He pouted, blowing up his cheeks with air and then letting them deflate. "I have to be a good influence? Such a burden to impose upon me!" He snuck a quick kiss and leaned away just as fast, cheeky grin on his face.

The kiss happened so fast that she didn't have time to really respond, so she just gave a large smile instead. "I said "bes'", nah "good"." She wiggled her brows for him, before finally relaxing her arms to gently go over his shoulders and down his arms, "It'll be.. kinda weird, havin' change ta our family. Bu'.. I guess it's th' good kinda weird."

"I suppose, but think about it. In this year, we married. My brother and Eavan married. Your brother and his bird are having a little...stork, or what have you." Locke giggled as he realized he had made a poor word choice. "Stork? Really? Anyways, as I was saying...for your mum and dad and brothers and sisters, and for my mum and dad and brother, change has been the order of the day for the families."

"Yeah, I guess yer righ'. Th' change between us an' yer bro jist didn'.. really seem like change ta me, I guess. I'm sure tha' my ma is jist burstin' a' th' seams." She smiled slightly and rolled her eyes, "She'll be the typical grandma, I kin jist see it now." Breaking away a little from his embrace, she took one of his hands so that she could lead them to the living room and sit on the couch.

Led back into the living room, he moved aside the basket of towels and the ones he had already folded so they had a spot to sit. "No, Eavan and Liam are the proverbial peas in a pod, savvy? They would be precisely the same, with or without the marriage. Probably why it wasn't that much of a strain when it took them longer than they expected to tie the knot." Locke looked up at the ceiling for a second. "I wonder if they will have children.?

"Well, if they both wan' 'em, I dun see why not." Instead of settling down on a space on the couch that Locke had just cleared, she settled upon his lap for the time being instead. "I think they'd make good parents, too. An' we'd definitely be perfect fer their li'l family as aunt an' uncle. I guess I jist think tha' we're a good match fer both sides, ya an' mine, shiny?"

He smiled as she sat on his lap, even though there was space for two to sit comfortably on the couch cushions. "I think they would be good parents, and I suspect they both want children at some point, but...there's the sickness, yeah? I always think about that." Left unsaid was the second part of that statement. I always think about that when I think about the kids we might have. He leaned his head back on the couch and shut his eyes, frowning as he thought about it.

She was silent as she watched him lean back on the couch, and she didn't follow suit. She looked down and fidgeted with her short nails for several long beats, "There's nah... yanno.. somethin' tha' could be done? I mean, I neva knew o' all th' thin's tha's helped me... us, fer a long while. There may be hope for them.. ta nah make thin's more scary than it has'ta be."

"There may very well be something that could be done, if there is anything at issue. Or maybe he winds up with the worst of it, and it carries down the line less and less." He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, folding his hands behind his head. "He's young, though. He has plenty of time to wait, to see if they develop something we don't even have an inkling of right now.?

"Yeah, I guess tha's true. An' since he's half, it migh' be less o' a problem than it was fer his parents." She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, and dared to breach the subject that they were both thinking without speaking, "We dun hav' all tha' kinda time."

He sat up with a quiet sigh. "I know. Should I just come right out and ask?" His look was searching, penetrating, full of hope and fear

She wasn't particularly sure with his specific question, and so she stared back at him and gave her honest answer, "Yeah, I thin' so."

"Do you want children?" As soon as he finished asking the question, he chuckled and spoke again quickly, as if trying to lighten the weight of the words. "Or child." It didn't feel lighter though, and his smile took on a rueful quality.

Her eyes looked away for the briefest moment before looking back to him, "I still stand by wha' I tol' ya 'fore I go' th' mods. If we git ta th' place where we kin try? I will. I have a thousand worries an' fears 'bout it, bu'.. I dun wan'ta wait till it's too late an' regret, yanno?" She took a deep breath and continued, "Bu' 'm nah tha' young fer this kinda thin', yanno? I am 'n a bi' o' a time limit, an' I dun wan'ta add any additional risks by waitin' too long. There's... a lot'a thin's tha' we hav' ta address if this is somethin' we're gonna pursue. Righ' now.... I thin' three years is th' lates' 'm willin' ta risk ta hav' our own."

"And there is adoption." He felt guilty at the twist in his gut that he felt over the word. Johnny and Sianna had adopted, and they were just as good parents to their adopted children as they were to their twins. And Lirssa had been adopted too, had she not? Still, it did not appeal to him emotionally, as bad as the thought made him feel. "I do understand. And I also understand that our careers are at...different apexes, so to speak. In many ways, I am just getting started, and I know your years as a ballerina are not infinite. Three years." Locke gave a satisfied nod, then asked his next question in a quiet, nervous voice. "Do you think it early to start exploring...the medical malarkey that might entail?"

"No, I dun think so." She looked at him with sad eyes, "I think tha' th sooner we hav'a game plan th' betta. 'Cause it's nah gonna happen till.... yanno, yer nah blue anymore. If we kin't figure tha' bit ou', then th' res' dun matta."

The sad eyes were contagious, and he had to look away lest they move him to tears. "I...know. Can I tell you something, and you'll promise not to get mad?"?

She folded her hands in her lap, "Yeah, I promise."

"A few years back...Lirssa was in trouble with some blokes. I gave her one of the rings, one of the three Johnny made out of the one I had originally. It...it's gone. Got her out of trouble, but it's gone." He shook his head. "I don't know if it'll work with the two I have anymore."

She sat on his lap in silence for several moments, her face schooled of her emotions after a lifetime of practice. She wasn't upset anyway, but the blow was painful just the same, "Ar' th' rings th' only option?"

"This is RhyDin. There must be another way." Locke lifted a hand up, balled it into a fist, and knocked it lightly against the top of the couch. "I remember when we discussed this before. I can go to Twilight Island. Hell, we could always just look around the Inn, I suppose."

She nodded slowly, "We could. I feel it 'n my gut tha' we kin find somethin' 'n our own. An'.. as soon as we do.. we kin try." She closed her eyes for a long moment, and locked all of those concerns tightly away, "I dun wan'ta lose any opportunities."

