"Hi, Idaia."

"Imliss! What's up?"

"I have no idea how, but they're not dead."

"What?"

"Or, I don't know who exactly survived, but it's at least Curufinwe, Tyelcormo and Feanaro."

Idaia sits down, abruptly. Well. Her legs sort of crumple out from under her, but she lands in a sitting-ish position on an object appropriate for sitting on, so close enough. Her sister's fucking with her. Her sister wouldn't fuck with her. Not about this. Her family--"What?" she can only repeat, hoarsely.

"They're alive. And Curufinwe assures me they would've come back for us if they'd known we'd missed the boats, which, kudos to us, if your husband hadn't had a major head wound we'd have averted a tragedy by fucking up."

"Okay."

"And Curufinwe is my TA, which is how I found out any of this stuff."

"Why is Curufinwe Atarinke messing around as a TA?"

"Didn't ask. Not the important bit. The important bit's that Tyelcormo's working at Zion National Park."

Her breathing comes shallowly. Her husband--it's been, how long, too fucking long, humanity hadn't been properly born when she saw him last and now it's old, old, old, and he's, alive, somehow, and, and, how, how long has he been missing her--

He has to still love her. He promised.

"Where--no, I can look it up--get a plane ticket or something--" it doesn't occur to her that she might be best served to wait until some more academically opportune time, and if it had she would have dismissed the notion. Her husband. "Love you bye." She hangs up. She pulls out her laptop. She googles "Zion National Park." She grits her teeth when it turns out to be more complicated than "fly to this city." She impatiently flits around the website to find what she actually needs to do, and books the most immediate makeable plane ticket.

It's not until she's waiting in the airport with a hastily packed bag that it occurs to her that once she's there she doesn't really know what name to ask for. She seriously doubts they're going by their actual names. She calls her sister back.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know what name he's going by?"

"Connor Allen."

"Thanks again bye."

She gets on her plane. She flies to Utah. She rents a car. She drives. She finds the Visitor Center.

He's leading a tour in a quarter-hour. It'll start late, no one's on time when they're on vacation. He's sitting and staring blankly at the wall in the meantime.

"...Hey."

She looks exactly like her, it's not just the feeling he gets when someone looks a lot like her, this is identical, the memories haven't faded enough that he's anything less than completely certain - "Gaaraarghble," he says.

"...I'm not going to ask if you're okay, that...seems...pretty...clear...are you...I just..." she shakes her head. Her heart feels like it's going a thousand miles an hour which doesn't even make any sense because that's not even how you measure heart rate but what the fuck ever. "I. I don't. I thought. I thought you were dead."

"You were dead, I felt you be dead - how did I not feel that you were alive -" but oh, he feels it now -

"I don't know how I'm alive, we got--reincarnated--somehow--oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry--"

"You're sorry! For what?"

"I wasn't--thinking, I was just hurting, and--taking what felt like the path of least resistance, and I got myself killed and I left you all alone and the last--the last time you saw me you were trying to protect me and when you woke up I was--I was--and I don't know how long it's been but you really don't look okay to me and I thought I had literally killed you, and I have no idea how I'm alive and I could so easily just--not have--and then--"

"Not your fault. Not your fault at all. We left you - you died -"

She walks over and all but collapses in his lap and throws her arms around his neck.

She exists. She's alive. He sobs.

Oh, oh dearheart, I love you, I missed you so much, I'm right here, I'm right here.

Were you okay - were you happy - please tell me you were happy -

Most of the time. I have friends, I got most of my memories back in dreams so I can do illusion Silmarils like I was hoping when I looked at them.

Okay. Okay. Then - that's okay.

Can she rearrange herself to be pressed tighter to him and have more total surface contact? She should do that. I love you so much, I missed you so much.

Idaia, Idaia, Idaia - oh Eru -

Oh, beloved, I'm right here, I love you so much.

Don't go. Don't ever go. I should never have let go of you - 

I'm not going anywhere, I thought I had lost you forever, I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life waking up to a cold bed and occasionally forgetting and then missing you all over again when I rolled over and you weren't there--

That is how I spent the rest of my life. Oh, Idaia -

She's crying, it hurts, but it hurts like healing, like putting balm on dry, cracked skin, like straightening a cramping leg. My fault or not, I hate, hate, hate that you had to go through that, oh my love, I'm here now, neither of us ever has to do that again.

