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Layover in Amsterdam Pt. 1 || Rune + Anya || May 21st, 2024

Anya: She hadn't had the chance to blink twice before the twenty-first arrived. Only Rune's proximity in recent days had kept her from sinking into a pit of anxiety.

It wasn't the travel she dreaded. She'd flown dozens of times in her life without major incident. No, the promise of encountering her mother's spirit after decades had robbed her of precious sleep.

Now past the headache of airport security, she sat at the gate with her head pillowed on Rune's shoulder, fighting sleep. She'd chosen to travel light; a rolling carry on and a backpack that could fit beneath a plane seat were her only burdens. The latter was mostly full of snacks (airline vegetarian meals were a bit of a culinary gamble).

Groaning softly, she stood, giving Rune's arm a gentle squeeze as she did.

"I'm going to get a bottle of water. Do you want anything? Another coffee?"

Rune: All for her. The reason he tethered himself to his bed every night. The reason he poked his head in the door of Liam and Francis and Bernadette more than he ever had before. The reason Thomas and Jesse now had something new to gossip about to his face.

Several times he had woke with a start. Arm stretched from paracord, face first on the floor. Anya was worth it. Who knew how long he'd have been gone had he allowed himself to follow the whims of spirits.

All of that, leading to this moment. His eyes closed, head lulled back in his uncomfortable seat. They weren't even on the plane yet and he was miserable. The Valium he'd taken that morning might as well have been an Altoid.

At least his ID hadn't set off alarms.

"Mm... mm-mmm. Shouldn't have had the first one."

Anya: "Ok. Back soon." Fingers smoothed over his hair as she left, making for the nearest toilet, first. Just one less trip to a cramped, airplane lavatory.

She returned a handful of minutes later with two large, chilled bottles in hand. She plopped into her seat with a sigh and held one out in offering.

"How are you feeling?"

Rune: His coat had been left at Hillkate. Second only to the safety of his safe in Willemstad. Flying was treated as an occasion; it was, after all, his first. Dressed in a black cotton suit, puce tie, and army green pea coat. A coat was strange enough in May, but if anyone were to touch his skin, they would understand.

More besides, he felt naked without one.

Her return almost went unnoticed. Eyes closed, The Ghost of Bela Lugosi blasting in his good ear.

Pulled from his trance, the earbud was pulled out.

"Next field trip, we're taking a cruise."

Anya: He was as handsome as ever. Anya hadn't bothered to match his sartorial energy. Seven hours trapped in a sardine can had always meant aiming for comfort. Her braid could hardly be called such, curls spilling unchecked around her face. The leggings and thin, cotton t-shirt she wore were largely covered by an oversized green cardigan. Her own skin was warm, but she'd always found planes uncomfortably cool. Better to wear layers.

"Cruise. Private beach. Whatever you want," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek before twisting her bottle open.

"Do you have your pillow?"

The neck pillow she'd purchased for him weeks ago, the same as her own, but without the loving wear.

Rune: He leaned into her kiss.

"Mm." To both statement and question. The u-shaped pillow was tucked away in his old satchel. No magic to it. He'd scraped for clean clothes from the Willemstad house. It was official, he needed to return, if not for anything else than to clean the disarray.

Clothes, a charger for his phone, passport and wallet. His luggage was unassuming and human. The only charms on his person donned each finger.

"I've been to laboratories with more Quintessence than this place."

Anya: "How many labs have you spent time in?" she asked, not really expecting an answer. He would have hated visiting her during university. She'd spent half of veterinary school in a lab.

Her head came to rest on his shoulder again as a voice over the crackling speaker promised that boarding would begin in fifteen minutes. She reached for one of his icy hands.

"It's not too late to get out of here. I can board by myself and you can find a... a porter? Or whatever. I won't think any less of you. I've made this trip a hundred times before."

Rune: "One was enough." His tone had become soft, but her nearness had been the cause of much of it. But that faraway look in his eyes was as real as it was brief.

His head came to rest against hers.

"I should have at least one of these to my name. Let it be this one." He was a lucky man. he carried that with bittersweet pride. His death wouldn't be as mundane as this. It would be spectacular, and against all odds. A death as crazy as coincidence would allow. But if travel by car taught him anything, he was going to get sick.

Anya: Anya gave his hand a small squeeze. "Well, two," she reminded him. "The second one is much shorter. Or you could find some magical way to Poland."

It didn't make sense to borrow trouble, but she suspected the flight would be rough on him. He hated the truck, after all. At least in that old beast he could roll down a window for fresh air. And he'd never been in it for so many hours.

"Hopefully no one booked the middle seat. You can have your pick."

Rune: His hand sailed forward flatly, thumb and little finger fanned outward. Just one trip in its entirety, he meant, but he nodded. He felt like a stiff old man, looking down upon these inventions as society had Karl Benz's wild Motorwagen. He couldn't help it. He was a sailor. Boats were older than the wheel. As far back as the Neolithic humans had hollowed out logs to ride the waves.

"Of course you like planes," he half-heartedly complained. "Sweet Spatzi. Born with wings."

Anya: "I wish," she laughed, soft and weary. "It's the fastest way to travel, for the rest of us. Sometimes I just want to get where I'm going and back. If I could teleport, I totally would."

But she enjoyed train rides and road trips, going out on boats and the power of her own, muscled legs. Still, nothing beat planes for long distances.

"It'll be ok. And I'll be with you."

Rune: "I should - We should, sometime. You should experience a porter at least once." Whether a porter agreed or not wasn't his concern. She was patient enough to give him this. If for any reason she had an emergency, he wanted her to have a number on hand.

But that was the future, near or distant.

"Yes, I want to think about losing you on our trip to Poland," he frowned, though it was forced and brief. Her hand was sandwiched between his.

"It's fine. Don't they have terrible films on these flights? We should pick the worst."

Anya: "Definitely." He wouldn't be able to see her smile, from their current position, but it was audible. That was a bit of interesting magic to look forward to. The very idea excited her. As much as anything could, operating on as little sleep as she was.

Her head bumped against his shoulder in faint disapproval. This was the opposite of losing her. She was right by his side.

"Mm. It's a mixed bag. Sounds like fun."

And it would kill some time. For now, she would close her eyes. Just a precious little moment to rest them until that crackling voice sounded again. She straightened with entirely too much reluctance, bones popping with a deep stretch.

"We should line up. The seats are assigned but people will absolutely steal all the overhead space. Dupki."

Rune: The sound of her smile in her voice was almost as lovely as seeing it. Had been a comfort during phone calls over the past month. They had spoken more than they ever had before, and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"You're at the front of the line. I'm in the back," if he heard the instructions correctly. Alphabetical? Or seat numbers? Too many voices at once. His one viable ear could only catch so much.

"Mm, I know that word," he smirked. His hearing had managed that, at least. "Klootzakken," he whispered, hauling his satchel over his shoulder.

Anya: "Mm-mm." She gave a distracted shake of her head, patting down pockets to be sure she had everything she needed. Mobile, passport, wallet. A mental checklist she was well familiar with, by now.

"Boarding groups. They're by seat, and alphabetical. I checked in early, so we're group A."

Her laugh was soft and genuine. A private sound. Just for him.

"I didn't teach you that word. Naughty."

She echoed that bit of Dutch with a giggle and swung her backpack over her shoulder, grabbing the rolling bag with a single hand.

"Boarding pass?" She gave her own a wiggle. There was another copy on her phone, but she'd been certain Rune would prefer ink and paper.

Rune: Other people were getting up and crowding closer. He leaned in an inch and offered his right ear. All he would do was nod until she laughed, a dulcet sound relaxing the muscles of his shoulders and neck.

"You didn't teach me that," he agreed, smile returning.

She had assumed correctly. The experience was made more authentic and above board by something tangible.

But it was one hurdle to the next. The first miracle was obtaining the tickles; the next was being allowed on board, his ID still sound. Then man's achievement of flight...

Perhaps a prayer on the way through the jet bridge would ease his mind.

Anya: It was all routine. At least beyond the presence at her side. Her awareness lingered on Rune even as she smiled politely at the gate attendant and let her pass be scanned.

She took Rune's arm with her free hand as they walked, unwilling to rush despite the people ahead and behind. Boarding would always take just as long as it needed to. They were in for seven hours at least. There was no sense in rushing.

Past the cockpit and down the aisle to their row of seats. She wouldn't know if the middle seat she'd left between them was empty until the flight was fully boarded, but she remained hopeful. She was quick to hoist her rolling bag into the overhead compartment without assistance. "Do you want window or aisle?"

Rune: He was ready to state that they could have had first-class tickets when a father of four bumped his shoulder. Any remarks would be left for the clouds. But why she'd separated them, he didn't know. He'd rather not have a stranger next to her.

So then, the next logical choice.

"Aisle." He wouldn't explain himself. Only kick his satchel underneath the seat in front of him.

Anya: She gave only a single nod in answer, slipping past him and into the seat nearest the window. There was a ritual to this process, one she would not force Rune to participate in.

Back pack in her lap, she began removing the items she'd require for take off. Headphones, her pillow, a packet of chewing gum. It was easy to block out the background noise of the slowly filling plane. When she was settled, pack pushed just-so beneath the seat, she extended a hand in offering across the narrow space between them.

"Shouldn't be much longer."

Rune: In the relative quiet of their own little world he watched her. His gaze flickered outward when a sharp noise hit his ear. He had to push himself inward, disconnecting from everyone and consequently, the only one he wanted to understand. His ear was practically on fire with an itch. It was himself, what he was born to know, and turning it off was nothing short of arduous.

"People lie over the silliest shit," he sighed, eyes closing. Realizing how that might have sounded, he felt blindly for her hand.

"Not you."

Anya: "I know." She knew not her. There were things she'd kept from him, previously. Or little jokes he knew not to take seriously. But an outright lie? Anya avoided them whenever possible. Especially to those she loved.

His hand was given a firm squeeze. Things would settle soon. Conversation would lull as they took off. That didn't mean this would be an easy experience for him.

Anya kept his hand in hers until the cabin crew began final checks, slamming overhead bins and scanning each row for safety compliance. She gave his fingers a gentle jostle.

"I knew we'd be lucky. We have the row to ourselves. Do you wanna move over, or should I?"

Rune: "You just knew?" Maybe she'd caught on. Her confidence was not out of the blue. It was every bit her as much as her hair and eyes.

He wanted to put his earbud back in, and would have if this trip was solo. A barrier between casual lies, announcements, and a means of meditation.

But he wouldn't miss a word from Anya.

Rune looked forward and back, slipping from his belt into the next seat, taking his bag with him. Deeper, for the illusion of privacy.

Anya: "Yep." Her lips popped pleasantly on the 'p', her smile sanguine. The patience not to reach for his hand again lasted only until he'd strapped himself in.

"I'm not you," she murmured, her voice only for him. "No magic. But nobody wants to be crammed in a middle seat between strangers. It's a last resort, on an airline that lets you pick your seats in advance. The rest is luck, and we have plenty of that."

She fiddled with her gum package with one hand, freeing a piece to hold out in offering. "It helps with take off. So do headphones."

Rune: He'd never considered the culture of aviary trips beyond getting through security checkpoints.

The gum was taken without hesitation. Air pressure, he assumed. Similar tactics had been used beyond the Gauntlet. The air was always different on the other side.

"I wonder if you have sea legs," he pondered, folding the gum in two and stuffing in his mouth.

Anya: She took a piece for herself with a smile, bending low to slide the package into an outer pocket of her bag. Her pillow was arranged behind her neck and she settled back against the seat with a sigh.

"I think so. I've been fine on every boat I've been on. But I've never been out on the open sea, so maybe not."

A shoulder rose and fell. Anya settled into silence as the flight attendants lined up for the safety spiel. First in English, then repeated in Dutch.

Rune: "I've only met one man with a steady gait on a ship. My sometimes captain. Doesn't matter the weather. A white squall could beat our deck with both fists and he'd laugh in its face."

He ached for the sea, more than he had in years and their situation was to blame, but to dedicate time to a ship meant time away from her. Years, possibly. He had only a lifetime with her, and several to spare.

The English was mostly ignored. Eyes closed, head lightly resting against Anya. It was Dutch that made him smile, nudging her ever so slightly.

Anya: "He sounds fearsome." He'd told her about that ship before. Years prior. The memory made her smile. That lovely Ferris wheel.

His nudge coaxed a chuckle out of her. Of course Dutch. They were flying into Amsterdam. But she kept respectfully silent for the remainder of the instruction.

When the attendants were seated and the plane began backing away from the terminal, she tightened her fingers around his.

"Put your other earbud in. It'll help. Want me to close the window shade?"

