Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Should I fall out of love, my fire in the light, to chase a feather in the wind?

"All of My Love" Led Zepplin

Bea was so relieved Ben was coming with her to Auckland, she hadn’t thought about the fact they’d barely spoken since they'd heard the news about Leo.

And apparently he wasn’t interested in speaking now. That was fine. At first she curled up and slept, exhausted and worn out from all the worries and tears of the last few days. When she woke up about an hour later, she could sense Ben looking at her.

“Watch the road,” she said, feeling slightly groggy and grumpy.

“Mmm-hmm,” Ben said. He looked back at the road even though it was a boring, straight stretch with nothing to look at, not even sheep.

Wait, he wasn’t going to have a comeback for her sass? No, “haha, I was just looking because there’s drool all over your face?” Or Bea, you’ve got to stop shouting my name in your sleep, it’s really embarrassing.” Nothing?

“Wow, amazing conversationalist, you are.” There, he would have to say something now.

He shook his head, a slight frown on his face like he wanted to say something but wouldn’t. What? What was going on with him? She’d never heard Ben stay quiet for this long. If you’d asked her before if it was possible, she’d of sworn he’d die in some kind of crazy word explosion.

He turned on the radio, but when Fife and Drums came on, he tapped gently on the steering wheel and sang under his breath. Fife and Drums usually merited blasting the music full blast, rolling down the windows and goofy dance movies.

“You can turn it up.”

Ben glanced over at her. “I’m fine.” His grip on the wheel tightened slightly.

This was weird. This was really, really weird. Even when they’d hated each other, they’d always talked. A lot. Everyone always complained the hard part was getting the two of them to shut up.

“Would you like trade off for a bit? Why don’t we pull over and grab a snack?”

They stopped at a small dairy and grabbed some things for takeaway.

"There used to be some picnic benches and some swings under those pine trees. " Bea gestured behind the parking lot.

Ben frowned, then nodded. "You've done this drive a lot. I keep forgetting."

"Yeah, this was always the exciting part. Knowing I was going to see Hero and Leo soon."

She shivered. She was anxious to see Leo, but excited wasn't quite the right word for what she felt.

They sat on opposite sides of the picnic table and silently split up their snacks the way they usually did. Ben got exactly half her chocolate. She got half his crisps. They each had their own milkshake because they refused to share something as important as a milkshake.

She waited for him to comment on anything. At this point she wasn't dying for sparkling conversation, she'd settle for discussing the cracks in the pavement. Is this what their whole drive was going to be like? Was he regretting offering to drive with her? Was he already mentally planning how to extricate himself from this situation and get back to Wellington? Why wouldn't he talk to her?

Ugh, she was Beatrice Duke and she hated, hated, hated worrying over a boy. Could any boy be worth this aggravation? Even if this was Ben she was talking about.

She bit down on a piece of chocolate a little harder than was necessary. This was impossible.

Ben licked some salt off his lips and she had a sudden bolt of inspiration. She knew of one really good way to shut Ben up. Maybe it worked to get him talking too.

She cleared her throat to get his attention. He glanced up. “Come here.”

His forehead wrinkled in confusion, but he leant a millimeter closer.

“No, really come here.”

His eyes widened a bit.

“I’m not going to bite. I want to kiss you.” She cupped his jaw in the palm of her hand and pulled him close. After what seemed like forever, their lips met.

It wasn’t exactly their most sexy or passionate kiss ever. It probably wouldn’t even make the top ten. Not that she had a list. Okay, maybe there was a mental list, but whatever. The point was this kiss wasn’t the best. They were awkwardly leaning across the table and she’d taken him by surprise. But he tasted like salt and vinegar crisps and banana milkshake and just everything she’d been missing for what felt like forever.

When he pulled back his eyes were still closed, but he had a slight smile of relief on his face. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“You coward. You made me kiss you first!” She reached over and punched him in the arm, but he ducked out of the way. She ran over to his side to get a better angle and he quickly grabbed her and yanked her into his lap. And okay, she could have gotten up, but maybe it was too good to have his stupidly long, skinny arms around her again.

“I missed this a lot. I missed you.”

He squeezed her tighter. “Me too. I was stupid.”

“No argument here.”

For a while they just sat there together.

“I still want to go traveling, you know. With you.” She added for extra clarity.

“I wasn’t sure with Leo and everything that had gone on. I thought your plans might have changed. I didn't want to assume anything, but I didn't want to pressure you because you're under a lot of stress.” he said the words in a rush.

Bea laughed. "I’m not a great nursemaid. The aunties and Hero will be better with him, but I do want to see him and let him know I love him and support him. I really want to see with my own two eyes he’s okay. And if he ever takes a turn for the worst, or we need to come back, we do it.”

“Of course."

“Maybe once we're in Auckland we can start planning the trip.”

She slid off his lap and starting tidying up their rubbish. She had a sudden need to be busy and not look him in the eye. Her heart twinged a little with anxiety. She had put a lot of herself out there all at once. Was she being foolish? Shut up, heart.

“No time like the present. Let’s start now.” Ben pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper and pen from his bag. “Right first thing that goes on the list is Laguna Colorada in Bolivia.”

“Do I even want to know why?”

"Best place in the world to see flamingos in the wild. Although there are some really great spots in Africa too.” He chewed at his pen thoughtfully.

Bea groaned. “We’re not going around the world to see birds, are we?”

“Is there a greater or more noble reason to see the world?”

They were going to be all right.

Chapter Text

Well, there's a light in your eyes that keeps shining, like a star that can't wait for the night.

"Fool in the Rain" Led Zepplin

They spent the first month of the trip bouncing around Southeast Asia, but it became obvious they needed to slow down and save up some money before the next leg of the journey. They settled on Thailand in the dry season. Ben was in bird nerd heaven and although sometimes the tropical heat made her miserable, Beatrice had to admit she was happy too.

Ben got a job teaching English and she was working under the table as a waitress in a little cafe that catered to the backpacking crowd.

She died a little inside anytime someone called her "the Aussie" or tried out their lame Crocodile Dundee accents, but Honorio, a little old Fillpino man who owned the place, was a sweetheart. He didn't care if she slapped a handsy customer and he let her smuggle home tea bags for Ben.

But best of all, he let them rent a place above the cafe for almost nothing. It was glorified bedsit with a lumpy mattress and a broken wicker dresser, but it was all theirs. No curfews, no rules besides what they decided. Just Ben and Bea, the two of them floating in a little bubble of happiness.

But now Ben had been tramping for two days with a bunch of elderly Canadians on a bird watching tour and she was ridiculously, dorkily excited for him to come home tonight.

He was in bed asleep when her shift finally ended. She did her best to tiptoe through the room, but honestly he could sleep like the dead. It was karaoke night in the cafe downstairs and if he could sleep through drunken students caterwauling Mariah Carey, he could sleep through anything.

She rinsed the sweat and smoke off of her in their tiny shower. She snagged one her favorite of his T-shirts, a battered Futurama shirt he'd owned at least since she'd met him, if not longer. No way was she going to tell him she'd been sleeping in it the last few nights because she missed him that much.

Bea sat on the bed and cleared her throat meaningfully. Still no reaction. Okay, she was tired. He was tired, but still --

She slipped under the covers and reached to brush his face gently in the dark and paused at an unfamiliar prickle under her fingertips.

She groaned. "Oh my god, you're growing a beard. Ugh. You fucking . . . hippie. I hate beards. Hate them. "

"Someone keeps stealing my razors." Ben said, half asleep, but he reached for her hip and squeezed.

"It has to go." She said.

"You haven't seen me for two days and this is what you want to argue about?" His fingers slipped under the T-shirt and rubbed at the small of her back. Oh, now he was waking up?

"I bet you can't even grow a beard." She remembered a disastrous attempt at a mustache a few Christmases ago.

Ben laughed. "Challenge accepted." His big, dumb hands traced warm patterns on her skin and -- focus. She had to focus here.

"I'll stop shaving in protest." She rubbed a smooth leg against his. He made a little mumble of appreciation.

"Don't care. You'll still be the most beautiful, sexy woman on the planet." So apparently he had learned something from the great Bali leg hair debate. He kissed her throat and even with that awful, scratchy feeling, he smelled good and she had missed him. She could feel her resolve slipping away. Dammit.

"It's coming off the minute we get back home." She said in a firm voice. The music below switched to a K-pop tune and the English speaker singer stumbled through it as best they could. It wasn't an improvement on Mariah Carey.

His fingers went slack. "So, we're going back home together then? When the year is up? "

Beatrice bit her lip.

The bubble of happiness wobbled a bit, as if it might pop. Yeah, okay they had said communication was key, but they'd both been so shit at it in the last year. Lately they'd talked about books, politics, art, music, movies, family, everything. They talked about anything but their future together. They never planned any farther ahead than the trip destinations on their battered piece of paper that Ben kept tucked in his back pocket.

She traced a shape on his cheek, trying to get used to the unfamiliar scruffiness. "If that's what you want, than yes. That's what I want too."

"It's all I want." His fingers pressed into her skin a little tighter. "I'm here, aren't I?"

She huffed out a breath. "Yeah, but -"

:"Go look on the dresser." He slid away from her and sat up. She felt a little colder without his arms around her. Which was, well, ridiculous.

"Why?"

"Beatrice, do it for fuck's sake."

She walked over to the dresser. There was a box. Not a fancy velvet box. Just a little white box, the kind you would put candy in. Something chilly and uneasy crept up her back. Like ice cold spiders walking on her spine. This couldn't be what she thought it was.

She fake gasped. "You brought me back chocolates? You shouldn't have."

Ben sighed. "Quit stalling. Open it."

Now or never.

She opened the box slowly, as if a snake was going to jump out. There was a silver ring with a tiny mound of green jade dropped on top. It wasn't anything glamorous or flashy, but it looked familiar. As a matter of fact, it looked frighteningly like a ring she had seen back in a fancy gift shop in Auckland. Only Hero knew how much she loved it. They had seen one day when they were killing time before one of Leo's doctor's appointment. She'd glanced at the price tag and groaned. Saving for the trip was more important than any piece of jewelry, so she put it out of her mind at the time.

"This looks real," she said, feeling dizzy. Her legs couldn't quite hold her up for some strange reason.

"It's not going to make your finger turn green, if that's what you're asking. Don't get mad at me, okay? Honorio is a sweet old guy, but he's a good Catholic and he keeps hinting I'm ruining your honor. "

"He's never said anything to me." Bea bristled a little at the patriarchy and their obnoxious, obsolete honor code.

"Well, he wouldn't would he? You're an innocent woman and I've clearly seduced you." He sounded a little too smug just then.

"God, it sounds like you're enjoying this."

"Bea, come on. I could never do anything you didn't want to do. You and I both know that. Can we humor a sweet old man, please?: Before he starts making me go to Sunday Mass?"

"I don't care what Honorio thinks, really." Bea picked up the ring. It was a tiny thing, but somehow it felt like it had a huge weight to it.

"Maybe I care what he thinks, huh? Anyways, I was saving it, but maybe it would be better if you wore it now. Even if it's temporary."

She slipped the ring on. It fit perfectly, cool but snug on her ring finger. The right ring. The right size. She had a horrible suspicion this wasn't some impulse purchase, like when he bought her a "Jon Snow Lives" T-shirt for her birthday.

Karaoke switched to November Rain, which meant the night was almost over. She could sit here for eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds, listen to Axl Rose, and say nothing. Or she could give Ben an Answer. An Answer with a capital A.

"Umm," she said.

"Wow, have I rendered Beatrice Duke speechless? I'd never thought I'd live to see the day."

Bea ignored the snarky comment. Her brain was focusing on something else. "When you say you were saving it, what does that mean exactly?"

"I was hoping to give to you sometime in the future. Sometime when you wouldn't have a panic attack and instead you'd throw your arms around me and say 'yes, Ben, a thousand times, yes. I'll marry you.'"

She laughed. She couldn't help it. "Really? And how long have you known me?"

Ben sighed. "Long enough to know what I want. Even if you don't. Look wear it, don't wear it. I didn't want to spring anything on you and scare you. But yes, I want to go back home with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if I can."

Bea plopped back down on the bed, trying to process everything he'd said. "Well, okay, then. It's a deal."

"You want to shake hands on it?" Ben said, his voice half teasing.

"Shut up, Dickface." She bent down and gave him a fierce kiss.

Chapter Text

Love can cure your problems. You're so lucky I'm around.

"Let My Love Open the Door" Pete Townsend

They were sitting in a café in Rome. Bea took another bite of lemon gelato. She made Ben read the invitation a third time, trying to process her feelings.

“It’s just my second cousin, Tilly. We don’t have to go. No one expects it.”

“It’s in Scotland?” She let citrus feeling linger on her tongue for a moment. Italy really was fabulous.

“Yup.” Ben raised his eyebrows at her. He wasn't pushing and she appreciated that.

“Scotland’s on the list.” She said. She didn’t even have to look at the scribbled paper anymore. She knew the list by heart.

Ben nodded.

“And it’s in a castle?” She could feel herself weakening.

“Uh-huh.” Ben smirked.

Spending a wedding weekend with the entire Hobbes family? Overwhelming. But on the other hand, a night in Scottish castle . . .

“En suite bathrooms?”

“Of course.”

She sighed, thinking about the last hostel they’d been in. She’d had to wait her turn for a shower and then she’d had to show all the cockroaches the door before turning on the tap.

Ben drummed his fingers on the counter. He’d temporarily switched to espresso because Italian tea was “foul” and the extra caffeine was making him more hyper than usual. “Probably a nice big bath tub even.”

She huffed out a big breath. “Sold.”

Of course she didn’t have anything wedding appropriate in her luggage. Her clothes ran to jandals and sarongs, not formal dresses. When she got a hold of Hero to ask for a favor, she had to hold the phone away from her ear there was so much squealing. Hero promised she and Meg would take care of everything, all they needed was an address to ship the “gown.” Bea hung up with a feeling of foreboding. Hero was way too happy about this.

Then actually making it to the wedding required jiggling their plans a little, but Ben promised Scotland in August would be beautiful.

So when they arrived in Edinburgh, she groaned at the sheets of rain pouring down.

“This is beautiful?” She said. “If I wanted rain, we could have stayed in Wellington.”

“Be quiet, you. You’ll see, it’ll clear up and be gorgeous.”

It did feel like a strange relief to drive on the left side again. Almost like home. Of course Ben insisted on naming every bird that flew over head. As long as he didn't hit any, she was fine with that. And Scotland was beautiful, she admitted grudgingly after the rain turned to a light mist and the hills glowed with purple and white heather.

“It's beautiful, but desolate." She added, as they took another hairpin turn and her stomach flipped a bit.

“Excuse me? Your country has more sheep than people and you’re saying this is desolate?”

They spent the next hour bickering about the exact meaning of the word desolate and if it could ever have a positive connotation. Bea was about to give the final devastating point to her argument when they pulled up to the castle.