"No. I think now that we have settled in, so to speak, I can return to thinking about that. Maybe go to magic uni- again?" He had a hopeful look on his face for a second, and then he laughed. It may have been the first time since he left college that he had expressed a desire to return.

"That'd keep you far from me, wouldn't it?" She put away her selfish desires and forced a smile, "Bu' if tha's wha' ya think ya need ta do, 'n by all means."

"Not there, no." He stuck out his tongue and made a sour face at the thought of going back to his old school. "There are plenty of places here, I am certain, that could do the same work. I was - when things were going pear-shaped with 'Lanta, there was a friend of mine and Eva's who had worked with me some on controlling magic. Never pursued it much further - probably out of spite and misery from that break-up. And she went away, and only came back once, like a year later and only Eva saw her. Sorry, I'm rambling, I know."

She gave him a slight smile, "So... let's try thin's this way." She shifted a little on his lap to look at him better, "Ya look inta th' options ta break yer spell, an' I'll look inta th' medical mumbo jumbo. An' let's say... by th' end o' th' summer we're nah makin' any progress, we try lookin' in otha places?"

"Divide and conquer. I like that." Locke leaned forward to rub his nose against hers and giggled. "As they say, that sounds like a plan, melamin. Shake on it?" He grinned mischievously.

It wasn't until his nose touched hers that the fear and panic subdued to a level that she felt that she could tolerate. She relaxed the muscles in her shoulders that were unknowingly tense, and took a deep breath. "Ya go' it." She stuck her palm in his and mirrored his grin.

He took the hand, but instead of shaking it, he used it to gently pull her closer into a kiss. He broke the kiss momentarily to whisper in her ear. "I don't think we actually need to shake on it, savvy?"

"Savvy." Since he was still so close to her face, she turned slightly to give his cheek a kiss, "An'.. whateva works ou', will be bes' fer us." She leaned onto his chest and rested her cheek against his shoulder and neck.

Locke's eyes drifted toward her hand and his arm, cutting over to look at hers when she let go with their usual warmth. He stepped out of the way and headed for the table, removing his tie and stuffing it in his pocket as he did so. He spun back around to face her as soon as he was seated. He knew the answer to this question would only lead to another one, but it was a question they would have to discuss. One they had discussed, in fact, years before. "Because I want to be able to hold my children with my bare hands."

Katarina frowned slightly over his words as she turned them over in her head. Words she had heard before in years past. It was fortunate that getting the salad and table serving-ready required no active brainpower. It wasn't until food and water was in front of them around the table that she spoke up again, "I dun understan'.. why now. An' really, this is usually a thin' we talk 'bout togetha. Feels a li'l strange tha' ya took that initiativ' all 'n yerself."

"I just wanted to know if it was possible or not, what the side effects might be, if anything had developed since we last discussed it." His head dipped down, both to watch her serve the salad and to hide the guilty expression creeping across his face. "I felt like now that the store is launched, now that I'm not traveling every few months to bloody who knows where..." Guilt and nerves cut into the thought before he could give it full voice. He had spent two years building one dream. Had it come at the expense of another?

Again, silence was her immediate companion as she sat down and stared at her dinner."Ya feel lik' now's th' time ta reconsider star'in' a family?" There was no point in hedging around the words. He was obviously conflicted about his feelings, and vague language would only make that worse. Needing something to do with her body, she took slow bites of her meal.

"Yes." The word escaped his mouth quickly and quietly. Locke saw her begin to eat and he tucked into the salad as well. After a few quick, nervous bites, he caught himself engaging in his old tic and forced himself to slow down. He took a drink of water, peering over the rim of the glass at her.

She teetered between moving her salad around on her plate and actually eating it. Her head bobbled from one side to the next slightly during her internal conversation. "Ya still feel like yer life wun be complete 'less we have our own kid?" She didn't avoid his looks and his eye contact, but she did need a gulp of water at the unexpected tightness in her throat.

He set his glass down and directed his gaze fully on her. "Incomplete? I do not know if that is the right word, but I cannot think of the word I want." His fingers drummed against the side of his head, briefly. "I am happy right now. I am so happy right now, maybe as happy as I have ever been in my life. I love my job, I love this house, I love my friends, I love my family, I love you. If this-" He swept a hand in a circle around the kitchen. "-continued on for the rest of my life, I would say I have done far better than I ever anticipated for myself. Maybe - perhaps I am selfish for wanting more. Or for setting it aside at the first sign of difficulty, or the first golden opportunity that fell into my lap."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, only now noting that they had tensed up over the conversation. "I'm real glad that yer happy - I am too." She offered him a smile then, trying to cut at the tension. "Really, 've been pretty ova th' moon 'bout thin's fer a while now." She paused her thought with some food, "I thin' it's good tha' yer gonna meet wit' Eva, see wha' she has ta say an' all tha'." She offered a shrug, acutely aware of her masked feelings.

His eyes locked in on her. "Were you still interested? Do you still want to?" Every bit of their conversation seemed to circle back to the question he had just asked. He'd barely touched his salad after the first few bites he had taken.

"It's nah tha' I dun wan' it." The words were quick to come out of her mouth, hoping to give reassurance, "I can see ourselves being parents - gorram good parents. It's jist.." she rocked her head slightly side to side again, considering, "Every year that ticks by makes it one step closer to being the end of my dancing career, right? When we first started talking about having kids.. I was pretty confident that I could bounce back, that I could have a few years left. Now.. I'm not as confident. And it puts a pressure on my chest all heavy-like."

"I know, I know." Locke reached across the table for her hand, impulsively. In the moment, he needed that touch desperately. "I have asked you to sacrifice so much. You have sacrificed so much to be with me. More often than not, I hope that I have been worth it."

Her hand held his tightly, "Every moment of my life with you has been worth it, Locke." Again, she offered a warm, reassuring smile, "There's nothing to doubt about that."

His other hand reached over to pat hers briefly, before returning to his side of the table. "Are there other options we have not considered? Surrogacy?" He picked the fork back up and began poking at the lettuce in his bowl.

She blinked, a little surprised by the suggestion. "Umm.. nah. I dun wan' tha'." More descriptive words were not available to match her feelings. "I dun thin' it needs ta come down ta tha'. Jist.. yanno, go see Eva, see wha' she has ta say, an'..." she shrugged slightly, "gotta star' somewhere."

