Maris' grasp of French was loose at best and despite the fact that she kept promising to take her to Berlin and show off her German one day, Paris just seemed like the place to go on their first real birthday weekend as European citizens.

Maris' time in France seemed like a lifetime ago. Her book wasn't even a quarter of the way finished. She had been single, though largely uniterested in anything but her current project when her grief for her grandfather was still raw and fresh.

Okay, maybe she'd had a tryst with a French woman she'd gone home with after a few drinks at a bar in Montmartre, but one night stands hardly counted in the grand scheme of things.

Especially these days.

The point was, her french was alright and largely unneeded. Despite what stereotypes would have you believe, the French were quite helpful if you didn't speak the language. Most could speak some English and if they saw you were making an effort to speak French and were otherwise polite... a sort of compromise where both parties sort of met in the middle could always be reached.

After a good lunch Maris felt like she needed to walk off, she decided to take Rory to one of the most gorgeous places she'd ever wandered into.

This particular flower market didn't just have plants as far as the eye could see. They had birds of every size, color and shape. It seemed like something out of a novel, something too vivid and gorgeous to be real and Maris was more than content to just look, especially with Rory who would be seeing it for the first time, but she supposed they could actually shop if they wanted to. With so many plants they were bound to find things here that they wouldn't back in London.

She dropped a kiss on her wife's shoulder as they reached the entrance, figuring she wouldn't mention the birds or just how many flowers they were about to encounter to Rory. She wanted it to be a surprise.

"Come on," she said. "I'm going to find a flower bush I like for the front yard if it kills me."

One of Rory's favorite things in their move to London was that they gained all these different countries and cultures quite literally in their backyard. When her wife suggested Paris for her birthday, Rory about jumped out of her skin with excitement. Of course she would love to go to France.

Though fluent in Italian, it wasn't exactly a direct translation to French. She could make out some things that sounded like the same words in Italian, thanks to those romance languages, but she was mostly flying blind. This would go well.

But Maris was of course, the kind of companion who knew exactly what to do in those situations, and Rory was happy to follow her lead. It was naturally really sexy to see the way her wife worked through conversations and commanded the attention of someone who might be able to help them. Of course, Rory found everything Maris did sexy.

"It would be very posh of us to bring back a flower bush from Paris." Rory giggled, leaning her head against her wife's before reaching for her hand. She had little to no idea what she was in for just beyond the entrance, but it felt kind of magical already, like a secret garden was just waiting a few feet away.

The flower market was beautiful, the kind of breathtaking find that she didn't even know existed, and probably wouldn't have if it wasn't for Maris. She was happy to meander through the flowers and the stalls, full of delicious lunch and overall excellent mood. The bright colors and squawking birds drew her eyes this way and that, so she kept tight hold of Maris' hand as they walked. "Oh wow." She murmured, a grin widening as she looked back at her wife, pulling her close and pressing a fervent kiss to her lips. "What color flower bush are we looking for? That might help."

"Do they have goth bushes?" Maris teased.

For all her insistence that she wanted every portion of her wedding look to follow her usual black color scheme, Maris had shown up with a (muted, but) colorful bouquet.

She was wary of things she deemed too bright, even indoors, but she wanted the outside of their home to look warm and inviting. She knew next to nothing about gardening, or even the names of flowers in general apart from the sorts she and her wife liked, but she also knew she would know what she wanted when she saw it.

And that she hadn't saw it yet in London.

The first little section featured bouquets wrapped in wax or newspaper. They were charming in their own way and she couldn't help but notice most seemed fuller than some arrangements she'd ordered from fancy florists back home. The mark up on a few lilies could be sort of ridiculous, but that didn't seem to be the case here. The florists were generous and everything seemed to be cheaper.

With flowers everywhere, the place smelled amazing, though Maris knew that she might end up paying for this little excursion later. She still hadn't scheduled that allergy test with her doctor. It didn't seem all that pressing, though Dr. Shapiro had promised that once they zeroed in on her specific triggers they could probably tweak her medication (which had about a 50/50 shot of working) accordingly.