We left you behind. 

Could've sat tight until I had a safe way to get across with magic.

Not your fault.

Not yours either. Let's blame Melkor, that sounds emotionally efficient.

We lost. He's still alive. Valar took him prisoner again eventually.

Hopefully he won't get out again until I've figured out how to murder a god. How are you alive?

Died. Went to Mandos. After thirty thousand years he got tired of us, offered us - redemption - I wanted to breathe again, I said yes -

The fact that she cannot hurt him no matter how tightly she hugs him is both convenient and relevant right now. How did you die?

Fighting. Not the Enemy, we'd lost by then. Idiot who demanded a Silmaril from his daughter's boyfriend as a dowry.

I was so scared I'd killed you.

Five hundred more years. 

I wish I'd been there. I love you so much.

You're here now.

Yes. I am. She is so happy, so relieved, she thought she'd lost everything she'd been promised, and here it is, here he is, her second chance--a future together, the ability to keep the oath she had wanted nothing more than to hold just as sacred as if she was an Elf, children someday when they had healed enough--a long time in the future, to be sure, but she has that time now, she has a future again--

He is rocking back and forth, whispering her name. 

And she is perfectly content to just lie on him cuddled up as closely as possible feeling love and warmth at him.

At some point his coworkers are going to be Very Concerned.

Because he's missing his thing or because he's snuggling someone who's a stranger to them?

Both those and, like, dude has been hit on by, and deflected, pretty much every person who walks through this park, they assumed he was a robot or something...

She can hardly blame them, he's lovely. And hers. Not that she says either of those things to his coworkers.

You should probably do the thing, at least if they let you bring me, she tells him. She does not have a convenient explanation for his coworkers as to the snuggling so she's not even going to bother, just smirk at them.

It is highly unprofessional but he gives the wildlife tour while clinging to his wife.

Probably less unprofessional than skipping it, which, realistically, was the other option.

There's that. And after that he asks someone to cover the rest of his shift - they're still all looking at him like he's a lunatic - "death in the family," he says, which is in a manner of speaking true, and then he half-carries her out of the ranger station.

Hm. Problem. I drove here. In a rental car, which I cannot just abandon.

Okay? I wasn't taking you anywhere in particular, only please don't leave me, we can go wherever you want....

Not gonna leave you, she assures him, stroking his cheek, just figuring out the logistics of driving while clinging. You can tell if there are any cops around, right, so we can avoid them? I don't think this is gonna be perfectly legal.

I can do that.

Although where we're going is a good question. In the long term as well as, like, where we're driving right now.

We have a castle in Canada. It's pretty.

Huh, she says. I should probably finish my education at some point but I can definitely take a gap year or two, that's probably a good idea, I'm majoring in Biology and I don't think doing any of the requisite labs is really feasible with the amount of physical contact you and I are going to require for the next however-long. On the other hand, we could just stay in town during the relevant period of time, since I have, like, friends there--friends I should introduce you to, they know--well, I didn't bother to tell them you were alive before I took off but they know I'm married to you and magic and from another universe and so on. How attached are you to Chez Canada?

I am happy to go live with your friends. I can't enroll in school, still can't read.

They make special fonts for that now! I've already yelled the administration into including them into the standard allowable accommodations, if you wanted to do it anyway.

I mean, it'd still take me a really long time to pick up the local alphabet. I tried a couple times. Dropped out.

Okay. So--you have an apartment somewhere nearby, I'm guessing?

Yes. Want to go there now?

Yes.

Can you drive sitting in my lap?

Might have a hard time reaching the pedals, can you put your feet where I tell you to?

Yeah.

Where's your apartment?

He gives directions.

She drives. She thinks distracting thoughts that she tries not to project too hard because it would be really embarrassing not to make it to his apartment first.

Idaia Idaia Idaia she's alive she's alive -

...She very firmly keeps her hands on the steering wheel and her eyes on the road instead of immediately turning around and hugging him and telling him it's alright but she thinks it at him.

He has no desire to get into a car crash and will keep as much of his emotions private as he can.