Rune: He was beginning to think he had hyped this trip beyond reasonable doubt until the plane started moving into position. Their grip tightened simultaneously, shaking his head to statements unsaid.

"It's fine. I won't be looking." He felt in his coat pocket for his other earbud, not expecting to find it, as it was usually useless. The final 'prepare for takeoff' coughed by the pilot over the speakers had him throw in the towel. A little air pressure wouldn't kill him. The earpiece he did wear was fiddled with, increasing the volume to the point where Anya could clearly hear South Australia being shouted by both captain and crew.

Anya: There was a certain irony to a sea shanty being played as one took to the air, but she kept the faint amusement to herself. Her head turned toward Rune, her hand remaining firmly in his, thumb stroking lightly over his skin as they picked up speed down the runway.

She was far more occupied with watching his expression to bother looking out of the window as they lifted off. It would be mere minutes before the reached cruising altitude, but she suspected very much that the time would pass much slower for him.

Rune: Rather than deny circulation to her fingers, his fingernails dug into his hidden hand, concentrating on the pain in his palm rather than the circus in his stomach.

What she saw should have been no surprise. An expression unlike those before it, to include their unfortunate evening with a lesser demon. Confidence diminished to a worried brow and concealed eyes, begging himself to reach a place of zen.

"Thinking about your breasts helps," he tried to smirk.

Anya: Her laugh was mostly for his sake, a soft sound he might not have been able to hear over his blaring music. Worry creased her forehead. Her thumb continued its gentle stroking, even as she leaned forward slightly to pull an airsick bag from the seat pocket in front of her. A back up plan, if powering through it didn't help.

"They are pretty spectacular. I can flash you, if you want. So they're fresh in your memory. But if the Air Marshal arrests me, you better take that shit to your grave."

Rune: "It's all spectacular. Every inch." He couldn't force her to believe - wouldn't, more like - but his opinion was offered with the casual confidence of an everyday fact.

"Do you remember your first?"

Anya: "I'm glad you think so." His was the opinion that mattered. She wasn't fucking herself. Not most days, anyway.

"My first time on a plane?"

Rune: "Were you a child?"

Anya: "Mm. And I was very little. I don't remember much about it. We were visiting family, I think. Mama's side."

Her thumb continued that steady stroking.

"But most that I've taken have been since I moved to New York."

Rune: "And you're fine," he said to himself, opening his eyes. The hand on his thigh was on the verge of bleeding, kept clinched so she didn't have to see his handiwork.

The seatbelt sign above them dimmed. They were free to use the restroom, said a lady on the speaker. Rune excused himself, needing to deal with his palm before Anya could notice.

Anya: "And I'm fine," she promised, bringing his hand briefly to her lips. The tightness of his fist did not go unnoticed, but she wasn't examining closely enough to notice blood. Her main focus was his face, and keeping track of every minute shift of expression.

It was with reluctance that she released him, giving his fingers a final squeeze before she did. She occupied herself in his absence by fishing the throw blanket from her pack and mindlessly scrolling through movie options.

Rune: A splash of cold water did wonders for his body. The moment of sickness passed as the water chilled on his skin, taking slow deliberate breaths. He couldn't linger, and he realized, neither could he heal his palm. They were as far from civilization as they could be, short of a desert or tundra, yet modern technology's consensus rendered even minute healing useless.

He washed his hands, padded his palm with cheap paper towel, and returned.

"What are we watching?"

Anya: "Well, I've narrowed it down to Killer Sofa, Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, and Killer Llamas from Outer Space. I'll leave the final decision to you."

If he wanted bad, they could have bad. And violent, it would seem. Anya was less concerned with the screen than she was the improved color of his face.

"You look better. Are you feeling better? You should have a sip of your water."

Rune: "I'll be fine." Not so much walling her off as he was uninterested in the subject. He was staring at the tiny posters for each film incredulously.

"Um... Killer Tomatoes." And while the music and title crawl scrolled across the screen, he sipped his water obediently.

Anya: Her mouth turned down slightly at the corners, but she let the matter lie. He really did look better than he had. That would have to be enough.

She slid her headphones over her ears and pulled up the film on his screen as well, pressing play at the same time with a satisfied nod at her success.

While Rune drank, Anya spread out the blanket and offered half to him.

Rune: "I don't hate the music," he muttered. Despite the film being on both screens, he was paying attention to hers. His injured hand was hidden underneath the blanket.

And then the film kicked off, and Anya was given a look.

Anya: She wasn't thinking about the score at all, too busy giggling at... whatever sound was emitting from the evil tomato. She caught the look and shrugged without a hint of shame.

"You said bad. Don't blame me."

Rune: "I no longer crave spaghetti and tomato sauce."

Anya: "Strange, I was just thinking that tomato soup would be really good right about now."

Rune: His head came to rest against hers. "Man, the 70s."

Anya: "I miss practical stunts and effects. CGI can't beat a good stuntman."

Rune: "I'm wanting to blaspheme." His mouth twitched.

Anya: She had to clamp a hand down on her mouth to stifle another laugh. They weren't the only people on this flight and she hated to make a nuisance of herself. But damn if it wasn't a struggle. "I'm... sort of sorry."

Rune: "No, don't be. We have to live with this. We're in this together."

Anya: "Oh no! They're coming!" The bobbing, babbling tomatoes would be the death of her. Her face was scarlet with the effort to suppress her amusement.

Rune: Rune made a point of looking around. "Everyone can hear you. You're the talk of the plane." She was, in fact, not noticed by anyone, absorbed in their music, conversations, films, and phone. Their own little bubble indeed.

Anya: "Sorry. I'm so sorry." She wasn't going to look around to verify, only pull her half of the blanket over her head until she managed to pull herself together. When she emerged, her cheeks were still pink, but she had the giggles under control.

"At least they're... taking the threat seriously."

Rune: "Mhm. Can't have bloodthirsty tomatoes rampaging the countryside. The streets will be smeared in red."

Anya: "I'm adding Puberty Love to my playlist."

Rune: It was Rune's turn to stifle a laugh.

Anya: She'd count that as a victory, dragging a hand down her face at the terrible German. "This movie is going to kill me."

Rune: "This is a time capsule."

Anya: "Did you dress like this in the seventies? Did you own a pair of bellbottoms? Are there pictures?"

Rune: "Yes, I had them. Yes, I still have them. No, I don't think there are any pictures in circulation."

Anya: "Well, now that I know you still have them, there are going to be." She refused to succumb to laughter again. She swallowed one down. "Maybe not circulation. For my own, private collection."

Rune: "It'll be our little secret." A pause, and then a sigh. "Why is that song so catchy."

Anya: "I don't know, because that man can't sing one bit. But it is."

Rune: "There aren't enough tomatoes in this tomato movie."

Anya: "Mm. The title gave me expectations. I need more tomato murders." And it really was making her hungry. That much hadn't been in jest. She dipped down to fish a bag of trail mix from her backpack, along with what remained of her water.

"I really like that woman's top. The color palette of that decade is killer."

Rune: "The world discovered earth tones and had them in a chokehold. Even colored clothes, pinks, yellows, were earth-toned."

Anya's hand was brought to his cheek, used as an extra cushion.

A moment later, "Did that dog just talk?"

Anya: She nodded. "In English! Which is the most surprising part."

With her free hand, she opened her bag of trail mix, holding it out in offering before taking a handful.

"They're... growing."

Rune: He picked through the bag for pretzels with the most salt.

"I feel like I'm somehow responsible for this atrocity."

Anya: "You already said, we're both at fault for this. We're in this together."

Rune: "Do you watch these kinds of films when I'm not around?"

Anya: "Nope. I-- G-d that man's collar is huge. No, I can't say that I do."

Anya: She covered her mouth as she chewed. "That's one way to clear a room."

Rune: "I hate that I love the music."

Anya: "If I can dig up the soundtrack, I'll download it for you. My gift to you for sitting through this. Her dress is lovely. I'd wear that."

Rune: "You'd look good in any dress."

Anya: "You're biased." But he'd earned a kiss to his cheek. She turned back to the screen and her expression shifted. "Are there... tomato people now?"

Rune: "The master of disguise has infiltrated their base." His head returned to her shoulder.

Anya: "You're totally right. Good we have a man on the inside, I guess. For humanity."

Anya: Her head tipped to settle against his in turn. "Who are you placing your bets on? Tomatoes or humans? I'm following your lead on this one."

Rune: "I take it back. Don't give me this album."

Anya: "Too late. For a second there I thought we were getting a full strip tease."

Rune: "Humans, but with devastation and great loss."

Anya: "And poor hygiene, apparently. I don't know how concerned I would be with grooming, either, if I was being attacked by killer tomatoes."

Rune: "The truth come out," he smirked.

Anya: She gasped dramatically, clamping a hand over her mouth. "I never would have guessed! He must be some kind of mage."

Rune: "Oh don't insult mages."

Anya: "He's definitely not a mutant!"

Rune: "Neither of us will claim him."

Anya: "Fine. Tomato-controlling alien, then."

Anya: She bit down on a smile. "My favorite song."

Rune: "I want what these people were smoking."

Rune: "Did they... just pull an us?"

Anya: Anya was lost to giggles again, burying her face beneath their shared blanket. "I think they did. I can lift you like that, if you want."

Rune: "My masculinity is just fine, but don't you dare."

Anya: That had a fresh wave overtaking her. Her cheeks ached with the smile. "Oh no... not the carrots!"

Rune: He chuckled, but it was because of her. He buried a kiss in her hair. "Well, there goes the first hour and a half."

Anya: "We made it." She gave his hand a squeeze and pulled off her headphones. Anya wasn't going to bother watching the credits roll. "Do you think you'll be able to get any sleep?"

Rune: "That what we should be doing?" He looked around the plane from his tucked away point-of-view. A lot of headphones and a lot of screens.

Against his will, he yawned. Seemed at last the pills had kicked in.

Anya: "You should be doing whatever you want to be doing. Whatever you can do from that seat."

But weeks of poor sleep had taken their toll. Now that it seemed that Rune wouldn't lose what little was in his stomach, Anya's worries had eased somewhat and her eyelids had grown heavy.

The yawn from beside her had her suspecting hers weren't the only ones, however. She bent in her seat to tuck everything she wouldn't need back into her pack.

"I just need to close my eyes for a little while," she murmured, readjusting her neck pillow and pulling the blanket up to her chest. With the press of a button her seat reclined a meager couple of inches. Not the most comfortable sleep, but she could rest practically anywhere. Her hand slipped back into Rune's beneath the blanket, threading their fingers together.

Rune: Rune looked about one final time. She wanted to sleep, so he would watch over her and their things. He reclined his seat by only an inch, turning to face the aisle. It was quiet, but he'd felt eyes upon them more than once. Probably a bored child, but he wasn't going to take that chance.

Still, his hand was hers to possess. The blanket pulled to his waist; he would rest his eyes but remain vigilant.

If sleep stole a few minutes, it had been seamless and unrecognized. For once he wasn't tracking time down to the seconds. He opened his eyes to find a child no older than 7 staring at him across the aisle. Ah. Those villainous eyes. He squinted at her, and she squinted back. She stuck out her tongue, and so too did he.

With a sigh, he rolled to face his best friend. Her hand was brought to his cheek.

Anya: The shift had her stirring, burrowing her face against the pillow with a soft hum of protest. It was the scent of recycled air that reminded her where she was. Her grip on Rune's hand tightened and her eyes cracked open with a sleepy smile. Just a sliver of green to greet him.

"Mm. Hi." Anya did not possess his sense of time. She didn't know how much had passed since she'd slipped into the lightest doze. But they were obviously still in the air, safe and quiet. No one was screeching about eminent death, at least. "Are they taking meal orders, yet?"

Rune: "Snacks came by." He couldn't say when. Even thousands of feet above thousands of people, consensual reality ruled with an iron fist. He realized that checking time would take effort, and he would rather save that energy for something more important, whatever that should be.

A watch wasn't out of the question if this became a regular occurrence.

"Woman behind us is preparing a cart. Is it like a wedding? Chicken or seafood?"

Anya: "G-d, I hope not," she grumbled, still unwilling to open her eyes more than half mast. Her thumb stroked absently along Rune's hand. Hers was warm, despite the plane air.

"Last thing I want is to be smelling fish for the rest of the flight. Chicken or beef, I think. And whatever vegetarian option they have."

She'd been required to inform the airline in advance of their restrictions, but she hadn't been given an actual menu. Perhaps that was a luxury only offered to first class.

"If you hate it, I brought plenty of extra food."

Rune: "Not the fish," he smirked. He wouldn't cause undue misery with such malice, however mildly humorous the idea.

She stroked his hand, and his fingers played with her ring.

"How much food did you stow away?" On the verge of laughing. She made it seem like a treasure trove of tucked-away goodies.