"Wow." This was a castle castle. Like something out of fairy tale or one of those romances Hero insisted she didn't read. The loch was on one side, sparkling in the late morning sun and a craggy hill (she laughed when Ben called it a ben) rose behind it.

"Pretty impressive, huh?" Ben said.

Bea made an attempt to recover. "It's all right, I guess. Nothing as tall as what we've got in the Southern Alps."

Ben muttered something that sounded an awful lot like, "Bloody Kiwis," but when she asked him to repeat it, he just busied himself with the luggage.

They made their way to the lobby only to be confronted by a hoard of Hobbes and associated relatives milling about.

"It's not too late to turn around." Ben whispered.

Bea gave his hand a squeeze. "Yeah it is. Your mum has spotted us."

The next few minutes were a flurry of handshakes and awkward introductions. Bea was worried there would be some kind of fuss about her and Ben wanting a room together, but in fact it was quite to opposite. Everyone kept cooing over them and saying how romantic they were and when they were going to set the big date. It weirded her out a bit, honestly. Ben’s gran even got misty-eyed every time she glanced their way.

They managed to extricate themselves with a promise they would come down as soon as they were ready for the wedding and wouldn't hide away in their room.

The suite was just as posh as the rest of the castle. There was a four poster bed covered with a duvet and what seemed like a million cloud soft pillows. They had a view of the loch and a window seat perfect for curling up and reading all day.

"This was definitely worth giving up Liechtenstein and Luxembourg on the list," Ben said. "Even if it means missing out on the Black Stork breeding season."

Bea gave a longing look at the huge bathtub and the big bed. She was exhausted and grubby from the early flight and days of non stop traveling.

"Can we say we laid down for a nap and overslept and missed the wedding?" She said.

Ben's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I'm game if you're game. Room service? Tea and shortbread?"

Her mouth watered.

"Or maybe haggis?"

Bea laughed. "Ugh. Way to kill the mood. Anyways, I won't be labelled a bad influence on you. We came all this way. We're doing this. But I've got first turn in the shower."

Hero had been true to her word. The front desk had given Bea an airmail package when she checked in. She didn't even want to think about the cost. As she opened the box, she made a silent promise she would pay Hero back. She unfolded the dress and it made a slithery, silky sound as she shook it loose. It was emerald green with a gorgeous long skirt and a tiny peacock feather for her hair to match. She held it up to see the full length. That was the moment she realized the neckline was a filmy, sheer thing and it dipped so low you could see, well quite a lot.

She grabbed her phone. “What the hell? You’re dead to me.” She texted Meg. She didn't care what the time difference was. Hero may have paid for and mailed the dress, but this had Meg’s fingerprints all over it.

After exactly one second, her phone chimed. “Do you like the peacock fascinator? We couldn’t find a flamingo one. Give Ben our apologies.” Meg sent back with a winky face.

“Meg, I can’t believe you would do this to me. I’m here with Ben’s whole family. You are going to pay for this when I get my hands on you again.”

“You’re a big girl, Bea. It’s time to start dressing like one. No more pinafores and sloppy T-shirts. Don’t let Ben see the dress ahead of time though. It will spoil the effect.”

“I do not wear pinafores. I’m not five.”

“Exactly.” Meg sent an eggplant emoji.

Bea growled and chucked her phone on the bed.

“Oi.” Ben mumbled, not looking up from his copy of Sandman.

“Ben, get out. I have to get dressed.” She was fine. This was all fine.

“What, when we’ve barely had a moment alone?” Ben sounded indignant, but this was a matter of pride. If he saw the dress, no if he saw her in the dress, he might laugh. And she’d die. No, she’d kill him first and then she’d die.

“Leave now.” She said through gritted teeth.

“I’ve seen you naked before, you know. Many, many times.”

“Ben –“

“What if I close my eyes?” Ben fluttered his eyelashes.

She pointed at the door.

Ben gave a faux sigh. “All right, I'll go change in Cousin Fergus's room, but you’re going to miss out on me modeling my kilt then.”

It took her a bit to wrestle into the dress by herself, but she would not ask for help. She was going to do this, dammit. She tried to recall all the hair and makeup tips Hero had given her over the years and did as best she could. When she was done, she took a turn in the mirror. She had to admit it. The dress did look good. It made her look, well, grownup. But it felt weird too, like she was playing dress up in someone else's clothes. She gave one more desperate tug at the neckline. No, it wasn't budging and if she tugged too hard, she'd rip it.

There was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Bea fiddled with her necklace. It was making her throat itch all of the sudden.

"It's an immortal Time Lord who has come to whisk you away from all this." Ben said in his best sing song voice 'am I annoying you yet?" voice.

Bea paused by the door and smoothed down her skirt for the hundredth time. There was no reason to be nervous. This was Ben, her boyfriend. He’d held her hair back when she vomited in a toilet in Mumbai. He’d given her a bear hug when she was covered in mud in Romania. He’d seen her naked quite a bit, as he'd enjoyed pointing out. He’d seen her wear a dress before. She even had a few cotton sundresses shoved in her backpack. This wasn't even about Ben, not exactly. Wearing this dress, with everyone talking about them getting engaged, it made her feel like things were real. Like her life button had gotten stuck on fast forward and she was an adult all of the sudden.

"Bea, you're acting really, really strange. Please let me in." Ben pleaded from the other side of the door.

Chapter Text

Bea cleared her throat. "Promise not to laugh?"

"I'm wearing a kilt. I'm in no position to laugh at anyone."

"Are you really wearing a kilt?" She had assumed he was joking earlier. Curiosity piqued, she opened the door.

"See, now was that so --" Ben said and smart alecky comment trailed off.

And he gave her The Look.

Some weird little fluttery feeling happened in her rib cage. Ben had given her his adoring look many times before (he wasn’t subtle), but she’d never seen it when he was all dressed up and even with his skinny legs in a green kilt and his stupid beard he did look good, and ugh.

Ben scratched at the back of his neck. "You look ummm, amazing." His voice dropped down low and a little hint of Scottish lilt had crept in his voice the way it always did when he was being serious about something. Okay, maybe Meg didn't have the worst ideas ever.

"Thank you. You look nice too. Even with this awful thing." She cupped her palm to his beard.

"It's growing on you," Ben said.

Bea shrugged and then smirked. "It's growing on you. It's your face."

Ben groaned. "Puns. What did I do to deserve this?"

"You love it. But you're right, maybe I don't hate it." She dropped her arm, still feeling slightly awkward and giraffe like.

Ben grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. "Come on. Let's go do this thing."

The wedding was beautiful, if you liked weddings. Honestly Bea thought it was a the little, tiniest bit. . . boring? Nothing was original about it. Tilly was beautiful, Alec, the groom, was handsome. They said all the right expected words at the right expected times and they looked adoringly at each other. Everyone was crying and getting emotional and she felt nothing. . . what was wrong with her?

They made it to the reception, but she picked at her food. The salmon in fancy puff pastry looked gorgeous but tasted dry and dusty in her mouth. She swigged at a vodka tonic, trying to look sophisticated, but her face might freeze if she kept having to smile at Uncle Angus.

Ben tapped on her wrist and she practically jumped in the air. "Care to dance?"

She couldn't dance, but then again, neither could Ben. They held onto each other and managed to sway without stumbling. Some sappy ballad from the eighties was playing, so they didn't have to do anything fancy. She was just grateful it wasn't bagpipes.

"I feel like everyone is looking at us," she said through gritted teeth.

Ben had his hands settled on her waist, as comfortable as if they slow danced every day. "Because of our awesome dance moves. You're being ridiculous, you know."

She smacked him on the back, lightly. The last thing she needed was a reputation as the abusive girlfriend. "I'm being ridiculous? Your family is talking about us getting married. We're nineteen!"

"I'll be twenty in four weeks." His breath was warm and soft on her neck.

"I know and I haven't forgotten and yes, you're getting a present and no, I'm not going to tell you what it is," She said it automatically. "You can't change the subject."

"Okay, remember how in Vienna you promised we could take turns freaking out when we needed to?" He whispered the words into her ear.

"Yeah." She remembered that night. Ben's wallet had gotten stolen and they'd missed curfew for their hostel. Ben started coming unglued, banging on the entrance and shouting, so she took him out to a beer hall (her treat even though it was his turn to buy dinner) and then they'd slept sitting up on a bench in a U Bahn station all night. Looking back it was funny, but at the time, yikes.

"I'm saying if you'd like a turn, it's fine by me." He hugged her tight. She rested her cheek on his chest, even though the fabric of his formal jacket felt rough and strange.

She blew out a big breath. "This is a lot to take in." It was somehow easier to say the words when he was holding her close, but not looking at her. "Everyone is talking marriage and I think your gran already has our china pattern picked out."

Ben laughed. "Is that all?"

She pulled back so she could look him in the eye. "What do you mean, is that all? It's terrifying."

"Look this may come as a shock to you, because of my smooth moves, but you are in fact, my first girlfriend."

Bea laughed a little in spite of her current frustration. "Oh my god, you're such a dork. Tell me something I don't know.

"They're excited for me and they like you, okay? They're teasing you. And me. And gran is being gran. She and her neighbor Elspeth are in a race to see who can have the most great grandchildren."

"You promise no one is going to be annoyed we don't announce our engagement by the end of the night?"

"I promise. Consider this your Hobbes family hazing. And we don't have to do anything you don't want to do." He kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Any what?" A suspicion nagged at her.

"Marriage. Kids. Whatever. We're together. That's all I want."

"If you're going to tell me you like to live in the now, I swear to god I will punch you."

"I wasn't going say that. Give me some credit. Take a deep breath. You're at a wedding with your gorgeous boyfriend. There's a band and an open bar. Have fun."

"I never said you were gorgeous," she grumbled.

"Yeah, but you thought it. It's okay. I understand."

And then he was twirling her around and she was laughing and dizzy all at once. How could he make her feel ridiculous, safe, and happy at the same time?

They danced for a little longer, but someone announced the bouquet toss and Bea knew it was time to make herself scarce. There was no way she was going to subject herself to that tradition. But as she was about to slip out into the lobby, a voice called out to her.

"Hello, dear. Come sit next to me.” Ben's mum waved for Bea to come over.

Bea walked over reluctantly, bending down to kiss the tiny Antonia on the cheek. She smelled like Chanel Number Five and rum, but it wasn't unpleasant. There was something scary about Antonia. She had been kind and sweet to Bea, but she had this way of looking at you as if she knew the depths of your soul. Maybe it was because she studied criminals for a living. It was a bit unnerving.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine I guess." Bea mumbled, staring at the tablecloth as if the secrets of the universe were hidden there.

“This is overwhelming, isn’t it?” Professor Hobbes, patted her hand.

“Yes,” said Bea, relieved someone understood. “She tried to back pedal. “I mean it’s a lovely romantic weekend for Tilly, I’m sure, but I wasn’t expecting so much –“

“Pressure.” Professor Hobbes said.

“Yes,” Bea said. “Pressure. Exactly. Ben and I are having fun traveling together and that’s where we are right now.” The words came out in a rush.

Professor Hobbes took a sip of her daiquiri. “Well, it’s early days yet, isn’t it? You’re still so young for anything too serious, aren’t you?”

“I suppose so.” Beatrice said, not knowing why she suddenly felt deflated. Wasn't this what she and Ben had just agreed on?

“Anything could happen. It’s wonderful you two are taking it one day at a time. No need to think about the future yet.”

All of the sudden taking it one day at the time didn't sound lovely. She didn't want to stand up in front of a crowd of people in a fluffy white crinoline and say a bunch of sappy stuff to Ben. She didn't. But the idea they had no future together? No. She wanted Ben in there. Somehow. Some way.

She got up, a little shaky and not from the vodka she'd downed earlier. She dashed to the toilet. Her face was hot and the rest of her body was cold all of the sudden. She wasn't going to cry and she wasn't going to throw up. She'd never experienced emotional whiplash like this before.

Why did everything have to be so confusing? She needed Hero right now and not for stupid hairdos and makeup tips. Hero would help her make sense of all this.

There was a tap on the door.

"Go away," she said, knowing who it was.

"Bea, is this still about my family being crazy and adoring you and thinking you're wonderful?"

"No. Not quite." She gripped onto the counter top for dear life.

"Bea, I am not afraid to come in there, you know. You have to talk to me."

"No. I don't." But she opened the door anyways. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not yet."

Ben nodded, but she could see the wheels turning. She was being ridiculous about this, but somehow knowing she was being ridiculous wasn't helping change anything.

“How about a walk down by the loch? Should be nice if the midges aren’t out.” Ben said.

They walked in the strange Highland twilight for a while. She reached for his hand without looking and he squeezed it. He was filling the air with meaningless chatter, talking about falcons and grouse. He was just being Ben and she was grateful for that.

But then he interrupted her thoughts. “You have a gloom hanging over you.”

“I do not.”

“Bea, this is your face right now.” He imitated her grumpy cat face. “Wait, I’ve got something for that.” He rummaged around in his sporran and pulled out a silver flask.

“Whiskey, yuck.”

“It’s traditional and medicinal. Drink up.”

She had to admit once she got over the burn, it warmed her from the inside out.

They'd made it to the loch and mercifully there were no midges. The sun spread out a warm honey color on the water and there were some birds tweeting in the trees. Ben would know what they were.

"Sit." He gestured to the ground. She complained about ruining her dress, but she plopped down, secretly relieved. She kicked off her shoes. They were killing her.

“Your mum hates me.” The whiskey made her tongue loose and funny in her mouth.

Ben scoffed. “My mum loves you.”

“She thinks we’re too young to get married.” She swigged, then handed back the flask.

“Yeah, well we are too young to get married. ”

“Don’t agree with her. That makes it worse.” Bea wailed.

Ben sat down beside her, trying to arrange his kilt so he didn’t reveal anything. “How the hell do women do this? It’s bloody awkward.”

Bea stifled a laugh. “Shut up. I’m being serious here. Your mother thinks we’re going to break up.”

“Did she say that?”

“Not exactly.”

“Do you think we’re going to break up?”

Bea picked a handful of pebbles and tossed them in the water. They made a satisfying plopping noise. She thought about another day at another lake and the feeling of holding Ben’s hand. Then she thought about last year in Wellington and how close they both came to throwing it all away.

“I know I don’t want to break up.” She never wanted to need Ben, but somehow along the way, it had happened. The only thing that made it better was he needed her sometimes too.

“I don’t want to break up either, so what are you worried about?”

“I want more than ‘we’re not going to break up’." She made the air quotes to make her point. "That’s not good enough anymore.”

“What do you want then?" Ben said.

Bea thought about what it was like to wake up next to Ben every day and the way her heart did a funny little hiccup sometimes when he smiled at her.

“I want us to get married. Someday. I think. Not soon.” She added. The Hobbes were so wedding crazy right now, they’d be rushed to the altar tonight if she wasn’t careful.