And then they are finally at his apartment building and she turns the car off and opens the door so they can get out.

And he carries her again. I love you. I'm so sorry - so, so sorry -

I love you, she sighs happily, snuggling closer, her primitive hindbrain utterly convinced that her husband's arms mean absolute safety. It's really not your fault.

Yeah, it is. Was. I promised you - I promised you and I broke that promise -

You were unconscious. You did everything you could.

Doesn't matter. In the end all you have to live with is what happened -

Oh, sweetheart.

I wish it hadn't taken so long but I'm here now and I'm fine and we have all the time in the world to make it right.

Yeah. 

Okay.

And then they're close enough to his apartment that she stops restraining herself, puts a hand in his hair and kisses him.

Ohhhh, Idaia - you don't have to -

Are you fucking kidding me I went through puberty missing you I have been restraining myself from doing this since the first time I touched you at the park.

Okay. Okay. 

I love you so much -

I love you so much--missed you so much--missed this so much--

I just - tried to forget - no point torturing myself for the rest of time -

...Yeah.

She missed him so much but if she couldn't have him back anyway he shouldn't be hurting.

But it's okay now, I'm here now, I'm right here now.

You are. He has an actual apartment, somewhere here.

They should find it before clothes start coming off because that's going to happen very soon.

It's pretty, of course. He spends more than his pay on it and only sleeps here once a week or so. But it does have a bed.

That is the primary feature that it needs here, of course. She buries her other hand in his hair as well and moans and tries to figure out how to get undressed without letting go of each other.

Idaia this species - accidental children - 

Birth control--as of a few decades ago--

Do we need to go and get it? How does it work -

Pill, taken orally once a day, it also makes menstruation less of a bitch so I'm already on it.

Okay.

I missed you so badly -

I missed you too but I can't even imagine how long it was for you.

Not long enough I could forget.

I hate that it hurt you but I don't know if I could cope with you forgetting me.

I'm sorry I even tried.

I don't blame you, it's not like you had any way of knowing I was ever going to be around to care again.

Not the point. Our vows weren't - till death -

I know, I know, it's okay, you were hurting, it didn't work, I'm right here, I love you.

I love you.

Think I've worked out a plan to get out of this clothing, put us down on the bed?

He does. Plan? Is it particularly complicated, mortals in this society don't even wear much...

Well, no, dearheart, but since all of the fabric that I am wearing is made of fully corporeal matter, I can't just take it off through your arms, and I don't think you want to stop holding onto me.

True, that's not happening. I could tear it.

Yes, but I like this skirt, so you should put us down on the bed so you're only holding onto my upper torso and I can wriggle out of the skirt and chuck it to safety.

He can do this.

Oh, good, then there is no non-expendable fabric on her body any more.

Then the rest of it will be ripped off.

This is remarkably appealing. Maybe she should go through some thrift stores for old t-shirts and stuff just for recreational purposes. Later. Very later. Right now he is still wearing fabric and this is a problem that requires solving immediately. Also, her hair is still braided, one of them should fix that.

That: fixed.

New body, technically my first time--physically--she reminds him, gasping.

Okay. I'll be patient - we don't have to at all if you're not ready -

No, I am, I want this, just--be gentle.

Never gonna hurt you again.

Oh, dearheart.

Enemy's gone, I can totally promise that.

I believe you, I love you, I love you so much, I'm so glad we get another chance.

He loves her too! He has the excuse of being careful to be very demonstrative about this!

If he's trying to reduce her to an incoherent puddle of delight, this won't be hard.

That is among his objectives!

He is very successful at it, among other objectives.

His neighbors might knock on the wall angrily at some point but they don't have enough context to appreciate the situation, so he does not give a fuck.

They can turn their radios up or whatever, it's not like it's the middle of the night and they're keeping anyone up.

He could do this for Years. Empirically! At some point it'll be night and the neighbors' annoyance will be justified and he still will not give a fuck.

Well, at some point she's going to have to sleep, but she's a college student, all-nighters are a thing, the neighbors are going to have some valid complaints, what the fuck ever, worth it.