Anya: "Enough. Some of the meals they give vegetarians on planes are just sad. You know how I get when I'm hungry."

It was never wise to be within the blast radius when Anya hadn't had enough to eat. It was safer for everyone that she brought snacks.

"Fruit, vegetables, a few sandwiches." She stifled a yawn with her free hand. "Hummus and trail mix. And a few sweets. Nothing outrageous."

Rune: "Just half your pantry. Nothing outstanding," he smirked.

The young stewardess came by with her cart. Their options of eggplant parmesan or chickpea curry caught him off guard. Neither bland chicken nor pungent fish. He took the eggplant without complaint.

"And still miles to go," he sighed. The screen in front of him was tapped. Maybe something else to have in the background. Mere images to glance at.

"The longer we're on this plane the older I feel."

Anya: Anya selected the curry, mostly so that they could swap if Rune didn't care for his. She tore open the pack containing her bread with entirely too much enthusiasm.

"Really?" she asked, when she'd swallowed a mouthful that almost rivaled Rune's chipmunking. She winced and cracked open her bottle of water.

"But you're such a young man." Not a drop of humor in her tone. "Flying for the very first time. You hate it, but that's the kind of thing you learn when the experience is new."

Rune: "I dunno what you're playing at and I hate it." His complimentary bread was crushed in his hand, the crackle satisfying. His turn to chipmunk, dead set on stuffing his other cheek with eggplant and penne.

"You're trying to be a motivational speaker?" he mumbled through his food.

Anya: "No. But I'm sure if I was, people would be very inspired. I'm good at boosting self esteem."

She peeled the plastic from the tray containing her curry, giving it a sniff and shrugging. Edible.

"I just thought that experiencing something for the first time would make a person feel younger, not older. But you feel what you feel, I guess."

She grabbed the provided wooden fork and took a much smaller bite of her curry.

Rune: He was out of touch with modern technology. Most of it, anyway, beyond a laptop and phone. He prided himself on keeping up, but willfully ignored that he had no interest in. Cars were inevitable, but this? It was her.

He looked her over, requiring a few more seconds to chew and swallow.

"What makes you feel young?"

Anya: Her shoulders rose and fell again. She wasn't yet thirty. She took care of herself and time hadn't started in with aches and pains. But mundanity could drain the life out of the youngest person.

"You do. Not your age... being around you. Every time you do something impossible. Walking in the rain, standing on top of a mountain, looking up at the stars, or out over the ocean. We've only been here for- for a second." She snapped her fingers.

"The trees have seen more than we ever will."

Rune: "Wait long enough and I'll have something to say to trees."

Only once every last crumb was brushed from his lips did he kiss the back of her hand.

"You're someone I look forward to." He pressed his hand to his chest. "If I may be so forward. People are old like me, or just... they're there one minute and gone the next."

Anya: "You respect those trees," she chuckled. "They're your elders."

Her smile was soft at his words, at the press of his lips. "I'm glad."

She dipped her bread into the dish and nibbled at it.

"And there's no in between? Just a blink of an eye, or centuries?"

Rune: His dark eyes stared at the screen in front of him, but also through it. "Didn't always feel that way. The longer the years, the quicker they pass."

Anya: "Mm. I can understand that." She let her head settle against his shoulder for a moment. "The things that make me feel young also help slow down time. For me. Work days blur together. But not those times."

Rune: His head came to rest against hers, because of course.

"Doesn't the phrase go, 'time flies when you have a good time'?"

Anya: "Yeah, that's what they say. It's bullshit. If I'm stuck in my routine-- work, chores, sleep, lather, rinse, repeat-- I look up and months have passed. But if I spend just one week in the woods, at the beach, wherever... time slows down. Those three days we spent in the city felt like forever. In the best way. I remember every minute. I couldn't tell you what I had for lunch yesterday. But I can still taste those mushrooms. And that peach... the one after the laundry room? Sweetest I've ever had."

Rune: "I still remember Coney Island, down to the vending machine. Karaoke night felt like an entire day; all I was doing was staring at you."

She had a point. They were pockets of good emotion. His memory was far from perfect, but spells were invented for such sentimentality. Remembering the nuance of every facial expression at one's tribunal could be argued as the first, but, beside the point.

"Unless you're double-speaking, and telling me I'm hell to be with," he smirked.

Anya: She took a bite of curry that did nothing to mask a smug smile. She did so love being right. "And everyone else was staring at you."

Fucking Destiny and the rest of his fan club. Anya couldn't say she blamed them.

She snorted softly. "If you were, we wouldn't be here. I would have told you to get lost years ago. I still have my pepper spray."

Not on the plane, obviously. She cleared her mouth with a sip of water and grinned. "I couldn't give up that laugh."

Rune: His brows knitted at her. What on earth? "My laugh?"

Anya: "Who else's?" Her expression grew incredulous. "Have you forgotten your first Polish lesson? I meant it then and I still do."

Rune: He looked at his lap, trying to leaf through every instance of ever laughing in her presence since day one. He never really considered what he sounded like.

"It's just a laugh," he laughed.

Anya: "The best laugh," she countered, also reliving each instance, lingering on thoughts of that first, bubbling laugh that broke through his stoic walls. "It's like drinking champagne. I could probably get drunk off it."

Rune: She was getting dangerously close to making an old man blush. He cleared his throat, attempting a stoic expression to save face.

"Can't fault you for liking what you like." The corner of his mouth twitched.

Anya: His cleared throat had her smile widening. "Jesteś uroczy."

She kissed his temple and reached for the last of her bread. "Eat. Food's getting cold."

Rune: "Uroczy," he scoffed. "I'm not uroczy. How dare you. What's the word for charming?"

He went to take a bite of his food, pausing. Wait a minute...

Anya: She stifled a giggle with the back of her wrist, her mouth still full of curry. She was polite enough to swallow before speaking.

"Mhmmmmmm. I said what I said. One day you're gonna stop arguing with me."

Rune: "You're -" No, food first. Stuffing his mouth with as much as he could manage, nearly finishing his tiny tray with just one attempt.

He held his finger up, arguing with his bite before a succession of swallows.

"You'd have me cause a scene on this plane? I'll kiss you right now."

Anya: "You can kiss me whenever you want. I'm pretty sure we established that rule already."

She fought another laugh and eyed the small pastries that had accompanied each of their meals.

"But don't cause a scene. We're still stuck here for a few more hours. Is yours chocolate?" She nodded toward the wrapped treat.

"I think mine is some kind of coffee cake. Do you wanna trade?"

Rune: He looked over his wrapped pastry. She'd been close; it was something Nutella. He didn't hesitate to trade.

"I don't have to tell you how scandalous public displays of affection used to be. It wasn't faint-induced gasping." He smiled, head falling back against the seat cushion. "But there was that time in Amsterdam when a man made such a ruckus. Shouting at some woman on the second floor of this building across from the pub where I was staying. She stuck her head out the window and told him to scat. 'But I love you!' he cried. 'Well, I don't love you!' she yelled back. A week later they were kissing outside of her flat. Guess what happened a day later."

Anya: Anya smiled sweetly at him, tearing open the plastic to take a small bite. Hazelnut, rather than pure chocolate, but not bad.

"I don't know," she chuckled. "Were they fighting again?"

Rune: "Same thing. 'I still love you.' 'I told you to scat.'"

Anya: "Ha. Figured. Public drama. Before reality television." They lived in New York. Such displays were hardly unheard of.

"I think I can agree to keep sloppy, public make outs and arguments to a minimum. Maybe."

Rune: "What's the maybe for?"

Anya: Her laugh was all but silent. "I'm kidding."

She hadn't even been able to kiss him properly when the family had shown up at the park. Had that been less than a month ago? It felt like a lifetime. Anya kept public displays of affection to hand holding and the briefest brushes of lips.

"You're safe. Until I get you alone."

Rune: His mouth twitched. He tore his pastry into pieces like he wasn't about to stuff half in his mouth.

"Ever kissed someone from behind a book?"

Anya: "I... nope. Never." She shook her head.

Rune: "Behind a tree?"

Anya: "Yes. In the back of a movie theater, too. In the stacks at a library..."

Rune: "You told me the movie theater. I'd stake my life on it."

He began cleaning his tray. Nodded to himself.

"We should. Everywhere you want one before you're 90."

Anya: "I did." Her mouth curved up on one side.

"Mm. We can pack in a lot of dates before I'm ninety. Let's doooo a movie, first. As soon as we're back in New York. I won't even fight you on paying for snacks." On second thought, she probably would. But Rune probably knew that already.

Rune: He did, and that's why he was smiling. "You know I know when you lie, don't you?"

Anya: "I'm not lying!" she lied, trying to dim her smile. "Fine. I'll try not to fight you on paying for snacks. But only if I'm paying for tickets. That's fair. You might have to remind me of this conversation, if I forget."

She wouldn't. He surely knew that, too.

Rune: He could swear they had this exact conversation not long ago. Unlike some with a mastery of mind magic, he was far removed from an eidetic memory. Bottling beautiful afternoons was one thing, remembering every hour like a photograph sounded like Hell at his age.

He would rather his memory function with exceptional accuracy when it came to Anya.

"We should see a movie while we're there. Let me suffer Polish. For practice."

Anya: "Sure," she nodded, scraping up the last of her meal from its tray. "It will be mostly dubs of blockbusters, but maybe we'll find something cool. Is this before or after looking for mother?"

With a final mouthful of curry, she picked up the rest of her pastry.

Rune: "After, of course." Duty always came first. He was surprised that was a question, considering the soul they sought.

"Do you know what you want to say to her?"

Anya: Anya sighed around a mouthful of cake and Nutella, sinking deeper into her uncomfortable seat.

"Not even a little bit," she confessed, when she'd swallowed. "I'm sorry, I guess."

Rune: "Spatzi, you didn't do anything."

Anya: "Neither did she. She didn't deserve what happened to her, to her family. Somebody should be sorry."

Rune: She didn't need a lecture on the chaotic neutral behavior of nature. Just because he had come to expect the probability of tragedy didn't mean she had to.

"Sympathy goes a long way, with some wraiths."

He looked at the aisle. The mischievous child was fast asleep. No one was looking.

"They're all emotionally driven. The ones we see are the ones with a reason for sticking around, real or imagined. I stand by this working."

Anya: She nodded. Anya didn't know much beyond fiction of his "charity" work, but what Rune said made sense to her. If sympathy could be an effective tool in allowing her mother to rest... Well, Anya had plenty of that.

"Do you think she'll recognize me? I mean... I was not even five years old the last time she saw me. A lot has changed since then."

Rune: Rune turned to face her, his expression patient and soft.

"She'll know. They always do. Your soul doesn't change. Besides, if you're her fetter, you're marked."

Anya: Another nod, and she tucked an unruly curl behind her ear.

"You're the expert. I trust you."

The smile she offered him was tight at the corners, but it did reach her eyes. She set what remained of her pastry aside and took a swig from her bottle, before lifting the armrest that separated them.

"I'm... I need the bathroom. Excuse me."

Rune: Not only did he stand, but he side-stepped out into the aisle, returning to his seat once she passed. He was tempted to stretch his legs but refused to draw further attention to their little section. Instead he pulled out his phone, only to stare at it. He couldn't read her thoughts, but felt the subject had grown too tender for her.

Anya: Anya brushed lips against his cheek in thanks. The new direction of her thoughts was far from his fault.

Airplane lavatories were hardly pinnacles of hygiene and comfort, but she took the opportunity to move stiff muscles. She emerged with faintly damp skin and a re-tightened braid.

Rune: Rune returned to the aisle when she made her approach. A smaller woman, just shy of his shoulder with a braid as thick as his arm waited to pass the traffic. Her smile lingered with her gaze, glancing over her shoulder to the oblivious mage. In Anya's absence, their trash had been taken by a roaming stewardess. A small can of ginger ale and a cup of ice had replaced his dinner tray.

"Better?"

Anya: A slight furrow appeared between her eyes at that lingering gaze, but it passed quickly. She flopped into her seat with a sigh and offered Rune a much easier smile.

"Mm. I'm fine."

She grabbed blindly at her lap belt to fasten herself in. "Are you gonna try to get any sleep?"

Rune: "I slept." That felt like a lie. But he had closed his eyes. When he had watched the aisle, his eyes had been shut, his good ear open. That was sleep enough.

"What are you thinking about?"

Anya: "Did you?" She sounded skeptical, but she wouldn't push too much. Their layover would be a long one. And she would be happy to get some rest when they touched down in Poland. Seeking out the ghost of her long-dead mother felt like something to do on a full night's rest.

"I'm thinking... that I want to read for a while. It's pretty ridiculous, and in Polish, but I can read it to you, if you want."