Ben leaned back casually like she hadn’t said something super personal and revealing. “And?”

“And what?”

He gave a heavy sigh. “Where’s my ring, Bea? Honestly, it’s no wonder the men are usually in charge of this. You’re woefully under prepared.”

Ugh you arrogant, awful, stupid --" She launched herself at him, one step from throwing him in the lake, but he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close for a long, lingering kiss that tasted like whiskey.

She broke off the kiss first. “I take it all back. You’re a terrible human being. I don’t want to marry you,” She said, a little breathless as his fingers trailed up and down her bare arms.

“I don’t think you can take it back, “Ben said. “Besides, I haven’t said yes, yet.”

She reached and pulled out a blade of grass and twirled it into a ring shape. “Will you marry me, someday, a long time from now when we’re much older and wiser?”

Ben’s face broke out into a big smile.“ Yes. Yes, I will.” He slipped on the ring and it immediately fell apart. “Aww. Too bad.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

There was more kissing and everything got a little bit hazy for a while. Eventually, it really did start to get dark and they agreed it was time to get back before people sent out a rescue party.

They took a minute to arrange themselves and walked back to the castle, not quite holding hands, but close so their shoulders would brush and bump against each other.

“Bea, you know what my mother does for a living, right?”

“She’s a university lecturer of criminology.”

“But her area of expertise is motivating behavior change.” Ben shot finger guns her way. “Reverse psychology. You got played, my friend. I told you my mum loves you.”

Chapter Text

I'm a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been.

"Kashmir" Led Zepplin

Bea thought she knew Ben, really knew him, long before they had ever gone traveling. She’d known him for years after all and he wasn’t exactly the shy and retiring type when it came to sharing his opinion on anything. Within five minutes of meeting him, she knew he was English, thought Batman was better than Ironman (they’d fought about that, of course) and that he loved tea, Doctor Who, and Emma Watson. In that order.

Within a month she’d known his biggest fear (leprosy, only Ben could fear an almost extinct disease), that he had terrible handwriting, and that she wanted to kiss him very, very much.  Then for a long time, all she knew about Benedick Hobbes is that she hated him and she never wanted to look at his stupid face ever again.

Once they started dating, she knew all sorts of new things - how he kissed, how his hand fit into hers. Personal things. Coupley things that she didn’t share with anyone else. No matter how much Meg begged.

But on this trip, she learned lots of new things about Ben.

Like when their train from Warsaw died and they waited for six hours staring at an empty field, she found out he knew all the words to every Who, Pink Floyd, and Led Zeppelin song ever. And he sang them quite loudly. He claimed that it was part of his genetic heritage as an Englishman, but she was pretty sure his older Baby Boomer parents had something to do with it.  

She found out he talked in his sleep and was a terrible blanket hog.  He claimed her snoring was the worst thing he'd ever heard, but they still slept in the same bed whenever they got the chance.  It was like they had to make up for all the time in Wellington they had spent apart.

But it wasn't until she was staying at her friend Angelique's flat in Berlin that she found out how really, really grumpy they both could be when they had a cold.  It was a miserably rainy April day, but they had dragged themselves to the Berlin Zoo and Checkpoint Charlie and to see what was left of the Wall, carrying a box of tissues between them. They had stopped for beers and when they came back at dinnertime, they found Angelique had planned a full night of clubbing and cheap drugs.

Bea tried to summon up enthusiasm even though she could feel a headache forming behind her eyebrows.  Ben mumbled comments about how they couldn't afford to keep going out if they wanted to make it to Tunisia before summer.  Bea did want to go to Tunisia, she did.  And she didn't crave a wild night out, but she didn't particularly like Ben dictating the terms of their travel either.

It had all ended in a stupid, door slamming row and Ben sulking on a futon with a giant set of headphones and a Terry Pratchett book.

Angelique rolled her eyes when Bea said she was staying in even after their huge fight.  "God, it's not like you're married to the guy."

That made Bea bristle, the tiniest bit.  Funny when they were teenagers at school together, Angelique was cool and sophisticated, but now she seemed the slightest bit. . . immature?

Bea offered a sunny smile, hoping it didn't look too fake. "I wouldn't be any fun tonight, anyways.  Let's go grab coffees tomorrow, okay?"

Angelique gave a shrug and a kiss and flitted out the door.  Bea sighed and turned back to Ben.  He didn't look up.  The flat was small and it was so cold they both had their coats on. Angelique claimed the heat was too expensive to waste on a "slightly cool" spring night.  This was ridiculous. Were they both going to pout all night?  Bea considered crawling into Angelique's bed, but what if Angelique came home really drunk or high?  Or what if she came home with someone? No, she and Ben would just have to work through this one.   How did she end up the mature one in this scenario?

She went over to the kitchen nook and made a lot of ostentatious banging noises while she made tea.  She was hoping Ben would stroll over, bump her out of the way, and lecture her on proper tea making.  That's what usually happened. 

But no, there was a whole lot of nothing from Ben.  She made the tea as best she could, with lots of honey and lemon.  Then she brought mugs over for both of them.  She sat next to him (not too close) and placed the cup in his hand.

"Thanks."  His voice sounded rusty and sore. He slipped off his headphones and took a long sip.  He put down his book and a piece of white paper fluttered out.

She reached for it reflexively and Ben made a grab for it.  "That's not for you."

She held it up and laughed.  "Ben, honestly.  It's just a bookmark.  You always remember where you stopped reading anyways."  

"Give it back.  Right now."  There was some steely anger in his voice that wasn't like him. 

She shrugged, "All right then."  She made a big show of setting down her mug and then at the last minute, jumped on the futon and held the paper out of reach.  Ben made a futile effort to grab at it, but he was tired and she was the more athletic one, after all.

She gave a fake evil chuckle as she unfolded the paper, but once it was open, she fell silent.  It was a picture and not one of his goofy dinosaurs he sketched in his stats homework. It was a drawing, a real drawing, of her. She knew exactly when and where it had happened. They’d been waiting on a park bench in France for a group of warblers to fly back to their nests.  She'd reached her "bird interest limit" for the day and had settled down for a nap.  It was a sunny, perfect day.  Ben had played with her hair.  In that moment, she had felt safe and secure, like nothing bad would happen to either of them ever again.  Somehow, with a few pen strokes, he had captured that feeling.  It wasn't at the level of professional portrait, but it was done with such love and affection, it took her breath away.

Ben groaned in agony. "It's awful and creepy.  I"m sorry.  I'll throw it out."

“No. It’s sweet. It’s nice."  The words weren't adequate for the wobbly feeling going on in her heart.  "I didn't know you could draw.” She eased back down onto the futon.

"I told you I could surprise you."

"I thought that was supposed to be a sex thing?"  Bea winked and nudged him with her elbow.

Ben gave an embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I wasn't exactly being subtle, was I?"

They both fell silent.  She handed the drawing back and their fingers brushed. She put her hands in her lap.  Now they went weren't angry anymore, but things were still off balance.

She sighed. “I'm sorry.  I've been such a brat."

"I might not be at my best right now either." Ben admitted.  "I just felt like if we went out anywhere I'd be a third wheel.  It's pretty clear Angelique wasn't expecting you to have a boyfriend tagging along."

Bea shrugged.  "This trip wouldn't have been the same without you.  I probably would have given up a million times over and gone home."

"Do you want to go home?" There was a hint of nervousness in Ben's voice.

"No.  But I am homesick. There.  I’ve admitted it. I hate it, but it's true. I’ve been looking forward to this for so long and all I want is to be at home, watching daggy movies with you and Hero.”

Ben nodded. “That’s normal.”  

“Not for me.”  She'd always prided herself on being tough, adaptable.  Moving from place to place without a fuss and without looking back. Not needing people. 

“Doesn't your mum ever get homesick for the States?”

Bea thought about it. “Sometimes she does. She listens to Reba McEntire and cries and puts peanut butter on everything. But she’s been gone so long, it’s almost like she’s missing her childhood. Missing being young. Did you get homesick? When you first moved, I mean.”

“All the time. Something amazing would happen and I’d think I’ve got to tell my best friend Dave about this right now.  Then I’d realize it was the middle of the night and Dave probably would not appreciate a call. And I’d miss my grandfather, some of my other relatives. I'd crave real Marmite, not that Down Under rubbish."

Bea made a raspberry sound. “But seriously, do you ever miss home now? I mean where is home for you, anyways?”

Ben rubbed his finger along the edge of his mug. “Promise not to laugh.”

“I make no such promises.”  She took a sip of tea and relished the sweet, hot feeling sliding down her throat.

“You’re a cruel woman, Beatrice Duke.”

“Am I really that bad?" She leaned more into Ben, just the slightest bit.  They'd be warmer this way, that's all.  

He gave her hand a little squeeze. “My home is you.”

“Oh.” This is where she was supposed to blow another raspberry and tell him how ridiculous he was, but she just looked into those blue eyes, so hopeful. Anything she said would be too much or not enough.

“I love you,” she said because it all she could think to say and it was true.

“I love you too.  What do we do now that we're talking to each other again?  Board game?  Cards?"

"God, Angelique's right, we really are like an old married couple."

Ben made a half choking, half coughing noise.  "What was that again?"

Bea shrugged.  "She was joking.  That's all.  God, I can barely think with this headache."  She rubbed at her forehead.

"Me too."  Ben admitted with a sigh.  "I don't think I could play Crazy Eights, much less any real game."

So Ben read the Discworld book out loud to her.  He did all the voices, even with his sore throat.   She didn't know he could read out loud so well, he had never volunteered to read anything at school.  Granny Weatherwax was suitably croaky and aged while Nanny Ogg sounded like a cheery grandmotherly type.  Bea had the fleeting thought she could listen to him every night for the rest of her life.

Once the tea was finished, they tucked the coats around themselves with a blanket on top for extra warmth.  Ben continued reading.  The rain gave a steady drumbeat in the background.  It all was deliciously cozy, like they were children in a blanket fort.

When they reached the end of the book there was some silly bickering about which one of them had to get out from under the covers to get the light switch.  Bea finally did it, running the whole way there and back.

She burrowed into Ben's arms, still shivering.  "I can't believe how fucking cold this apartment is.  At least you have a beard to stay warm."

“You tell me to shave my beard all the time.”

“Yeah, because your beard is a disgusting rat’s nest.” She playfully brushed her fingers across his chin.  

“Think of all the money we’re saving on razors."

Bea was feeling so tired she couldn't come up with a witty response.  All she could feel a drowsy warmth stealing over her.  It grew so quiet and still she assumed Ben had fallen asleep.

“Marry me, Bea.  For real. Someday.” She heard a whisper.

"Hmmm?"  Bea tried to rouse herself from the dreamy state she was in.  He couldn't have said that, could he?

He tucked her hair behind her ear and pulled her a little closer. “Nothing, love. Get some sleep.”

Chapter Text

So you think you can tell heaven from hell, blue skies from pain?

"Wish You Were Here" Pink Floyd

Bea kept staring at Hero's text. It was terse, which wasn't like Hero at all.

"Bea, the chemo isn't working for Leo anymore. You need to come home as soon as possible."

She had gotten the message two days ago and she and Ben were still trying to make their way back to New Zealand. Turned out changing travel arrangements at the last minute in Nepal wasn't exactly easy.

Ever since she had gotten the news, nothing had been the same. Gorgeous temples dotted the landscape. The people were kind and friendly. Yesterday, they had taken a bike ride outside of Kathmandu. Right at this very moment, she was standing in a bustling fruit market watching the sun rise. But it was all a blur. The words "come home, come home," kept drumming through her head. She couldn't tune it out.

All they had left on their schedule was an excursion for a tandem swing jump over a canyon. It was like a crazy bungee thing where they were hooked up together. They had booked it months ago. Bea had squealed at excitement at the time. But now, she could barely put one foot in front of the other.

She and Ben had skyped with the aunties in Auckland last night to get a sense of how bad it was. It was bad. It was really bad. Leo's chemotherapy treatments had stopped working. It happened sometimes, apparently. Cancer cells could evolve, the little bastards. Leo was willing to try a different protocol or some experimental treatments, but the first treatment had been the most promising. The doctors said it might be a matter of months.

Bea chewed on her lip. One more day and they could be on a flight. One more day. Then she could see Leo for herself. Not that she could do anything, but she could at least be there with him. She felt helpless. Beatrice Duke did not do helpless well.

"Mango?" Ben whispered in her ear, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"I'm sorry, what?" Bea said, half laughing, half gasping in shock.

"Man-Gooo." Ben said more slowly with a smile. He held up a bright orange fruit. "In season. Did you know the mango is considered the 'king of fruits' in Nepal?"

"Where on earth did you learn that?"

"From my good friend, Sabal." Ben pointed across the crowded fruit market to a tiny, wizened man standing beside a bicycle. Sabal gave a puzzled smile and waved. "You want to know why it's the king of fruits? Funny story, it all has to do with Parvati and Shiva and how they met -"

"You googled it, didn't you?" Bea said, cutting him off.

Ben tried to smile mysteriously. "Maybe." Which meant yes.

"Maybe if we camped out at the airport, we could get a flight today," Bea said.

"We already checked. We booked this jump months ago. Now put your phone away. "

"But we could fly on standby."

Ben slid the phone out of her hands and tucked it in her backpack. "One bite. You're denying the king, here." He held up a slice.

Bea took a bite. It was delicious, bursting on her tongue with sweet sharp taste. The best mango she'd ever had.

"How can I enjoy this when Leo might be dying? How can I be selfish enough to leave in the first place? What if this triggers Hero's asthma?" Her brain wouldn't stop whirring.

"Bea, Leo wanted you to go. Everyone wanted this for you. There's a hiccup in your plans, so we go back. Easy peasy." He said it all as if he wasn't scared and upset too. "Are you sure you're not trying to back out now you've realized you're scared?"

Bea scoffed. "I'm not scared. You're scared. When we were fourteen you couldn't stand on top of the monkey bars without swooning into my arms."

"For the last time, I did not swoon, I tripped."

"You fainted! If I hadn't been there to catch you, you would have cracked your skull open. I rescued you!"

The tour bus conveniently pulled up right then and they got on, bickering the whole time. The bus ride turned into a bit of an adventure in and of itself. The roads wound in and out with hairpin turns making them both queasy. They fell into silence, holding each others' hands, squeezing when it got rough.

But nothing compared to the feeling when they finally saw the canyon. The guide had said it was 160 meters high. Bea's stomach dropped about that far down when they crossed the suspension bridge. This was the jump site. The whole place was beautiful, green and lush with a river trickling below.

"It looks like hobbits could live here." Ben said in a hushed voice.

"Ben, you live in New Zealand. You've been on the Weta Studios tour. Hobbits are Kiwis."

