looked solemnly down at the ring that was resting in the palm of his hand, touched that she'd want to give such a treasure to him and understanding her reasons behind it, unsure if he could or even should accept such a gift, but if not him, then who' And suddenly he found a question on his lips that he had never asked before, that he wasn't sure he should ask. "How'd he die, Nat' Micah's father?" The ring had obviously not protected him against death, and Rhys had a feeling he already knew the answer to his own question.

"My father had him killed," she said softly, sharing that information with only a single sharp pang for the pain that action had given her mother. "Once he found out that Mama wanted to leave him, and go back to the man she truly loved. I do not know the detail, but I do know that when Mama told her lover the danger he was in, he took off that ring and told her to give it to Micah. He wasn't afraid of dying, so long as Mama and his son were safe."

But her mother and brother had eventually been killed, as well. He didn't need to ask how that had happened. He already knew. It had been her father. Rhys closed his fingers around the ring, feeling an unexpected surge of hatred for the man that had once been her father. As far as Rhys was concerned, the only good thing the man had ever done was sire his daughter. "You should wear it," he said, not knowing if there was a twin to the ring that had been made for a woman. "Not me."

"No." She shook her head, pressing the ring into his hand firmly. "It would not work for me. It was made by a witch for the man that she loved. And I am giving it to you, because I love you." She smiled gently, raising her hand to stroke her fingers against his cheek. "It will not keep you alive if you are hurt badly enough, but it will heal most injuries. Nothing can hold back death. This will just ....make it easier to avoid it."

"Is this what your father was trying so hard to find?" he asked, peering into her eyes, trying to understand. He understand why this was so important to her, but he wondered what it was her father had torn up her brother's room in search of. It couldn't just be something so simple as this, could it' There had to be more.

"I think so," she nodded, her hand dipping back into the box to bring out the other ring that nestled there. Seed pearl and emerald, it was delicate, and for a long time, it had lived on her mother's hand. "This was the ring Micah's father wanted Mama to wear," she murmured softly. "She loved him, very much. If she'd been given the choice, she would have married him. But my father had money, and her parents had control of her."

So that was it. She had been forced into a marriage for money, not love. Things were making a little more sense now. "You should wear it," he said, looking to her mother's ring. "To remember her by. She'd be glad you married for love." He reached over to take the ring from her hand and taking her hand in his, slid it onto her finger.

She should have expected that, laughing softly as he pressed her mother's most prized possession onto her finger with the tri-colored wedding band that was all his own. She smiled, cuddling fondly into him with a kiss to his cheek. "I wish I could have known her better. But I can remember her. And we can make her grandchildren happy."

Those kisses did more than a thousand words ever could, the warmth of his hands against her sides tender reassurance as she let her hands smooth up over his arms, around his neck, answering his kisses with echoes of her own, forgetting that they were outside, that there was no illusion of privacy. He had a way with her, a way of making her forget utterly everything but him, healing the hurts of her past without even trying.

Not for the first or probably last time, he wanted to make her understand just how much he loved her, how much she meant to him, but he had no words. Words were insufficient in describing and conveying his feelings. He'd never been very good with words, preferring to show her how he felt, rather than tell her, hoping she somehow understood how deeply he loved her and needed her. He'd been alone for so long, he'd started to think he didn't need anyone, until he met her, and then his whole life, his whole world had changed. And now, he'd never have it any other way. He belonged to her utterly and completely.

He was not alone in that urge, that need to share with something more than words the strength of feeling that held them both so tightly together. And his Natalya, his wife, was no shy girl, nor was she innocent to the thrill of such a sharing out here in the open, far from prying eyes and yet still skirting the edge of propriety with loving daring. Her nimble fingers slid between them to undo his jacket, teasing her touch beneath to the warmth of his t-shirt and the skin it hid from her as her lips plied his with the same eager tenderness he had grown so accustomed to from his Russian thief.

They weren't going to make it back to their hotel room if they kept on at this rate, but he didn't really care. Besides, the back seat of the Mustang needed to be christened before the car was officially his. He turned her so that she was leaning against the hood of the car, sliding his hands inside her coat and frowning a little against her lips when he remembered she was still wearing that damned dress. No matter. There were ways around it. "Mmm, Nat..." he murmured between kisses, each one sweeter and just a little deeper than the last. His fingers bunched in the fabric of her dress, tugging it higher beneath the cover of her trench-coat.

She felt his frown through their kisses, bemused for barely a moment before she felt his fingers bunching her dress upward, realizing what had given him momentary pause even as she melted to the sound of her name on his lips, ghosting against her own. Her hands smoothed beneath his t-shirt as she moaned his name in answer, pushing from the hood of the beautiful car to press closer only to ease back once again as her clever fingers found button and zipper between them. She didn't seem to be growing out of her impatience whenever this particular heat rose between them, always demanding now whether he forced her to wait or not.