Rune: She knew the way to his heart. He didn't know for how long, or if she was even aware, but she had him wrapped around her finger.

He turned from the aisle, arms crossed, giving her his full attention. Already his eyes were heavy, but he was determined to hear a page of her soft-spoken Polish before yielding.

Anya: That was as good as a "yes." She beamed at him and ducked down to fiddle with her pack for the umpteenth time, pulling out a novel that was not quite as well-worn as her copy of Jane Eyre.

"It's about a witch and a witch hunter who fall in love. She knows what he is. But he... Well, he's an idiot. But we learn to like him, anyway."

Anya settled back against her seat, reclining it once more. She was happy to flip back to the first page. But she wouldn't begin right away, giving her own shoulder a gentle pat.

Rune: "Sounds like a great read," he yawned. Sounded like a silhouette of them, though he was far from a hunter, she was certainly the brains of a normal, proper life.

Rune looked to her shoulder, not hesitating to take her offer. He was determined to keep his eyes open. Just a little longer, even if he stared at nothing.

Anya: "It's fun. But we won't get to the scandalous part today. That's a shame."

She was teasing. For a romance novel, a singular sex scene was incredibly tame. This moment wasn't about the story, anyway.

Rune settled in and Anya smiled again. Her head tipped to rest against his as she raised the book.

She supposed she could translate, but it didn't seem worth the effort when he was already fighting sleep. They could call it practice.

With no more fuss, she began to read, leaving her voice low in their little bubble of peace.

Rune: The final fleeting thought to cross his mind as he drifted off was Amsterdam. He was hearing Dutch by their immediate neighbors, by the stewardess, by the pilot, more than he had heard outside of Willemstad in years. He didn't know what he should feel, should he feel anything.

He drifted in, whispered words of love, drifted out.

He decided somewhere over the Atlantic that he would show her his childhood home.

Anya: Anya would continue reading well after Rune's breathing had grown slow and regular. The novel served as a good distraction to prevent her from nodding off, herself. She'd watch over him while he slept.

It would be awful for any unexpected turbulence to startle him out of sleep.

She tried not to disturb him as their imminent landing was announced. His ginger ale needed to be tucked away, the melting cup of ice discarded and the seat tray set back into position.

Rune: There would be no stirring from his sleep this time. It hadn't crossed his mind to be concerned, 30 thousand feet in the air. He wouldn't begin to fathom the physics of trying to create a rift on a moving plane. Some ambitious mage might have tried, once. Perhaps it mattered as little as anything else. As inconsequential as the little girl skipping up the aisle back to her seat.

His eyes were open, barely. Stirred by the subtle shift of Anya setting their little world to rights. Safe as safe could be.

"Landing in 30 minutes?" he slurred, hearing the string of Dutch from the speakers.

Anya: "Mhm." And if Rune could steal a little more sleep in that half hour, Anya would encourage it. No need to have a landing as stressful as takeoff had been. When their belongings were tucked away as instructed, she settled back against the seat. She took his hand beneath the blanket.

"Rest."

Rune: His seatbelt was fastened and his seat upright, but his cheek had returned to her shoulder not a moment later.

"What are you thinking about now?"

Anya: Honesty continued to serve her well. She let her head fall lightly against his again.

"Mm. That you'll have an easier time with the landing if you go back to sleep. And that I really, really want to stretch my legs. And that it's really weird to start deep stretching in an airport, but that's probably what's happening as soon as we get off of this plane. What about you?"

Rune: His deep breath raised both of their heads. His eyes opened, staring at a small hole in the seat in front of them.

"First landing, I don't think I'll sleep. Trying to remember the last time I was in Amsterdam. I want to walk you down the street I grew up. The house won't be the same."

Anya: Anya toyed absently with his fingers before lacing through them with her own. She hadn't taken even a moment to consider what they'd actually do during their layover. But seeing where he grew up was the perfect plan. Her mouth curved into a soft smile Rune would be able to hear.

"I'd really like that. A walk would be good for us."

She had something to look forward to. Beyond getting off of that damn plane. "Landings aren't as bad."

Rune: "Mm." He wanted to say it. That phrase that was their little secret. How long has it been since he so willingly gave his heart? From a time he didn't want to remember. He hadn't been brave for Arthur De Luca. Had enough time passed, or was Anya stronger than the curses that shadowed him?

"Rest, Felix. We've adventure ahead of us."

Anya: Ah, yes. That name was as meaningful as any confession of love. She buried a chuckle in a kiss pressed to his hair.

"You rest, Anya. Shut your eyes."

She'd do the same. Though, she wouldn't slip into sleep as they began their slow descent.

Her hand stayed firm in his as they shuddered and bumped to the ground. As they sped along the tarmac. As they slowed to a crawl and pulled to the gate. She released him only when the fasten seatbelt sign turned off. The pilot bid them farewell in English and Dutch.

"Welcome home."

Rune: Rune had closed his eyes for the majority of the descent. The first touch of wheels to the ground forced them open, fingers crushing Anya's before he realized what he had done. That was... an experience. And people enjoyed this. He couldn't fathom. It was just as Kelly had told him a week ago, he was a sailor. He didn't belong in the air.

But all of that, every ounce of consternation dwindled to the voice in his ear. How dare she.

"Wij leven." He crossed himself and kissed her.

"How much time do we have?"

Anya: She smiled against his lips and gave his arm a gentle squeeze before standing. The relief in her legs was immediate, and she stretched as much as she could in the confined space. She'd wait patiently for Rune to step into the aisle so she could collect her second bag.

"Eight hours." Slightly less than the twelve they'd have waited in Germany. "Which is more like six, with going through customs again."

Rune: He wasn't that concerned. He hardly had anything with him, which was certainly cheating on his part. His only hesitation belonged to the papers in his not-special coat.

"Plenty of time." It hadn't crossed his mind that he should feel any sort of way. She was getting a glimpse of his childhood. She was getting more than most. In the same breath, he was going to formally meet her mother.

He wondered if they would be exhausted after this. If she would be tired of him.

Rune reached for his toes as soon as they stepped out of the plane, reaching for the sky with a groan revealing a whisper of his age. Despite hours of sleep, exhaustion begged him for more. It has been ages since sleepwalking. The same urge whispered in his ear then.

"Where to now?" he sighed.

Anya: Anya, too, was quick to fold herself in half as soon as there was room to do so. Twisting her torso this way and that to ease the stiffness from her stagnant muscles. Any eyes on them would go ignored or unnoticed. There was far too much relief in free movement to be bothered by them.

"Through arrivals security. They'll want to check our passports and run our bags through an x-ray again, but it should be faster than the first time."

And even faster than if she'd been alone, with a native Dutch speaker at her side. She hitched her pack onto her back and grabbed the handle of her rolling carry on when her blood was flowing freely again.

"Then, we can go wherever you want to take me."

Rune: Another gamble with his ID. Another moment of prayer as they walked, staring up at the directional signs and patting himself down. He had nothing but a satchel older than this building. As intentional as every decision had been, he questioned himself as they neared the first line of inquiry.

His absence of personal items should have raised a flag. Nothing but clothes, a charger, his passport and wallet. Just as Anya suspected, it was the Dutch from his mouth that saved him. His profession? Poker player. Just stretching their legs between flights.

Anya: Anya worried only for him. Her paperwork was more than in order. And she had a long history of international travel. Which was to say nothing of the fact that her burgundy passport was from the country of their final destination.

The last of her tension left her with the first step into fresh air. She refused to think of the final leg of their journey. They would be exhausted by the time she was on home soil once more.

"How do you feel?" she asked, arms stretching over her head again with a groan. G-d, it was good to move freely.

Rune: Rune would have to thank a man in Japan of all places for the passport being scrutinized. He breathed a sigh of relief that his marked through book was given but a second's notice. There would be no credit taken for the craftsmanship of a forger.

"Like the grip on my throat finally loosened." That ocean air was familiar and beckoning. The streets were a vague silhouette of his memory. They had hours to spare. He only needed the first step for the rest to carry him away.

"Like riding a bike," he muttered.

"Hungry?"

Anya: "Intense." To say the least. She forced her thoughts away from the next flight again and placed a steady hand between his shoulder blades. "But good."

Anya considered his question, checking in with her body as she breathed deeply. Her hand dropped from his back and extended in offer for him to take, instead.

"I'm not starving, but I could eat. Are you going to find us something quintessentially Dutch?"

Rune: "Quintessentially Dutch," he affirmed. "I want the same treatment at our next stop." In the hopes of distracting her, however small. Their purpose was going to feel every bit as taxing as it would be cathartic. Though she was well composed now, he knew that wouldn't remain the case.

"We're better off getting a taxi, or we're about to spend a lot of time on foot."

Rune slowed to a halt, eyes closing. The airport terminal was little different from the economy-class cabin when it came to the circulation of quintessence. Cities were unreliable and no two alike. For a moment, he needed to ride the current of consensual reality.

"My old neighborhood is... 13 kilometers north."

Anya: She stifled a laugh and nodded. "Of course. You can have all of the pickled herring you want. I won't even make a face."

Her pace slowed as Rune's did. They had hours at their disposal for exploring or resting. Anya wouldn't rush his process.

She focused on what she could see of the city, drinking in unfamiliar territory with interest. Even more so, given Rune's connection to it.

"I'm fine with a taxi to get there, but I'd rather walk after. From your house to wherever else. My legs need to move."

Rune: "Exactly what I wanted." His satchel slung over his shoulder, Rune made a beeline for the nearest blue-black taxicab sitting idle at the curb. A string of Dutch later and they were settled in the back seat.

"I'll have you know there is more to the Netherlands than pickled herring." Her hand was brought to his mouth for a playful bite, only to be kissed last moment.

Anya: Hearing Rune converse so easily in his mother tongue had a broad grin spreading across Anya's face. She was warm, and it had nothing to do with the spring day.

She laughed softly and shook her head. "I was talking about when we get to Poland. Śledzie marynowane. With oil, and onions, and vinegar."

Okay, perhaps she would make a face. Her nose wrinkled of its own accord.

"Sometimes tomato. There's a dish with sour cream, but that's not for you. Our countries aren't so different."

Rune: At least the food wouldn't be foreign to his tongue. He would need to be mindful of Anya's limitations for a decent restaurant. A few had survived the century, but it had been a decade and some change since he'd stepped foot in Amsterdam.

"You can finally try hagelslag. You're not too hungry, some chocolate sprinkles on buttered bread with some tea - perfect Dutch breakfast."

Anya: "Mm. You told me about that how many years ago, now? Five? Six? It's about time."

That had been the day they'd ridden the Wonder Wheel. A very good day, all around.

"At least I'll get to try it with authentic chocoladehagelslag."

Rune: Rune turned to face her, blinking several times before saying, "You remembered chocoladehagelslag?"

Anya: "Of course I remember chocoladehagelslag," she laughed. He was impossibly cute.

"It was a very good day, Rune. One of my best ever."

Rune: "I just..." He was the one learning Polish. For her to retain anything always knocked him back a foot, yet it continued to happen.

"We're growing old together."

Anya: What a concept! It had her playful smile softening.

"Yes. But very, very slowly. We're... growing together."

She looked past him toward the window, watching the city pass by.

"How long has it been since you were last here?"

Rune: Should he tell her? He glanced at their driver. Still 10 kilometers to go before his neighborhood. There was every chance their driver spoke German, or Polish, or English. Best to keep confessions of spells for later.

"Eleven years," he sighed. "I don't have many reasons to come wandering back."

Anya: "Eleven!" Her eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise. Surely, returning home was different without a family there to return to. Her fingers tightened around his again.

"You're overdue for a visit, then. I picked the right tickets."

She offered him a teasing smile. "You're welcome."

Rune: It was sweet because it was her. It was tolerable because it was her. He squeezed her fingers in kind.

"Mm. Memories aren't going to be painful for you? Going back."

Anya: She considered his question for a quiet moment, settling on a shrug. "They will. I mean, of course they will. She's my mother. But she needs me. And I need to know she's at peace. That's worth some pain."

Rune: Another glance to the driver, in his own little world. Thank the Almighty for small favors. Their conversation was innocent enough. Heavy, but innocent.

"You're lucky that way. To get a proper goodbye at all."

Anya: "Mm. I have you to thank for that. I didn't get one before." That smile was back. Pain was for tomorrow. She'd have plenty of tears to cry, she was sure.

"So... thank you."

Rune: I'm not doing this for gratitude. He almost said it, but he was certain she would reject his rejection. Perhaps she knew what he wanted to say. She had a knack for just knowing things. His eyes gave too much away.

"We fall into lengthy rabbit holes, don't we?"

Anya: She knew, of course. As much as he knew that the truth wouldn't matter to her. Whether he believed it or not, he was doing her and her family a kindness; she would be grateful and express that gratitude. He could call her stubborn, if he wanted.