He will at least say things to her and make pleased noises at her over osanwe. And they are married and she can feel everything he feels, and - that's a mixed bag, but the joy's not very complicated -

(And that's its own kind of burning relief, isn't it, baring her soul to him again after all this time with her brain locked up alone in its little bone box, being able to feel someone again would have been a miracle even if it wasn't him but it is--)

Oh, Idaia. 

Do you want - do you want me - 

Yes, yes, yes--

The neighbors have a legitimate grievance all night. In the morning he skips works. I should probably just quit.

Oh, I assumed that was going to happen when we started discussing whether to live in Canada or California.

Perhaps better to say I should tell them I've quit.

You do that. D'you need t'borrow my phone?

Yeah, actually. Don't have one. Nelyo'd bother me.

Pff.

She reaches over the side of the bed, grabs her phone out of her bag, and hands it to him.

...also don't know how to reach the place where I work. 

Does this place have wifi?

...no?

We can just call Nelyo.

...And make him look it up or make him sever your employment for you?

Either, I guess. He will probably make an annoyed noise but it's not like he'd understand...

I will call Imliss and make her look it up and she will be amusedly exasperated.

That works too. Better, even, since I don't think I've ever called Nelyo and I'm not sure I remember his number....

I love you, she giggles, reaching over and tweaking his nose. She calls her sister. Imliss wants to know how she's doing, and Idaia tells her, and Idaia wants the number, and Imliss looks it up with exasperated amusement.

Idaia bids her sister farewell and I love you, then hangs up and gives phone and number both to her husband.

And he quits his job!

"Okay. Where next?"

"Hmm. I don't think it's probably a good idea to use my driving solution for road trips or anything, so--pack up anything there meaningfully is to be packed, drive to the airport? Oh, we should probably go to, like, Vegas or something before we head to California, it's annoying that the paperwork doesn't currently reflect our marriage."

"Paperwork? And we can hire a driver or something."

"We're technically not legally married as far as the modern world's concerned, which, fuck that, but it would probably make things easier in the long run to get it fixed."

"There are like two hundred local polities. Canada and California are inexplicably in different ones and none of them have been around very long. But yes, let's go get legally married in all of them if that makes you happy."

"There's laws making that redundant, sweetie. Why is it weird that California isn't in Canada?"

"Probably just because we got here way before it was true? And all the sudden, oh, no, different local polities."

"...I don't think California's ever been part of Canada?"

"Neither of them existed. We got here seven hundred years ago."

"Right, right. Still. There's laws to recognize marriages in different places, so there's not much benefit to doing it more than once."

"Until it's been a couple decades. Still. Yeah. Let's go get you married to Connor Allen, and then we can go to your school."

"Sounds like a plan. I love you."

"I love you. How do we hire a driver, do we just offer a passerby a lot of money to drive us -"

"Airport," she says firmly, "I can drive us to the airport and we can fly places, that's faster than driving anyway."

"Okay, if you can drive safely in my lap."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're a more effective safety feature than a seatbelt."

"I will never let anything happen to you. Ever."

She gives him a quick peck on the lips. "I know you won't, dearheart. So of course it's perfectly safe."

"Part of not letting anything happen is not taking risks..."

"Fair point. I'm tempted to say 'well nothing bad happened last time, did it' but that's a terrible argument."

"We can definitely hire a driver."

"We can tell someone I got a migraine or something, our plane's leaving soon, oh no, please help we'll totally pay your cab fare back and compensate you for your time, or something." She hugs him a little tighter. "I'm sorry, I should not be advocating my taking risks, that's--sorry."

"You can't die. It is very important." He kisses the top of her head.

"I know. I won't leave you again."

"No, you won't."

"It'd be nice if the rental place had, like, a pick-up service or something, but instead we get to rely on my acting skills. Please don't be alarmed, I am not in fact in large amounts of pain--should probably ask someone not, like, on the other side of the wall from us last night."

"We can head into town, there's a town. Small and ugly, but."

"But the car's here."

"I can ask one of my coworkers to give us a ride that far, it's not really far."

"Okay."

She does a reasonably convincing fake horrible migraine.

He has no excuse for not being able to drive her, but his ex-coworkers think he's lost it and are happy not to have him behind the wheel of a car.