There was a muffled moan of protest as he pulled away from her lips, catching her hands before she got too far. "Wait. Not here," he told her, taking her hand and tugging her toward the back door. He wasn't all that worried about being seen really - not out here in the dark - but he still wanted to offer her the courtesy of as much privacy as possible. It was more than he'd had on the flight to Paris, separated from the rest of the plane only by a curtain. He kissed her again as he fumbled with the door to get it open.

His denial of what they both wanted brought a protest of her own from her throat as he drew back, a soft pout forming on her lips as he pulled her off the hood toward the back door. She didn't make it easy for him to play to his sudden, inexplicable shyness, however. Even when his lips weren't on hers, her mouth was on his skin, her hands caressing his flesh beneath his t-shirt, deviously distracting as she breathed his name against his ear in a longing sigh that pleaded with him to hurry.

It wasn't the first time he'd put a car to good use in a heated moment of passion, but he wasn't sixteen anymore, and the back seat of the Mustang was more cramped than he remembered it. Still, there was one than one way to skin a cat. The first thing to go was the trench-coat, which only got in the way. He peeled it from her shoulders as his lips kissed hers, and even as they didn't. Every touch, every caress, every kiss pushing his fever higher. He pushed her against the side of the car, as he carelessly tossed the trench-coat into the car through the open door, uncaring where it landed.

Her distraction seemed to have worked, for now at least. His next kisses found grinning lips as she rolled her shoulders, helping him slide the coat from her body before her hands found his once again, returning the favor with confident passion to slip his jacket free of his arms as she fitted herself as close as could be. True, she hadn't experienced the cramped joys of a backseat before, but she had a feeling that with Rhys the opportunity would crop up more than once in their life together. "Will we drive back naked, milaya?" she teased him in a low murmur, nipping fondly at his lower lip as his jacket found its way into the car behind her.

He smirked a little at her question, helpfully shrugging his way out of his jacket, just as she had hers. "You think we'd be noticed?" he asked, as he hiked her skirt up, one hand sliding against the smooth curve of a hip.

Her quiet giggle was lost in a tender moan as he drew her skirt up to her waist, her body arching toward his with the gentle suggestion of his caressing hand at her hip. "I think, perhaps, only when we get out of the car to walk through the hotel foyer," she laughed huskily, her hands fisting in his t-shirt to pull him into a new kiss, deeper, more demanding than before, impatience and eagerness combining now into something almost desperate for him.

He shared her desperation and her eagerness, but thankfully, a slightly cooler mind that prevailed over that of his hot-blooded wife. He surrendered himself to her kiss, however, enjoying teasing her, amused by her undisguised and unbridled desire for him. There had been plenty of women before her, but she put all the rest to shame. "Nat," he said, between kisses, trying to pull away but being drawn back again and again into her kisses, each one deeper and more demanding, until he felt his head getting dizzy. "Nat," he pleaded again, gasping for breath as he pulled away from her grasp. "Wait..."

"I do not want to wait," she whined as he pulled away from her again, that pout forming yet again on her lips, soft and inviting more kisses as she pulled herself along with him, not letting him get more than a few inches from her. "Rhys, please ..."

Satiated for the moment and basking in the afterglow of their love, his body still echoing with pleasure, Rhys sighed, his fingers in a gentle caress against the soft warmth of her skin. There was no better way to end the day than this, lingering in her embrace, the stars in silent witness above them. He knew this moment wouldn't and couldn't last forever, just one more memory among so many others, but despite the upheaval of the day, it was a night he would not soon forget.

"We should go back," he said softly. Not to England or to New York, but to the hotel, where they could spend the rest of the night in each other's arms in comfort and without worrying anyone might find them in an uncompromising position.

Her fingers trailed lovingly against his cheek as they lingered together in the damp heat they had created. "I do love you," she whispered to him, brushing her lips over his once again. His quiet assurance that they couldn't stay out here brought a soft smile to her face. "You are right," she chuckled quietly. "We should relocate so we do not have to move so far away from one another again." That didn't, however, prevent her from tasting his lips once again, soft and pliable, and so easily pleased when it came to her husband.

He smiled against her lips, savoring her kiss, her proclamation of love filling his heart with joy, the likes of which he'd never known with anyone before her, not even his Jessie. If truth be told, as much as he'd loved her, their love had been doomed right from the start, just as it had with every other woman he'd ever known until Natalya. "I still don't know what I did to deserve you," he remarked. Despite his suggestion they return to the hotel, he seemed in no real hurry to move, feeling lazily content.

"You needed me," she murmured in answer, not quite knowing where that had come from but feeling that it was one of the truths that had drawn them together. "Just as I needed you." She leaned back just a little way, enjoying the freedom to gaze at him as long as she wanted, drinking in her handsome husband with a tender smile.

"Do you think the Lady had anything to do with it?" Or maybe it was Fate. He wasn't really sure, but nothing in his life seemed to have been left to chance, and he knew there were greater forces than the two of them at work here. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, his smile just as soft and tender in echo of hers. "I do need you, Nat. Maybe we just weren't ready for each other yet."