"You know what I mean," Ben said. "Besides that's the movie, Tolkien based a lot of the stories on Welsh folklore -"

"Okay, you know what -" Bea interrupted, nerves humming after four hours in rickety bus. She was about ready for a good fight again.

"This way please, this way," the guide said, interrupting them and gesturing to a bar with a roof, but no walls, where they would get their hands stamped and listen to their safety briefing.

The group, a mix of glowing honeymooners and jaded backpackers, sat through the safety procedures. Slowly in ones and twos they inched out back out onto the suspension bridge. Colorful little prayer flags fluttered in the breeze. The bridge vibrated with every step.

Bea felt very exposed all the sudden, like a gust of wind could sweep her away. She and Ben had picked the middle of the group for their jump. They watched one couple go, screaming and laughing. Then another. One more and then it was their turn. One of the guides, Haresh, started buckling them into the harness and walking them through the procedure one more time. He was tugging on the straps, partially to check them and also to show them everything was safe. 

"Thank you. Thank you. How do you say 'thank you' again?" Bea asked.

"Dhanyabad," Ben and Haresh both said in unison.

"Dhanyabad," Bea said, doing her best not to trip over the syllables. Her whole body trembled. This was ridiculous. She had ridden all the scariest, highest rollercoasters at Rainbow's End in Auckland. Why couldn't she stop shaking?

"Okay, now say 'my hovercraft is full of eels,' in Nepali," Ben said in a whisper.

Bea glanced over at Ben, ready for a comeback. They were strapped so tightly together, it was almost hard to get a good look at him. An amused grin peeked out from his huge beard. Ugh, he looked like a weird British lumberjack now. Why did she have to love him so much?

The couple who had finished before them passed by, laughing and giddy.

"How are you not terrified?" Bea asked.

"I'm a superhero, leaping tall buildings in a single bound, et cetera et cetera."

"So you're not scared?"  They inched a little further out onto the tiny platform. The guides held tight to them now, getting them just right for the jump.

"I'm terrified, but you wanted to do this. So we're doing it."

She had a flash of memory then, visiting her American cousins in Las Vegas, the awful dry heat, the feeling they couldn't afford anything in the casinos or the shops. Sunburns for days. The strap of her sundress had broken. Ben had tied it for her and gave her a quick kiss on her shoulder. Then he had made a corny joke about tying the knot and quickie weddings. Some crazy part of her brain had thought, maybe, maybe someday.

Bea thought about Leo, time slipping away. She thought about her aunties and how long it had taken them to get married, really married. Nothing in life was sure, but she knew one thing.

"When we get back home, let's get married." She blurted the words out before she could stop herself.

"What?" Ben's voice broke, like it did when he was fourteen.  For some reason, that sound made her feel ridiculously, absolutely certain.

"I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, but I know who I want to spend it with."

"Really?" Ben's eyebrows went all the way from confused the astonished.

Bea laughed. "Yeah. Really."

Haresh and the other guide were urging them to take the jump. Bea could see the people behind them getting antsy.

Ben's face went from a confused smile to a huge grin, like he'd won a some argument she didn't even know they were having. "I'm that amazing, aren't I?"

"Oh shut up. These poor people are getting impatient. Ready?"

Ben squeezed his arm around her a little tighter. "Yeah. Ready."

And with that, they jumped.

Many years later. . .

"Again, Aunt Bea, again! Wedding pictures again!" Edgar and Ariel had shouted.  Bea wondered what she had gotten into, agreeing that she and Ben could handle them by themselves overnight. Twin five-year olds could feel like a swarm of children when they got excited.

And on Christmas Eve, of all nights. But Hero and her husband, Timon, both had shifts at the hospital. Besides, it was a bit of tradition for Christmas Eve to be at Bea and Ben's.

"You know you don't have to ever get married if you don't want to, right? Either one of you?" Bea said. She was worried a bit she was brainwashing them into accepting cultural norms.

"We're too young to get married, Auntie Bea." Ariel pointed this out with infinite patience. They had discussed it quite a few times before.

"And we have some really lovely photos from when Uncle Ben and I were on safari. There is one with me making faces at a hippo."

"Wedding pictures! Wedding pictures!" Ariel and Edgar chanted.

So she had sighed, smiled and grabbed the pretty little white book with pink flowers on the cover. Such a girly Hero choice, but Bea secretly loved it.

The wedding was such a rush, there were only a few photos.  Hero insisted on making a scrapbook anyways, even though it was kind of an old-fashioned.  They could have just put them up on the internet somewhere.

Bea wasn't a "scrapbook person" but she was so glad Hero did it. Hero was the brave one, honestly. Because Hero could look at the pictures without crying. Bea never could.  That didn't mean she didn't try, especially when Hero's little ones asked.

They settled in on the couch and she opened the book, the leather warm and familiar in her hands. The first picture was Bea in a bright yellow dress, because wearing white was a silly tradition. It would have looked too depressing in a hospital room, anyways. Then Hero. She wore pink, of course.

"Mummy looks so beautiful," Ariel said.

"Your Mummy is always the most beautiful," Bea said. They had this conversation many times before, it was almost like a script. And of course, it was true. Hero always was the most beautiful. Even now.

Then there was a picture of "the boys." Hero insisted Ben and Leo had to have ties to match the dresses, even though Leo grumbled a pink and yellow striped tie was unmanly and made him look like an Easter egg. Anyways, the tie was more draped over Leo than tied around his neck. He was propped in a hospital bed, Ben was perched next to him and they were laughing.

"Why are they laughing, Auntie Bea?"

"I don't quite remember," Bea lied. Leo had actually made a rather dirty joke about not being able to throw Ben a stag party. Bea had caught them at the right moment with the camera. Then she had flipped them off because really, Leo, how sexist.

"So you weren't sad because Uncle Leo was dying?" Edgar asked.

"We were sad. We were very sad, but we were also happy because we were all together."

"That doesn't make sense," Edgar said. Bea looked at their adorable crinkled foreheads, equally puzzled and reminding her so much of Leo it hurt her heart.  

Her jaw ached and she knew it was a sign the tears were starting to creep up on her. "You'll understand better when you're older."

"He looks so tiny," Ariel said and touched Leo's face with wonder.

"He was tiny by then," Bea said, struggling to keep her voice level. Leo was a shadow of the hale and hearty football player he had been his whole life. She remembered being a little kid.  How he could toss both Hero and her up in the air as if they weighed nothing. Near the end, even Hero probably could have picked Leo up and carried him across the room, he was so frail.

Then there was a picture of the aunties and the parents, doing their best to smile, but really looking quite serious. It hadn't been an easy day for them.  This was admitting Leo wasn't going to make it much longer and that there were things he was never going to do, like get married. Have a family.

"Our grandmums were so young!" Edgar said.

"Yes, they were, although don't let them hear you say it." Losing Leo had aged all of them, a bit.

Breathe, breathe, Bea reminded herself. Her face was getting hot. If she could keep breathing, the tears would come out in a trickle, not a rush.

"This one is my favorite," Bea said, as she turned the page.

There it was. The whole lot of them crowded on the bed for the family photo and everyone was smiling. Everyone from the school days was there. Even Claudio, who they had dragged in at the last minute after some frantic texting. The nurses had fussed at them for having so many people in a hospital room, but they had all cried when Bea and Ben said their vows. Probably more than any of the real guests. Bea didn't cry on her wedding day, that was for sure. She was too busy trying to memorize every single second.

The ceremony was short and sweet. Bea had given the head nurse the bouquet (as a bribe, no way was she going to do something as stupid and demeaning as throw the bouquet) and passed out cake to everyone. The cake was in the shape of a Tardis. Some things were non-negotiable. The last picture was of Bea in Ben's lap, both of them grinning, mouths covered in dark blue smears.

She heard someone settle in beside them. Ben.

"Thank you," she mouthed silently over two little blond heads.

"Come on, hooligans. You've got to get to bed or we'll never have a full day at the beach tomorrow."

"Uncle Ben, can't we stay up and wait for Santa?"  Edgar said.

"Father Christmas? No. You cannot. It does not work that way."

There were grumbles and groans, but they went off to bed. Ben started describing an elaborate magical telescope that Santa, Father Christmas rather, used to see if children were sleeping. Ariel and Edgar were eating it up. They were always so good for him. She and Ben had talked about having kids of their own, someday. Maybe they still would. There was plenty of time.

Once they were gone, she took the time to hunt down the tissues. Behind the bookshelf again.  Minerva, the evil murder cat, must have been playing with the box. She settled the box in her lap.  She flipped the book back to a photo where Leo was smiling and let everything out. The tears came out hot and fast for a while, then slowed down to a trickle.

She sensed Ben coming back in, shooing the cat off the sofa and settling in beside her.

"How do you do that?"  Bea asked, finally looking up from the scrapbook.

"Do what?"  Ben said.  He was older now.  No beard, thank god. A few more laugh lines around the blue eyes.  But he was just .  .  . Ben.  Everyone (except maybe Hero) had thought they were crazy for getting married so young.  But they didn't have any doubts.  Not then and not now.

She patted his hand. "Show up right when I need you."

"It's like I said, Bea.  I'm a superhero.  I am Batman."  He tried for a growly Christian Bale voice.

Bea laughed.  "Uh, no don't do that again."

Ben nodded. "Agreed."  He cleared his throat.  "Do you ever regret it? That we got married that way?  No big fancy party?"

Bea touched Leo's face in the picture lightly.  He was smiling.  It would always hurt a little to look at him, to think about him being gone. She even missed fighting with him. He was so often wrong about things. But It hurt a little less now. It helped she saw some of him in Edgar and Ariel almost everyday.

"No, I don't regret it. You?"

Ben shook his head. "Not at all. Come on, kettle's on. Let's have a cup and start wrapping presents."

Chapter Text

When I say I love you, you say you better, you better, you better, you bet. 

"You Better, You Bet"  The Who

Ben insisted he had the perfect itinerary when they finally made it to England.

"I've got it all planned out. You're going to love it."

"Does this mean we have stop by every Christopher Marlowe landmark along the way?"

"You mean like our visit to Geneva? Oooh, Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein here. She slept one night here. Look, she used the loo here. Let's stop for a minute."

Bea held up her hands, but she was laughing. "Okay, I get your point."

There was just one thing. Ben said he wanted to stay at his cousin Tilly's flat in London. He assured Bea it would be fine. "You'll like Tilly. She's cool."

Tilly was not cool at all. She was like Ben, but in girl form. But all that meant she was sweet and funny if a bit odd. She always had Hobnobs and chocolate in the pantry. Best of all she had a guest bedroom with a real bed. She didn't even charge them rent, so long as they paid their share of the groceries and the utilities. It was a huge upgrade from a hostel and massively helpful considering they were staying in one of the most expensive cities in the world. The only weird thing they had to put up with was her obsessive genealogy habit.

"The Hobbeses are somewhere over here," Tilly said, waving excitedly. Her pink bobble hat bobbed up and down, making her look like an overgrown elf.

Bea tried to smile. They were in a quaint little town called Stratford-on-Avon. It was a damp Saturday afternoon in a churchyard and the November sky was threatening to rain on them any minute. Her mouth watered at the idea of scones and Devon cream in some fancy tea room, but she knew they had to do this first.

"Be there in a tic, Tilly." Ben grinned and waved back.

"Are you rescuing me from more recitations of the glorious Hobbes lineage?" Bea faked a swoon.

Ben squeezed her hand and whispered in her ear, "I'm rescuing us both."

Ben seemed more English in England somehow. Maybe because he was wearing a giant wool overcoat and his accent got heavier the more time he spent here. They had gone out for pints last night with Tilly and her fiance, Alec. Their accents got thicker with each round. Bea thought she was going to need subtitles before the last order.

"What are you smiling about?" He said, interrupting her wayward thoughts.

Bea tugged at his plaid scarf (not knit by Tilly, thank goodness). "You look like a cologne ad."

"Hmm. That sounds good. Is it good?" Ben raised an eyebrow.

"It's good. Just no actual cologne, please. That stuff was foul."

"You promised not to tease me about the Lynx Body Spray years," He said in a mock serious tone.

She leaned over and gave him an impulsive kiss on the cheek, even with the scratchy beard. She couldn't help it. He didn't smell like cologne, thank goodness. He smelled like clean soap and fresh air and everything wonderful.

Now Ben smiled. "What was that for?"

"For being you."

He cleared his throat and stopped abruptly. "Shall we have a seat? I doubt they'll mind."

He made an elaborate flourishing gesture to one of the smaller crypts. It was a simple gray building with a set of stairs leading up to a locked entrance. The little overhang had kept the stairs dry and it looked like a cozy, albeit a little morbid, place to sit.

She read the inscription on the door before sitting down. It seemed rude not to. "Here lies the Shakespeare family, died in July 1564. "

"That was the plague year," Ben said, interrupting.

"You would know that," Bea said, teasing, but she secretly liked he always knew random trivia. Their team always killed on pub quiz nights and how else could they get in ridiculous fights about everything?

She continued on. "John, the father. It says here he was a city alderman. Must be why they got a nice crypt. Mary was the mother." She ran her hand down the stone, names worn down smooth by the years. "Joan, Margaret. They were little girls. And here's the last, 'William.' He was a just a baby."

She sank down on the steps next to Ben and tilted her head onto his shoulder. "That's so sad. The whole family gone at once. Do you ever think except for a few changes, everything might have been different?"

"What do you mean? " Ben wrapped his arm around her waist, tucking her under the huge coat. She snuggled in a little closer to him, shivering. No wonder Brits were constantly drinking tea, was it ever warm here?

She twisted her fingers round and round, as if she could turn over the thoughts in her head. Ben was usually the one with nervous energy, but she'd had a lot on her mind lately. "What if you hadn't moved to New Zealand? What if we'd never gotten over fighting with each other? What if we really broke up when you went to uni? "

He shrugged, an easy, loose-limbed gesture. "Maybe we would have found each other anyways. I clearly wasn't meant to go to university. Not right now anyways."

Bea harrumphed. It was not her crotchety old emu noise, no matter what Hero said.

Ben kept going. "I mean, think about it, what haven't we overcome so far? You've always wanted to travel around the world. You've always had a thing for English guys. Right?" He smirked at her.

"Certain English guys. It's a select group."

"There you are. You could have strolled into a pub in some sleepy little town in England and instantly fallen for my good looks and charisma." He said it in his cocky voice that could infuriate her or make her laugh, depending on the situation.

"I'm sure that's exactly what would have happened." She rolled her eyes. "What if I had met Benedict Cumberbatch first?"

"I think I could take him," Ben waved off her concerns like it was nothing.

Bea made a second harrumph. "It's sexist and demeaning for men to fight over women like a trophy."

"Too right, " he said, totally unruffled by her annoyed tone.

At first she was going to tease him for giving in so easily to her argument, but the image of the two Bens squaring off made her giggle too hard. "Really? You'd take him down?"

"Probably not, but I'm scrappy and willing to fight dirty. I'm trying to say maybe we were meant to be."