But doctor's visits were being put off until Maris' prescriptions needed renewed because of what had happened in New York because Maris knew her next conversation with Dr. Shapiro would be just as hard and uncomfortable as some stupid scratch test.

They came across a row of lilac bushes. They were smaller than the ones Maris was used to seeing, but they smelled amazing and the vendor had them in an array of purples and even a white variety. "French lilac?" she murmured, reading the little sign aloud. She didn't know there were different types, but it made sense. And these, as small as they were did seem to put off a stronger scent than the ones she was used to.

"Eli's mom had a lilac bush in the backyard," she said after a beat. "It was big enough for us to sit in when we were really little. I'd come out basically crying thanks to all of the pollen making my eyes water, but we used to read in there." She paused for a moment before shrugging and correcting herself. "Well, I read and made him listen to me read."

"I have heard that there is a specific black tulip that bloom in ... Holland I think? Which obviously makes sense. We should go there too." She grinned, thinking all the more about the adventures that stretched out before them now.

Rory wasn't entirely sure what flowers (or flower bushes) bloomed well in London. For all the dreary gray of the skies much of the time, there were beautiful spring days, and she couldn't wait to feel what summer had in store for them. She had grand ideas of planting some herbs and vegetables they'd be able to use, but only the ones they loved, naturally.

The market was beautiful, seemingly overflowing with the bright, fragrant flowers that both had familiar looking ones, and ones that Rory would swear she'd never actually seen before. The idea that they'd find some little bush to grow so maybe they could cut fresh flowers for their home on days when it was fully in bloom felt like something they needed.

Lately Rory was all about even the littlest things to give them an extra pop of joy at home. Not that she felt there was anything looming or even negative about their space, quite the opposite. But she did feel like they should make their space the happiest it could be. She still remembered all too well that night in their bonus room, learning of her wife's fears about a family in their future. Rory was there beside her wife no matter what. And right now that meant an incredibly fun outing.

For a moment she thought maybe a gardenia bush could be lovely, but Rory wasn't sure what the care of those were. "Ohhh, I love these." Rory cooed as she walked closer to the bushes, letting the fingers of her free hand trace gently over the blooming flowers.

"Are you going to be okay, allergies wise, if we have this in our yard? I don't want you being miserable anytime you go outside or open a window." She chuckled a little, picturing a much younger Eli and Maris. "Lucky jerk, I love listening to you read." Call her the softest woman on the planet, but her wife's voice was a hundred percent her favorite sound.

"It was mostly Peter Pan. Really deep stuff," she said with a laugh.

"I'll be fine," Maris assured her, having learned to just muddle through with watery eyes and pollen induced headaches over the years. She had her barely adequate medicine and one of these days she really would sit through that barbaric scratch test even though she thought it sounded ridiculous and that it was ridiculous that doctors hadn't pinned down a better way to figure out what you were allergic to than literally poking you with irritants and waiting for something bad to happen.

Pollen their flower bushes would give off was a problem for future Maris and at the moment, she really liked these. They reminded her of her childhood, of home and Eli who she missed even though she was still a little sore at him and Jenna for keeping her in the dark about their budding relationship.

In very uncharacteristic fashion, Maris hadn't confronted them about it just yet, half scared that she was reading a little too much into things.

Her friends would be offended and tease her mercilessly if she got it wrong but evidence was piling up, due in large part to Maris scrutinizing the background of her best friend's photos on social media like some kind of crazy person.

She was positive they were spending a lot of time at each other's apartments.

The lilacs had more than memories and a pleasant smell going for them.

They were her wife's favorite color. They came in so many shades of purple, Rory could probably nail down the particular hue she liked best, but it was a huge market and Maris wasn't about to buy the first thing that caught her eye, especially if it meant she'd have to lug a potted plant around for the rest of their walk.

"Come on," she said, lightly knocking shoulders with her. "If we want them, we'll grab them on the way back."

Walking further into the market felt like wandering into a dense forest. There were more plants the deeper they went, most of them bigger and fuller than the ones they'd first come across.

