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26, Swallowed by the Mist

"Micah?" Britta asked when she awoke the next day. Somehow she knew it was him ("You've gotten to know him far too well." Faithful told her later).

"How are you feeling?" He asked, coming to sit at the end of her bed.

Britta drew her feet in to give him more room. "I'm fine." She said shortly.

Micah shook his head. "You look fine." He told her, "but you just lost your sister."

Britta bit her lip. Things had seemed a lot brighter when she'd been talking to Diana, but now she was reminded that her sister wasn't there with her. "I-" She begun, voice quivering.

Micah stopped her. "You don't need to talk," he said, and Britta was grateful as she was concentrating on holding back tears again. "You don't need to do that either." Said Micah, motioning to her eyes, which were bright with tears.

Britta moved to sit by him and buried her face in her shoulder. Micah sat completely still as her silent tears wet his shirt before slowly moving a hand to stroke her hair. They sat there in silence for a long time; so long that Micah relaxed into the crying girl on his lap and leaned his head against her.

"The Emperor says that you need to start getting up." Micah said finally. Britta knew he was no wordsmith but his actions spoke for him and she got comfort from his steady form. "There's a feast to celebrate everything in a week."

Britta sighed, "I don't want to come." She said; it wouldn't feel right if Diana wasn't there.

"You have to." Micah said firmly.

"No." She said stubbornly.

"I want you to." Micah said, scratching the back of his neck. Britta stared, "and so does Mable." Micah added hurriedly.

"That really doesn't diminish the effect." Britta said, wiping her eyes. "I wanted to ask you anyway, about before – you kissed me." Micah nodded mutely. "Do you actually like me?" Britta asked, disbelieving, "because if you don't then don't pretend otherwise."

"It took you a while to ask that." Said Micah, avoiding her question until he became uncomfortable under Britta's steely gaze. "I do really like you."

"Do you like me?" Micah asked, strangely vulnerable.

Britta wondered why he even needed to ask. She leaned forwards, her eyes fluttering shut, and touched her lips to his. Micah was still when Britta opened her eyes. He was watching her with a soft expression on his face. Britta moved to pull back, intending only to get her message across but Micah seemed to have decided she had a lot more to say. They kissed for a long time, testing the waters between them. Then Micah pulled away, smiling.

"I never thought we'd end up like this." He said.

Britta grinned. "Neither did I."

"You were terrified when you first met me." Micah said.

Britta looked into his eyes, still ice blue yet somehow so much warmer, and wondered how she'd ever mistaken them for those of The Strange Man. "I thought you were someone else." She said. "A man which came to the Abbey and took children away – your father, in fact."

Micah shook his head. "I disowned myself from him as he was dying. He is no longer my father." A hint of pride crossed his face and Britta realized how difficult that might have been for him.

"You did well." She said, placing an understanding hand on his shoulder.

Micah covered her hand with his own. "You helped." He said. "When you moved to stop him in the spirit world. It was stupid and pointless-"