"We had to be broken before we could fix each other?" she asked softly, her smile turning wry at that example of balance. "Perhaps she was waiting until the time was right. I will never need to use a pregnancy test, that is for certain. All I will have to do is ask the Lady." Her eyes sparkled teasingly at that thought; though Rhys had the closer relationship with the Lady of Avalon, Nat understood that she was needed in the same way.

"Maybe," he mused thoughtfully. "Or maybe we had to learn some things first." It was true that if he'd met her years ago, he might not have known how to protect her yet, and she might have suffered the same fate as Jessie or worse. They'd had to grow up separate so that they could learn how to be strong, how to do all they needed to do so that they could fulfill their own destinies, both separately and together. He arched a brow when she turned the conversation toward children, a subject he had always been a little reluctant to discuss. "You aren't....are you?" he asked, curiously. They'd certainly been together long enough, but as yet, she had not become pregnant.

She held his gaze, her smile gentle as she stroked his cheek. "I do not know," she told him honestly. "And I am not worrying about it. It will happen when the time is right, no matter what we do. I am happy with you, knowing that we have a beautiful future, with a beautiful family. I am in no rush, but I would not mind if tomorrow I were pregnant. Would you?"

"I'm not getting any younger," he replied, not really worried about his mortality. Everyone had to die some time. There was a time when he wouldn't have cared if he lived or he died, but these days, he had too much to live for and a good part of that was for him and Nat to one day have a family of their own. It had once been nothing but a dream, but a dream that was looking more and more like it might become a reality. "It'll happen when it happens, but no, I wouldn't mind." He sealed that statement with a kiss, cupping her cheek with a hand as his lips touched hers.

Soft and tender, her lips plied his with loving promise, drawing back to show him her smile once again. Rhys was everything she could ever have wished for, if she had known years before just what it was she should be making that wish in the hope of having. She had no idea how she would ever be able to tell him how deeply he had touched her, how important he was to every beat of her heart or breath she took. She just had to hope that he understood, at some level.

He understood because he shared those same feelings, unable to describe the depth of his love. It defied description and explanation, felt with the heart and not with the head. The poets and linguists were the only ones who had words for what he was feeling, and even those words could not suffice. If he was a musician, he would serenade her. If he was an artist, he would paint her. If he was a poet, he would write a sonnet in her honor. But he was none of those things - he was just a man with a man's failings and feelings, and his kisses and caresses would just have to speak for him.

They would have to speak another time, however, As Nat lifted her head, she made hard contact with the roof above her with a loud clunk, letting out a rueful laugh as her hand rose to rub the offended bump. "I think, perhaps, we should return to the hotel, milaya," she giggled softly. "Before I knock myself out trying to please you."

"Well, she's been properly christened now, so I guess you're right," he admitted with a smirk, a little amused at her predicament. He glanced out the window, but it seemed there was still no one around but them and the crickets. It was strangely quiet this time of night, when it had been anything but earlier in the day. "I like it here," he admitted reluctantly, knowing they'd more than likely never be back. "It's peaceful."

It would have been lovely if they could, somehow, have taken this hill with them when they left, take the one good thing from her childhood where it couldn't be tainted again with the worst of her memories. But it was not possible, and they would have to leave this place, and this night, far behind them. With a last kiss, she eased herself from his lap, twisted like a pretzel to manage that feat as her hands moved to smooth her dress back down over her hips. She looked him over with a wicked little smile. "It is a shame we cannot leave you like that. It suits you."

"We'd never get anything done," he said, smirking as he lifted his hips from the seat to yank his jeans up and refasten them closed. As tall as he was, he was careful not to bump his head on the roof as he climbed past her to pull the door open, step outside, and stretch his legs. He wanted one more look at that sky before they headed back to the city, for what might likely be their last night there.

Wondering vaguely where it was her panties had ended up, Nat climbed out after him with a smile, ignoring the chill on her arms as she pushed the door closed to curl her arms around his waist. Her own eyes turned skyward with a gentling of her smile, drawing together the details of this night, and another night many years before, forming a special memory of this place to have and hold for all the years to come.

Her panties were around somewhere, probably in the back seat somewhere. There had been a time when more girls had lost their panties that way, and he'd find them a few days - and sometimes hundreds of miles - later, a keepsake of yet another conquest. But those days were long over, and the only discarded panties he was likely to find laying around these days belonged to his wife. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as she wound her arms around his waist and leaned against his back, his own head tilted upwards for what might be his last look at the night. He wasn't sure where they were going from here, but he knew in his heart, wherever it was, Nat would always be there with him.

Nestled close, they gazed up at the stars, the only true constant in both their lives. Despite the friendships made and lost, the lovers that had come and gone, the pains and joys that had made up the years before they had met, the stars had always been there, silent witnesses to two lives just waiting to be joined together. And no matter where they went, how far their journey took them or how long it lasted, that constant would always remain, just as the love they shared between hearts and souls. As patient and enduring as the stars.

((::sigh:: No one does angst and romance quite like these two. Yay! Massive, huge, throbbing, pulsating thanks to Rhys' player!))