"All right." Locke looked down at his bowl, shaking his head and chuckling. "I have barely made a dent in this, mate. If I clean my plate, may I have dessert?" One eyebrow lifted, then the other, and then both of them in a waggle.

It couldn't be helped - she giggled. His playful demeanor was ever the cure for her worried mind. "Tell ya wha' - ya finish it like a good lad, an' I'll take ya ou' fer ice cream." She took a large bite of salad while staring at him to make her point.

((Edited and adapted from live RP))

He hopped up from his seat, waving one last time to the children. His eyes studied the building carefully as he walked down the hallway. "It's aces to see this place with my own minces. And it's aces to see you in a medical setting that doesn't involve me spilling claret on the floor somewhere."

Eva laughed softly. "It's nice to have a real place to work," she agreed. She directed him back through that first door, leading him to her office. It was a clean, simple space with a desk, a data and comm unit with a few different screens angled away from the two visitors chairs, soft gray paint and black and white landscape photos clearly intended to be serene. She gestured him towards one of the visitor chairs after she gently shut the door behind him. "Can I get you a drink? Coffee, water?"

"Ice water?" He sat down in the offered chair and turned his attention to the photographs on the wall.

"Sure." She didn't have to go far to get it, the mini-fridge/freezer unit situated against the back wall. She grabbed a glass from the top of it, then filled it with ice and water from the dispenser. She slid that across desk to him, and then followed his attention to the photographs. The three enlarged photos seemed to be taken at the same location, each with differing views of rolling wheat fields and an expansive sky with large puffy clouds. Two of the photos also featured a large oak tree. Eva smiled faintly at the photographs, then looked back at him. She hesitated a moment, considering engaging him in more small-talk, trying to get a read on him and whether he was nervous or not. But instead of stalling more, she just opened a folder on the desk in front of her. "So let's talk about mods."

Locke smiled, fingers steepled together as he leaned back slightly in his chair. He took the offered glass with a murmured thanks, lifting it to his lips for a taste test. His lips smacked lightly together, and he nodded, taking a second, larger sip this time. "Yes, let's." There was an appreciative note in his voice -- he was usually not the type to beat around the bush, and today wasn't an exception to that rule. "I am afraid I come to the subject with more of a...layman's understanding. I could have probably told you much more years ago, when we were discussing Katarina's mods with Dr. Barta. I find now that I dedicate most of my memory to my work these days, and the details are not so important now that hers are working."

"It's not a problem." She smiled reassuringly. "I'll walk you through it and try to answer any questions you have about it." She had her notes in front of her, but she didn't need them as she started to explain. "Let's start from the beginning. Nanites, as you know, are microscopic bots that are programmed to perform certain tasks. Katarina's nanites, for example, are programmed to strengthen the cellular makeup of her organs to make them resistant to severe cold conditions. It's essentially physiological climate control." She watched him to see if he was following her.

He nodded. Hearing the words spoken aloud again triggered his memory of past conversations with Katarina and Dr. Barta. "Right. I remember it being a rather sticky wicket. The choice was between total DNA modification and the nanites, but the DNA modification's side effects were not ideal for what we wanted. And that was just dealing with human DNA."

Eva nodded, frowning slightly. "DNA modification is an option, but in my mind, it's not a very good one. For one thing, it's permanent, which makes it a huge decision. And second, in this case, since the end goal is children, modifying DNA immediately before procreation is probably not the best idea given all of the unknowns involved."

"Well, the children would likely have to come through some sort of in-vitro. We worked it out, a few years back. They can fiddle-faddle with the DNA on...those cells and make it work. Though...it didn't quite take when we were trying. And then the store offer came along..." He drifted off, and his eyes lifted up towards the ceiling. "The mods I was looking for were more after the fact. We could have a child, or have children, but I would still have to wear gloves to hold them."

"You would still have to wear gloves." She repeated it as she looked at him, her tone suggesting she wasn't following what he meant.

"If I did not have mods in place," he added, hopefully clarifying his last statement. "No kissing skinned knees, no assisting with bathing -- nearly every aspect of childcare would be fraught with peril, for myself and the child."

"Well, that's why we're here today. To find something workable that lets you interact with your children as easily as Katarina interacts with you. Yes?" Please let that be 'yes' because that's what she'd spent the last week researching.

June 19
Star?s End Medical Associates

?Are you ready, Mr. D?Vestavio-Smith??

The question startled Locke out of his reverie. The exam room at Star?s End Medical Associates had been designed, as nearly all doctor?s offices built in the past half-century, to calm patients, and Locke could be included in that number. They had dropped the temperature in the room to a chilly 4 degrees Celsius, a gesture that Locke appreciated even as he recognized the necessity of it. With the paper gown he wore, and without the magical enchantment he gave his usual clothing, he would not have been able to survive long in a room set at normal room temperature. The walls had been painted a cool blue color, the floor was tiled white, and the high tech medical equipment tucked itself away neatly in the walls and ceiling when it wasn?t needed. Presently, the room was empty save for the ice elf, the examination table he sat on, and the medical droid that had just asked him a question in a tone that was surprisingly cheerful for a robot.

?One moment, mate?? Locke replied, holding up a finger. The droid bowed its metal head to him.

?Certainly, sir. Please let me know when you are ready.?

?Will do.? Locke spared a moment to look over the gunmetal gray robot, his vaguely bucket-shaped head, the thick wires that coiled around one of his arms and from his mouth to some cavity behind his chest. He nodded to himself, and shut his eyes once more.

Locke wasn?t used to going to the doctor when he wasn?t severely injured, or helping someone else who was gravely ill. He had few memories of his time spent in intensive care after he had been stabbed in the chest 14 years ago -- and that was probably for the best, considering how close to dying he had come. There were more memories from four years ago, after he had donated his kidney to his brother. Fear seemed to hang in every room there, whether it was Liam?s stay in the Accident & Emergency department, the operating theater where Locke?s kidney was removed and placed into Liam, or the recovery suites where the pair of them resided after the successful transplant. Locke?s family had been constantly shuffling in and out of the rooms, talking in careful, quiet tones when they could find the words to speak. Fear eventually gave way to relief when they were finally released, but he would never forget how weak and powerless he had felt while he was there.

