He awoke, disconcerted to find that she was gone from by his side. Panic was his immediate reaction, worrying frantically about whether she was alright in spite of decades of medical training. But, his eyes becoming accustomed to the light, he made her out, standing over him, looking quite calm and well, and softened by sleep.

"Isobel?" he asked her groggily, "What's the matter? You don't feel sick again, do you?"

"Shh," she told him gently, "Go back to sleep, I'm completely fine. I just want to go and get a glass of water."

"Let me go and get it for you."

"Don't be silly," her hand pressed his raised arm back down against his body, making him sink back down into the mattress, "I'm already up, you stay there. I won't be a minute."

Lying on his side, he watched her pad out of the bedroom door and cross the corridor to the bathroom. He had to admit, she looked adorable; her long hair spilling untidily down her back, wearing his flannel pyjama shirt which fell just low enough to cover her bottom, her long legs moving gracefully as she walked. The improvement in her whole air since the previous night was astounding, she looked so much better and there was every indication that she felt better too. Only once she was out of sight and he could hear the bathroom tap running did he roll onto his back and let out a contented sigh. He couldn't deny that being with her again had done him the world of good too. He had meant it too, from now on he never wanted to spend a night away from her. He wanted her back already and she had only gone as far as the bathroom.

Re-emerging with a glass of water she put it down on the bedside table, she climbed back into bed beside him, unbuttoning the shirt and slipping it off before he drew the covers back over her, wrapping her snugly in them, and his arms. Her head rested next to his and he kissed her temple, the tip of his nose resting in her hair. He heard her give a quiet hum of contentedness.

"Oh, what have you done to me, Richard?" she sighed, brushing her hand carefully along his body, "How do you make me feel like this?"

"Like what?" he asked.

"Beautiful, in spite of everything."

"You don't need me for that. That's just you in your natural state."

"Well, how do you suddenly make me feel so inexplicably happy?"

"I don't know," he confessed, smoothing his hand over her cheek and kissing her forehead, "But I'm very glad that I do, however I do it. Possibly," he conjectured, "It's because I try my best, last night especially, I tried my best to love you as you should be loved. To make up for... everything."

She smiled at him.

"Thank you," she told him, "But I told you to stop this trying to make it up to me for something that wasn't your fault."

"I know you did," he replied, "And I'll try. But I've decided that we should never be apart for as long again. For that I make no apologies."

She smiled again, biting her lip softly.

"Do you mean you want me to live with you?" she asked him, "For all the world to know?"

"I would only ask you to do that if I knew you were entirely comfortable with it," he assured her, watching her face closely, "And I suspect you're not, without marriage."

"You have me entirely wrong," she told him, on no uncertain terms, "Quite wrong. I don't care what people think. I would view my sharing your house as exactly equal to us becoming married officially. But I know that it might cause us trouble with other people, and I'm not talking about gossip either. Effectively, we're colleagues and you have your position to uphold; and I doubt moving in with your mistress would do you any good on that score."

"You know you're more to me than a mistress?" he asked her seriously.

"I do, but that doesn't mean other people will. Quite the opposite, probably."

"You're right," he agreed, "A good deal of trouble, and you have enough of that at the minute. I refuse to do anything that might make you unwell again. I had no idea you felt that way," he told her earnestly, "About us living together."

"I can still surprise you," she stated, "That must be good. Unless you disapprove of me for it?"

"How could I?" he asked, "So you wouldn't object then, if I put aside a cupboard in my bedroom for you to keep some things in so you can stay more often?"

"I'd like that very much," she told him, leaning in and kissing his lips, "Thank you."

"And after the war..." he began hesitantly, "When we've less trouble on our hands, maybe we could think about..."

"Letting me move my dressing table into your room too?"

"Well, quite."

She laughed, drawing him to her, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissing her again.

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