You could hear the birds in their cages before you saw them. Most of the sellers who had them stuck together at the center of the market. A few just sold cages and some were so elaborate she wondered if they were for birds at all. They could easily be used as decor and one etriprising older woman was combining everything the market had to offer, using them as makeshift planters and containers for plants. Some were filled with brightly colored flowers but Maris really liked the ones stuffed with ivy and hanging plants that spilled out through the tiny gaps in the bars.

"Prettiest plant jails I've ever seen," she teased, but while she did want to take a look at everything the woman had, especially the intricate metal birdcages that she knew she'd somehow find a place for if she found one she really liked, she wanted to take a look at the birds. Perhaps more importantly, she wanted Rory to see them.

Though some were faintly chirping, most seemed pretty quiet and well behaved, either looking around or cleaning their feathers which is why Maris jumped when an almost human voice squawked a hello at her.

She turned in the direction of the sound, delighted as a red and yellow macaw (something she called a pirate bird when she was small) nodded at her from his perch behind a vendor's table.

"Oh, you talk!" she gushed. "Hello."

"Hello," he echoed before loudly crunching on some of his treats in a nearby food dish.

"I had parakeets once," she said, the flower market apparently bringing back more than a few childhood memories she hadn't told her wife about yet. "They were gorgeous but I think they drove us all crazy with the chirping."

"Were the mermaids your favorite part? They were always one of mine."

Rory loved books that tilted towards the fantastical, even with her deeper love of classic literature. The big worlds that were vivid and vast felt immersive in a way that others weren't. It had been a long while since she'd read a book like that, but reading for her pleasure was in a bit lesser supply now that she was back to working full time.

"You're a pollen warrior." Rory teased her wife with a grin, bumping her shoulder gently as she squeezed her hand. Rory's allergies were never anywhere near her wife's, and nothing popping a Claritin couldn't help. She knew when even hers were bad, Maris was down for a day of misery. Hopefully they could find flowers that wouldn't entirely be pollen city.

The whole place was stunning, from the flowers and plants to the birds themselves. "You said it, I never really got the appeal of bird cages as decor until now." While mostly joking, Rory really could see a cute planter of some sort in their yard, if not a bird cage, maybe something else. Something a little witchy, too.

Walking further into the market, her lips pursed into a pout as the gentle sound of birds guided them in all the more. "You're not taking me to a whole 'The Birds' situation, right?" Rory grinned, holding fast to her wife as she saw the cages and birds squawking just ahead. She clearly spoke too soon as the one bird spoke to them.

"Oh my god." Rory laughed, gripping onto Maris' arm as she peered over at the bird happily carrying on a lunchtime conversation.

"Did you? What ever happened to it?" She loved that there were still things that they learned about each other, like her wife's apparent pet she'd never heard of. "I don't know if I could have a bird, I'd love it in theory but the noise would drive me nuts, too."

"I always liked Tiger Lily. And wondered why they didn't make her and Wendy friends." They were the same species after all and she was sure Tiger Lily got annoyed with being surrounded by lost boys all the time, but Peter Pan really had a way of pinning the female characters against each other, usually to fight over Peter's attention. And let's face it, Peter really wasn't a prize. It was obvious the books had been written by a man, but Maris really didn't feel the need to launch into one of her usual diatribes.

They were on Rory's mini birthday vacation and being in such beautiful surroundings had filled her with a sort of calm. Well, as calm as someone as perpetually high strung as Maris could be anyway.

"I can't make any promises," Maris said ominously as she lead them toward the bird portion of the market.

"They died," Maris said a bit glumly. "Pretty quickly, too. Not as bad as carnival goldfish but still, I thought birds were supposed to be heartier." Maris shrugged. "Someone told my dad if you put a towel or something over the cage, it tricks them into thinking it's night time and they quiet down or go to sleep but we must have gotten super birds or something because they never fell for that."

John had been especially annoyed by Maris' parakeets, despite being the person who bought them in the first place. Her father was the sort of person who needed quiet to work and Maris' pets seemed especially vocal.