Hospitals and clinics almost always seemed to make him feel out of control -- only his recent visit with Eva hadn?t ended with the usual anxiety and nerves that there was nothing he could do to help himself, help his brother, or help Katarina. In the years since he left the magical university, in the years since he had dated and broken up with Atalanta, in the years since he had fallen in love with and married Katarina, he had made slow but steady strides to improve his health. Good genes had protected him from the worst of his youthful excesses, the drinking and fighting that marred his early days upon his return to RhyDin. Meeting Katarina and discovering the duels had helped him moderate those negative behaviors, motivated him to exercise more and eat better, and helped him discover his true calling in RhyDin. Even without the duels, and even with a busier work schedule, he had managed to maintain those healthy habits, and he hadn?t had much reason to visit the doctor.

This wasn?t life and death. Not for him, not for Liam, not for anybody he knew. It wasn?t even an essential step for intimacy, like Katarina and her mods. Locke could always hold his children with gloves on, leave the baths and scraped knee kisses for Kat. He didn?t have to do this. It would be easy to chase away the fear gnawing at the pit of his stomach, telling him this wasn?t necessary, that he could walk away and everything would be fine. He could?

But no. The future he imagined with children, without mods for himself, felt hollow. He saw himself watching Katarina wash their child, kiss him on the cheek, hold his hand as they walked through the park, and Locke could feel the resentment curdling in his stomach. Katarina had fallen in love with him before she could even touch him -- and she had sacrificed greatly so that she could. If she can do that, I can do this.

His usual cocky rejoinder flashed through his mind: I was born ready, mate. It sat there, on the tip of his tongue, waiting for him to summon that old arrogance to spit it out. But it wasn?t there anymore. The sharp edges had been filed off of his personality long ago, leaving him only with this: the bravery to step into the unknown, with only dreams of the future, Katarina?s love, and the support of his friends. The tradeoff was more than worth it.

Locke opened his eyes, taking in the room once more. ?Oy, mate!? he called out to the medical droid. After a few clicks and whirrs, the robot turned to face him.

?Yes, sir??

?I?m ready.?

Locke hadn't even bothered hanging the suit jacket up in the closet when he entered the bedroom, instead tossing it onto the back of a chair. He wasn't in much of a mood to care about wrinkles at the moment, however. He tried to keep an even expression on his face, but he was so naturally demonstrative and so worn out that he had little control of his emotions. "You...you don't think this is nanite rejection, do you? Didn't you say the symptoms were quite similar to what I'm currently experiencing?"

She felt a tightening in her chest as she thought on his words. She didn't say anything at first, instead she continued to help undress him from work attire and into more appropriate sleepwear. "It could be." The words were soft, murmured, as if saying them more loudly would make them more true, "Kin't really be sure righ' now." She kissed his cheek as she left him for their bathroom. Shortly after, she returned with a small, clear plastic cup filled to the brim with a dark, green liquid. "Take this fer now."

Part of him wanted her to say "No", or even to gently chide him for even entertaining the thought that he might have to start over with the treatment -- or that the treatment might just not work on his kind. But a larger part of him appreciated the honesty and, more importantly, the hope in her words. "I suppose the answer will be in the doctor's hands." Locke paused, his nose twitching some. "Or is it in his eyes?" The speculation ceased when Katarina came in with the medicine. He took it without a word at first and drank it, handing it back once it was empty. His eyes squinted and the tip of his tongue jutted out of his mouth at the bitter taste. "No spoonful of sugar in that medicine, it would seem." He laughed, but held a little back from the gesture, worried it would send him into a coughing fit.

She rolled her eyes at him, "Nah Smith ever gits sugar afta medicine." She leaned in close to him and kissed the tip of his nose tenderly. If he happened to have a cold, she was not interested in being sick as well. "I think tha' ya should anticipate nah goin' ta work tomorra. We'll see how yer feelin' then; migh' need to swing to th' doctors eitha way."

He pouted a little at the prospect of not going to work, though he was cheered up by the kiss on his nose. "I suppose that is for the best. I would not want to spread whatever horrendous ailment has befallen me to the rest of my poor, beleaguered staff." There was a pause, and then he reached for the sleeve of her shirt, tugging at it gently, as if afraid she was about to leave right then and there. "Hey." He started coughing again, turning quickly to banish the germs into the sleeve of his red-striped pajama shirt.

As he started coughing into his sleeve, she moved to her side of the bed and started to rummage through her nightstand. She found a medium-sized jar and returned to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. "Hmm?" She opened up the jar, which revealed a mint-heavy scent.

His eyes tracked her over to the nightstand, watching as she retrieved some sort of salve from within. The comment that had been on the tip of his tongue vanished as he closed his eyes. "Amin mela lle." His raspy voice fought with the natural melody in the elvish words.

"Amin mela lle." She smile warmly to him, trying to quell his fear and concern. Dipping her fingers into the jar, she produced some white salve and tucked her hand under his shirt to rub it on his chest, "It's nah the nicest smell, bu' it should help wit' the coughin'." In the back of her mind, she tried to take a picture of how he looked and felt now so that she could track it later. It looked like a cold, but with the looming idea of his nanites being rejected, everything ill about him seemed of the greatest importance.

He gasped as her medicated hands began applying the salve. "Your hands are cold!" He was clearly surprised to experience that -- he couldn't remember the last time he had noticed such a thing when touching or being touched by another person.

She couldn't help but chuckle at his remark, and was relentless in doing anything about it. "Yer tellin' me." She stuck her tongue out at him.

As she spread the ointment out, the day's work and fatigue soon caught up with him. A soft, hazy smile drifted across his face, as he began to slowly fall asleep. Although not without one last tease. "...you should sing me a lullaby as well." The corners of his mouth twisted upwards, sharpening the smile.

She scoffed at that. "Nah gonna here me sing nothin' 'less yer 'n yer dyin' bed." She did however, sprawl over him so that she could get to the other side of the bed, and tucked herself next to him, "I kin cuddle ya till yer asleep though."

