On Shadow

[steelartisan]

Piotr spent most of the afternoon mending fences. Horses rub against fences and kick them; wind and rain and time wear them down. It's a neverending chore on any farm with livestock to make sure everything is in good repair, and fix any weak spots before they turn into problems big enough for the animals to get out.

It's good, honest work. Satisfying.

But he's finished with this fence, and the sun is sinking. He'll head back in to Sallie's cozy house soon, and to dinner. Her cooking's not the Russian farm food he grew up with, but she's still an excellent cook.

First, though...

Shadow has some truly beautiful sunsets.

Comments

[steelartisan]

It's -- not what he wants.

Not what he hoped she'd say.

But even if she says no, he'd told himself in the moments when he couldn't stop himself from thinking about it, it doesn't change anything.

She's not saying no. She's saying not yet. She's saying, again, maybe. And if that's what she wants -- if that's what she's willing to give -- then Piotr can accept it, and believe that later really will come.

And she's just agreed to try to have his child; what more commitment is a ring, in the face of that?

And, most of all, there's the way she's smiling up at him, nervous and hopeful and loving.

"All right," he whispers, and brushes a gentle thumb along her cheekbone.

It's not what he wants most. But it is all right.

"We'll see. Our family," and the thing is, those two words feel like a miracle just in themselves, our family and the fact that it's true, and for that alone he'd bend now to kiss her again.

[prydeful]

And that makes her shoulder slump just a little, an inch or so, in relief, and makes her press her face into his hand.

"Spasibo." Thank you, she murmurs, because she knows--of course--it's not what he was hoping for, not what he wants.

But it's what is, and--and it's them. If he says, all right, then Kate believes it is.

Her hands drift up to stroke his hair, cradle his face, and she whispers, "I love you," very softly, voice gentle as her touch.

"Our family. We'll try. We'll see how it goes." And there's hope in that. The kind that's not given through needles. The kind that gives instead of taking away.

[steelartisan]

The sun will set; dinner will come, with Sallie and Jack Twist and assorted ranch hands, and an evening in the cozy Reynolds house, and the night to follow. And nothing's instantly changed, or instantly solved.

But they've made choices. Here, tonight, under the setting sun and amid the wide fields of another planet.

And there's hope in that, and -- maybe, if God or the fates are kind -- a future.