He would. He'll always come find her, just like she finds him when he's
lost. Lifelines. Leaning his head into her hand, the coolness of her hand
against his face the same temperature as the silver ring, Pete smiles a
little bit. Lopsidedly. "Yeh, love, I'm just complaining a bit. Won't rush
it, because it /needs/ to be done properly. Just rather wish the waiting
were over. Least it won't be idle waiting, that /would/ drive me mad."
Yes, it makes perfect sense. It's all right. And you know, that is *so*
very far from pretending to duck, and there's absolutely *nothing* wrong
with that. Oh stay there. Pete's arms draw around Kitty a little closer,
briefly changing from idle holding to a fiercely loving embrace, then
switching back because it's so warm. They can't predict. But no one ever
can - and if they expected everything to go wrong at any second, there'd
be no way to enjoy every second the way they seem to have decided to. He
laughs quietly, a surprised sound to it somehow. "Gutters aside - it feels
strange. Was starting to think 'but it's yours'; stopped myself. Is this
really - you /do/ want this? It won't be - I wouldn't be stepping on your
toes. It - I feel like a bloody moron for thinking this way, I do. But I'm
a bit wary, I've - it's a belonging thing. Will I? Belong." His voice,
somewhere in there, has taken on a hesitant worry, almost embarrassed over
itself; he's looking at Kitty's shoulder, and then his eyes seek hers out
again. "Worn so many masks. Afraid you might think it's another. I *know*
you won't, but it's there anyway." Also afraid he'll feel like it's
another, though he knows it won't be.

Kitty props herself up a little again, after his hold on her has eased -
it's easier for them to look at each other, that way. It's a perfectly
steady gaze that meets his good eye, this time. "You don't need masks with
me," she answers him, not loud, not teasing, not anything but real. "And
you know it. We've seen the worst of each other, love, and we didn't let
go." Kitty on the ship, embittered, angry, lashing out for any reason or
for none - that part of her that believes she has no right to anything she
has, and that everything she has, she'll lose. Pete in the burnt-out shell
of a building, looking for a demon to offer himself up to, hatred and
anger and spite reflected inward at himself - believing himself unworthy
of so much as touch, let alone another chance. And with that, simple fact:
"We don't /have/ anything left to hide." She leans up to kiss him, slow
and gentle, unhurried, unrushed. Because everything else can be fit in
around moments like this one. "Yes. I want this, as long as you think it's
the right thing for you. Yes. You're not stepping on my toes. Yes. You'll
belong. The same way you always do, probably, pissing off half the people
you talk to -" yes, she's grinning again - "but God knows there are enough
people in the world who do that, we can fit one more in..." She pauses,
then, and scrambles a little: a little more of her weight on him, which
won't help that breathlessness, but she frees both her hands to take his
head between them lightly. "Is there something else you're worried about?"
You're scared. And I can't stop feeling it's something you're keeping on
the edges of, not quite saying yet. Something else.

Doesn't help the breathlessness, no, but that's all right. Everything she
does is so far beyond all right, every move a marvel. Every touch real and
beautiful. His head in her hands, Pete looks at Kitty calmly, past
embarrassment and shame, past self-pity, just factual. "Nothing /else/.
Why.  It's the why of it. The belonging. I don't - every time. Every time,
and I'm waiting for it with this lot, Seishi and Holmes, the rest of them
- every time I think I've found a place. If it doesn't turn out to be
desperately wrong, then it turns out *I'm* desperately wrong. I think I
find something'll keep me, take me in as one of its own, I'm wrong. Sounds
stupid, paranoid - but it's not. You're my only constant. Never lying to
me, never turning around and changing your mind - I don't, ah. Don't want
to try and belong to something of yours and find out I can't, like always.
Have it be them looking at me and seeing a fraud. Won't be. But might get
seen as such. Can't stand it happening again." His hands, around Kitty,
slide down and settle at her hips, hooking thumbs into her waistband idly;
his eyes never waver from hers. "Sounds irrational. Think it's irrational.
Can't shake the feeling it's not."

There's no quick answer; dark brown eyes watch his, linger on that clear
blue as she listens to what he says, considers it, turning it over in her
mind.  "I think," she says quietly, "I know what you mean." Different for
her - it was the places themselves she lost, rather than her place in
them. But the transience, the half-expectation of it, the waiting, might
be much the same.  She lets out a breath, then leans closer and places a
quick and gentle kiss on his lips. "Seishi and Holmes - I don't know; they
saw a lot, between them, and they haven't shoved us away yet." But that's
a side issue, right now, and she's not losing track. "The other - that's
what the next six months are for, love. If it's something that's wrong for
you - we find out; we /don't do it/;  it's okay." It is. Believe me.
Knowing that you'd try - means so much.  She's watching his good eye,
watching him, serious. Never lying. "If it's right for you, if you want to
go through with it - it's permanent. Forever. It's not /open/ to dispute -
okay, unless you ask the Orthodox, but I don't bloody well /care/ what
they think on the subject." Flicker of a smile, though her eyes stay
serious. "Even if people /try/ to walk away - it's like you living in
America; it doesn't make you /not English/, does it?" Her thumbs trace
over his cheeks again, a tiny and light caress. "Doesn't change, ever.
Even Magnus - with everything he did, as insane as he got - he still
belonged." One more hesitation, and her eyes flicker a trifle to one side.
it's not looking away;  it's a simple visual cue, an unconscious thing.
Almost universal when people are struggling to remember something. Kitty's
no exception. When she speaks again, it's slower, quiet, more certain: "-
'an everlasting covenant throughout the ages, to be God to you and your
offspring to come.'"

