Sianna flopped over for the umpteenth time that night and willed her bladder to not be so wimpy. How in the world was she ever supposed to get a night's sleep if she was constantly making trips to the necessary. Rolling towards the indent in the mattress that should have held her husband, she wound up empty-handed and now fully awake. Bare feet padded silently across the wood floor, her thin cotton nightgown ethereally bright in the moonlight. A momentary detour to the necessary provided the relief that she needed, along with an ice-cold washcloth held to her temples, the back of her neck... the valley between her breasts. The summer night was sweet yet still, no breeze stirred to offer relief.

Finding no sight of Johnny upstairs she slipped quietly down the steps, her hand lightly grazing along the smoothed turns of the bannister. As her eyes adjusted to the wide flood of moonlight through the unshuttered living room windows, a glint of silver caught her attention. Long legs could be seen dangling over one arm, a blonde halo resting against the other. He was holding something up, studying it. She blinked quickly, banishing any remnant of sleep in earnest, and approached him quietly, coming to stand behind the curved back of the sofa. "Leannan....?"

?Hmm? Oh.? Showing no surprise at Sianna?s sudden appearance behind the couch, despite her almost noiseless approach, Johnny reached up an arm towards her. A quick glance was given her with shadowed emerald eyes, along with a slight smile meant to be reassuring. His other hand closed over the bit of scrap wire twisted into the shape of a slender leaf, concealing it from view. ?Wha?re ya up fer, m?gal? Shou? be gettin? yer sleep.?

"Oh, naught in particular... besides th' empty space where ye should be. I'm no' th' only one who should be dreaming, aye?" Her hand slipped easily in the one that he lifted to her, leaning forward over the back of the sofa to place a soft kiss to his forehead. Unruly curls were restrained in a neat plait that hung over one shoulder. Dark brows lifted at the sudden "disappearance" of whatever had held his focus, but she did not press the issue just yet.

A lift of one corner of his mouth in faint amusement was accompanied by the release of her hand to give a light tug to the end of her dangling braid. Swinging up to sitting from his prone position, he leaned against the back of the couch directly in front of where she stood. ?Couldn? sleep. Din? wan? ta wake ya, tossin? an? turnin?. So ? down here.? The explanation simple as he reached his empty hand back over his shoulder again, seeking the comfort of her grip.

She left his hand empty as she leaned forward, her own hands sliding from his shoulders and down the flat plane of his chest as she embraced him. His hand did not remain empty long as skilled fingers made quick work of the tie and began unbraiding the strands, meshed fingers buried in the locks. Soft lips placed a flurry of kisses to the side of his neck. Her voice a whisper at his ear. "And what has ye tossing an' turning, my Jo?"

Her hand was warm against the skin of his wrist. Finally he turned up his hand and opened his fingers. The narrow leaf formed from a twist of old, rusty iron wire didn?t have the smoothness or realism of his current efforts. But there was still something in its lines, in the sweep of it, which marked it as his work. ?James though? he was fair, an? tha? he was doin? his bes? fer us ? fer me. Loved us, don? doubt. Jus? wante? wha? he though? tha? we should wan? too.? It was hard-learned, the fair and dispassionate tone in his voice, and still something he had to work at.

She let it rest in the cradle of his palm, reaching out with gentle fingertips to lightly trace the artistry of the early study. Nodding softly at his words, she let her thoughts tumble about, giving him the space to speak. He often said that words did not come easily, but yet she could not shake the sense that if he did not speak them out, they would only continue to gnaw at him.

Closing his hand over the leaf and her fingers gently, he leaned his head back against the back of the couch. ?Thing is, how?m I goin? ta know wha?s righ? fer th? kid? When?s th? difference between lettin? ?em do wha? they need ta do an? givin? ?em too much leeway? Ain? sure I go? any way ta tell.? His mother hadn?t put up with any nonsense, but she?d never had to, from him. James took care of major discipline problems. And sometimes, those problems had only been in James? mind.

"Th' same way as ye ken which is right for ye, leannan. Ye feel yer way along, takin' th' small steps an' fittin' th' pieces of th' puzzle together. An' by raising them up tae be wise an' true tae themselves and no' daft-minded, blown about by th' wind." Sianna tilted her head back and dropped a quick kiss to his chin. "T'would have been one thing if ye'd no' been gifted, my Jo... but yer talent is sae obvious, aye? Mayhaps that's what bothered him sae. No' being able tae relate tae th' gift or th' road it would lead ye on."

?Wonder sometimes if it ain? tha? he did know, though. Moonbrainin?, he called it. Said there wasn? no call ta be wishin? fer things ya couldn? have. Way he said it, sometimes I kinda wonder if?n there was somethin? he wanted an? couldn? have.? Tilting his head back up, he gave her another faint smile, one belied by the shadows lurking in his eyes. ?Tried ta keep me from gettin? m?hopes too high an? m?dreams above m?self by beatin? it outa me. He din? worry so much abou? Juls ? ain? no shame in a woman bein? a painter, an? she followed th? rules most?a th? time anyway.?

Tears pricked her eyes at the thought of him being beaten, at the way the words cut her to the quick just being repeated. It was unfathomable to register how those words must have stung to hear them in person, but the residual effect that lingered in his eyes indicated the severity. The shadowy form of her father-in-law seemed to lurk in the corners of her mind. Once again, feminine intuition told her that Juliane would have her own perceptions and tales to tell of James Smith.

Bristling to his defense, her shoulders squared and her chin took on a defiant lift. "An' there is nae shame in being a smith, leannan. Much less th' best one in all Rhy'din an' beyond, aye?" With her hand still held in his, the metalwork between, she let her thumb lightly brush back and forth over the base of his thumb. "Just th' same, I think ye are verra wise in yer wondering. 'Twas his pride that drove him tae act as he did."

?Go? m?own share?a pride, m?love. Don? wan? tha? turnin? me agains? ours, when th? time comes.? His empty hand moved to splay over her still-trim stomach. ?Wasn? a smith I wan?ed ta be, ta him.? There was a brief snort of amusement at his inadvertent play on words. The sentence referred to his name as well as his profession with equal ease. ?Think he would?a been happy if?n I?d wante? ta be a blacksmith, instead?a messin? aroun? with twiddles an? nonsense. So wha? if th? kid wan?s ta do somethin? I think?s silly??

"Aye, ye have pride... but no' the sort that would fear yer own child accomplishing something beyond what ye have. Look at how ye encourage Juliane and Katarina. Do ye honestly think ye'd no' have th' same sort of joy in yer child?" Shifting against him, she freed the arm that had been pinned against his chest and linked that hand with his, fingers forming a protective shield over her stomach. "And ye ken verra well ye do far more than twiddles an' nonsense." She chuckled softly. "Besides, I have a verra hard time imagining ye thinking th' gifts are silly. Ye come from a family of farmers, painters, sculptors, singers, dancers... not tae mention all that Tali fills her days with. Would pegasus racing or acting really be all that silly in comparison?"

Baritone rumble of quiet laughter emerged at that. ?Well?n? if?n yer puttin? it like tha?. Nah, I can? imagine much tha? I?d really think is all tha? silly. Goin? ta hav?ta help me, love, though. Talkin? wi? ya an? yer bro, I think yer da knew more abou? bein? a paren? than I go? a clue on, an? yer Gran rounded ou? th? res? pretty well.? He gave her a smile, then, the first clear and unshadowed one of the night, before looking at their linked hands ? one pair closed over the wire leaf, remnant of the past ? one pair joined over her abdomen and the promise of the future.