"I know you had chores you were working on downstairs, but...I would like that." He touched the sleeve of her shirt again, confirming that she was still there. He sighed softly, letting his hand rest on the crook of her elbow. "Quel du, Katarina." It wasn't long after he said those words that he fell asleep.

Locke caught snippets of the other end of Katarina's conversation, enough to figure out who was on the other end of the line, and what was potentially at stake. He didn't think he could bear hearing the news from a near-stranger, and he had the excuse of fatigue to justify not getting up, so he didn't. His right foot, however, did begin nervously shifting from side to side, even as he tried to tune out the rest of the discussion.

"Good. We have the test results from the blood draw, cheek cell culture, nasal swab, antigen testing, reverse transcription polymerase chain reaction, and nanite scans." She rattled the terms off quickly and with the ease befitting a medical professional who had probably encountered them several times a day. "There are no signs of nanite damage or rejection in any of Mr. D'Vestavio-Smith's systems." The nurse's tone of voice shifted subtly, from professional to slightly annoyed. "Everything is fine with the nanites. He literally just has the flu." Her jaw ticked slightly, and her gaze shifted just off center of the camera.

There were very few things in life that made Katarina feel small. The way the nurse just rattled off all of the tests, and the way her voice became annoyed, belittled the dancer. She felt heat rise up to her cheeks and she rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment, ".... I see. Well, tha's great news. Betta safe 'n sorry, righ'?"

"He does know how to treat the flu, doesn't he?" The nurse said "he", but the question was clearly intended for Katarina.

She sniffed, offended but too polite to snap back at the nurse, "Yeah, 'm sure tha' we kin take care o' thin's fra here."

"Good. Doctor Qiao has recommended we postpone the final nanite dosage and the installation of the nanite activator until January, until Mr. D'Vestavio-Smith has fully recovered from the flu. The receptionist will contact you later to re-schedule that appointment. Have a nice day." Before Katarina had a chance to say anything further to the nurse, she had leaned over and cut the connection from her end of the call.

"Yeah, thanks." She muttered to the blank screen, still miffed at how she was treated by the nurse. She crossed her arms over her chest and walked over to Locke. It wasn't his fault that she looked mad, but she was still peeved, "Did ya hear any o' tha'?"

"Just the part about the caller being from Star's End Medical Associates." He had blanked out most of the rest of the call, hands pressed against his pointed ears to make sure he did not hear anything. He had missed the rude nurse, and her annoyance with Katarina.

Well, th' good news is tha' ya jus' go' the flu." She sniffed her annoyance again, before she finally uncrossed her arms, "Th' unfortunate news is tha' yer gonna hav'ta wait till January fer th' las' nanites appointmen' ta make sure tha' ya are all fit an' fine."

"The flu?" His nose crinkled, and his eyes half-shut as he processed the news, before they snapped wide open again. "But I never get sick!" It was probably the hundredth or so time Katarina had heard that over the past few days. Such was his astonishment, mixed with disbelief, that he only half-noticed the crossed arms and peevish expression on Katarina's face.

She held up her hands passively at him, trying not to be irked by his insistence, "Mahbe yer immune system hasn' been as strong since it's workin' 'n acceptin' yer nanites. Eitha way, ya should be happy. Means tha everythin' should still be nice an' shiny fer wha' ya wan'."

"Perhaps." He finally managed to process her expression. He frowned, then patted the ottoman where he had left his magazine, an invitation to sit. "You seem...rather irked, and I do not think it is because the news is mostly good, savvy? What precisely happened?"

She obliged his request and moved to sit on the ottoman, "She was jist a li'l rude ta me. Seemed ta hav' been made tha' we wen't through all tha' trouble an' freakin' ou' when all ya really hav' is th' flu." She reached over to brush some of his hair out of his face, simultaneously checking his temperature. "I'd do it 'gain though. Th' nanites ar' too important ta ya. Ta us." She smirked slightly, "She jist made me feel a bi' incompetent."

The frown stayed, only softening when she sat down. "Eva would not have done that, because she knows my medical history. These blokes only know whatever is on the pieces of paper in the bloody files that she passed on to them. Eva...knows me." Locke closed his eyes as she touched his head and shifted loose strands of hair out of his eyes. "If I was feeling better, I would be hopping up on the ottoman in relief. I can wait one more month, even if I am far from being the most patient bloke on the planet."

"Yer many things, m'love, bu' patient's nah really on' o' them." She agreed with a slight tease, "It dun matta. The poin' is tha' now we know tha' yer well 'n yer way o' the nanites workin' an' us gettin' one step closer to completing our family. Th' res' is bu' a small piece o' th' goal." She gave him an encouraging smile, "Now ya really ar' goin' ta hav'ta res' up an' git betta."

His lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout. "Does that mean you are not going to let me go to work again tomorrow?"

"Sure does." She didn't know why, but it made her grin, "Yer shop's nah gonna burn down withou' ya." In fact, she placed her hands on her hips, "Ya should star' acceptin' th' idea o' stayin' home sick. If we're gonna hav' a kid, someone's gotta stay home wit' 'em when they git sick."

"Me?" It came out as a squeak, and then he laughed, winking to indicate he was kidding. Mostly. "Perhaps they will be fortunate enough to inherit the D'Vestavio constitution, and not get sick as well." He laughed, uneasily. They both knew, as evidenced by Locke's half-brother, that half-elves of the Losedhil often struggled with health issues far worse than the flu. The proof of that was stitched into Locke's side, the scars from where his kidney had been taken to be given to Liam.

"Perhaps, bu' tha' jist wha' kids do. They go an' see otha li'l kids and get everybody sick. It's jist a normal thin' - ask Lance. Our nephew's always brinin' some kinda cold home." She shrugged, before standing up from the ottoman, "Now, Mista Smith," she pointed down at him dramatically, "yer gonna stay 'n tha' couch, an' 'm gonna tuck ya 'n and set up a holovid fer ya ta watch. An' yer gonna like it."

"Oh all right, all right." He mumbled and grumbled, but the smile that crept onto his face at long last betrayed his happiness at being cared for by the one he loved the most.