Pete is silent for a long moment after that, a very small smile playing
about the corners of his mouth; his hands shift on Kitty's waist again,
creeping up slightly, under her tanktop - fingertips gently kneading her
lower back.  "The covenant." His eyes close again, head tilting back once
more, feeling her hands on his face. Smiling more steadily, more openly
now. "Kind of promise doesn't get thrown back at you. Of /course/ - of
course. Oh, love. I know it'd be all right. I know. But it is." Just don't
ever let anyone tell John that Wisdom's Found Religion. Because God
Almighty. There'd /never/ be an end to it. "This is - I'm nervous. I am.
I'll tell you I am. But it's a good sort of nervous, it is - tomorrow
morning? Can we - no, we can't, we've got to look into--" He stops
himself, doesn't move his head but casts his eyes downward to look at
Kitty, grinning. "No, we can. Making the time, damnit. I'll get up, let's
go early and find one, 'cos I don't think it can just be us studying and
working, think we've got to work with someone."

No, John would not be the sort of person to talk to about this kind of
thing.  Preferably ever. Even if his expression, in that first instant,
would undoubtedly be priceless. Kitty murmurs, "Of all the things you've
said in this conversation, I think 'I'll get up, let's go early' is the
one that's stunning me the most." She's grinning back at him, yes. Eyes
alight:  simply, unutterably happy. "Yeah. Tomorrow morning. We'll go -
I'll look and see what our options are - unless you've already? I don't
know - I'm -" And she gives in and laughs, letting her head sink back to
her shoulder as she finishes, "... a little nervous?"

Oh, oh Pete laughs. So much. Shaking, under Kitty, just helpless. "I'm -
oh god! - I'm /positive/," he gasps, finally, trying to stop, "positive no
Beacon Harbor rabbi could be quite as bent as my da, Pryde. At least not
like that.  We'll be fine, we'll be lovely, it'll be grand, you'll see.
And I'm /sure/ you're amused. But making time means carving it out of the
morning, for me, you know that. Promise I'll get up." He shifts again,
still laughing in little bits, lifting Kitty along with him. Holds her
tightly a moment. "I think it's entirely possible we may be ridiculous.
But I don't give two tugs. Haven't checked everything out yet, was doing
reading first. Have some adrenaline to work off, you?" Big grin, loosening
his hold.

"And I promise to get coffee ready," Kitty answers between lingering fits
of giggles. It's /good/ to be able to laugh together. So very good.
There'll still be work to do, keeping an eye on the hospital records,
watching over people, checking in on Ray, copying another batch of
articles out of physics journals, any number of things - but that can make
room for this. It can.  It will. "And of course we're ridiculous. Don't
know about you, but /I/ rather like it..." His hold loosens - /her/ hands
slip from their place, letting her slide arms carefully about his neck,
and she hugs him fiercely against her for a moment. "Mmmm. Are you
suggesting what I think you're suggesting, Wisdom?"  she murmurs as she
lets go, easing carefully back and up off of him.  There, take a breath.
As much of one as your lungs will let you, anyway.

"I'm suggesting incredibly immoral behavior, Pryde," Pete manages to say
with a straight face, as soon as he can take a full breath. Possibly for
emphasis, and possibly just because he likes to - or a combination - his
hands start wandering again, this time going rather interesting places.
"I'll even bribe you with air conditioning. What d'you say about /that/?"
*Huge* grin, now.

"Other than threats to make an honest man out of you?" Kitty's managing to
keep a straight face herself, barely, but her eyebrows go up and her eyes
are sparkling. "Hmm. Let me see." She tosses her head (and her hair is
long enough to fluff a little with the gesture, which is undoubtedly /not/
the effect she'd intended), and reaches for Pete's hands in an attempt to
simultaneously postpone that exploration a few moments and draw him with
her as she works her way to her feet. "How about - yes?"

"A word, in the right contexts, that I /never/ get tired of hearing from
you,"  observes Wisdom, still grinning, allowing his hands to be taken and
tugged on.  It's a little complicated, getting them both to their feet,
especially considering the amount of sprawl that was taking place. But it
happens!  And oh, oh they /are/ ridiculous. "Love you," he says, bending
down slightly to kiss Kitty gently, falling desperately happily into the
truth they're building - then tugging her, in turn, toward the air
conditioned room.

Something that's not, ever, left unsaid now: "Love you, too." And she
follows where he leads her, not letting go even to pick up the discarded
magazine left next to the couch. It'll wait. So will the dragon under the
sink. Building a truth, and a home, and a future, despite everything and
around everything;  that's what it really does all come down to, isn't it?
And all, in the end, that either of them has ever really wanted. Except -
"... but we take the books /out/ from under the mattress, first."