Work Text:
It had been precisely four hours and twenty seven minutes since night had fallen over the streets of London, casting the city in a dark shroud. Vastra would know, she had counted every minute.
It seemed sleep evaded her this evening. An uncommon occurrence this time of year, when temperatures dropped and she could feel the familiar lethargy settle into her bones once autumn started in earnest.
Giving up on getting even a bit of sleep tonight Vastra had propped herself up in bed to watch her wife resting peacefully, not wishing to wake her with her pacing. Now she observed the steady rise and fall of her chest, her soft skin illuminated by the streetlights outside, the way a soft smile appeared on her face as she dreamt.
Looking for her wife’s youth.
It was in such a sharp contrast to the way Vastra had found her on the stone floor earlier that day. Her skin had wrinkled, her breaths grown ragged, and her eyes filled with such guilt. And yet now, as she lay with her wife, all Vastra could think was how she yearned to see it happen again at its natural pace.
It had not escaped Vastra’s notice that in the time she had known Jenny small wrinkles had appeared at the corners of her eyes, small reminders of every time she had smiled. Or small creases between her eyebrows, appearing every time she surveyed the evidence of a case. Little bits of her experiences, carved so plainly on her face by the passage of time.
As Vastra surveyed those lines and wrinkles she realised that Jenny had rarely looked more beautiful. Gently she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on Jenny’s forehead.
Jenny would grow old with her. She would make sure of it.