Thicker Than Water

Thank you to the best beta in the world, Verylongladder6, for her patience and fine tooth editing/co-writing of this story.  Enjoy.

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Today

Miles Fleming fiddles aimlessly with his newest handheld device, completely oblivious to his surroundings as he strides down the University corridors. It's the latest iPad, box-fresh; it sings and dances, with email and camera and all the latest mapping apps. Regrettably it can't quite guide him down the hallway, and as he rounds a corner he smacks unceremoniously into another body. The iPad skitters across the stone floor, but Miles doesn't even bother to wince as he struggles to stay upright. He makes every attempt to maintain his balance while trying desperately to keep the lighter party from toppling over. When he regains his footing and looks at the person he slammed into, he almost stumbles all over again.

"Wildy?" He can't believe it, almost shakes his head to banish what is surely an exquisite figment of his imagination. Her hair is shorter, just past her shoulders, and darker. She's shorter, too, he notices, and Miles is pleasantly surprised by the lower heels she's sporting. For a moment he just stares at her, in his head peals the mantra it's her.

"Miles?" She says, and her voice damn near knocks him down.

Three years. It's been three years since he heard her voice, three years since they last spoke, since they last saw each other, since they…

They stand for an eternity, here in the hall. There's the line of her nose, those cheekbones, but it's the green and brown flecks in her eyes that weaken Miles' knees. Her eyes are darker than they used to be, a touch older, a touch deeper.

"It's you." He couldn't say which of them muttered it. The huge smile that blooms across her features his only warning. His heart is thumping. He's still processing the twist of fate that brought him crashing into her when she closes the distance between them and pulls him into a hug three years in the making.

His face pressed into her hair drags him back to happier times. The feel of her, the smell of her is overwhelming. He is vaguely aware that he's holding her too tight, too close but he can't help the joy that washes over him as he wraps her in his arms.

Wildy closes her eyes and melts into him. Their hips are tightly pressed together, their thighs brushing, wrapped around each other in the middle of the day. They're too close, and she knows it, but it's the feel of him. It's been so long. When she pulls away she's still wearing her smile but the raised eyebrow hints her natural curiosity is piqued. "What are you doing here?"

It takes him a moment to get his bearings before he can answer. "I gave a lecture to one of the criminal justice classes. What are you doing here?"

"I'm a student."

"A student?" He can't hide his shock.

She laughs, "Don't sound so surprised."

"That would be putting it mildly. The Wilhemina Reed I remember could barely bring herself to take Sundays off."

"After –"There's a pause, and she isn't smiling anymore. "- after everything happened I didn't know how to go back to being a reporter. I didn't want to go back."

He just nods curtly. He knows. Not a day has passed in the last three years when he hasn't thought about the events that would forever alter who they were, what they had, what they could've been to each other. Then neither of them is smiling; memories clouding their happy reunion. The silence becomes uncomfortable as the mood changes; though both expected it, understand it.

"Listen," he says, over a new tightness in his throat, "are you in a hurry?"

"Actually I was about to -" Wildy stops, thinks better of her need to get to the library. "You know what? No I'm not. What did you have in mind?"

"You want to grab some coffee or something? Catch up?"

"Sure, I know just the place. Come on, I'll drive."

She leads the way back down the corridor, and he can't help his grin at the familiarity. Here they are all over again, still them.

"Some things never change," he says, remembering how Wildy always knew where the best coffee could be found in whatever area of Miami she happened to be located. She bends to collect the gadget she knocked from his hands, takes one look at it and laughs.

"No I guess some things don't," she says examining the contraption. Miles was notorious for having to have the latest technological toy on the market. "What is this thing?"

"A Wildy tracking device?" There it is the vintage eye roll.

"Shut up Miles."

"Or I could just drop it on the floor again so you could bend over and –"

"Shut up, Miles."