"Mm. It's a cycle that never ends." She inhaled deeply, and let her shoulder sag on a sigh. Her gaze drifted toward the window again. "But we can think about all of that tomorrow. Today is about... planes. And seeing your city. And bread with butter and chocolate sprinkles."

Rune: There were moments when looking at her that he almost forgot how they got here. Not just a taxicab in Amsterdam, but how he had quite literally fallen into her life. He had the most excellent, exquisite luck and the culmination of that luck had to spill its equilibrium somewhere. A reality he knew all too well. Relationships were his weakness, and yet she had survived nearly a decade.

She would have to live with her hand on his cheek for the remainder of the ride. Her warmth sustained him until the car came to a park.

The neighborhood was a photograph of the past. Stone and brick-stacked houses neatly lined either side of a quiet canal. A sharply pointed spire of a church peeked behind the row houses. Two of the apartments had long ago been converted into storefronts. A barber's shop and a bakery.

"This leads to Noordzeekanaal, west to the North Sea. I always loved seeing boats floating by."

Walking through his old neighborhood, Rune suddenly felt inappropriately dressed. His suspenders were missing. His good boots destroyed so long ago. Someone had stolen his favorite hat.

"The old school was over that way. It's still a school, but not for children."

Anya: Anya said nothing as she stepped out of the cab, dropping Rune's hand. She wouldn't reclaim it until the car rolled away, and she'd taken a moment to admire the rows of buildings with a three-sixty turn.

Like with his flat before, she wanted to take in this piece of him in silence. It was too easy to imagine a tiny Rune walking this very street. And how impossible to think that it would have happened well over a lifetime ago.

Her smile curled slow and warm as she took his arm.

"Of course you did, sailor. Was that your favorite place? Take me there. After your house, I mean."

Rune: Would she ever understand how pleased he was to have her arm around him?

"My favorite place is next door to my least favorite." On the right side of the canal, he lead her to a row house dead center of the street. Its door was yellow now, but he would bet the money in his pocket it was a familiar antique. The same intricate carving of an anchor, though the knocker was silver now, not brass.

"This door used to be green, and it used to be mine." He pointed to the house to their right, painted all white with a sanded and polished door, unique among the coastal-themed rows.

"This was... I think she saved my life, once. Mm. From my father."

The houses were clean, the steps swept. There wasn't a forboding cloud hanging over their many bricks, and still he felt a chill.

"Do you want to see inside?"

Anya: "Green, huh?" For some reason, the thought made her smile. Despite the horrible things that took place there, once upon a time.

She tried again to imagine a little Felix. Slipping inside and trying not to make a sound. Her hand moved of its own accord. Slowly, carefully, her fingers traced the shape of the carved anchor.

She was still touching it when she looked to the home next door. Of course. His favorite place was with the woman who'd truly cared for him. Forever a hero in Anya's eyes.

Her fingers slid away as she nodded.

"Please. Unless we're gonna end up in jail for breaking and entering."

Rune: "Not if you trust me and play along." Her fingers were gently squeezed, the back of her hand kissed. "Do you trust me?"

Anya: As if she'd ever stopped. "Of course. I'm following your lead."

Rune: He nodded to himself, then to her. "Just Polish for a moment." Then came the knock on the door. Taking a step back, an inhale followed. It had been months since he'd performed this spell. If he couldn't center himself, the door would be shut in their face, or worse.

A man opened the door. Older, thinning hair, aquiline nose to rival the mage, glasses slipping down its bridge. His brown and blue shirt smelled of chocolate and cigarettes.

He stared expectantly, and Rune smiled with as much vigor as an Oscar nominee.

Hello, Pieter, he greeted. Did the man recall him from their conversation last week? This had been his childhood home. They had laughed at the coincidence. He was going to take Pieter's word of welcome and show his fiancée where he had been born if now was a good time. They wouldn't overstay their welcome.

The man blinked. The briefest shine behind his eyes. And then he smiled, patting Rune's shoulder.

"Natuurlijk! Natuurlijk ben ik het niet vergeten."

"Geweldig." Rune bowed his head as he brushed past their gracious, pliable host. "Dank je wel."

The house was a personification of modern sensibilities. Exposed brick had been painted white a lifetime ago. Modern appliances juxtapose a brick oven. A television above the mantel. Tiny washer and dryer in the kitchen, as with most European houses.

The man leaned the bulk of his weight against the kitchen island, staring into his phone and paying them no mind.

"He knows German," he whispered in careful Polish.

Anya: "Polish only. Got it."

The conversation that followed was entirely lost upon Anya. The handful of Dutch phrases she'd learned would hardly come into play, here. She was similarly ignorant to the threads of magic weaving between the two men. What got them through the door could just as easily have been charm. Rune had enough to spare. Certainly enough to have won her heart. Even accidentally.

Yes, Anya was in the dark. But sweet and friendly came to her easily enough. She smiled prettily at the man as Rune stepped inside. Pieter, wasn't it? She'd caught that much. Her head lowered in thanks; the very real language barrier between them kept her silence from being awkward.

It continued as she followed the mage inside. Her eyes drank in the space greedily, arm looping through Rune's blindly. She could find it in the dark, she was sure.

"Mm. No English?" she asked, under her breath. She'd keep to Polish, as promised. Slow enough for him to keep up. Now wasn't the time for words, anyway. Anya's mind was occupied with peeling away the house's modern facade. She sought out the bones of the space that had stood for well over a century. Where Rune had grown up, and endured the trials that came with it. Plus more besides.

Her grip tightened gently. She wanted to see more. "Your room?"

Rune: "Most Dutch speak English." His Polish was atrocious, but his explanation was that of a child, so no room for miscommunication. They could probably get away with whispering, but having been so long since his last familiarity spell, he didn't want to risk disturbing it.

Walking into the house, they were greeted with the kitchen, the dining room was a little round table under the window to the left. Across from the table was the fireplace. Filling in the final wall of the rectangular open space room was a mismatched couch, two chairs, and coffee table.

To the right of the kitchen was a small hallway with two doors and a set of stairs.

"My room," he whispered, gesturing to the furthest door.

A glance to their oblivious host. Anya was brought to the door. The handle tried. It was an office, now.

"My bed was there." He shaped the middle of the widest wall, the one shared with his former neighbor. "I had a chest at the foot of my bed. A wardrobe stood there, next to it. A little table here, by the door. There was a cross on that wall. My father carved it himself, when he was sober. I had..." He stepped forward, feeling at the hardwood flooring. "...There was a loose board here. A hundred years later, someone fixed it."

Anya: Anya paid little heed to the current occupant's design choices. She was still consumed with what the space once was. The memories seeped long ago into wood and stone. How long had it been since he'd last seen these walls, she wondered. Surely his last visit hadn't involved a trip to his childhood home.

She gave his arm a squeeze, then claimed his hand to press firmly between both of hers. Her gaze followed where he gestured. She buried deep the impossible impulse to protect a tiny Rune.

"Only took a century," she murmured, tipping her head against his for a moment. "Not too bad. Did you hide things underneath it? When you were little?"

Rune: Rune glanced at her. He was certain he had caught... something. A question she had yet to ask. He would wait for her to offer before prying if he pried at all.

She held him as though he would float away. He wondered why, but as with her questions, he withheld his own, squeezing back.

"Thought about it. He knew it was loose. When he was sober, he was helpful. Couldn't risk it."

His hand thoroughly stolen, Anya was brought the short walk across the room, feeling at the white painted walls.

"This used to be brick. There was a loose brick... here. It was my piggy bank."

Anya: "It's under there, somewhere." Her hands were quite pleasantly occupied, so she ignored the urge to run her fingers over plaster and paint. Maybe whoever had covered the brick had secured that particular one before he did. She doubted that, for reasons she couldn't guess. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

"Did you clear it out, before you left? Or did some other kid find treasure, once upon a time?"

Rune: It was a nice thought. Would have made a better story, he was sure, but he shook his head.

"I didn't have much when I left. Clothes, Bible, Moby Dick, my father's knife. I didn't need the money for long. Found a job the next day, gambled my way into more days later."

His smile was soft. "I should have left it."

Anya: "The next day." What a marvel he was, this impossible man. Was it truly a surprise that he'd survived to stand here with her today? Not to Anya.

She gave her head the slightest shake. "It was smart to take it. Maybe we can hide some treasure somewhere for somebody to find later. When we get to the beach, maybe."

Rune: "Sounds romantic," he said quietly. "You make most things romantic."

He kissed the back of her hand.

"Two bedrooms upstairs. There's nothing else to see." But still, he lingered. He felt her questioning nature and wanted to indulge. To give just a little more, after all the time and distance to get here.

"The room felt so much bigger, back then."

Anya: Her laugh was silent, shoulders raising in a small shrug. "I'm a sucker for romance."

Anya looked to the ceiling, as though she might see straight through it to the rooms beyond. Her curiosity there was nothing beside the desire to see this small bedroom. Rune didn't seem ready to move beyond it, and Anya was happy to stand at his side for as long as he wanted.

"Doesn't it always? You're bigger than you were. You've seen so much more of the world." Her grip tightened around his again.

"Is this the first time you've been back?"

Rune: Rune smiled at the floor. She was right, as usual. To a child, everything was enormous. This room had felt like a prison more than a sanctuary and had been hours from being his grave. He knew it in his gut, but the fine details had become smudged.

"Mm. Not since 1876. I've walked this neighborhood, nothing more."

Anya: Unexpected! Anya practically buzzed with the revelation. Her grin spread wide and delighted, the woman nearly dancing on the balls of her feet.

"Fucking finally," she breathed, only just managing to keep her voice low enough for his ears alone. "You've given yourself away. Did you forget that you told me how old you were when you left?"

She knew his real age. And she was more pleased than staggered by the number.

Rune: He looked at her with as much confusion as he did humor. He had forgotten their little game, but her delight was like medicine in this old house of memories.

"Somehow you're cheating," he grinned. "You fell for an old man. Sorry, no returns."

Anya: "Cheating?" The very nerve of this man. "I won fair and square. I played the long game, and it finally paid off."

It was his grin that warmed her through. A better gift than even winning their little bet. "Ha. I threw out that receipt years ago. I couldn't be happier."

Rune wouldn't feel a hint of a lie. She brought his hand to her chest and cradled it there, eyes sweeping the bedroom-turned-office once more. "Have we seen enough?"

Rune: "Have you? We could just as well go next door," he smirked. They had enough time, but another bout of heavy mind magic might do him in for any more spells the rest of the day.

So, this was happiness. He sometimes forgot the flavor. More than sometimes. More than he cares to admit. She was happy to have him, knowing his age and holding his hand. The little things mattered to her in a way which made them monumental.

"What were we wagering?"

Anya: "I meant here. Of course we have to go next door." She'd wanted to see his favorite place. That much hadn't changed. And better to end this journey into his past on a place with warmer memories.

"Mm. We have a problem. You said you'd tell me where you fell out of, that night. But I already know that. We're gonna have to renegotiate the terms."

Rune: "Mm." Next door meant more magic. He had some to spare. He would bet the same lie verbatim would get him through the door.

"What demands are you going to make of me?" he whispered, leading her out of his old bedroom and back into the central kitchen. He thanked their host for his hospitality and patience. Perhaps their host should consider an early sleep. There were bags under his eyes.

Rune walked slowly down the steps, waiting for the click of the repainted door. A beat, two.

"Same as before. Are you ready?"

Anya: "I have to think about it," she grinned, giving the hand in hers a playful jostle. "This is momentous. Years in the making. It has to be good."

Play was the word for it. They'd never taken their silly wagers seriously. All in good fun. Merely excuses to spend additional time together. She supposed they no longer needed the pretense.

Anya's parting smile for Pieter was as warm as the first she'd offered him. She ducked her head in thanks for his kindness.

Grabbing at the wheeled bag she'd left near the door, Anya nodded. "Ready."

Rune: "Were you even trying to find out?" he smirked. A moment of reprieve before his second spell, enjoying the elation on her face and the way it brightened her eyes.

He almost said something. Almost.

It's hard to believe you're real, sometimes.

Second house, second knock. His eyes closed, listening for a sound from within. Gathering himself, pooling all of his quintessence into his vocal cords.

An old woman answered the door, and his performative smile faltered. A silence stretched between the trio as he gathered himself. Dark green eyes stared patiently. The lie he had intended was replaced by a half-truth. This house once belonged to a woman who had raised him. He had run away from home too young. He knew she was dead, but if she would be so kind as to let him relieve the memories...

The old woman said nothing, only stepped aside.