"Maybe." She kicked at a pile of brown leaves. They were running out of time. She had already made arrangements to start uni when they got back. She'd tried to ask him, gently and carefully, about what his plans for next year were, but so far he had none. He would shrug, tell a joke, and change the subject.

"You're distracting me here. I'm trying to ask you something." Ben fumbled around in his coat pocket.

"Uhh," She felt a rush of something. Her heart wasn't really racing, was it? That wasn't something that happened to real hearts in real life? She had been trying to get him to think more about the future, but she didn't want to think this far in the future. Did she?

Ben pulled out their tattered list of places to visit. He smoothed it out over his knee. "Look, I know we talked about flying back to Australia to spend some time with your parents, but could we maybe stay a little longer? I want to show you a real English Christmas. We can be with your family for the New Year. My parents offered to help pay for the change in the cost, if you're interested."

She pressed her hand to her chest. "Oh my god, yes. You scared me to death."

Ben frowned, but he was more confused than angry. "Why? What did you think I was going to ask you?"

She shook her head. "Nothing." She felt a bit ridiculous at where her head had gone to.

Thankfully, Tilly found them then and took them on another expedition.

She was thrilled to be staying, really. But telling her parents hadn't been easy.

"I thought it was going to be so special. We were all going to be together at home this year." Her mother's voice quavered. Bea couldn't tell if the connection was breaking up from the distance or if her Mum about to cry.

"You and Dad live in Australia full time now. It's not home." She rubbed her forehead. Where was home? After almost a year of traveling, she wasn't sure she knew anymore. She wanted to see her family, but her mother was so unreasonable sometimes.

Her mother made a hmmm noise. Bea knew that noise.

"We're almost done with the route we planned, Mum. We'll be back in January."

"What comes next, Beatrice? Has Ben found himself yet?" Her mother's voice was coming in loud and clear now. And it was dripping with sarcasm.

"He's got some plans," Bea said, hedging. She twisted at the fringe of a blanket. Tilly crocheted some really crazy things. This one was flame orange with neon green stripes.

"So no job, then. "

"I don't have a job yet either." Bea pointed out.

"But you're going to university in Wellington. Maybe he needs to go back to Auckland and live with his parents for a bit. You have goals. What is he going to do, be a barista, a bartender, a house husband?"

"Would any of those things be so bad?"

"You have a lot of ambitions and dreams for your life. I don't want someone dragging you down. "

"Ben doesn't drag me down. He helps me. . . be me," she said, helpless to describe it any other way.

"I know you both think you're in love, but you're so young. Give yourselves both sometime to grow up, okay?"

Bea managed to make her excuses and got off the phone quickly after that. It was amazing how talking to her mother could always make her feel worse. It was a gift, really. This called for one thing. Emergency chat with Hero.

Chapter Text

Bea glanced at the clock. Early morning here (Mum always insisted she call at dinnertime), but Hero was in an evening class at university, so she really shouldn't call or text. But. . .

Bea popped open her laptop. History was Hero's least favorite class, so maybe. . . yes! Her chat window was open.

"Hiya. Can we talk for a second?" She sat and watched the dots whir for what felt like an eternity.

"Bea!" Bee emoji. "Is everything okay? Isn't it really early there?" Worried face, tired face. Hero went a little overboard with this emoji stuff sometimes.

"Phone call with Mum. Also, I thought Ben was going to propose yesterday. Kind of panicked."

"How romantic!!!" Diamond ring emoji, followed by lots of hearts and kissing faces.

"So romantic that I'm freaking out?"

"You've been wanting Ben to think more about the future, right?" Thinking face.

"Yeah, but I was thinking more like, do we want to get a dog? Not, are we going to swear our everlasting devotion to each other?"

Bea chewed on a fingernail. Was the wifi particularly slow today, or was that her imagination?

"Puppies are so cute." Dog emoji, heart eyes.

"They are cute, but you're missing the point."

"Bea, it's very simple. Why are you scared?" No emojis this time. Bea didn't need to see Hero to picture her expression. Hero would be sitting with a little smile, able to sit patiently forever for Bea to answer her question. Bea couldn't lie to that face.

Bea's hands hovered over the keyboard for a minute. Then she forced herself to type. "Because I feel like none of this is real. Flitting from place to place. We're going to go back home. What if everything between us vanishes when we have to be real adults? "

"Are students really adults?" Winky face. "You two have fought on this trip, yeah?" Angry face.

"Sooo many times."

"And gotten scared?" Scared face. "And gotten sick and taken care of each other?" Sick face, then toilet emoji.

"Yuck, Hero. How did you get a reputation as the sweet innocent one?"

"Yes or no?"

"Yes. We've definitely done all of those things."

"Neither of you has run off?" Goodbye hand wave, then running shoes, then a puff of smoke. Okay, that one was kind of clever.

"No."

"There you go then. The thing is, you need to talk to Ben about this. Not me. Must go, History prof is staring me down." Kissing face. Then she was gone.

"Hero, wait!" But it was no use. Hero had exited the chat. Bea was alone with still no clue of how to talk to Ben about this. Her stomach was turning inside out. She liked to think she was brave (Gryffindor, all the way), but this? Not about this.

She tiptoed into the tiny guest room. Weak winter light filtered in through the curtains. Ben was on his back, fast asleep. When he was awake he was almost always fidgeting, but now he looked older, somehow. Peaceful. It seemed a shame to wake him.

But Hero did say to talk to him. She probably meant talk to him when he was awake, right? The problem was, Bea felt like she would jump out of her skin any minute. Now that "talk to Ben" was on her mental to do list, she couldn't think of anything else.

She made a quick detour to the kitchen for a cup of tea and grabbed some Jaffa Cakes. If she was going to wake him up, the least she could do was bribe him. Her mouth watered at the smell of chocolate, but she resisted the urge. It was going to an important cause. She set the tea carefully by the night stand and fussed with the cup and saucer, hoping the smell of English Breakfast would wake him up. Ben had often said it would revive a dead Englishman.

Not this Englishman. Ben let out a contented sigh and rolled over.

She stared at the ceiling. She shouldn't do this. She could be an adult. They could have this conversation later. Except she knew she would wimp out or he would toss out a snarky comment and she would drop it. They would kick the conversation down the road. Again.

Slowly, carefully she reached out and poked him with her index finger.

"Wha!" Ben sat straight up in bed. His hair stuck up all over and he looked endearingly rumpled.

"Sorry. Sorry. It's me." Bea patted his arm.

Ben rubbed at the sleep in his eyes. "It's so early. Why did you wake me up?"

"I'm scared, okay?"

Ben's face looked confused for a minute. Then his expression cleared. "Did you have the nightmare about giant jellyfish again?" He held open his arms. "Come on. Lie down. I told you banoffee pie right before bed was a mistake."

"No. Not that kind of scared." Bea wrapped her arms around herself. Why was this so hard to say? She stared down at her feet and mumbled, "I'mscaredaboutus."

"About us?" Ben said. It still wasn't sinking in.

"About what happens when we go back to home. It's like we'll have to start over again."

"Oh that." He slid up in bed, grabbed the tea, and took a cautious sip. "This is amazing. Thank you." But he didn't meet her eyes.

"Oh that? Is that all you're going to say?" Bea puffed out a sigh.

He put his teacup down. It made a loud clink in the quiet of the room. "You talked to Hermione, didn't you?"

Bea nodded. "Then I talked to Hero. It made me feel better, but she still said I should talk to you."

"She's right, of course. Okay, Hermione, is Hermione. But what else is bothering you? Your mum is always crazy. This is not new."

This was the embarrassing part. She picked at the sheets. "The other day in the graveyard, I thought you were going to propose. It kind of freaked me out."

"What? I'm insulted. You know I would pull off something way more amazing than a graveyard proposal. There's going to be mimes and maybe fire. Oooh, mimes on fire." He tapped his fingers together, evil genius style. "Might need to write that down."

God, he probably would do that. Skywriting, fireworks, something ridiculous.

It took a second for her to process the rest of what he said or rather, what he had not said. She glanced up from the fuzz on the linens. "You're not upset I was scared of getting married?"

Ben grinned. "It's like you think I don't know you, Bea. Of course you're scared. But being scared doesn't stop you from doing something. It never has."

"I'm scared we'll change," she said in a whisper.

"We will. We're only twenty years old. I for one, plan to age amazingly. Picture this," he framed his beard with his hands, "with a little salt to go with the pepper."

"Ugh. Hard pass."

He rubbed his fingers along his chin. "I hadn't really thought about dyeing it, but I do love you. I might consider it for a price. Maybe if you brought me tea every morning. There would have to be biscuits too." He took a bite of one. "Mmmm."

"You never take this seriously, Ben." Anger was bubbling up in her and she could hear her voice rising. "This is exactly what I'm talking about!"

"What do you want me to say? I'm scared too?" Ben was shouting too now, great.

"You are?" Bea said. She rocked back a little. She was shocked but weirdly pleased at the same time.

"Of course. Bea, you want to set the world on fire. Sometimes it's all I can do to keep up. I'm worried I won't be enough for you." Ben's voice was still heated, but he was quieter. He had that intense serious look in his eyes. It meant he was telling her something important.

Bea bit her lip. "You're enough for me. You're more than enough. " She wanted to tell him how important he was to her, how much this trip had meant, but nothing would come out. Crap. Where was Balthazar with a melody when you needed him? She reached for his hand, patted it awkwardly.

Ben smiled. "There you go then. We'll just have to change together."

"For the rest of our lives?"

"That's the plan." Ben took a bite of Jaffa Cake.

She scootched in next to him and stretched out her legs. "Doesn't it scare you? It's so big, so permanent. How can it be that simple?"

"How can it be that complicated? We love each other. We're both brilliant. We'll figure it out. We always do. It's not like we have to get married tomorrow. Besides, being with you is one of the few things, I'm absolutely, positively sure about." He held up a Jaffa Cake. "Come on. Have one." He placed it carefully between his lips and then waggled his eyebrows at her.

She couldn't help it, she laughed. Maybe a tiny part of her wasn't scared anymore.

It turned out, the "real English Christmas" Ben had promised meant lots of being dragged around to meet distant relatives. That wasn't even including all the relatives who had squeezed into Tilly's flat. Every time Bea turned around, she stepped on a Hobbes. Okay, it was going to be cool to watch all the Christmas specials snuggled up under a blanket with lots of hot cocoa. Bea was even hoping there might be a sprinkle of snow. But nothing had been exactly what she hoped for.

So far there was rain. Lots and lots of it. She missed barbecues, fresh fruit. hanging out with Hero, her aunties on the beach. That's what Christmas meant to her.

And Christmas Eve definitely did not mean standing on the stage of an Elizabethan theater, at night. In the freezing cold. Some Marlowe-heads, as they called themselves, had paid to have the Rose Theater restored a few years ago. And it was beautiful, like something out of a fairy tale. High beams criss-crossing until there was a perfect round circle letting in the night sky. Between the clouds and the light pollution, there wasn't a lot to see, but it still felt somehow amazing to look up into darkness stretching upward. No rain, for once. The traffic had settled into a muted hum, since most people were home, getting ready for tomorrow. It almost could have been four hundred years ago, right before a performance.

But it wasn't a warm summer's day. They were here when it was empty. The whole place was a bit spooky.

"Okay, okay," Bea said. "Why are we here?" Her voice echoed and bounced off the walls.

"My uncle Oberon knows someone who knows someone. It's beautiful isn't it? Can't you feel it? Creaking floorboards, the smell of roasted hazelnuts, roar of the crowd."

"The smell of the crowd," Bea said, unable to resist teasing him a bit more. "Does your Uncle Oberon also know someone who owns a tarp?"

"That would spoil the affect." Ben gestured at the open air above them.

"Seriously, Ben, what are we doing here, besides freezing our tits off?"

"Beatrice, language, really. "

She raised an eyebrow.

"I wanted to be alone to give you your Christmas present. I was certain my family wouldn't follow us out here. Well, 99.9 percent certain," he said, glancing nervously behind him.

"If this is a possum fur g string, you will be in big, big trouble."

"Still touchy about your birthday present, I see. You said you wanted something from home. "

"I meant some of Hero's home baked cookies. Not a tacky gag gift from some tourist shop. I haven't completely forgiven Meg for helping you either. "

"It's not a g string." He pulled out a small box.

Something large got stuck in her throat. Like she'd swallowed a grapefruit whole. And she hated grapefruits.

She took it, hands shaking.

"It's not a ring, I swear."

But she noticed his hands were shaking a little too.

The box opened with a little snap. A shiny set of keys with a Time-Turner key chain.

"They're the keys to Freddie's flat in Wellington. She and Kit are moving to Rototaura to open up a coffee shop. I've worked out a deal. It's ours for the next year. If we want it. If you want it. You can go to school. Go into law like you've been planning. Save the world. Hero can live with us. Or Pedro and Balthazar. Meg. Whoever."

"Are you saying you want all of Messina to move in?"

"No, I'm saying, we pick our flatmates, we decide the rules. Together."

Bea flipped the keychain over and over again. Smooth, cool, and shiny, promising something new. But not really that new, just changing, evolving. "But what are you going to do?"

He scruffed a hand through his hair. It stood up on end like it used to when they were younger. He smiled a little nervous half smile. He had a full beard now (neatly trimmed, thank you very much Grandmother Hobbes for the nagging) and it was like she could see all the Bens she'd ever known, right back to the gawky fourteen year old who first argued with her about everything all those years ago. Maybe she could even see a little glimpse of future Ben, of the man he was becoming.

"I don't know, whatever. Be with you. Work. Sort myself out. It's not a marriage or a civil union. If you don't want. It's not anything we don't want it to be. "

She took a step closer, then paused dramatically. "Of course you would steal my speech." She was trying for her best mock hurt voice.

Ben gave her a 'really, we're doing this?' look. "I thought you might be flattered. I wouldn't quite call it a speech, more like a brief statement."

"Um, excuse me, it was a defining moment in our relationship, but I forgive you your plagiarism."

He reached out and tapped the key chain. "I'm saying I want more time with you. And if the flat in Wellington isn't right, let's figure out something together. I thought about a Tardis key chain at first, but this one seemed more special because, well, you know why. "

Bea smirked. She couldn't help it. "Yeah, I haven't forgotten. Our first kiss. I kissed you first, remember?"

"You bloody attacked me. I feared for my life for a moment."

"I did not attack you!" She stepped back. The floorboard squeaked. "I think I'm honestly offended."

"Would you like to go back and watch the unedited footage?"

Panic grabbed at her throat. "Benedick Hobbes, please tell me you did not save that."

"It's in a very safe location. " Ben grinned.

Bea's pulse kicked up. Her fear must have shown because Ben shook his head. "Joking, joking. Although it might have been fun to show the kids someday."