Convenient. Also kind of disproportionately amusing. Idaia fails to suppress a snicker but does manage to turn it into a whimper.

He is distractingly attentive and the driver doesn't suspect anything.

And then they are in town and can presumably find a ride to the...airport...

I may not have thought this through.

Oh?

Airport security procedures. People're supposed to go through a thing. One at a time.

How else do we get to Nevada?

Walking is probably a stupid answer.

Hire another driver? Or ask Nelyo.

I really don't think we're going to find someone to drive us all the way to California on this kind of notice. What do you imagine Maitimo's going to do to fix the situation, or is the answer, "I don't know, ask him?"

If I knew I'd just do that, wouldn't I?

Hmm we could get a motorcycle, I know those are fine to drive with someone behind you with their arms around their waist.

Dangerous, though?

Are they? I know people say that, but I sort of assumed it was a stereotype. Anyway there's stuff that's like motorcycles but with more wheels. ...The seating's the same, is the relevant part, so hugging should still work, but with three or four wheels it's not as likely to fall over, if that's the risk.

I'll take your word for it. Though I bet we could get someone to drive us, for enough money. 

I guess if you really want to? I'd rather figure out something for the long term, too, though.

In the long run we're travelling around in a tank so nothing at all can hurt you.

Where are you even proposing to get a tank?

Nelyo.

I think a tank might be the sort of vehicle one needs to un-hug in order to drive. I'm not even sure you can fit two people in all of them.

I can ask my dad to design us something. Something safe.

Fair enough. Safe and inconspicuous please, or if it's conspicuous eccentric-conspicuous instead of holy-fuck-it's-a-bloody-tank conspicuous.

Yeah, I'll ask.

If you were actually going to insist we go around in a literal tank I would probably have changed my mind about Chateau Canada, I think it would attract all sorts of attention we don't want.

People get used to anything. 'You have pointy ears and are inhumanly pretty'. 'runs in the family haha.' There you go.

I will grant that if you told nine out of ten of my classmates that someone they knew would run off to Vegas to get married, put off school for a year or two or whatever and start driving around in a tank, they would guess me.

As long as they like you and make you happy.

Of course they like me. I mean, they all think I'm kind of crazy, but I'm the good kind of crazy that hares off into the woods for a weekend with a bow and arrows and provides everyone with free pork afterwards, not the kind of crazy that requires medical treatment.

As long as you're happy.

I am. Much moreso for having you back.

So let's get someone to take us to Vegas.

She's just going to have to kiss him for that, and then they can go look for likely-looking strangers.

(She can kiss him! In public! This is not considered horrifically inappropriate PDA! There are advantages to not being in Valinor.)

Hey, presumable temp employee at this Starbucks, would you like thirty thousand cash to drive us to Vegas, we want to get married and I'm an idiot trust fund kid.

Idaia giggles at the haste with which temp employee quits his job.

And gets $10k up front and he can still do that prince of the Eldar commanding sincerity about how he'll get the rest of it, don't worry, and then they're off.

Why do you even have that much cash lying around?

Is that a lot? I only recently found out that 'cash' wasn't the name of this jurisdiction's currency.

I love you.

I love you.

All-nighters are doable but they're very tiring the next day so once they're properly situated in the back seat of the car she's just going to fall asleep on him, 'kay?

He has no objections.

She has very pleasant dreams.

When she wakes, she observes his presence--flinches away from the thought, expecting to realize she was imagining it--realizes it's real--and opens her eyes to look at him in bare wonder.

I'm here. I'm here. I'll be here for the rest of the ages of Arda.

Oh, beloved. I love you so much.

I don't understand why you're alive but it's the best thing that's ever happened to me.

I don't understand either! But I'm not inclined to look a gift horse in the mouth. And I am so, so glad you're alive.

It was kind of a close call. I hated Mandos but I didn't want life either.

Oh, sweetheart.

I'm so glad to be alive.

I'm really really glad you're alive too.

If I'd had any idea it was even possible it wouldn't even have been a question, I'd have taken all of Mandos' tampering and begged him -

How much tampering did he do?

Don't know. Don't remember much about the Halls. I'm not into men anymore but I hadn't the faintest interest in anyone so that might not even be tampering.