The house was its own entity, and not at all a mirror image of its neighbor. The entrance opened in a split between the living room and kitchen, directly facing the now carpeted stairs with a wheelchair lift leading to the bedrooms. To the right the living room; to the left the kitchen. The walls were painted blue, the trim white. Gray carpet had replaced the hardwood floors that had once been. The fireplace once deep and brown now a white accent filled with various-sized candles for the season.

Anya's hand was gripped just a little too tightly.

Anya: "Of course I was! It wasn't like I could Google you!"

The journey was laughably short, but Anya wouldn't rush them from one door to the next. With the ease of their previous interaction, she imagined he'd have no trouble gaining entry here. Charm or magic, it was all the same to her.

She was once again all smiles when the door opened, prepared to offer another silent greeting. Rune hesitated. Her gaze shot to his face, searching for the source of the delay.

When he did speak, the words were once again lost to her. She really needed to invest the time into proper lessons. But the owner bid them to enter. And though she was still largely focused on Rune's expression, Anya made to step inside.

The tightening of his grip had her stopping short. She squeezed him in turn, opposite hand brushing along his arm. Green eyes sought brown for a silent question. Are you all right?

They could turn around.

Rune: He had to force himself forward. Had to for his own reasons that meant absolutely nothing. The house no longer belonged to Danique Beenhouwer. And with her name, it all came crashing back.

His feet shuffled forward, his mouth dry and throat painful. Fingers ached from his grip, wanting to loosen for her sake but unable to unclench.

"I would sleep... in front of the fireplace. I would daydream, and study, and read... right there."

Anya: It was discomfort that could be endured. Her own grip was gentle as she squeezed his arm. Small comfort was all she had to offer in the face of his memories.

She was entirely consumed with watching him. She'd perhaps regret not taking in the house as she had the last; the moment wasn't about her.

"Mm. This was your home."

A word that never really meant four walls. This was where he'd felt safe and loved. That would never change.

Rune: "Mm." Unlike the previous house, this owner was watchful, patient, and invested. They were not free to do as they pleased, and Rune didn't know enough Polish to explain in detail as he would have liked.

The mage shook his head. He thanked their host in Dutch and turned to the door.

Anya: Anya had dropped the pretense upon which their visit rested. She offered their would-be hostess a small, kind smile and murmured her thanks in English.

She surrendered Rune's arm to reclaim her travel bag. She'd hold her silence until they were well past the front building. "Do you want to walk, or... sit?"

Rune: Anya's hand was retaken once they reached the sidewalk. He felt as though he'd held his bread though he hadn't. The burn beneath his collarbone was every bit as real as the burn in his throat.

"Walk. We'll walk. I'm -" sorry. "I didn't mean-" for the abrupt ending.

Anya: Then walk they would. Anya would neither dawdle nor drag him along. Their pace was his to set. She merely squeezed his hand and pressed her lips to his temple.

"You don't have to explain. Let's just walk, for a while. We have plenty of time."

Rune: Rune's feet kept a decent pace, but it was Anya leading them. The mage was elsewhere, wading through memory after memory. It would take a block for him to recover.

"More than a century-" He blinked. "A hundred and forty-seven years I haven't stepped foot in that house. I'd forgotten her face, her full name, her voice. All this time, it was hiding in that house."

Anya: She would wade through that silence with him. Her promise had been utterly sincere. Rune didn't have to speak until he was ready, if he ever was.

When the quiet was broken, Anya was a receptive audience. "That's a lot to take in at once. But from what you've told me, she's a woman worth remembering."

Rune: "Is she? Is any of it? If I remember her, I have to remember all the dead ones. All... of the dead ones." His hand swept over his eyes, his pace slowing. "You're right. You're right. She's worth remembering."

Anya: Rune slowed and Anya pulled to a full stop. She nodded in silence. Grief was love enduring, plain and simple. Her arms slipped around him for a crushing embrace. Of course she was worth remembering.

Rune: Instinct wanted him to push her away. Reject this comfort as he had time and again. It had been years since he'd felt this weakness in his arms and legs. The pang in his chest was uncomfortably familiar. The loss of his innocence, the loss of what could have been, of his would-be mother, fulfillment, and the loss of love. The reasons for tears were as apparent now as they had ever been, but they had already been shed. To do so again was an indulgence.

Yet, he allowed his chin to rest on her shoulder. Allowed himself a moment to breathe.

"I'm fine."

Anya: Rune accepted her embrace and her hold tightened by a fraction. The slight strain in her muscles was welcome. She'd release him as soon as she felt him shift, but not a moment sooner.

"I know," she nodded, pressing her lips to his cheek. "Let's go find some breakfast."

Rune: Her kiss was reciprocated, pressing his lips to her temple. She was kind enough to have planned this. Wanting a slice of his life that she had no other means to experience herself. She had no way of knowing how he would feel walking through the door, and neither had he.

He kissed Anya's hand as he stared at the two houses. Fraternal sisters then and now, and forever until their structures crumbled.

"I would sit on those steps and wait for her. I would stare at the canal and dream of being on one of those boats. She told me not to be like my father. No drinking, no gambling, no sailing. But she told me to pray for others. I could do one of those things."

He stuffed her hand in his pocket.

"I know what we need. Appelflap."

Anya: She had no intentions of pressing for additional answers. Anya had no window into his memories, but she could imagine the onslaught. No, she was content to be a steadying presence at his side for as long as he'd allow it.

A tiny smile tugged at one corner of her mouth when he spoke. Her head tipped softly against his for a beat. She was grateful for the memory. She tucked it away safe and squeezed his fingers.

"Appelflap? Is that in addition to or instead of chocoladehagelslag?"

Rune: "We won't be confined to one breakfast. Apple pastries and chocolate sprinkles, and coffee until I can hear colors." He nodded to the sky. Now that the ordeal was over, he was glad to have done it. There was no knowing if he could have without her.

Anya: Her laugh was a weak sound, but it held real mirth. She wouldn't stop him a second time to kiss him, no matter how badly she wanted to.

"As long as your heart doesn't stop, I'll enable the coffee overdose today. I might have to take mine black, too. Cut some of the sweetness of all that pastry."

Something to consider as they walked. She inhaled the salt on the breeze, taut muscles easing.

"Do you want to take breakfast to-go? Maybe find some place to sit, and eat, and watch the boats pass?"

Rune: Rune looked at her. This fantastic woman. This sweetness in his life. The thought had been hers, but it was him leaning over and offering his lips.

"We'll do those Anya things," he said softly. "I know just the place. A park full of wildflowers by the canal. Just up that way. For now," he pointed in the opposite direction. "Our breakfast is that way."

Anya: She wondered whether he'd caught her passing thought as his lips met hers, and decided she didn't care. Her suitcase was abandoned temporarily to cup his cheek.

"Anya things," she chuckled, and grabbed the handle once more. It seemed that he was an expert in those. She did love wildflowers.

"Mm. Sounds beautiful."

Anya was suddenly desperate to stretch out across the grass. An impromptu picnic was perfect.

Rune: On the other side of the neighborhood facing the church was a bakery looking as old as the city itself. Like much of Amsterdam, the exterior and the interior clashed old and new. The smell reached their noses before the hum of quiet conversations and called names over the counter.

Perhaps it was nostalgia, but he was suddenly starving.

"I never want sweets unless you're around. You do this to me," Rune said into her ear.

Anya: Anya found the idea of being a bad culinary influence terribly funny. She bit down on her cheek to stifle a laugh.

"Mm. If you're expecting an apology, you're gonna be waiting for a long time."

With time and the emotional wave they'd ridden, her general willingness to eat had grown into proper hunger. Though, the true culprit may have been the intoxicating scent of baked goods on the air. By the time they reached the front of the line, Anya was eyeing several of the pastries, nose nearly pressed against the glass of the display case.

"Ooh, I want some of those, too." She gestured to an array of lacy cookies that looked mouth-wateringly crisp. "How do you... kletskoppen? Is that right?"

Rune: Rune was biting his lip, nodding along as Anya made her list. Happiness this sweet and soothing was an old and nearly forgotten friend. A face familiar only after a squint and a hum. A question echoed in his mind, just a passive curiosity if this woman would be the death of him. Somehow, some way.

Perhaps that's what it was. No, it was. An epiphany in a patisserie in Amsterdam one gentle midday.

He cleared his throat. "Mm. If you like almond paste, we'll get amandelbroodjes, too."

And two cups of coffee to wash it down. Without thinking, he gave Anya Rune as their name.

Anya: "Amandelbroodjes." Anya echoed the word with a tiny smile. It tickled, for reasons she didn't know and wouldn't examine. Little delights.

Her eyes scanned each hand-written placard until she found the dessert he'd indicated. Layers of flaky pastry glinted with sprinkled sugar crystals. "Oh, yes. Definitely one of those."

She looked up from the array of sweets at the given name. Maybe it should have come as a surprise, but it did not. They'd taken each other's names years ago. Her lips curved into that fern curl smile and she took his hand again as they moved aside to wait. "How long has this place been here?"

Rune: The word was said one more time, an inch closer for Anya to hear the distinct throat transition in broodjes. He didn't say it enough, if ever, how he adored hearing Dutch from her tongue.

The hand was hers to take. He'd realized weeks ago it was their favorite loving gesture. Perhaps the feeling that they had years to make up for was mutual.

"There's always been a bakery in this area. I think this one started in the late '50s. I was at sea during the war. This was the first place I came ashore; had a craving for stamppot and kibbeling."

Anya: She made another attempt, teetering along the edge between Polish and German. His casual encouragement delighted her, and made just one more try well worth the effort. A little better!

"Mm." Her thumb idly stroked the metal of one of his rings. He offered those dates so much more easily, now. It pleased her more than she could say.

Now, she had two more words to echo back to him, cracking a small smile. "You're gonna have to tell me what those are."

Rune: A nasty little voice in the back of his mind told him he was getting too comfortable. Her enthusiasm quieted the voice, but he knew it would be whispering again in no time.

"I've never had to describe food," he chuckled. "It's um, mashed potatoes with vegetables on top and a long rookworst on top of that. Kibbeling is just fried fish."

Anya: "Never? Not once?" Her smile widened. She tipped her head from side to side as she considered the descriptions.

"Well, I can try the first one. Hold the sausage."

Rune: "Carrots and onions and kale. The healthiest you'll ever see me eat. I think it's the national dish." A smile ghosted his lips. "Why it's not hagelslag I can't tell you."

Anya: Her shoulder bumped lightly against his. "More vegetables aren't gonna kill you. I make a really good salad."

She looked up again at the sound of the name he'd given. Her smile flashed sun-bright and just as warm. "That's us."

Rune: "That's us," he echoed, happy that she was happy. Perhaps that was why he had done it, but he didn't dwell on his impulses. The image of his pseudo-mother's house modernized and sanitized with paint left a taste in his mouth that had yet to dissolve.

Their food was offered in a paper bag. Anya Rune scribbled in marker. His arm was offered once they stepped outside.

"Do you have a place in mind for us to stay when we get there?"

Anya: For once, she'd let him hold onto the food. Her hands were quite occupied with the bag rolling along at her side. And with gripping his arm, of course. The latter was non-negotiable.

"Mm. I made a reservation at a place not far from my parents'. It's still a train ride into town once we leave the airport. I think we should find somewhere nearby once we land."

Nine hours of combined travel with hours to kill in between promised to be exhausting. She was already feeling the tug of sleep; she had plenty to catch up on.

"Unless you think we should power through."

Rune: He didn't hesitate to shake his head.

"No, I want you rested. However tired you feel now, seeing her again, you're going to want to sleep when this is finished. Call it a hunch."

Anya: Anya would need no further persuading. She nodded her agreement.

"You're the expert. I can look up a place now. We can head straight there once we leave the airport. They probably have some kind of shuttle, or something. For the closest places."

The hunt would require digging out her mobile. She would wait until they were settled in the grass, for that.

Rune: Across the arched canal bridge, they walked with muscle memory. Many an afternoon, he'd sat under the handsome towering trees reading stories of world history, mosaics of poetry, and the Bible in their shade. Now, under those same elms, he shared his lunch with his best friend. After a quick scan for ants he plopped on the ground, back sagging against the rough bark. The sensation was nostalgic.

"Sounds like we're paying her a visit tomorrow morning."

Anya: She inhaled the scent of green. How restorative this spot was, with its shady trees and fragrant wildflowers. Anya didn't hesitate to drop her backpack and stretch out across the grass. Her sigh was pure pleasure.

"Mm. Tomorrow morning," she agreed. And thoughts of her mother could wait until then.

Her head lolled to one side to look at him. What a face! With a smile that hid no affection, she gestured toward the paper bag, her other hand coming to rest on her abdomen.

"I think I'll try those chocolate sprinkles, first."

Rune: Her loving expression caught him by surprise. He almost looked over his shoulder for some external reason. Surely, not him.