Bea blushed. Blushing? What? She was just going to ignore that second sentence. "I didn't attack you. I lost my balance. You were certainly never going to make a move."

Ben threw up his hands. "I didn't know I was supposed to be making a move. You had just stopped hating me. I wasn't sure if we were friends, most days."

Okay, looking back. . . She had kind of lunged at him a bit. He was just being so different. So, not Ben. There had been this weird "something" in the air between them, ever since the last video. The one Leo had barged in on.

At first she thought she could just ignore the tension, but when Ben was talking, she had this weird moment of clarity. They couldn't go back to what they were before and she didn't want to. The only way out was through, even if it blew up in her face. She had hopped up from his bed and tried to kiss him to stop him from talking. Instead of being spontaneously romantic, she had managed to take both of them down, tumbling on the floor. Once they had stopped laughing, she had kissed him. And he had kissed her back. The rest of that whole video was filled with awkward, lovely moments. Thank god for editing, that's all she had to say.

But she wasn't going to say that right now. His ego didn't need any help tonight.

Instead she rolled her eyes. "I was sitting on your bed. Wearing your shirt. You were the only person who made sense in my life then. And there you were being kind and rambling on and on to cheer me up -"

"I was not rambling." Ben interrupted. "I was discussing a very important topic, thank you very much. Time travel is worthy of serious academic stud-"

Bea pressed one finger to his lips. His mouth slammed shut, mid sentence. "Ben, you were babbling. You're very cute when you babble."

Ben nodded, still not speaking. He swallowed hard. It was killing him not to talk. She could tell.

"I'm going to kiss you now. Try not to fall over."

She stepped into his arms, leaning in for a kiss. Then at the last minute she pulled back. "But that beard better fucking go."

"So is this a yes on the flat in Wellington?" Ben's voice was a grumpy mumble.

"Yes, that's yes."

"Seal it with a kiss then," he said in kind of a bossy tone.

She'd usually say no just on general principle, but she had been looking forward to this time alone as much as he had, maybe more. So she kissed him. No one fell over, but her knees wobbled a bit. She hoped she'd never stop feeling this way when she kissed Ben. Like time could stretch and spin and there was only the two of them in the whole world.

If only there wasn't an irritating tickling sensation at her hair and neck. It was even sneaking under her wooly scarf and hat set (early gift from Tilly, of course). She paused, looked up. White flecks were swirling gently from the sky. They dusted her face. Cold, so cold. She touched her face in wonder. Wet. It couldn't be.

"Ben, snow. Real snow on Christmas!" She shrieked and started jumping up and down. She couldn't help it. She'd never thought she'd see this. Not in a million years.

Ben grabbed the Time-Turner out of her fist, held it up just out of reach. "I bet you'd want to live this moment over and over again if you could."

Bea shook her head. "Nah. Too many good times ahead."

Chapter Text

The exodus is here/The happy ones are near/Let's get together before we get much older.

"Baba O'Riley" The Who

They arrived sweaty, exhausted and more than a little jetlagged on New Year's Day in Auckland. There was also the not entirely welcome surprise of Bea's parents waiting to pick them up at the airport.

"I thought Hero was picking us up," Ben said in his best whisper voice (the one that was not so whispery).

"I did too." Bea did her best to give her mother a smile she didn't quite feel. Her mum squeezed her so tight, Bea was worried about breathing for a minute. Her father awkwardly patted her on the back and wiped furiously at his eyes. So situation normal here.

"Ben, lovely to see you again," Hermione said and gave Ben an awkward stiff-armed hug.

Bea got an awful feeling the surprises had just begun.

They dropped Ben off at his parents' house first. But now she was at the aunties' place. It had a certain smell, Hero's flowery candles mixed with something unmistakably home. Summer light bounced off the kitchen counters and the pine cabinets, giving everything a warm glow.

Certain things were different, she noticed without really noticing. Leo's medical instructions pinned on the note board. A new juicer for his complicated health drinks. She's heard something about kale. Ugh.

The aunties, Leo, and Hero had all gone out to buy a welcome home dinner of fish and chips. Bea wished someone had stayed behind so she could have a common ally against the parental onslaught.

"You want to do what?" She tapped at the little knife nick she had made on the counter two years ago (a near miss with her thumb) to make sure she was in the right place and had not fallen into a parallel dimension.

"I think we should take a holiday and spend some time together as a family. Before your term starts and we barely see you." Hermione repeated the words again.

"But I've been traveling for a year. Ben and I were going to get our flat organized and then -" Bea paused.

Her mum pressed her lips into a firm line.

"You're hoping if we take a break from each other we'll fizzle out. Holiday romances, yeah? Dad, you're in on this too?" Her dad wouldn't even look at her, which told her all she needed to know.

The stillness hung in the air. One beat. Two beats. Then loud voices drifted in from the outside. Dogberry and Verges, having some very weird and very animated discussion outside. Some people didn't change, at least.

Her mother plowed on, ignoring the awkwardness. "We know you're going to fight us on this, but -"

That's exactly what they wanted her to do. Argue so they could point how childish she was being. Instead she pasted a sickly simper on her face and folded her arms (to restrain herself from throwing something). "No, it's fine. South Island? Nelson, hmmm? Should be lovely this time of year." She was going to be an adult about it if it killed her.

**

"They're being positively medieval." Bea fumed. Just because she had to be calm and mature for her parents, doesn't mean she couldn't vent to Ben. Even if she was interrupting him at his new job in a cafe. Seeing him in an apron making flat whites was going to take some getting used to.

Ben shrugged. "Bea, they haven't seen you for a year. Plus, isn't Hero going? Might be nice for her to get a break. I'm sure it's been rough for her."

Bea chewed on her lip. It still aggravated her. She snapped her fingers. "We should get married, that would show them."

Ben raised his eyebrows up to heretofore-unseen levels. "Pardon?"

She burst into laughter. "The look on your face. It's priceless, really."

But he didn't laugh. He made a hmmm noise. He was thinking about something. "You know, they couldn't keep us apart. If we did get married. We're legally adults. Nothing is stopping us."

"Truuuue," Bea said. She had been joking around, right? Was he calling her bluff?

He didn't say anything more just ran a rag over the big steampunky looking espresso maker. It was how some other blokes would fondle a sports car. Honestly, Ben.  He didn't look scared anymore, more like he was mulling something over.

He looked up, mid polish.  "How long does it take to get a marriage license anyways?"

Bea's hair stood on end. All of it. At once. "You're kidding, right?"

"Try me." He put down his rag. He kept his face calm and still, eyes on her, determined.

Oh goody, a staring contest. They used to do these when they were younger and she always won. Always, always. She propped her chin on her fists, elbows on the counter and did her best intimidation glare. He stuck his tongue out. She kept on glaring.

Finally he blinked and looked away. "Got me."

"Oh my god. I thought you were serious for a moment." She laughed and grasped at her chest dramatically.

"Marriage would be a tiny bit drastic." Ben pinched his fingers together to show how tiny. "Besides, didn't you say marriage is a disgusting, outdated institution?" "

"Yeah, true." She fidgeted with her cappuccino, the roasty aroma giving her a secondhand buzz. If he had been joking, why wasn't he smiling?

"Oi, this is all very sweet, but could I get some service here?' There was a harried mother with a sticky toddler at the counter. How long had she been there?

"Of course!" Ben put on his biggest grin. Bea did her best to slink into the shadows. She found a back table with a cute little succulent and took a first sip of Ben's coffee. It wasn't bad for his first day.

After the mum had placed her order (double espresso and two chocolate croissants. That kid was going to be bouncing off the ceiling) Bea sidled back up to the counter.

"I'm sorry, miss, can I help you?" Ben smirked.

"A break isn't going to kill us," she said. She had been giving herself a stern talking to while she was waiting.

"True. Besides, I've got this job here. When you're back, I'll have our flat set up. Unless you think you can't live without me for two weeks."

"Ha! Ha, ha!" She added for good measure. "I think it's more likely you can't live with me for two weeks."

"It's a bet then."

"A bet I will win, but I am still going to miss you. A lot. Dickface." She added for good measure.

"I love you too, Bea."

**

The only good thing about this holiday is she got to spend time with Hero, Leo, and the aunties. They did kayaking (Leo's idea) and managed to not get too drenched. When they went to the Queens Gardens, Bea snapped many beautiful pictures of Hero dramatically sniffing flowers. There were art galleries and historic homes for the adults. Bea didn't fight with her mum (much) and it was good to be happy and together. She and Ben would text each other back and forth. Not a lot, but a bit. He kept sending pictures of latte art (there were several lopsided hearts).  She sent him sunsets, birds, and a rock that looked like David Tennant's profile. She was laughing and happy most of the time.

But in the evenings, Bea would slip away from the board games and drinks and sit on the porch by herself. She would stare out at the gray green landscape and watch the sun slip beyond the horizon. Something about the familiar colors, the sounds, and the smells made her feel so strange. She knew she was close to home, but she wasn't the girl who left a year ago. She and Ben had a plan for the next year, but would it work? Were they crazy to move into together? Traveling together and living together were two different things. She wished she was sophisticated enough to sip some wine and at least look glamorous in her moodiness, but usually she brought out a bottle of L&P and picked at her fingernails and tried not to think about Ben.

Everyone was giving her some space, but on the fifth night Hero slipped out to join her." It's okay to miss him."

Bea made a half disgusted, half embarrassed noise. "I don't miss him. It's fine. I spent a year with him. We don't have to be connected at the hip."

Hero smiled.

"Okay. I will admit to you and only you that I miss him. Happy?"

"Very. I think you've experienced a lot of emotional growth." Hero gave a little self-satisfied nod.

Bea made a yuck face. "Emotional growth? What a disgusting thought. Anything else I can do to make your day?"

Hero cleared her throat meaningfully. "I was going to ask a a favor. I heard something really scary last night, Bea. I think I'd like to switch bedrooms."

Bea frowned. "Your room has all those sliding glass doors. It's the spot where all the morning sun comes in."

"Yes and think of how beautiful it will be with the view." Hero made a grand gesture out at the landscape. "The birds will sing you awake in the morning."

"It will be unbearable. Ugh. I hate sunrise. It's so. . . early." Bea couldn't think of another word to describe how disgusting and awful it was. "No human should be awake at that hour."

" But, Bea. The noise. It was like a werewolf scratching at the door." Hero did her best to make her dainty hand into a scary claw. "I won't get any sleep thinking about it. You're so much more brave than I am. Plus, you sleep really deeply."

"Hero, we're in literally one of the safest place on earth. What is going to hurt you in the middle of the night? A hedgehog?"

Hero bit her lip. "Please, Bea. Please." She gave her best Bambi face.

How could Bea say no? No one could.

"Fine."  She took another swig of the lemony, fizzy L&P, feeling like she already regretted this. 

Bea got all of her things out of her room, but she put off going to bed as long as she could. Everyone else said their good nights and slowly drifted off to bed. Hero''s bedroom (now hers) doubled as a front room out onto the porch. It was nice to have the extra space to sprawl out. For now, anyways. Bea thought grumpily about what it was going to be like at about six in the morning. She pulled at the blinds, but the glass doors were huge. She knew sunlight was going to manage to sneak in somehow. The things she did for her sweet, adorable cousin.

She stretched out on the sofa bed with "The Last Man" by Mary Shelley. It had some crazy post-apocalypse setting, but she found herself nodding off by page 15. She was having plague zombie dreams when suddenly a tap, tap, tap sound woke her up.

Ugh, what creature was knocking at window? It was the middle of the night. She felt blindly for a shoe, wanting to chuck it at the wild, ferocious hedgehog and fall back asleep, when she heard -

"Shhh, shhh. Let me in. " A shadowy figure stood on the other side of the glass door.

What the hell? Too tall to be a werewolf. Zombies didn't talk. Think, Bea, think!  It was vampires you had to invite in, wasn't it? She'd always wanted to meet a vampire. She'd chat with him for a bit and shoo him away, like a door-to-door salesman. She was great at getting into arguments with them and scaring them away

"Bea, it's me!" Okay, now she knew she was dreaming. The voice sounded really familiar and English. A vampire being British, that wasn't surprising. But why would he know her name?

She walked to the sliding glass door, tripping over another shoe in the dark. She heard a chuckle from the porch. Vampires didn't chuckle did they? Something started to tick over in her brain. But it didn't really make sense, not until she unlatched the door and slid it open.

Ben. It was Ben, but he didn't look right. Something was off. She couldn't quite put it together.

The cicadas were clicking. The birds were making their night calls. A breeze stirred at the blinds, making a little clack clack sound. If this was a dream, it was very vivid. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to will herself out of the murky depths of sleep.

Wait a minute. Ah ha. Solved it. 

"You're not a vampire. You're a ghost."

Boo." Ben said and held up a package of Caramel Tim Tams.

Like that, she knew it had to be real. Only her real Ben would bring her favorite flavor of Tim Tams in the middle of the night. Why did he still look strange? She reached out for his face. He tilted his cheek into her hand.

"Your beard, it's gone," she said, sounding like a dumbstruck idiot. She ran her fingers over his freshly shaved skin. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"I told you I'd shave it off when we got home. We're home." Ben smiled. 

He stepped over the threshold and slid the door shut behind him. Oh, that was very smooth, she had to give him credit for that.

"I'm still dreaming." Her heart hammered.  It can't be, it can't be, it can't be.   Her brain couldn't get out of a crazy loop. So she pinched him.

"Ow!" He pinched her back, which devolved into a tickle fight. Which somehow became him walking her backwards and both of them falling onto the sofa bed in a heap.

She managed to tackle him and gain the upper hand, but then stopped mid-tickle. "Hang on. What are you doing here?"

Ben took advantage of her confusion and leaned up to whisper in her ear. "I came for the amazing king shag."

Bea groaned and dropped her head on his chest. "Oh my god, Ben. I already know the shag's a bird. Were you working on that one for the whole drive?"

"Yes. I'm quite proud, thank you," he squeezed her a little tighter.

"Wait, you really did drive?" That took hours.

" I don't have the budget for last minute air travel. I spent most of my life's savings traveling around the world with this wonderful woman. Love of my life, really."

"You drove and took the ferry?"  Bea said, ignoring the compliment and still trying to process what was happening.

"Sadly, I don't have a flying car. So, yes, I took the ferry. All miserable three hours. Can we focus on the adoring, sweet things I'm saying to you?"

"You weren't sick, were you?" Bea pulled back a little, afraid to smell his breath. She remembered an awful boat ride to the island of Mykonos involving multiple paper bags.

"Astonishingly, no, but I did pack a tiny toothbrush just in case." He patted his shirt pocket. "Always prepared, that's me."

A grin started to take over her face. "You know what this means?"

"My boss is incredibly generous with giving leave to new employees?"

"You couldn't live without me. I win the bet," Bea said smugly.

"It's true. I was wasting away. The customers found the crying into their drinks orders terribly distracting."   Ben sighed heavily.

