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[last_adam]

Stopping for a quick breath, Adam wipes his forehead with his sleeve.


It's not as though this is strictly necessary, winter is still a bit off. It's not even as if he needed have done it, ther are certainly servants enough willing to do so. But there's something reassuring about the heft of the axe in his hands, the solid thwack it makes when it meets the wood. About the calluses he can feel forming on his hands. And when fall turns colder and fires are lit, there'll be a warm comfort to the knowledge that it's because of the work of his hands.

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[the_lioness]

"I know," she replies, "and that's why it's so nice to see. I do love proving you wrong."

Stepping into him, she holds their hands at her lower back and rests her head over his heart. His shirt is damp, but she doesn't notice.

"I remember how it was." Her other hand trails up and down his arm, and this is what she can't get over: the new play of muscles under sun warmed skin, the result of countless hours outside. "Do you miss it?"

[last_adam]

He leans down, placing soft kisses on the top of her head, even as his fingers play at the seam of her shirt.

"I miss Brian."

But missing people isn't the same, and Adam knows Alanna knows that. And Brian... well. That's something else.

"I don't regret a thing."

[the_lioness]

Alanna squeezes her eyes shut, because that's a wound she'll never be able to heal.

"Neither do I." Turning her head, she steals a light kiss. "You haven't been back nearly as much as I thought you would."

Or at all, really.

[last_adam]

He nods, and he opens his mouth, but says nothing and closes it again. His eyes shut, and open, and he breathes in Alanna and breathes out.

[the_lioness]

Watching him closely, she lets go of his hand and smooths the hair off his forehead.

"I haven't, either," she admits. Then, trying to coax a smile from him, she adds, "But I will always remember very fondly the way you used to sulk over your cider while dealing with my pitiful flirtation attempts."

[last_adam]

"Pitiful? You?"

He gives an incredulous smile. He closes his eyes again under the feel of her touch.

"And I never did sulk."

[the_lioness]

"Mmm-hmm."

Of course, Adam. Whatever you say.

"Is there a reason you haven't been back?" she asks, fingers at his neck now. It's light and curious, nothing more.

[last_adam]

He leans into her touch and shrugs slightly.


"I don't know. It hasn't seemed..."

His words trail off as he tries to think of what it is he means to say.

[the_lioness]

Alanna waits, resting both hands at his waist so as not to distract him too much.

It's not an easy thing to put into words, she's sure, and this continues to be unlike any situation either has known. They make the rules up as they go along.

[last_adam]

It's just as well, because they'd break any rules that were set in place, the two of them.

He shifts, taking her hands, and slides down to the floor, resting the water pouch next to him and gently tugging on Alanna's hand to bring her down into his lap.

"I've got all this. And that...


it almost seems like a dream."

[the_lioness]

Though landing gracefully is out of the question, she looks content once she's settled.

"Aye, but without that," she points out, "we wouldn't have this."

[last_adam]

"mmm."

He agrees. What? Like he wouldn't?

"And I love this."

[the_lioness]

"This is rather nice," she allows, lips twitching. Unable to resist, she buries her face in his neck and takes a deep breath. "Especially since our children are spending the afternoon torturing Myles and Eleni."

(Is it torture if the victims thoroughly enjoy it?)

But she hasn't entirely let the subject drop, and there's a sigh as she thinks.

[last_adam]

His fingers play through her hair, and he sighs along with her.

[the_lioness]

"It's just that I think we should still go to London every now and then," she blurts out, lifting her head to eye him. "I don't want you to lose that."

Or the triplets. Or herself, if she's perfectly honest.

"The bar need only ever be the place where we met," though it's more than that to her, "the place we need to take us elsewhere, but England is a part of you."

[last_adam]

There's silence as he tries to take that in, and his voice is a little rough when he speaks again.

"I'm simply..."



"I'm so different."

[the_lioness]

"Yes."

Alanna frowns.

"That's not a bad thing."

[last_adam]

"I never said it was, I said I was happy, didn't I?"

There's the slightest air of defensiveness in his tone, and he breathes deeply, trying to clear it.

[the_lioness]

Raising an eyebrow, she resumes stroking his hair.

"Are you... concerned how this might seem to people who knew you before?"

She bites her lip, wondering what would be said of a happy Antichrist.

[last_adam]

"NO. I just--I don't know that I fit anymore."

[the_lioness]

Alanna is suddenly glad that she hadn't given voice to the thoughts she'd had while watching him: lately, it's grown harder and harder to tell that he hasn't been in Tortall all his life.

While she's pleased by how well he's taken to life here, she never expected it.

"Adam," she says softly. "Sometimes you expect too much of yourself."

A wry smile: talk about the pot and the kettle.

"Why should fitting matter? This is your home. This is where you're happy. The rest isn't important, and don't you think others would be happy for you?"

[last_adam]

He rests his head on hers, closing his eyes a bit.

"They have their own lives to worry about, as I have you, and the children."

[the_lioness]

Stubbornly, she twists in his lap and continues to frown.

"There are people who care about you, Adam. Friends. You do them a disservice if you think they'd rather cut you off than know the man you've become."

It scares her sometimes how much he's made their family his life. She understands, but she also understands a knight's life is unpredictable and often ephemeral.

[last_adam]

Adam shrugs, lightly, continuing to card his fingers through her hair.

[the_lioness]

Alanna can't quite believe she's arguing with him about being happy. She sits still for a moment, silent, then squirms and casts a brooding glance at the golden leaves of a nearby tree.

"At least consider it?"