"What's that look for?" Their hagelslag appetizer was the only treat in a small paper box. Its entirety was placed in her stomach.

Anya: "I just like looking at you. It's like someone sculpted you."

She grinned lazily and studied his face for a beat longer. Only a beat.

Her face turned up toward the warmth of the sun and she opened the lid of the little box. Blindly, she selected a slice. She sank her teeth into butter and chocolate with a soft, appreciative hum. Delicious.

"That's excellent butter."

Rune: Hearing praise for his beauty hit differently from her lips. He didn't know why and didn't think he ever would, but her high opinion of him warmed him internally.

"You don't even have to pay to look. Lucky you."

First things first. He would tilt back with his coffee, downing half before he would consider a pastry.

Anya: She snorted softly. "You're so generous."

Her eyes slipped shut on her next bite. She could almost forget the long flight behind them, and the one ahead. The strain of his memories and the ones that promised to pummel her come tomorrow. Moments like these were worth bottling. If only she possessed the ability.

When she'd polished off the final morsel of bread, she held out her hand for her own neglected cup.

"Coffee, please. I need a palate cleanser before I try the next one. What do you recommend?"

Rune: "There is no saving the best for last. Amandelbroodjes." He handed her cup of coffee, pleased by the blended scent of grass, trees, salt water, and coffee. The smell was home, wherever that was. It was a feeling more than a place.

"Doesn't feel real," he sighed. "Being here with you. I hate that feeling. Like a dream when you're awake. Makes me feel insane."

Anya: Reluctantly, she levered herself up onto one elbow. She didn't want to spend the rest of the day covered in spilled coffee. Careful, bitter sips chased the sweetness from her tongue.

When she lowered herself back down, it was with her head pillowed on Rune's thigh. She looked up at him with a tiny furrow between her dark brows.

"This is real," she promised. "I could pinch you. Prove it's not a dream."

Rune: His eyes closed to her sweet offer. She might as well have pressed a blade over his heart.

"The day I can explain everything you make me feel, the memories you pull out of a hat..."

But in the meantime, he would comb his fingers through her hair, let his head hit the back of the tree, and breathe.

"Down that road," he said after a time, "right before the docks, there was a pub. One round table to the left, as soon as you walk in. It was where I would find my father when he didn't come home. It's been turned into a restaurant."

Anya: A part of her wanted to chase those memories that he spoke of. If he were a cat, perhaps. Though she doubted even then. She respected him enough to allow him to reveal himself at his own pace.

Her eyes drifted closed at his touch. She listened to the offered piece of his past with the reverence it deserved. "And were you the one to haul him home?"

It was a burden no child should have to bear.

Rune: "Every time." He said as casually as depicting the weather to a stranger. "Occasionally, he had the wherewithal to stumble home. Proud of beating me to the punch. I'd find him on the path and he'd shake his finger at me. 'Turn around. I don't need you, boy.' He'd hold himself up by my shoulder. Was my head, first. His hands were massive, but we said, so is everything to a child."

Anya: "Taking care of him when he should have been taking care of you."

The anger that began to simmer in her gut was righteous, but had no target. She took another, measured sip of her bitter coffee. Mostly to have something productive to do.

"I really wish I could fight your father."

Rune: He didn't know what to say to her contemplative statement. The only response he could think of was callous and dismissive, but Anya had long earned the right to a less apathetic conversation, no matter how uncomfortable it sat on his chest.

"I don't," he said after a moment. "You can't beat something already broken." He would laugh at her fist and tell her to try harder, and then spit out the blood.

"Does it matter if the woman we're visiting is your blood relation? You love the people who adopted you, but is that love different?"

Anya: "Of course not. He's your father." Rune was allowed to look at the man with nuance. Through time and distance. "I love you. I'm holding onto the grudge."

Fruitless as it may have been, she meant it. There were people in her life she'd forgiven, but those closest to her certainly hadn't. That was the way of love, sometimes. Biased.

"Hm. It's different. Not more or less, exactly. Just different. They chose me. And kept choosing me for my whole life. Plus, I've known them far longer. Apples and oranges."

Rune: "That is something, isn't it? You've known them longer." A bit of pastry was torn off and offered.

"He's the only father I've known. He fed me before himself. Kept a roof over my head. Traded sailing for the docks. He drank like a fish, and I walked him home, he struck me for existing, and beat the father of the boy that made me bleed. If he knew the truth about me, he never said a word."

Anya: She took the offered bit of pastry with her teeth, chewing and swallowing with an appreciative hum. "Mm. That's good."

The moment felt unhurried. Anya stared up at the leaves, at his face, and listened quietly while he spoke. There was that nuance. Of course she understood him. It didn't change anything. She reached for his hand and held it to her cheek. Touching for touching's sake. "You're allowed to love him."

She'd detest the man enough for the both of them. A sigh, and another sip of her coffee. "It's not the same. Knowing your parents as a child, versus knowing them as an adult. When you're little, they're your whole world. Everything you know comes from them. I never knew my mother as a person. Not like I know Anton and Natalka. They're the kindest people I've ever known. I'm... nervous. To meet her."

The truth was, her mother had never known Anya as an adult, either. What if she didn't like the woman she'd grown into? She hadn't had the chance to raise her, after all.

Rune: There she went again, making those statements that shook him to his core. The kind of statements his body wanted to reject like a poison.

She could have his hand. There was a second when he hadn't realized he'd been touched. The warmth and softness of her cheek brought him back from 1876.

"I'll always have him like a photograph. Modern lenses view fourteen-year-olds as children, but I was a man. I paid my way, lived alone. I didn't need him. But... that's all I have of him. Fourteen years of his face. I knew him in a way I shouldn't have. The person, you call it."

He breathed in deeply.

"She knows who you are. She'll see you and she'll know. I'll make certain you can speak with her face to face."

Anya: There was no argument she could make, about that. At least none that she was willing to. She'd made her opinion on his century-dead father clear. No sense in driving another nail into that coffin.

"I trust you." A nod. She brought his palm briefly to the warmth of her lips.

"Let me try one of the... appelflap?"

Rune: His smile returned without effort. Their bag of treats was placed beside her, his coffee finished. His body would be wired until they reached the hotel, but he expected that since New York.

"Have you always?"

Anya: "What?" Her eyes shifted to him from where they tracked a swallow hopping along a thick branch. "Trusted you?"

She reached blindly into the bag for whatever her fingers brushed first. One of the crisp cookies, from the feel of it. A small bite stifled her laugh. "Maybe not that first night. Hard to trust a stranger that came stumbling out of nowhere. But it didn't take long."

Rune: "I feel as though I once knew the exact moment, but you've given me so many." One day, it would rival the many stars in the sky. He had stopped writing poetry decades ago. Knowing her, she would want to read it. Perhaps one day as a gift.

"After No's shenanigans, I have every faith in you."

Anya: Her nose wrinkled as she pushed the rest of the cookie between her lips. Delicious. The pastry was not the source of her expression.

"Well, I protected your stomach. I wasn't there to stop him from climbing that tree, though."

Rune: "He's tightroped the edge of a skyscraper before. At least then I was fully dressed. That's what I blame you for. You just wanted to see me naked."

Anya: Her eyes grew impossibly wide, at that. And her heart, ridiculous organ, sped up for danger that was long passed. She inhaled deeply to slow it and exhaled on a sigh.

"That's insane. He's gonna kill you."

Her fingers tightened around his, and she managed to smile. She blamed the heat in her face on the sunshine. "Of course I did. But not because of No. That's why I went inside. It... wasn't right to look at you, if it wasn't your choice."

Rune: "I imagine he's considered it." He wasn't watching the canal anymore, nor the birds, nor the people. He stared, quietly, admiring the warmth of her face, the nuance of her contemplations.

"How should I die? Sooner or later, I will, I suppose. Bets have been placed with my on-again-off-again crew. Drowning is a big one. They have no imagination."

Anya: "Mm. You shouldn't." That was a simple enough answer. If an unfair one. She brushed crumbs from her fingers before reaching up to stroke his cheek.

"But if you have to... Quickly, I guess. Drowning is way too slow. I wouldn't want you to be afraid."

Rune: "I just shouldn't?" He combed his fingers through her hair. A mother with her two children and lagging husband stared. It was a lot of affection in public. They were paid no mind.

"If you die before your time, some unforeseen accident, would you hate me for putting you back together?"

Anya: Anya's touch might have faltered with their audience, but she was blind anyone but Rune. She smiled up at him with undisguised tenderness. "You just shouldn't."

His question seemed absurd. But this was her impossible man. It was given due consideration.

"Hm. Would I still be me? I don't think I could ever hate you, but I'd want to still be myself. If you can pull that off, then absolutely. Put that Anya puzzle back together."

Rune: "I won't turn you into Corpse Bride." Behold, a reference! "It's a short window, and it closes quickly. If you're still warm, and not too broken."

The sudden feeling gripped his heart. He scratched gently at her scalp. A reminder that she was real.

"I've never considered dying with anyone," he mused, his voice soft and thoughtful.

Anya: "Sounds impossible." The idea of him being a Tim Burton fan made her smile. She liked that movie. She would, of course. It was a romance.

"What, like growing old with someone? Just living out a lifetime? Or more like a Romeo and Juliet tragedy?"

Rune: Her mage swallowed thickly. One, not the other.

"Joining someone," he confessed. "The answer to the unspoken question hasn't changed. I don't want it to end. Dying would be the equivalent of suicide. Choosing to be unlucky, choosing not to bargain for years. That's suicide."

Anya: "Hm. I don't know if I agree with it being suicide." Her gentle words held no judgement. She was musing as quietly as he was, gazing up at him.

"But you can't just stop being who you are. I understand that."

Her hand lifted as casually as a wave. The pretty little swallow swooped down to land on her extended finger.

"I wouldn't give this up, even if I had a choice. Not for... not for most things."

Rune: "Most things," he echoed. "What would you give up your life for, do you think?"

Anya: She gave as much of a shrug as she could, from her position. The dear little swallow was given a stroke before being released to her treetop, once more. "A sacrifice for someone I love, I guess. Gun-to-my-head type situation. Or if it meant saving all mutants, or whatever. Not much else."

Rune: "I should have known," he smirked. "It's you to a T. Noble, brave, selfless, beautiful you."

Another sigh, expelling the weight on his shoulders.

"And may it never come true."

Anya: She snorted, gently pushing his perfect face out of her field of vision.

"I'm not exactly saving the world with a hypothetical. The fate of the planet isn't in my hands. I think we're safe."

Rune: "I think you could be devastating. Thank Heaven you're not a villain," he smirked.

Anya: "Sure," she laughed. "I could build an army. Start taking down world leaders. I might do some real damage, before the X-Men caught up with me. Would you be my magical henchman?"

Rune: "Of course. You would have two armies and a pirate's ship."

Anya: "Oh! Beasts, and ghosts, and pirates? I'd be unstoppable! Or at least be able to film a really epic movie." Her smile broadened.

"Ok. I'll start making my plans for world domination, then."

With that thought, there were real plans that she'd been neglecting. She fished her mobile from her pocket to begin searching for a room.

"Has anyone made you watch Pirates of the Caribbean, yet?"

Rune: "Beasts and ghosts and pirates," he echoed. "There is a film title in there, somewhere."

Flaky pastry was dusted from his leg, and a little from her hair.

"Do they say ‘Arr, matey,' and make people walk the plank?"

Anya: His question made her giggle as she scrolled. A room with a single bed didn't feel too presumptuous, given everything.

"I don't know about 'arr, matey.’ There's definitely some 'Avast!' and one plank-walking scene. There's cursed gold and a few fabulous hats."

Rune: "The word traces here. Houd vast." A phrase which would have already snuck into her vocabulary. It was still difficult to believe. Only two people in his long lifetime had cared enough to try. What was he supposed to do with that?

"Tobiuo. Found a place?"

Anya: "Hold tight. Huh." She'd never made the connection. Likely because she'd never had occasion to. She wasn't exactly watching pirate movies in Dutch.

Rune had always said the two languages were similar. She beamed up at him.

"I love you." No one was near enough to hear them, anyway. "Mm. This one is nice. Bed looks comfortable and it has a soaking tub."

The phone was flipped to show him her screen.

Rune: "You said the magic words." His lips twitched. "Soaking tub is also nice."

He closed his eyes, feeling the time chugging along around them.

"Could nap here. No one would bother us."

Anya: "Oh, yeah," she chuckled. "Queen sized bed. And no animals scratching at the door."

Satisfied with the choice, she filled out the digital reservation form.

"A nap sounds great, but I don't want to miss our flight."

Rune: "Unless you're missing one more than the others." He didn't mind ripping open a rift just for her to have one of her fur babies.