I hate the idea that he touched you like that--that he'd warp anyone's mind, but especially yours, I know the bisexuality thing was never going to practically matter but still--

I don't even know that he did, sweetheart. I don't feel very guilty over anything I did so he might have just thrown up his hands at us, not even tried...

I hope so. I love you, I love you, the Valar had already taken fucking enough from us all already.

I bet if he did anything he'd have made me feel bad about Doriath. And I don't. So.

I don't know what Doriath is but I don't really care I'm just glad you're probably untampered-with.

Dude tried to get some kid he didn't like killed by assigning the kid a quest to steal a Silmaril. Valar thought this was hilarious, intervened, kid succeeded and brought him back the Silmaril. Dude then called some Dwarves a bunch of racial slurs and started threatening them, one of them stabbed him, his people committed genocide of every Dwarf in the region because why the fuck not.

And they still had the Silmaril. And wouldn't give it back. And said it was rightfully theirs now.

Augh. I wish that hadn't happened to you.

I would rather have died fighting the Enemy, but like I said I don't regret it.

...Right, daughter's boyfriend, why the fuck was he trying to get his daughter's boyfriend killed.

He was mortal, he thought she was too good for him.

Does this person have traits I'm not optimized to find offensive?

He banned the speaking of Quenya when he heard about Alqualonde.

I'm guessing that's a no.

I'm sure he's safe and happy in Valinor, now.

He sounds like the kinda guy who'd get along with the Valar.

Not exactly? The natives in Endore mostly resented the Valar, understandably.

I meant more in terms of temperament than circumstance, she says wryly. I don't care whether he's happy or not until and unless he makes himself our problem again somehow.

I really don't see how he'd pull that off.

Well, I'm escalating amounts of magic, and I wasn't planning on leaving everyone who was loyal to our family in Valinor and/or Mandos forever, were you?

I love you so much.

I loooove you.

Don't expect that to put us at odds with Thingol, though.

Good.

Not him especially, at least. If we stay here in Endore...

Then?

Then hopefully no one cares enough to come hunt us down.

Cares enough, ugh.

There are lots of people who want us dead, by now.

Oh, sweetheart. I'm not going to let that happen.

Oh, I'm not worried.

Good. For your sake and theirs. Anyone who makes a credible attempt to harm any of you is going to learn to regret it.

Calm down, they're all in Valinor. And can't leave.

Okay, good. Not that I condone the practice of preventing people from leaving Valinor, granted, but still.

Hopefully they're all nice and happy.

I really don't think we can assume that the desire to leave Valinor only happened once in one group over the course of its whole history.

I mean, after how badly it ended...

I mean, with Melkor locked up again and no Doom, I wouldn't expect our foray to be indicative.

There was also the Men invading Valinor, that was really really bad.

The what?

It was after I was dead, dunno the details. Men tried invading Valinor and Eru intervened and sunk the continent they'd come from.

Oh dear.

How d'you know about this?

It was when Macalaure died. 

I wish you'd all been okay. I mean--I know you, personally, weren't going to be okay after I--but--I wish things had been better.

I wish we'd won.

Mhm.

Love you.

I don't know how anyone stayed in Valinor after Eru sunk the continent. And believed they were the good ones...

Fear?

Maybe.

Definitely getting people out of Valinor.

Which is great but the ones not loyal to us until the end mostly want us dead. If only there were a way to check.

Well, if we assume I'm powerful enough to defy the Valar, I'm probably powerful enough to, like, terraform Mars and put everyone there and only let the people off who swear they don't intend you any harm.

I love you.

I love you.

It is a long drive to Las Vegas. He does not get tired of staring adoringly at her.

Oh, she missed having him look at her like that. She has to restrain herself several times from starting something they really oughtn't finish while in a car with a third party.

The third party thinks they're both nuts but whatever, thirty grand. They reach Las Vegas.

Of course he does, so fucking what, life would be unbearable if you lived it ensuring people didn't think you were crazy.

Vegas! Excellent! Where is the nearest spur-of-the-moment wedding chapel.

No, no, where is the prettiest.

Idaia's going to have to do some research on that, then, they should probably get a hotel room with internet.