Bea patted his cheek, reveling in a hint of stubble rather than a disgusting forest. "What am I going to do with you?"  

His eyes lit up. "I had a few ideas. Unless you can't be quiet."

Bea yelped with annoyance. "I can't be quiet? I can't be quiet? You're the one who nearly got us kicked out of that vineyard in Dordogne."

"They're French, but it's like they don't believe in love," Ben said with a air of mock disapproval.

"Anyways, we don't have to worry because everyone else is on the other side of the house. Hero made me switch because-" She paused. The last piece fell into place.

Ben looked away. In the dim light, she could just make out a certain shiftiness to his expression.  No, it couldn't be.

"Hero?"  Bea's voice rose to a squeak. "That little demon. She was in on it the whole time?  I can't believe you two did this behind my back."

"Well, you know, I could go." Ben made a move to get up.

"No. No. Stay." She clamped his wrists down. Tight.

They stared at each other both a little restless, a little giddy. She was suddenly very aware that she was straddling his lap. And apparently he had been missing her as much as she had missed him.

"It's nice to see you." Ben's voice came out slightly breathy and strange.

"It's nice to be seen." Then Bea leaned down and gave him a gentle kiss as the morning light came in over the horizon.

Turned out they could both be quiet. When they really had to be. And maybe sunrises weren't all bad after all.

Chapter Text

Though the course may change sometimes/Rivers always reach the sea.

"Ten Years Gone" Led Zepplin

Life went on changing. Like it would, no matter how much she wanted to grab onto it like a terrier with all her teeth and not let go. 

Leo had a rough time of it with chemo, but when he’d been in remission for a year he went out to celebrate with his friends, hit on one of his former oncology nurses, Marianna, without recognizing her outside of her uniform. After they had a good laugh, she closed down the bar with him and his friends. They’d been inseparable ever since. On his two-year anniversary of being in remission, they had a quick civil ceremony and held an enormous barbecue the next day.

Bea got a sunburn (even with a hat and sunnies on), but had to admit it was pretty fun. At least it was after they got Leo soaked with water balloons. He got them back. By the time they served hokey pokey ice cream (Leo and Marianna’s had a little bride and groom on top of theirs, of course) everyone was drenched and grinning and laughing.

(“It wasn’t terrible,” she admitted to Ben, afterwards.

“A ringing endorsement,” he said, but gave her a kiss on the forehead.)

It was all right, she supposed for Leo to settle down. He was older than the rest of them and surviving cancer had not dimmed him exactly, but brought him a little closer to earth. But not the rest of them, they had living to do. Then her friends, the traitors, all started getting married.

Oh, it didn’t happen right away. There was uni and big moves. There was law school, grad school, med school for various people. Awful, awful jobs. Dramatic breakups and hookups. Movie marathons and road trips. But slowly, slowly. Those sneaky bastards started pairing up. Moving in together. Getting engaged. It was no good pointing it out to people. Even Ben was no help.

(“We live together. We're paired up. We’re practically a matched pair of socks, at this point.” He threw a pair of (clean!) socks at her.

She caught the socks and threw them back, a very clean shot to the middle of his chest. “Shut up. We’re different.”

But she caught a little smile on his face as he went back to putting his laundry away.)

First it was Pedro and Balthazar. Pedro proposed after his graduation ceremony, on some weird high from too much champagne and future goals staring him down.

(“They’re too young.” She wailed to Ben after the group text chat celebrating the news.

“Mary Godwin was seventeen when she married Shelley.” He glanced up from an open ornithology textbook, fidget in hand. Fife and Drums blared somewhere in the background. She had learned not to question “The Method” as he loftily called it.

“Exactly my point! Mary Shelley had a terrible marriage. Ugh, I’ll never understand why she loved that cheating bastard.”

 He set both her phone and textbook aside. “Okay. Time for a study break. Cocoa or tea?”)

The Jones Donaldson wedding was a big, lavish event, funded by the Donaldsons, of course. Roses, catered sit down dinner, the whole bit. They were all expected to stand up for the two in an enormous non gender specific wedding party (wedding squad! Meg kept saying, trying to get it to catch on on social media). Of course Bea was flattered to be included, but it all got to be a bit much. Her jokes about a pumpkin carriage and singing mice were not widely appreciated.

They wrote their own vows. Balthy's were a song, of course. It was more beautiful than anything he'd written before. Pedro wrote a mushy poem, which okay, it made her roll her eyes a bit, but Balthy deserved mushy after the shit Pedro had put him through. Balthy cried. Pedro cried. Hero bawled. Even Ben wiped away some tears. Manly tears, he assured her. 

It was a gorgeous day, she had to admit. Romantic, if you liked that type of thing, But she didn’t feel her chin wobble, not even for a second. She did manage to sniff a bit, but only because the flowers had a lot of pollen. Bea started to wonder if something was wrong with her.

It was quiet on the matrimonial front for a while, but she felt like a prey animal, squinting at the savanna waiting for a giant hairy beast to attack. Everyone was busy with their careers and starting out.

Then Kit and Freddie got pregnant, had a gorgeous baby girl named Rosalind, and threw a surprise wedding on her third birthday. The theme was” costume party creative. Ben went as the Tenth Doctor. Bea went as River Song. Because as much as she adored Donna, it was hard to beat a time traveling archaeologist. 

("Is that a sonic screwdriver in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Ben started laughing, then hugged her tighter. "How long have you been saving that one?")

The whole afternoon was so chill and so them, she didn't even mind it took three days to rinse the princess glitter out of her hair.

Ursula moved to Melbourne for film school, met a gorgeous girl named Cressida and they agreed to a state of legally non binding polyromantic demisexual roommate union. They were a dryly hilarious duo. Cressida baked amazing homemade croissants whenever they visited. Bea could almost forgive the occasional jokes about New Zealand weather and Kiwis having sex with sheep. Ursula was over the moon levels of happy, so all good there.

Meg shocked all of them (or maybe none of them) by flying off to Los Angeles on a whim during a long winter break and refusing to leave. There were many Instagram photos by the pool and late night video chats. She became a Tik Tok celebrity image consultant, whatever that meant. 

Even Dogberry and Verges eloped in Hawaii. Their romance had been a long, tangled saga over the years. It had involved opening a detective agency/thrift store and many other bizarre adventures including some time as professional kazoo players. Maybe? Since Verges, er, Georgia, was still the aunties' neighbors, Bea got to follow it from afar with an occasional update from the Auckland Dukes.

But last of all was Hero. Hero was getting engaged. This one felt the worst. A dagger to the heart. Her little adorable cousin getting married? Wasn’t she supposed to grow up to be a fairy tale princess? Maybe with a talking bunny and the magical ability to turn anything into adorable little strawberry tea cakes with the power of kindness.

It wasn’t surprising at all, just disappointing. Hero and Timon had been an item for a while. They had met in med school. Bea found him annoying, truthfully. For a while, at least. He was preppy and bland, but he devoted his life to fixing little kids' hearts while simultaneously worshiping the ground Hero walked on, so you know he wasn't all bad.

There was one thing still bothering her. She knew she was going to have to talk to someone who was not Hero. And of course the someone was Ben.

She waited a decent amount of time to complain about it. The drive home from the engagement party was plenty long enough.

"Having Leo walk her down the aisle is ridiculous. It's like, is she going to fall over?"

"It's important to her.” He didn’t look up from his phone, playing some sort of game. Whizzing, shouting sounds punctuated his words.

“It’s misogynistic clap trap. She was raised by two amazing, wonderful women. Why can’t they walk her down together?” She pounded on the steering wheel.

“Do her aunties want to walk her down the aisle?”

“No,” she admitted. “They said they’d rather sit and enjoy the whole thing from beginning to end.”

"Uh-huh." He was smart enough not to get drawn into this argument. “Watch the road, please.”

"No one is going to walk me down the aisle when we get married. For sure." 

He turned his phone upside down and turned slightly towards her. "Really?"

"What?" She made a turn, careful not to look at him too closely. 

"You, Beatrice, mentioned getting married. To me. As an actual possibility."

"I’m sure as hell not getting married to anyone else. I've thought about it. Haven't you?" She said, defensive and suddenly worried his answer would be 'no.'

"Of course, I've thought about it. But I also thought you were happy with things as they are now.”

"I'm happy, but maybe being married wouldn't be awful."

"Interesting," he said, lips pressed tight. He went back to his phone, humming something that sounded suspiciously like the wedding march.

But now that she started thinking about it, it all started to feel bleak. Why? Why did they all have to change? Why couldn’t they all still stay up till three in the morning having philosophical discussions about children’s cartoons and eating all the chocolate they wanted?

Ben wasn’t thrilled when she asked this question out loud in the middle of the night.

“Because we just got home after hours and hours stuck in the car. Because I have to get up to walk the dog soon. Because we ate the last of the chocolate when we binge watched Taskmaster last weekend,” he grumbled into his pillow. “Every time Greg Davies glared at Alex Horne for making a bad pun, we had to eat a square of chocolate, remember?”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her in the dark. “You’re right. Thank you for walking Tennant.”

“Mmm, hmmm. Sure. Can we save this particular philosophical discussion for the morning, please? The real morning?”

There was one person she could talk to about this. Right now anyways. Meg. She always forgave Bea for crazy phone calls in the middle of the night. There wasn't much to forgive because she was usually up anyways. When she picked up, club music thumped in the background.

"Meg, everyone is getting married but me," she said. Might as well jump right into it.

Meg tsked. "This sounds like the beginning of a bad romantic comedy. Did you and Ben break up?"

"No." Bea sniffed.

"Do I need to point out to you that I'm not married. I have no intention of getting married? Ever.”

"You're Meg. You're different."

"Thanks?" But Meg made it sound like a question.

"You're glamorous and can't be tied down. Getting married is so serious and grownup. I didn't think we'd -" Bea sighed, struggling for the words.

"Get old, change, and drift apart a bit?" Meg said, finishing off the words.

"Yeah. I thought we were going to be different. I thought we'd be the Golden Girls. Living in a fabulous apartment, living off cheesecake and laughing at how stupid men are.”

"I'd make a great Blanche. You’d have to be Dorothy because you’re the tallest and grumpiest.”

“Thanks?” She managed to imitate Meg's earlier sarcastic tone.

Meg laughed. "You've never been good at coping with change.”

"I can cope with change fine! I traveled around the world."

"You've never been okay with other people changing. You want us all in little boxes.”

Okay, that stung, but it was a little bit true.

"Do you want to get married?" Meg asked.

"Maybe? To Ben, not anyone else."

"Then you need to talk to him. Not me. Change is inevitable. For all of us. You've got to decide what to do about it. Besides, cheer up, sunshine. Women outlive men. We'll do the Golden Girls thing in about fifty years or so. Heaps of time for it.”

Bea should have fallen asleep again, but she dozed off on the couch instead and had a dream she was marrying a cherry cheesecake. Betty White was the officiant. Ben walked her down the aisle, beaming and saying ‘it’s okay, I don’t want her anymore. I’m cured. Can you believe it?” 

She woke up disoriented and in the dark. No Ben shaped lump beside her. She had a second to register that she was on the couch. Then a warm, wet muzzle nudged at her bare foot. She yelped in agony. Quietly.

“Ten,” she groaned. 

Tennnant, Ten for short (yes, Ben, you’re very clever), was a lovely, amazing mutt they had rescued a few years ago. He had a slight problem of feeling the need to wake up at sparrow fart and run for the hills. Bea had to get up on week days for work and didn’t mind doing the early walk then, but she couldn’t face it on weekends. Ben did it then. Usually.

Ten leaned his chin on her lap, snurfling mournfully. She sighed. “Yeah, okay. It wouldn’t kill either of us to let him sleep in for once.”

Pajamas would do for this early. She shuffled into a pair of trainers and threw her hair up into a ponytail, dry mouthed and almost dying for a cup of tea (living with an Englishman for years had changed her, all right?). Trying to sleep was useless at this point. Tennant strained at the leash but she held on firm. They may not be raising the best behaved dog in the world, but nothing was going to get her to run at this god awful hour of the morning. Or any other time.

But, it actually wasn’t terrible. The sun came up over the horizon, giving everything a golden, syrupy glow. Miraculously the Wellington winds had settled down to a breeze for once. After a few minutes of struggling, Tennant chilled out, content to sniff everything rather than lunge at it and lick it to death. She couldn’t name most of the spring flowers (except the easy ones like kōwhai) but they glowed pretty colors in the morning light. She could name all the birds, some even by their calls alone. Some sort of couples’ osmosis, she supposed.

When she returned to the flat, Ben had roused himself out of bed. He was wearing a fuzzy blue bathrobe. There was a little nick on his chin from shaving. It gave her a strange sense of protectiveness for him. He was rummaging through the tea tins, mumbling to himself. 

She hung up Tennant’s leash and grabbed a dog biscuit, still feeling a little off-kilter. “Why do you love me?”

“Why do I love you?” He repeated sleepily, clearly not sure if he had heard her right.

Chapter Text

I like every second, so long as you are on my mind
Every moment has its special charm
It's all right when you're around, rain or shine

"Blue, Red, and Grey" The Who

“Yeah, why? Why do you love me? I’m not neat. I’m grumpy and sometimes inconsiderate.”

“You’re inconsiderate? You walked the dog when it was your day to sleep in.”

She huffed a disgusted little sigh. “I was already up. He kept pestering me.” 

“You’re going to argue with me about how unloveable you are before I’ve had my tea?” He gave her a disgruntled look. That expression set her back a bit. Ben didn’t often do grumpy. Snarky and teasing, yes. Grumpy, no. He deserved a real answer of why she was fussing about this.

“In the spirit of communication - " she gave special emphasis to the final word. “I’m telling you Hero’s engagement has me feeling anxious.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Feelings were still bleurgh. Sometimes.

“About?” He set down the ‘peckers and cocks’ mug she had gotten him for his last birthday. The yellow eared pecker had a particularly smug expression today.

“I’m nervous about us, about the future, about me. We fight about everything. But we never fight about getting married even though we disagree. Why?” Her fingers twisted around in a knot, over and over again.

“We don’t argue about this because I chose not to argue about it.” He folded his arms and glared, which was rare but powerful. 

Ursula used to joke they were a perfect demonstration of the medieval humors, Ben, sanguine. Bea, choleric. It didn’t mean Ben never got angry. It just meant when he did, she stepped more carefully.

The words bubbled out anyways. “We’re together. We plan to stay together. Why do we have to change everything and get married?”

He scrubbed his fingers through his hair then spread his arms out wide. “I don’t know. Why the hell not marriage? We’ve been a couple since we were seventeen, we’ve lived together for years. Are you embarrassed I’m a broke graduate student and you’re a fancy environmental lawyer saving the world?”

“What! No! Absolutely not! I wouldn’t care if you were a bird nerd or a rubbish collector or the man on the moon!”