By now, Locke had practically memorized the short journey he had to take every time he received a new dose of nanites. He passed a desk full of nurses on his left and an x-ray room on his right, going straight through an intersection of hallways that led to more labs and doctors? offices. He went all the way down a row of examination rooms, stopping at the last one on the left before the hall terminated in a T. If he peered around the corner, he could see the ?operating? rooms where the surgeons and nanite technicians worked in, although the large glass windows were currently on an opaque setting preventing anyone from looking in. The nurse practitioner unlocked the examination room and ushered Locke inside.

?Good morning, Mr. D?Vestavio-Smith.? The medical droid waiting in the cold room greeting the ice elf with his usual monotone. Still, Locke always smiled at the robot, glancing over his shoulder as the nurse shut the door and went to put on the sort of winter gear necessary to enter the room.

?Good morning, Emma. How are you faring??

?All systems are functioning within normal parameters, Mr. D?Vestavio-Smith.? Locke grinned as the door opened again. In addition to the tall blonde nurse, a short and stocky man wearing a blue parka over his white doctor?s coat entered the room. He tugged at the wool gloves on his hands and shifted the pads of his earmuffs so that they covered more of his ears, then smiled at Locke.

?Doctor Qiao! It?s aces to see you once again.?

?Indeed, Mr. D?Vestavio-Smith.? The doctor spoke with a clipped British accent, running one hand over his thinning black hair as the other hand held a tablet. ?Did Nurse Practitioner Gylfisdottir get a chance to explain to you what we will be doing today??

?She did. Today you will be applying the final dose of the nanites, both orally and topically. In addition, you will be placing the triggering device in my right eye. Am I correct??

Doctor Qiao nodded, handing the tablet over to NP Gylfisdottir. ?Quite. I will be monitoring the procedure from nearby, but if you have any questions currently, I would be happy to answer them.?

?No, I believe I know what I need to know, mate.?

The doctor began moving toward the door to leave, then turned back around and looked at Locke again. He stepped towards the blue elf, holding out his gloved hand. Locke glanced down at it, then immediately shook it with a soft smile that was matched by Qiao.

?Good luck, Locke.?

?Are you sure you should be saying that, doc?? He laughed with a good-natured shake of his head. ?I?m in your hands now, mate.?

In response, Qiao just winked at Locke. ?Putting the nanites and the trigger in you will be the easy part. The hard part will be all on your body, and not rejecting them, and adjusting to life with them. But...I am sure you know that already.? He patted Locke on the arm. ?I will see you shortly.? He exited the room, followed by his nurse. When they were gone, Locke took a seat on the examination table, head bowed and hands clasped.

?Mr. D?Vestavio-Smith??

?I need a moment, Emma. Just? go sit in the bloody corner and leave me be for a second. I need some privacy.?

?I will be waiting in the hallway for you. Please remember to wear your robe this time when you exit the room.? It was a perfect set-up for a laugh or a grin from the ice elf, but he didn?t even look up to watch the droid trundle out of the room.

?God...I know I haven?t always been the best bloke. We both know I?ve sinned, and I?ve taken steps to amend for those sins, and that my life is pretty bloody fantastic now. I?d like to think that we?ve come to an understanding, that I?ve taken responsibility for my past actions, stopped blaming You for my mistakes, and that together, with Katarina, with my friends and co-workers, I?ve managed to make a life for myself that never seemed possible. But?? Locke lifted his head and hopped off the table, jabbing a threatening finger upwards. ?I swear, if you louse this up for me?? He let the words hang on empty air, before lowering his head and folding his hands again.

?I trust...we have an arrangement, savvy??

Later that day?

Most of the rest of that day was a wash for Locke. Almost as soon as he had arrived home, he went upstairs and took a long nap. When he woke up, there wasn't much that he could do with one eye. No reading RhyDin Wear Daily, no watching holovids or talking with friends and family on their vid communicator, and no exercise either -- his halved vision made running outside too risky a proposition. Instead, he rested on the couch for much of the day, listening to jazz recordings until he thought he might get sick of saxophones, eating a light lunch (and somehow miraculously not spilling anything on himself), and listening to Katarina read some of the lighter-hearted stories out of the neighborhood newsletter. When the allotted time for the cotton ball and eyepatch had passed, the sun had begun to set and dinner was nearly ready to be served. Locke pulled himself up off of the couch, walked up the stairs, and entered the bathroom.

He stared at himself in the mirror as best he could. He hadn't bothered to change out of his "lounging clothes," and he only considered doing so for a moment before shaking his head. No worries, mate. This is no big deal, yeah? He took his gloves off first, and then the eyepatch, wincing as the strap snapped against his cheek, and then carefully began pulling the tape off of the cotton ball. Finally, he plucked the sphere away from his eye and opened it. It looked the same. He looked the same. Blue skin, white hair, purple tongue sticking out and blowing a raspberry at himself. He chuckled at it, giving his head another shake. His right eye still itched some, but it was tolerable now, and he knew not to scratch it. He knew the sensation would dissipate with time. Instead, he mimicked the same gesture Katarina had always done to activate her mods: he glanced down deliberately at the sink, his eyes nearly rolling all the way, and then gasped loudly. He clapped a hand over his mouth, shocked at his reaction to the way the cool porcelain felt (It was cool! When had it ever been noticeably cool?). His next step was to turn the faucet on, just barely, and as far towards the blue "C" as he could. There was another gasp, as his fingertips darted underneath the tap. "It's...cold!" He jerked his fingers back quickly, splashing some water on his shirt, and then slowly began twisting the knob leftwards, into the red. Every couple of turns, he put his fingers underneath, processing the sensations of ice cold to cool to lukewarm to warm to hot. When it finally got all the way over towards "H", he stuck his hands underneath it as long as he could stand to, before finally pulling them away. He cupped his face in his hands, feeling the heat on his nose, his cheeks, and his mouth. He didn?t remove them until the warmth finally dissipated.

Katarina didn't look up from her task within the kitchen as Locke left his sullen spot on the couch and headed upstairs. Instead, she tried to cheer up the atmosphere with some off-key whistling. His long wait and limit of activities made her anxious and without wanting to press the matter, she had resorted to spending more time on dinner than necessary. She paused when she heard muffled sounds upstairs, and when she heard more, she moved away from her post and towards the stairs so that she could yell up at them, "Locke? Everythin' okay?"