Fuck, he was thinking like her now, too.

"You rest your eyes, I'll stand guard, fair maiden."

Anya: The smile that curved her lips and squinted her eyes was knowing, her love spilling over, unchecked. Sweet man.

"We can't play favorites with the children," she insisted, shaking her head.

Rune's offer was generous. And she didn't take long to consider, before taking it. She pressed her half-full cup of coffee into his hand. Still warm, but cooling.

"So brave. So noble. You can have the rest of that, if you want."

Anya would claim his other hand, bringing it to her chest to cuddle in the absence of some furry little creature.

"Just a few minutes," she promised, eyes slipping shut with a yawn she didn't bother to stifle. "I mean it."

Rune: The coffee would sustain him until they reached their destination. There would be no nap in his future. Guaranteed by the last sip of her offering. She could keep his hand. His thumb rubbed slowly back and forth. A silent acknowledgement and affection while she slept. He roamed the landscape, reshaping and recoloring to his childhood. More naturals and whitewash. Carriages and crinolines.

They had hours until they needed to return. She could have an hour of peace in the grass, gently baked by the Dutch sun. Eventually his hand found her hair. Combed through her curls.

Reluctantly, he scratched at her scalp and massages her temples.

"You had a sugar coma."

Anya: A few minutes, she'd promised. The words had been sincere. But sleep was a siren beckoning her toward its shores, unhelped by the sun's intoxicating heat or the gentle stroking of Rune's thumb.

Anya slipped beneath sleep's surface. Her breathing grew slow and even, undisturbed by dreams.

Gentle, loving touch stirred her into wakefulness. Her eyes cracked open groggily, and it took a moment for her to recall where they were.

"Mm. How long was I out? Is it time to head back?"

Rune: His hand hovered by her eyes, shielding them from the sun as she opened them.

"Time slipped my mind," he lied effortlessly. "About an hour. I was daydreaming." Not a lie.

Anya: "Time slipped by you, impossible man?" As skeptical as she sounded, she had no real reason to doubt him. Her hand lifted to smother a yawn as she forced herself up into a sitting position. She stretched toward the sky with a satisfied groan.

"An hour. No need to rush back, then. What were you daydreaming about?"

Rune: "My last days here. Carriages on the streets and the smell that came with it. The feeling of clothes and how they've changed. Shoes and whether or not they've improved. My first crush lived just there. She smiled at me when so few would. A low bar, but what are standards with crushes?"

Anya: The thought was enough to have her cracking a grin.

"A smile can be enough," she agreed. "Cute. Do you miss the world the way it was? I know you'd take carriages over cars, any day. What about the rest of it?"

Rune: "I didn't mind the fashions, but there's something sharp in every era. The world was more mysterious without internet, but you know that. The world was... indescribable on so many cups of coffee."

Anya: Anya chuckled softly, slowly pulling the band free from the pitiful end of what remained of her braid. She began the work of unraveling and finger-combing.

"Fair. But that doesn't really answer my question. Do you miss it? Or is it all just... the same?"

Rune: She has caught that. Of course she had. The answer hadn't come to him yet, so he shrugged.

"If you want a tidy yes or no, I don't think I have either. The answer is a novella I'm not gonna write. You'd fall back asleep."

Anya: "Fair," she repeated, with another gentle laugh. "But I would never fall asleep during your novella. I'd read you cover-to-cover, impossible man. Don't you forget it. Do you want a turn to rest your eyes? Or did the coffee do the trick?"

Rune: "You're not real," he laughed. His fingers combed through her hair - his new favorite pastime. Denial was his only option, or submit to the belief that she loved him that much; he should have known better by now. Should have accepted every nook and cranny, but not yet.

"I'll survive until I fall into bed. Is there something else you want to see?"

Anya: "I was the last time I checked." Her lips curved into a crooked smile.

Rune's touch was welcome, as always. And she didn't mind the help.

"Is there something else you want to show me?" she countered, plucking a blade of grass from her curls. "Maybe we can walk along the canal. Before we have to sit for another two hours."

Rune: Rune breathed in, weighing what else they could possibly tack onto their walk.

Where he landed was the obvious choice. One of those things that was safe with her.

"When I said I left home, how far do you think I traveled? If I told you just down the way to the IJ, the port right over there, would you laugh at me?"

Anya: "Never." Not over something like that. "I would call you very, very cute, though. It makes sense. You were on your own. It's reasonable to find a place that's familiar. A language that's familiar. Work that's familiar."

She shook out her detangled hair, and began the quick, rough work of rebraiding it. Tighter, this time.

"How long did you work there?"

Rune: Rune considered the timeline of his life like a reel before his eyes. Staring at the grass between them, he could recall the time down to the second. But that was too much. Such confessions made people uneasy. Anya wasn't other people, but his behavior was instinct.

"A few years. Moved further east. Eventually to Germany."

The oldest tattoos on the back of his knuckles were tapped. "My parting gift from the Netherlands. Don't let a drunk sailor anywhere near you with a needle."

Anya: "Mm." That also made perfect sense. His father had been German, the bastard. Rune knew the language.

Anya really did want to read the story of his life cover-to-cover. She had time to coax the chapters out of him, she supposed. One by one. They had years, G-d willing.

"Ha. I'll be sure to take your advice, the next time I run into one."

When she'd tied off the end of her braid, she caught that hand in hers, bringing the inked knuckles to her lips.

"I like them. You ready?"

Rune: He was hard-pressed to find what she didn't like. They were both stubborn, and there were times he didn't offer enough explanation, if any. There were times she kept her opinions to herself and only half-spilled her feelings. They were an imperfectly perfect match.

Back on his feet, he held steady to her hand as he pulled her to her own.

"Would you be satisfied with journals? I only have one. In Willemstad."

Anya: Anya accepted his help easily, letting him bear her weight as she unfolded from the grass. She packed away what remained of their breakfast into her bag with the rest of the travel snacks. They'd have plenty to graze when they got to the hotel.

Rune's question had her looking up from her task. Had he caught her earlier thought?

"You'd let me read your journal?" More like translate. She assumed it was written in Dutch.

Rune: "Hardly a journal, and a poor excuse for a grimoire. I abandoned it halfway. Less of a diary and more of a map, poetry, and complaining. Repeated symbols until memorized. Documentation of my first exorcism, and... it would be your little secret."

Anya: "Who would I tell?" she asked, smiling as she zipped her case and straightened. The offer moved her. He'd asked on more occasions than one whether or not she trusted him; this seemed to suggest that he felt the same. His secrets would be safe with her.

"You write poetry?" Asked as she grabbed both of her bags and took his arm. Her lips brushed his cheek with gratitude she didn't feel the need to voice.

Rune: Her question was met with a long sigh. He wanted to wrap his arm around her waist, but wouldn't deny her the cradling she so enjoyed.

"I take it all back. You'll never see the book."

Anya: "Too late! You can't tease me with poetry and then walk that back. I need to read it, now."

She tightened her grip on his arm and gave it a playful jostle. "A poet! You're never shaking that title, impossible man."

Rune: Her impossible man let out a long, low groan, head lulling back to curse the sky. He'd become too comfortable with her. Telling her things he wouldn't have dreamed of just last year. Was it true, he wondered, could he not walk it back?

"You haven't seen it," he warned as they walked. "Save your undue praise."

Anya: She swallowed a laugh, but her smile was damning. The delight that had bloomed with his revelation was impossible to suppress.

"You think I care if it's good? It could be total shit. You felt it. You wrote it."

That was everything in the world. She gave his arm another squeeze.

Rune: "You should care. You can't unread it."

Their hands were swung forth.

"I need something of yours, too. For the sake of fairness. Something embarrassing."

Anya: "Something like what?" she laughed, no longer able to suppress the sound. "I never wrote any poetry. Awkward puberty photos? Notes that I passed in class? Maybe there's something in my old bedroom that you'll accept."

Rune: "That's all you have?" There was no equivalent to grimoire. Nothing but hastily created scrapbooks and maudlin diaries. He considered vlogs, and quickly dismissed the idea. Too staged.

"Not even an ugly painting?"

Anya: "A painting? Something from when I was little, maybe. Nothing embarrassing. And you'd have to fight my parents for it."

Her shoulders rose and fell. "I didn't keep a diary. You've seen the only thing I keep hidden, really. You can check out my book collection."

Rune: "I'm surprised your art is limited to childhood. Painting, sculpture, poetry, music - music, certainly. Singing is in your blood."

Anya: "I sang for you before." Memories she held so tightly. "I took guitar lessons, but I was never very good."

Rune: "Yes, exactly," he smiled. He too was fond of the memory.

"Couldn't get the hang of instruments. Touched a djembe, once. Shamisen, hyōshigi. Nothing sticks."

Anya: "Formal lessons? Or just trying it out? I think that was my problem. The instructor was strict. And I couldn't spend all that time inside playing scales."

She'd been a wild creature, then, all messy hair and scraped knees. She'd been much more inclined to spend her free time up a tree than under florescent lights.

Rune: "Do I look like a formal lesson fellow?" Short of magic itself, and even that was unconventional. Hardly worthy of the Arcanum.

"It was whatever Aoi or some shipmate put in front of me. I would humor them and," he shrugged. "Thought nothing of it."

Anya: Her mouth tilted down in contempt at the mention of that name. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, a laugh following in its wake. For him.

"Definitely not. But you're impossible, so I'm not putting anything past you. The poetry was a surprise. So... do you want a terrible song, then?"

Rune: "When did I earn this impossible title? You'll have to remind me."

With a sigh, he made a show of consideration.

"A sappy love song? Spoken-word song? A Gregorian chant?" he grinned.

Anya: "On that first night." Although she didn't recall telling him that until a little later. "And every time I've seen you since then."

Her mouth twitched with poorly restrained amusement. "Um. If you want me to play for you, then it's gonna be a song about a little kitten that sleeps a lot and dreams about a river full of milk. But if just singing is good enough, I'll give you that Gregorian chant. Sure."

Rune: Rune tried to think of what he had done, short of falling out of the Umbra in front of her, short of lying about what she had obviously seen.

That answered that.

"Did you - is that a lullaby? Why does that sound familiar?"

Anya: "It's a children's song. I guess it could sound a little like a lullaby, if you're in tune," she laughed. "I can't promise that."

Rune: "I'll take one children's song as payment for my grimoire." He held his free hand out for a shake. "A bargain is struck."

Anya: Another ridiculous deal for her to treat with the utmost sincerity. She released the handle of her bag to shake his hand. Firm. Binding.

"Deal," she agreed, before grinning. "Not sure it's a fair one, but you already agreed."

He would take his kitten song and like it. "I'll see if I can find my old guitar."

It was child sized, and undoubtedly out of tune after more than a decade of neglect. She couldn't wait.

Rune: "That's if you think my sketchbook is worth anything." There would be times their values didn't synchronize. He'd long ago preferred the notes and holy texts of others to that of his hastily written opinions.

"So that's another plane trip," he said to himself, nodding to the sky. "Only after some dulcet tones."

Anya: "It's worth at least your weight in gold."

To her, anyway. Such a piece of him was priceless.

"Well, you'll get... tones," she laughed. Her shoulder bumped lightly against his. "Don't expect sweetness. You know, I'm sure they have cruises to Willemstad. We can skip another plane ride."

Rune: "I know ships to and from. What I still don't know are your sea legs. You gotta show me before I subject you to the open ocean."

Anya: "My sea legs are just fine. But I'm still waiting for you to take me sailing. Just us and the stars, remember?"

Rune: "So you've said." But she was right. Better the two of them than a ferry or a cruise. The first time had to be intimate, special.

"The Hudson, as soon as we're back. The two of us and all the house boat neighbors."

Anya: "We're gonna have to start writing these down," she laughed, tipping her head against his.

"Sailing, the beach, Willemstad, guitar... am I missing anything?"

Rune: "Everything else until our knees give out. But right now, pretend you'll never see Amsterdam again. What do you want to do?"

Anya: "Hopefully not for a long time." Still, the thought made her grin. It lingered as she considered his question.

"Hm. I want to... find somewhere to stash my bag, rent one of those bikes over there," she gestured, "and see as much of the city as possible. I mean, if I'm never gonna see it again."

Rune: "Never ever." This city should have filled his mouth with bitterness. It was her presence that offered sugar. His smile slowly bloomed.

"I can show you an old route I would take around my neighborhood... When I wanted time to myself. A bridge, that way, where I would sit and read."

Anya: A smile like a sunrise. Anya couldn't bury the impulse to press her lips to the corner of his mouth.

"That's perfect."

She tugged him toward the tiny storefront with its cheerful row of bicycles. Bright red signs promised rentals and tours. She wouldn't need the latter with Rune at her side.

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