That is a thing they can do! Prettiest hotel?

That one they can probably get a recommendation. Hotels are a more universal feature of stays in Las Vegas than weddings.

A hotel is found which suffices. He has a credit card, and sort of even knows how to use it.

Idaia is familiar with the use of credit cards and can prompt him discreetly on any details he seems to be forgetting.

And then they have a room! An adequately pretty room. And he has his wife!

And they are no longer in anything remotely resembling public and his wife can kiss him as hungrily as she's been wanting to since she woke up.

Idaia.

If you weren't an Elf, or we weren't married, I'd say you have no idea how much I want you, she purrs.

He is both. And wants her more, and sends it.

She makes a vaguely strangled noise. When she resumes having coherent thoughts a few seconds later, the first one is Clothes. Off. Now.

He can do that!

And she can tangle her hands in his hair and kiss down from his mouth to his jaw and neck and collarbone--everywhere within reach that she remembers he's sensitive--

It may, in fact, be a couple of days before they get around to getting married.

Idaia is perfectly fine with letting the government languish in ignorance of their marriage for a few days. Eventually she drags her laptop onto the bed and looks up exactly what needs to be done and browses wedding chapel recommendations.

And are there any satisfactorily pretty locations?

There are! There are multiple, she's trying to evaluate which one is the prettiest.

He can help!

It is slightly difficult because the top choices are all very pretty but eventually they pick one.

And get local-jurisdiction married! It's lovely! Should I have tried to get my family to come to town -

Enh, it's not like we weren't already married. Might've been nice, I'm not losing any sleep over the fact that you didn't.

You'll get to see them all pretty soon. Whenever we visit the house.

...You said that was in Canada, right? How far north?

Pretty far. Why?

I don't like the cold.

'S why I don't go to school closer to Imliss. She wanted MIT, but that's in a place that does winter, so.

I can make everyone move to Panama or something.

...I think that might be overreacting.

Why?

Because I'm not even going to live there? It's...I think you can get pretty far north and still have it be okay in the summer?

You should feel like you can go there whenever you want.

I've lost too many homes to want to make you guys move over me.

Us too, but it's different if it's on purpose.

Also, I don't know much about Panama, but I think it might be hot and muggy and have more border-crossing complications with the US than Canada does?

I like hiking to the southern tip of the continent and back, all the jurisdictional authorities are really easy to evade.

I think that might be one of those things I can't join you in because human physical limitations.

Don't worry, I was mostly doing it because I didn't have you.

Oh, sweetheart.

Though it is a pretty continent! Where to next, your school?

Yeah. I'll refrain from dropping out until we've got an apartment so we can stay in my dorm room until then.

Will getting an apartment take long?

Dunno, I've never done it before.

I can ask someone to arrange it while we're driving over there, if you want to drop out right away.

I mean, I'm sure it's not going to be a fun conversation with my advisor any which way, but I'm not sure it matters when.

Oh, and if it turns out my tuition for the year's non-refundable, maybe we should pay Jessica back for it.

Jessica?

My birth mother this time 'round.

She okay?

As far as I know she's fine, why?

I mean, like - you didn't get your parents back -

No, as far as I know my real parents are still dead.

So was she okay? A good parent?

She's not the kind of person who should have been a mom, but she figured it out smart quick and did her best for us anyway. She's not really my mom but she's a friend.

...okay.

I'm kinda glad, really, it means there's no conflict in my parent-feelings.

She didn't really know how to handle us, so she mostly trusted us to handle ourselves. She taught us everything we wanted to know that she knew and signed us up for whatever classes or activities we wanted but she wasn't so good at the emotional stuff you're supposed to have parents for.

He hugs her tighter.

It was mostly okay. I remembered my real parents pretty early on. I don't have that many memories of my biological father this time around but one of them had me shouting "you're not my real dad!" at him.

We should have been looking for you. Your names should have been on Nelyo's list.

You had no way of knowing we could possibly be alive.

Still.

That would have been a very awkward age thirteen.

I'd probably have just asked Macalaure to raise you or something so you could meet me at twenty-five or whatever the mortal age of full maturity is.

...Well, I can't say I'm thrilled with the possibility of having to wait another seven years to see you again.