In shock and surprise, Locke practically fell into a seated position on the toilet seat. "I am fine, Katarina! I'm just...surprised?" He held up his hand, flipping it back and forth to look at his palm and knuckles. Then, he glanced down at his clothes, right as he began shivering. They had still been enchanted to keep him cold, and now they were too cold for him. Teeth chattering, he removed his clothes, folding them up as best he could despite their chill. He left them in a neat pile underneath the towel rack, and shouted down the stairs between the clicking of his teeth. "I...have...to...change!" He made a mad dash for the freezing room with his dresser, and grabbed what he could from it as quickly as he could, before sprinting back into the more comfortable bathroom. In there, he looked at his spoils: heart-patterned boxers, a white undershirt, a pair of beige chinos, a blue Oxford shirt, and brown socks that had seemed to match in the dark but were clearly two different shades when examined in artificial light. When he spotted the difference, he sighed, and put them on anyways. "Give me a moment!" he called down again.

The sound of his quick footsteps brought a grin to her face, "Yeah, allrigh'. Yanno ya kin turn yer mods off ta be 'n yer room so ya dun freeze yer tail off 'n there, melamin." Chuckling, she returned to the kitchen and started to assemble dinner. It was hard to pick what his first meal was going to be. Now, she regretted not going out and celebrating the occasion under more suitable care. Instead, she turned off the stove and oven, rearranging the pans there and pulling out some sort of panko-breaded protein from the oven.

He stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him, walking to the top of the staircase and looking down. Instead of descending the steps right away, he sat on the top one, the heels of his hands pressing into his chin. It was a moment he had been preparing for for nearly 15 years, generally speaking, and for the past six months, more specifically. Yet in the moment, all the preparations, all the relaxation exercises and deep breathing he had tried to teach himself went out the window. He felt Patches brush against him, attempting to slip past the ice elf and go downstairs, but instead of continuing his journey, the cat paused and looked at Locke. A nervous hand reached for Patches' head and skritched it. Their pet's ears flattened out briefly, his eyes half-shutting as a pleased purring sound filled the stairwell. Finally, Patches ran down the steps and scurried back behind the couch, and Locke made a slower, safer trip down the stairs in his wake.

A smile stayed on her face even after he stopped being dramatic and began to clear off the table. It made her eat the last few bites off of her plate with vigor so that she could help in the cleanup. This was a more familiar task, easing into the domestic rhythm that she knew well. She could wash the dishes in hot water without concern, which she found herself still checking for his well-being twice when she left the water running while walking away. It would take some getting used to, but at least their ability to occupy the same living space was going to be minimally impacted by his nanites.

With the chores taken care of, Katarina glanced out a window. The days were getting longer, but it was not long enough yet to still have functioning daylight after dinner. Drumming her fingers against her hip for a moment, she considered their options. "We should use the fireplace!"

He couldn't help but dip his fingers underneath the hot water once or twice when she stepped away, grinning wickedly when caught in the act. Being able to touch warm -- and even hot -- items meant the division of chores would be less repetitious. He could now wash dishes in the sink. He could put clothes that needed to be cleaned with hot water in the washing machine. That grin softened eventually, as he finished drying off the last of the plates, but it never disappeared.

The fireplace suggestion surprised him momentarily, and then he broke into a laugh. "You know, I always forget that we have one. It just sort of...sits over there, all sad and forlorn." He let his voice deepen, though it put some strain on his words, and he couldn't keep the tone up for very long before breaking into giggles. " 'Feed me logs! I'm so cold and lonely!' " In the midst of his laughter, he tried to pull his face down into a frown.

His personification of the fireplace made her giggle, which made her cheeks turn pink. "Nothin' 'n this house has ta be cold 'n lonely." She gave him a gentle kiss to deter him from lingering on that comment, "Why dun ya go git some o' th' wood that's jist been sittin' 'n th' back porch, an' I'll git th' rest?"

She opened a kitchen door with an assortment of household objects before finding the mostly neglected matches. Next, she moved over to the fireplace and adjusted her skirt so that she could kneel beside it. Since they had never used it before, Katarina had just put an assortment of cream colored candles out for decoration. Now she cleared the area of the candles so that the fireplace could actually be put to use.

His eyes fluttered shut as she kissed his cheek, and he had made it about halfway out of the living room before the significance of the small gesture had dawned on him. He stopped dead in his tracks, looked over his shoulder as a touch of purple colored his face, and then turned back around with a good-natured chuckle to complete the task she had given him.

With the chill in the air outside, it was the perfect time to flip the mods off. It took Locke a couple of downward glances to deactivate them once more, but when he did, he felt that familiar cold sensation run through his veins. He shivered at the feeling, and stayed outside for longer than it should have taken to just pick up the logs and haul them back in. He activated and deactivated the nanites, again and again, and when he finally left them on, his shivering came from the weather outside and not his own body. He quickly rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, crouched, and grabbed enough firewood that it almost threatened to hide his face as he slowly trudged back into the living room.

She had started whistling in his absence, but it died down into laughter once Locke had entered the room once more. "Melamin, ya think we gotta hol' down th' fort fer th' rest o' the winter er wha'?" She stood so that she could grab a few logs off of the top of his pile so that he had a better clearance of vision. She then started to arrange the logs into the fireplace in a methodical manner, "Yanno how ta ligh' this thin'?"

"Katarina, it has been probably a good 15 years since the last time I even sat in front of one of these things. I am liable to burn my ivories if I don't get some instruction first. Perhaps from you?" He let his eyelashes flitter with an innocent expression on his face as he set down the remaining logs to the side of the fireplace. "The fact that I brought in that much firewood should make that clear." The mild tease was quickly followed with a chuckle.

