If we dwell on the what-ifs we will spend eternity wondering what would have happened to him while there...

We. He had spoken of ‘we’. When had that happened? When had this comfortable pantomime of a domestic routine begun? It was a gradual encroachment, so subtle she’d hardly noticed when it started and hadn’t bothered to stop it before it was too late. She should have known better.

They had never been an ‘us’, in any real way. Circumstances had thrown them together, strangers in a storm. When had he ever done her any favor that wasn’t almost entirely in his own self-interest? It's not that she judged him for it, but she had no faith in this; she’d seen it far too many times to count. He needed her, for now. Perhaps that need had been confused with some deeper sentiment. When they’d met he’d been overwhelmed, fraying at the edges. Her intervention had given a brief taste of something like tranquility in his home. But once Otter was better adjusted, he’d be off to school. She would become superfluous. Ashley would move on, and she would be alone again. He would be no different than any of the other friends she entertained now and then. It was an eventuality she had tried to prepare herself for.

His hands were gentle, as were his words. She was fully aware of the power of that voice, seen the way he could lull a courtroom under his sway. Did he mean to charm her like a viper in a basket? His fingers graced her chin, urging her to look up, "It's not that..." She shook her head vaguely, gave a ragged sigh. She hated having to ask him for help, admitting there were things she could not do. She hated him seeing her this way, always at her worse moments. She hated feeling weak.

He offered her the warmth of his bed, a place she was familiar with, but the thought offered little comfort. I want to sleep. But I don’t want to sleep with you. "I just want to go home." She said quietly, pulling away, "Let me say goodbye to Otter."

“As much as you may think it Marceline, you are as important to me as he is,” He took her hand, reached out for it as though not wanting to let her go and to pull her back in, “Please…” He paused, his eyes steadily upon her as though they were as strong as the arms that once held her in place,

“That could not have been easy for you being there, I am no fool to think you just looked at him behind those bars and thought of your own time spent in such. I’m not heartless…” Again he took a deep breath, sober, it felt right to be. He was liking the clarity his mind gave him without the spirits.

“But I would not have you leave this night without telling me what is on your heart.” It was time. It was time to put it on the table wasn’t it. Was it?

Woman is a vessel. A helpmeet, ordained by God to serve at man's side.

You would never hear a woman complain to a man she was not content. Not of her class, and caste at least. It wasn't their place to complain, it was theirs to take what came and make the best of it. What did it matter, anyway? Who was entirely satisfied with their lives? You're lucky to have a man in your life. He doesn't beat you, he doesn't drink. Just stick it out. How many times had she heard that among the ladies of her acquaintance? Even her mother, one of the most independent and stalwart figures she knew, would paint on a smile when her father came home for a brief spell, no matter how bad things were. It was impressed upon her from an early age, through her upbringing and vocation. No matter how you might feel, you smiled and carried on, even if you were dying inside.

He held onto her hand, refusing to release her without an explanation. What's on your heart?

Marceline felt a pang of guilt.

She knew he was no heartless beast. He was not an effusive man, and he was often oblivious to the feelings of others, though not intentionally so. Nature and history had made him wary of forming attachments. It was unfair to judge him harshly. As she looked up to him, the earnestness of his expression, she wavered, considered a lie. But she felt he deserved the truth. They both did.

"Ashley..." She began, "I don't want to do this right now, but I feel I must be plain with you, for both our sakes. What are we doing here? You have never given me any indication of a desire nor made any particular effort to maintain a relationship with me and yet...what is this?" Her throat ached with the effort of the words, "I have no difficulty finding someone to hold me through the night, but what about the morning and the day to follow? I feel like I have been planning my life around one day a week. I want more than one day. And what happens when Otter goes to school and I am no longer needed? I love Otter, and I care about you very much, and I will always be there when you need me but...this is not what I want."

He should have seen this coming, and would have been a little more prepared had he known what it was she would answer when he asked of her heart. Was this what was on it? How long had she harbored these feelings and left him in the dark. In many ways her being plain to him nearly had his temper rise. He was a fool sometimes but he most certainly wasn’t stupid.

“Marceline,” He countered her use of his name, “In what way have I ever given you any belief that I do not in fact desire a relationship?” He let her go so that he could assume his defensive stance where his hands came to rest at his hips and his back straightened to ease the tension of his spine.

“The last I read, a relationship could be built on lesser things than desire. Are we not friends?” This wasn’t what this was about and he knew it.

“I do not want you to feel that you have to move your life around for one day a week, nor should you expect me to depend on you.” Though he did. In so many ways he could not help the way he came to look forward to her visits and to hear her speak with Otter who was making leaps and bounds in his studies.

He was being selfish and he knew it.

“Forgive me…I do not know what to say. What answer you are looking for."

Almost as soon as the words were said, she regretted them. I should have lied and said I felt ill. Perhaps concealing the truth of one's feelings was not a sooth, but the collective feminine wisdom of ages.

He let go her hand, his posture changing to what she thought of as his barrister's pose, hands on his hips as if extolling before a court. It stirred her ire. He had asked for the truth, and now he was behaving as if he was offended, "When have you ever made an effort to maintain our acquaintance? In any respect? Showing up to play a few hands at the palazzo aside? Have we ever sat down...and I don't know, had any conversation that I did not initiate? Even when you come with Otter, you show up for five minutes, and then you are gone."