“Okay, then what is it? Why does getting married have to be such a big bloody problem? You’re the love of my life!” His voice had been building the whole time. By now he was shouting.

“You’re the love of my life too!” She shouted back. “Why isn’t that enough!”

The downstairs neighbors thumped on the floor with a broomstick handle. “Some of us are still trying to sleep.”

Ben made a “whoops” expression. Tennant barked twice, angry someone could yell at his perfect angel parents.

“Sorry,” they shouted down in chorus.

“I’m scared,” Bea admitted, voice down to a whisper again.

“I know,” Ben said. “We don’t talk about it because it isn’t something we can compromise on like, one holiday with your parents, one holiday with mine. Marriage? It’s a binary. Off. On. Yes. No.” He flopped his hand back and forth. “I say yes, but you say. . .“ he trailed off here, giving her a moment to think.

She shifted from one foot to another. “I say . . . I’m not sure.”

Ben nodded. “Okay, so I’d like actual Beatrice Duke in my life more than theoretical idea of what our marriage would be. So that’s it. Your vote wins. We’ll live in sin forever and scandalize Hero’s grandchildren.” He sighed and rubbed his hand down his face. “It’s fine. I just don’t want to fight about it. Especially before I’ve had my fucking tea.”

She walked over and wrapped her arms around him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He hugged her, loosely. His hair and skin were damp from the shower (their flat had an awful bathtub, sadly). The scent of cheap shower gel and peppermint toothpaste clung to him in the morning light. The familiarity of all of it made every anxious nerve settle down into calmness.

“I’m sorry,” she said into his shoulder, which still wasn’t always an easy thing for her to say.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” They stood there for a moment, both a little frustrated and a little sad, but holding on to each other. Definitely not letting go.

The kettle whistled, interrupting the moment.

“I need to get that,” he murmured into hair.

She stepped away, clearing her throat. “I think Hero hid some Anzac biscuits in the pantry last time she was here. Should we hunt for them?”

Ben managed a glimmer of a smile. “Oh my god. Yes, please.”

And like that, the fight was smoothed over. For now.

The days marched onward and Hero’s wedding day came. Timon’s family had a luxurious bach on Waiheke Island and with some overflow accommodations at a local bed and breakfast, there was plenty of room to hold everyone. Bea had discovered being maid of honor involved many headaches. Flowers, cake, dresses, shoes, photographer, hen party. It had all been worth it every time she’d seen Hero’s eyes light up with excitement. All right, trying ten types of cake in one go wasn’t so bad, even if she was outvoted on banana chocolate and they all had stomach aches the next day.

The actual wedding whizzed by in a blur of making sure everything was perfect. Bea didn’t take a breath until the obligatory dances were over and everyone had crowded onto the dance floor. It was a beautiful summer evening. They were right on the water, the murmur of the waves a faint pulse under the beat of the music. 

She and Ben still didn’t dance well together, but they weren’t stepping on each other’s toes. She said another silent thank you that she wasn’t teetering around in heels at the moment. Timon’s mother had tried to insist on them, but Hero had shot that down quickly. She lifted her head off Ben’s shoulder to take a moment to enjoy all the hard work paying off. 

Hero was glowing in her gorgeous gown. Timon grinned back at her, suitably besotted. Leo was healthy. Cancer free for years, dancing with his wife, their adorable baby boy cuddled between them. Her parents, the aunties were here. Ursula and Cressida, gossiping over two glasses of champagne. Balthazar and Pedro were dancing and Balthy’s band was playing a few songs later. Even Meg had come all the way from LA with a scandalous date. Someone famous for being famous, apparently. They made an entertaining pair. Bea didn’t think you could grind to Adele, but they showed it was possible.

Something light and happy tugged at her insides. Hero was getting the fairy tale she always dreamed of. Even if Timon was a bit of a dolt, he was kind and good enough to almost deserve her. They were all here, family, friends. Everyone happy and together. The tell tale prickle started behind the eyes. Fuck. This was not happening. She did not cry at weddings. She did not cry at weddings. She was Beatrice Duke. She hated all this fluffy, girly nonsense.

"I need your pocket square," she whispered to Ben. Her voice was already getting thick and strange. Definite sign tears were on the way.

He gave her a puzzled look. "Is something wrong?"

Her chin quivered. "I'm just sooo happy." She swiped at the corners of her eyes. Then gave up the whole thing as a lost cause. She dashed inside the house, stumbling into Hero and Timon’s master suite. She made it to the bathtub (checking to make sure there were no spiders first) and then curled up inside, the porcelain helped cool her hot skin.The tiny lemon petit fours she’d snagged earlier now left a bitterness on her tongue. She gulped a few big breaths. One minute ticked by. Two. Three. There was a knock. Not loud, but decisive.

"Are you alright in there?" Ben asked.

She was both happy and annoyed he knew her so well. It was a familiar feeling. "How did you know I'd be here? This isn’t even our room.”

"Only room with a bathtub. You can’t linger in there, you know. Unless you’d rather be stuck listening when the happy couple start their honeymoon celebrations.”

Bea grimaced to herself. “Don’t think I do.”

“Can I please come in? I promised Hero I’ve got this. But you know she will come up if you need her.”

“It's unlocked.”The door swung open. Ben popped his head around. “Hey.” He took a moment to register the state she was in. “I was going to ask if you’re okay, but I’m guessing you’re not. Just from the general new look you’re rocking.” He swirled his fingers in front of his face to indicate something had gone wrong.

“Oh shit.” She blotted at her eyes with a tissue. “All of Meg’s hard work wasted.”

He fiddled with the doorknob, not looking up. “So, what’s going on? I’m not the best dancer, but I’ve never made you cry before.” 

She inhaled through her nose. Out again. "I realized I do want this. I mean, not all of this 'this.'" She gestured at her bridesmaid dress (in a non-vile shade of purple) and ridiculous bouquet that smelled like fancy soap. "But I do love you and I want to marry you, and grow old together. All of it. Now I can’t think of a way I could ask you that would show you how much you mean to me. "She wiped at her nose, furious at herself for crying. "So, please, please say you'll marry me, even though I'm a bit of a mess."

He closed the door behind him with a nudge. "You asked me the other day why I loved you and -” he laughed and shook his head. “I’m not sure. Not even after all these years.”

She half sobbed, half hiccoughed. “I have you at a loss for words?”

“You’re not that lucky.” He settled down next to the tub and reached for her hand. She gave it gladly.

 How many times had they done this? Hundreds of times? Thousands? She should have every bit memorized by now. The length of his life line and heart line. The dip in the middle of his palm. The rawboned size and feel of his thumb, so different from hers. But it didn’t feel like something you could memorize. And somehow touching him there still felt good, every time.

He kissed her knuckles, a little absentmindedly. “You’re sharp and brave and strong. That’s what the world sees. I see it too and I love that about you - but - you are also - “ he stared at the ceiling, lips pressed tight, searching for the right word.

“If you’re about to say sweet, I would seriously reconsider.”

He clucked his tongue. “I was not going to say sweet. I like my testicles where they are, thank you very much.”

She laughed. “I do too.” She squeezed his fingers, not too tight. 

“You are not sweet, you’re better than that. You’re kind. When you care about people, you give yourself so fiercely and deeply with everything you have. It’s amazing. You’d slay dragons for someone you love. Not many people realize that. I think Hero and I are the only ones who see the complete Beatrice. Maybe?” He raised one eyebrow, waiting for confirmation.

She tilted her head to the side, considering it.“You could be right.”

“The fact I am on the short list of people you trust with your whole heart? Makes me feel damn special.”

“Wow.” She blinked. “Not bad, Ben.”

He smiled. “Wow is right. You’re marrying an ornithologist slash poet. I’m a Renaissance man."

She might have rolled her eyes a bit, but she didn’t let go of his hand. “All right, don’t get too cocky on me. You might have hinted, but you never outright admitted you wanted to get married until I brought it up. So I think I should earn some more credit here for getting things started.” 

She had kept her voice playful, but Ben’s mouth made a strange twitching gesture. What was that? He was so clear to read usually, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking.

She bit at her lip, worry edging back in. Was it too much? She had meant for them to be back in zingy banter mode. Had she hurt his feelings somehow?

He paused for a moment. Then nodded to himself, deciding something. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, then a piece of paper. She was going to make a snarky comment about how women deserved pockets in their formal wear too. Then she saw what he was holding. The list. From all those years ago on the road to Auckland. 

She shook her head. "Ben, we did everything on the list. See the Northern Lights, spend the night in a castle, bungee-jump in Nepal, the ghost tour in New Orleans, it’s all done.”

"Turn it over," he said. Now his voice sounded weird. He handed it to her. Was it her imagination, or was he shaking it a little bit?

She turned it over. There in Ben's scrawl was ‘marry my best friend.'

Ben cleared his throat and made a bit of feint as if he was going to -

She threw an arm out to stop him. "Don't you dare, don't you dare get down on one knee."

"Too late," Ben said gleefully. He tried to do some parkour jump from crouching into kneeling and banged his foot on the tile. He cursed, pretty fluently and creatively. She had to give him points on style if nothing else.

She tugged at him.“ Oh get in here already. You know you want to.”

He folded up his body. Somehow they managed to fit in together, barely. Feet and legs all jumbled together in the middle. This might be a luxury bathtub, but it wasn’t quite luxurious enough for two tall people. 

"When, when were you sure?"

"The day in Laguna Colorada when I went to see the flamingos."

"But I wasn't even there. I was sick, back at the hostel." Calling it a hostel was overgenerous. Laguna Colorada in Bolivia was so remote, the only shelter was a cement building. Dinner had been hot dogs and pasta. There was no electricity after nine. They had slept ten to a room, shivering in sleeping bags. Bea had gone to bed feeling woozy and woken up with a splitting headache, dashing to the toilet to be sick. "Elevation sickness. It was like the world's worst hangover."

"I know, I offered to stay and take care of you, but you said, 'go, this is important to you.' It turned out to be one of the most amazing things I'd ever seen. I was there at dawn. The water glowed blood red. There were flamingos as far as the eye could see. All I could think was 'I wish Bea was here.’ It wasn’t much fun without you. I knew that you should be there for all the most amazing things in my life.”

"But that was ages ago. Why didn't you say anything?"

"You weren't ready. Hell, neither of us were. I knew what I wanted, but I also knew it wouldn't work. Besides, you’d bite my head off if I asked you then.”

“I would have. I can be a bit stubborn at times.”

He tugged at his ear lobe. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Shut up. So we’ll get married quietly, right? No fussing. No one cooing at us and feeling smug. No hideous chiffon dresses or harpists playing Celine Dion?”

Ben rubbed his chin, mock thoughtful. “Well I was hoping for all that. Then we’d buy a house on a cul-de-sac. I’d buy a toupee, maybe get some Botox. Margot Robbie would move in down the street. You’d slip on some milk in the kitchen and get amnesia -”

”What did I say about watching those bootleg Neighbours reruns with Hero?”

He shrugged. “It’s how we bond. Also she makes amazing homemade scones with clotted cream for me.”

“If we do this, se’d be just us as we are, but married?”

“Yeah, Cool?”

“Yeah. Cool.”

There was quiet for a moment as they both settled into the decision. The sun was going down outside. Somewhere in the background they could hear some booming bass and some excited whoops as the party heated up.

“So,” he clapped his hands and then rubbed his palms together. “Let’s do this thing.”

“What, now?”

“Do you Beatrice Myrtle Duke-"

“- Oh you’re dead. That is not my middle name -"

"- take Benedick the Magnificent Hobbes?"

"Your middle is McGregor for your granddad, come on, Ben, really?”

“Do you or don’t you?”

She looked him over, giving herself a minute to think about it. The suit wasn’t bad, but it was rumpled from crawling around a bathtub.He had a light bit of stubble (half past six shadow, as he liked to call it) on his cheeks and hints of exhaustion in his eyes. She couldn’t think of anything or anyone else she’d rather see every day for the rest of her life.

She nodded. “I do.”

“Good, I do too. I may kiss the bride.” He leaned across the tub and gave her a lip smacking like something out of a teenager game of spin the bottle. Then they did a complicated handshake.

She laughed. “Is that it? We’re done?”

Ben scrubbed at the back of his neck, smiling. “We’re hitched, little lady,” putting on an awful American cowboy accent.

She went limp and boneless with relief. If she wasn’t already laying down in a bath, she might have collapsed. She didn’t have to be a sideshow spectacle or betray feminism or make some grand statement of love in front of her parents’ friends in exchange for a silver tea tray she would never, ever use. She could just . . . be with Ben. Which is all she wanted in the first place.

Then the tactical legal part of her brain did kick in. “Might pick up a license at some point to make it official. ”

“Later though. No big announcements today.”

“Yeah, nah. Hero is the opposite of a Bridezilla -"

"A bride Pokémon?"

"Bride kitten, maybe, but it’s still her day. Besides, Timon's mom has already given me the stink eye for outvoting her on the bridesmaid’s dress. She might cut me if I take the spotlight off her darling boy’s big day.”

“We don’t have to ever tell anyone if you don’t want to. Really ever. Not even your mother.”

She shuddered. “We’ll tell everyone. Eventually. Not today. Just so you know, I’d slay dragons for you anytime.” She paused. “Dickface.”

“There she is!” He did some sort of jazz hands celebratory gesture that she would not mock him for later. Because she loved him too much.

Besides she was pretty sure she had a completely soppy, loving expression on her face that was equally ridiculous.

They got out of the tub, not elegantly, but at least they weren’t filming it this time. Bea took a moment to wash her makeup off. They walked out of the bathroom, giggling (yes, giggling), only to find Meg waiting outside. She was glued to her phone, but her eyebrows shot up when she saw them.

"You two must have straightened out your troubles. You missed the cake cutting. I don’t know whether to be ashamed or proud. No wait, I’m proud.” She placed a hand over her heart and smirked.

“We weren't having sex.” Bea said, flushing, a bit. “Not this time,” she amended, seeing Meg’s skeptical look.

“You sure? Because I think we were all a bit scarred by the midnight skinny dipping incident on the graduation camping trip. That poor park ranger will never be the same, that’s for certain.” Mischief glimmered in Meg’s eyes. Of course she didn’t care what they were up to. She just wanted to give them grief.

Bea started to get up a head of steam to fight her when Ben squeezed her hand. She glanced over. He gave a little head shake, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing.

He was right. It would be more fun to keep this a secret. For the moment. Besides, once they told Meg, it would go out far and wide.

“We weren't doing that. Really,” Bea said with extra emphasis, squeezing Ben’s hand back.

“What were you doing then?” Her tone was arch and very dry.

“Meg, you wouldn’t believe us, even if we told you.” Bea kept her face as innocent as possible.

Ben made a flourish with his free hand. “May I have the next dance, my lady?”

“Lead the way, kind sir.” 

Ben gave her an awkward twirl past Meg and laughing, they made their way back to the dance, arm in arm.