"Yeah, okay com'ere." She instructed him to kneel in front of the fireplace, "So, I do thin' a li'l differen' tha' if we were ta build one outside. Here, I've put all the heavy logs 'n stuff firs', then th' smaller ones, then li'l twigs an' th' like. Last we ball up some paper tha'll catch 'n fire real quick. Kinda makes the fire look hmm..." she tried to find the right word as she balled up some newspaper, "clearer, I guess. 'Cause th' smoke dun hav'ta star' a' the bottom 'n go ta th' top." She then handed him the matches, "Then ya ligh' th' paper and blow 'n it real gentle like so tha' it gets th' li'l twigs 'n fire. Then keep goin' an' all should be shiny." She abruptly stood up, "I'll check 'n ya 'n a bi'." And then she left for the kitchen.

February 2016

Eva looked at the piece of paper for the last time. She'd had Elaine look up the address for it. And now that she was standing in front of the place, she was certain she had it wrong. The sign above the door---which neatly corresponded to the word she had on her paper---read simply "Aaraam." She couldn't know that this was the Hindi word for "comfort." But she did immediately recognize the scent of curry. On such a cold day in February, the thought of hot curry was more than welcome and downright tantalizing. Even if it was entirely strange that Locke might select such a place for their usual lunch.

With a last mental shrug, Eva pushed through the door, a gentle tingle of bells announcing her arrival. Entering was a bit like being transported to a different place. Colorful fabrics hung from the rafters in curtains and waves, providing each wooden table and booth with a surprising amount of privacy given the small space. The low light from the hanging lanterns gave the place an overall cozy feel, a feeling that was aided by the warm smile from the young girl at the hostess stand. Eva returned her smile. "I think I'm meeting someone here."

"The gentleman in blue? He said you?d be arriving." The description wasn't entirely accurate, but then again, it wasn't entirely inaccurate. Even in a restaurant facing a steady lunch crowd, Locke wasn't hard to pick out, thanks to his blue skin, although he wasn't actually dressed in blue. Today, his suit was lilac, with a crosshatched pattern and a gray t-shirt underneath. A pair of black slip-on shoes and bright green socks completed the look. Resting on the chair beside him was a gray winter hat with a snowflake pattern on it, and a black pom scarf with a similar graphic. Gloves, however, were nowhere to be found.

"Ah, yeah, thanks." Eva smiled when she was directed the correct way, already unbuttoning her coat as she approached the table. Her smile was warm as it usually was, but also curious. She could barely wait until she'd reached their table before she asked, dispensing entirely with the greetings, "What are we doing here?"

Locke's head tilted to the side, as he attempted to feign ignorance. "Why, eating lunch, of course!" Locke had already ordered a drink, a bright yellow mango lassi that he stirred idly with his straw. A plate filled with papadum had already been set out on the table, complete with a trio of chutneys: green, red, and brown. Tightly rolled orange napkins and silverware had been placed at both settings on the table.

His response earned him a furrow of her brow, her coat dumped on the empty chair beside hers revealing her usual understated clothing choice of fitted black pants and dark sweater. She pulled off her knit cap and ran a hand through her hair to fluff it back into shape, then sank into a seat across from him. "Yeah, but what are you going to order?" Reaching for a menu as she asked, "They make salads or something?"

"I'm not sure yet. Growing up, we usually only went to cheap curry houses, and only very rarely. This is wholly unfamiliar territory." Locke blithely circled around the question Eva had asked, somehow managing to stifle a grin or giggles. He looked down at his menu also, ungloved fingers tracing over the words. "I'm not vegetarian, but I was considering the mattar paneer."

"Isn't that a hot--" She stopped in the middle of the sentence and looked up at him. If he met her eyes, he might even see the tumblers falling into place in her mind. "Oh my god. Locke." She let the menu fall back to the table, a hesitant smile on her lips. Then she just reached across the table for his ungloved hand.

When their eyes met, out came the old D'Vestavio dimpled grin, complete with a wink. "They finished the last dose on Friday. There are still check-ups and check-ins and all that awful malarkey left to deal with, but...they finally managed to get the nanites in and working." His hand was cool -- cooler than most people's flesh, most likely -- but far from the bitter cold that threatened frostbite at the briefest touch. "Aren't you going to give me a hug, mellon?"*

"Oh my god, yes!" She laughed, her fingers touching his just long enough to confirm the change in temperature before she nearly burst out of her seat, the tableware clinking in protest. She moved towards him, arms out. "Get over here!"

Her laughter spread to him, as he more carefully hopped out of his seat and rushed over to hug her. The care that he had always taken when hugging or shaking hands or having any sort of physical interaction with warmer-blooded folks had disappeared, replaced with an embrace that ventured close to a bear hug. When he finally let go, he began wiping at his face. Tears of joy were falling, and instead of freezing to his cheeks as they typically did, they splashed down upon the collar of his suit. "Look...I'm leaking."

She leaned back from him long enough to see the tears, a little breathy laugh escaping her. But then she went in for another hug, unwilling to let him go just yet. She closed her eyes, holding onto her friend, and murmured quietly to his ear. "There were times I wanted to hug you like this so badly." And then with a quiet sigh, she let him go again, her smile softer.

He had just a moment to swipe and rub at his wet eyes before she came back for a second hug. "Well, the sentiment was always there, if not the means to express it, savvy?" He chuckled, then continued. "But yes, I felt the same. I need all the friends I can get." When she stepped away again, he smoothed out the creases on his suit and ran his right hand through his hair, an attempt to hide the scars on it that his gloves had kept covered up for so long.

Eva was well-accustomed to hiding scars. Her eyes shifted to his hand at the movement, but if she noticed the scars, she said nothing, just returned to her seat. She couldn't stop smiling anyhow, reaching for her menu, her eyes still stuck on him. "You must be eating everything!"

He took a seat as well, laughing at her comment. "That's the thing with the nanites -- you kind of have to. My metabolism has been super-charged now, and for the past few months while they've been adding them on. So I've been eating a ton, but I've needed to. Fish, steak, cookies out of the oven...hot chocolate." He took a sip of his much cooler lassi, and reached for one of the pieces of papadam, spreading out some of the brown chutney on it.

Eva laughed, tipping her head back. "Don't say that around any humans. That's the fastest way to make them hate you." But she smiled, watching him eat, as if she were watching him for the first time instead of it being just their usual lunch date. "Why don't we order a bunch of different things and share?"


*friend

((Edited and adapted from live RP))