But she was being unfair in this, and she knew it. She tempered her tone, hands outstretched, "I know you are not the most voluble of souls. I do not censure you for that. I appreciate your company, and so when the opportunity presents itself, I take it. But we are straying into a different territory than mere acquaintances." Mere acquaintances did not raise children together. You are taking up too much of my life and concern to be just a friend.

It did not need to be said. They both knew he needed her.


“Forgive me…I do not know what to say. What answer are you looking for."

And this, she knew. He was not prepared to give her any answers, and perhaps never would be. And she wasn't sure she wanted to let so much of her effort be occupied by someone who could not commit to making any effort to reciprocate. "This is exactly why I did not want to speak of this." She could feel the threat of tears again. She shrugged with a defeated sigh, "If you do not have an answer than I do not have one to give you. I am tired, and I just want to go home." Moving towards the room that Otter occupied, "Let us speak of this no more."

“Why is it my part to maintain our ‘acquaintance’?” He could feel his temper flaring and she was not about to walk away from this without a fight, “I wasn’t aware you were looking for more than just this.” Lord Oliver Ashley Monroe you are digging yourself a grave.

“My invitation is not a physical one by any respect other than someone to hold you through the night.” He put his hands in his coat pockets, “Just because I am not falling in love does not mean I do not care for you.” He was being harsh, and he knew it.

“I am not sure what it is you are expecting of me. I’ve barely mourned my own divorce, and I’m…” He took a deep breath, trying to keep his breath at a normal rate, but all he could do was feel a tightness in his chest that stole his breath.

“I’m not sure what I am, or what I desire. Right now all I know is that we have a case to settle in the morning and a child who is past his bedtime. And I’m being inconsiderate I am aware, but I don’t know what else to sat at this moment.” He sighed also and carefully moved away from her.

“Good night.”

If only he had let her go. But he just couldn't let it lie. "Because, Monsieur Monroe. Even friendship requires two people!" She spat, turning to regard him with a hand raised in accusation, "You sit there, and you hold me and you stroke my hair and ask me to bed and I help you take care of your child...and then, what? What am I supposed to think? Non. I am sorry, but I have no desire to play at house with you."

“Just because I am not falling in love does not mean I do not care for you.” It was a telling blow. She felt tears fall, hot on her cheeks. "I never asked for you to love me. I'm not even asking you to care. Just don't toy with me. And when I ask to be left alone, perhaps you should listen! I know that these are my problems, to work through or not, and not of your doing. You just...are as you are."

Turning away with an air of finality she went at last to Otter's side, and kissed his hair and promised to see him the next day before she returned, collected, and informed the attorney of the name of the Captain and the ship he served on so that he'd be aware of who was meeting. "Captain Beppin Pasqualigo of the Colomba." She sniffed faintly, adjusting her gloves as she avoided looking him in the face.

He was simply heartbroken at the way she felt, the words that were spat back at him felt like daggers, but mostly because it was true and raw emotion come undone from her. He had not expected her to be so…wanting.

Was that what she wanted? A friend? A lover? His heart? Only half of those things he could offer her.

“Marceline wait…” His voice was low as he came to touch her sleeve gently, “Don’t do this. I do care but you have simply caught me at…” He took a deep breath, “I do not know.” With a heavy sigh he let her go. Let them get through tomorrow.

He wish her tears moved him to his own so that maybe he wouldn’t have felt so dead inside. Were they for him? He wasn’t sure how they could be. She had made no desire known before to be anything more than what they were, and in truth…love just wasn’t on his books, and another truth? He wasn’t sure it ever was.

“A human heart may be something that I have forgotten exists, but it has never been in my nature to be so careless of it.” And that was the truth, blue eyes said if his words were never enough.

“I would never hurt you with any intention. I just know that when the night comes you suffer the same as I, and in this forgive me if I have ever made you believe that I have used this to my advantage." Somewhere in this he had placed his hands in his pockets, (shhh pockets existed in Lily's Venice) and his voice was low and sincere.

"It was never my intention to make you anything less than what you are." His friend.

She paused for a moment as he touched her sleeve, waiting as he sought for words, knowing that she had caught him unaware. But had he not asked for the truth? Had he never supposed that she might have needs and desires of her own, that went beyond what the present provided? She had never asked nor expected anything from him. In truth, she'd never even expected him to win her case, so everything after was beyond her expectations.

He placed his hands in his pockets, his broad shoulders stooping as he looked down in that way she knew he would pay for later, the aching in his back a frequent companion. Slowly she shook her head, a weary sigh. "Ashley...the only way you could ever hurt me, is if I allowed you to in the first place. Which is why I am going home tonight, rather than let a fool heart nurture hope for what I know will never come. And the heart is a fool, each and every one."

"You are not responsible for my happiness. And you are not responsible for my unhappiness."

Reaching up, her gloved hand graced his cheek, the work of a moment, before falling. "Take care of our boy." Those five words wrenching her heart with the most exquisite pain. "And I'll see you both in the morning."

"I understand," He spoke of how she held her heart away, and he knew those emotions well. Though it wasn't he who didn't want to offer out his heart, but he just wasn't able to understand what it was it wanted. However, when she touched his cheek his eyes closed as he tilted his face into the touch.

Even that was enough to break away the tired force that was his defense and when his eyes opened again the dark circles deemed deeper, and the tiredness set in.

"I will see you in the morning."