Maris hadn't felt much about them one way or the other. They were pretty, one neon yellow and green, the other white and light blue, but she'd never really asked for them. If she'd have been able to choose her own pet, she would have asked for a nice cat to be a reading buddy and curl up with her in the winter because her room was definitely the coldest in her childhood home, but her grandfather was allergic to pretty much anything with fur, proof that every Forrester had a battle with something designed to make them miserable.

Once the parrot was done with his food, he looked up, trying a different greeting on Maris and Rory since there were no other passerby. "Bonjour," he said just as clearly as he had hello.

"Jesus Christ, Ror. He's bilingual. " She smiled at him. "You're a clever bird, aren't you?"

"Buy some birds," he squawked, nodding his head.

"I'd buy him if he was for sale." She nodded toward his owner, sitting with a sandwich and a soda nearby. "Do you mind if I pet him?" she asked. Smiling once she got the okay, she rubbed the top of his head the same way Byron seemed to like, lips twitching when he let out a contented coo.

"Oooh, I just had a thought," she said as she stepped away, eyes glittering mischievously.

Rory couldn't help the slow grin that spread across her face as her wife got into her whole idea over Peter Pan. Of course Maris had an amazing take on the books and the female characters. Rory loved the way her wife picked a side and just stuck to it with a strong opinion and the knowledge to back it up. Honestly, it was one of the first things that attracted Rory to Maris, and that had only grown with time. "So really, fuck Peter, let the women rule Neverland." Sounded like an upgrade to Rory.

"Oh god." Rory snorted a laugh, shaking her head as she clutched her wife's hand a little tighter but didn't hesitate to follow her deeper into the market. She never would hesitate when it came to anything with Maris.

"I thought so too? That's sad." Rory said with a genuine frown, mentally double-crossing off birds from the list of potential future pets. Of course, their trio of felines made that pretty obsolete to begin with. "I heard that worked too, though? I had friends who had a bird ... and it would chirp so loudly and so errantly I always thought it was the smoke alarm malfunctioning." It had driven Rory nuts for the weekend she stayed with them.

Rory did not expect the loud French hello they got from the bird, and a delighted laugh burst from her as she leaned into her wife's shoulder. "Wow, I'm impressed. He's probably better than me." And then the bird started in with his hustle. Rory rolled her eyes, taking a half step back.

Watching the way Maris related to the bird, Rory couldn't help but smile so big her cheeks hurt. It was darling, watching Maris pet the bird, and how their new friend reacted. "Oh I think he likes you." She chuckled, crossing her arms as she watched them. "What's your thought, wife?" She asked with a pointed look, a smirk on her lips because she knew that look in her wife's eyes.

Maris slid an arm around Rory, leaning closer to whisper conspiratorially into her ear. "When Keats is old enough, we buy him a bird and name him Parakeats."

It was an amazing, yet terrible pun. A rare bit of absolute silliness from Maris, but it was a good sign, proof that she was cautiously optimistic about the whole motherhood conundrum she found herself in.

Maris had said when, after all. Which meant deep down, she knew she'd probably go through with getting pregnant so long as their doctor eased her mind.

She'd promised to look after Rory and their kids in her vows, after all and she wasn't about to let her wife have all the fun (and burden) of carrying them unless she absolutely had to. And as silly as this whole punny bird idea was, it was a promise too.

That they'd get there eventually.

Maris wandered away from the parrot and his owner, slightly worried she'd be subject to some sort of sales pitch if she lingered too long.

There were more birds along the way. Cooing doves, cockatiels bobbing their head to invisible music, tiny canaries, but Maris wasn't really interested in buying one.

She did, however, stop in front of a booth that sold supplies, tilting her head a little as she spotted something she'd always kind of wanted. "What about a hummingbird feeder?" she asked.

"Oh yes, you could definitely take one of those back home with you."

Maris blinked, turning her attention to the woman running the booth. She'd heard Maris and assumed she was some sort of tourist.

"We just moved here," she said. "We're just looking for a few things to spruce up the yard. Do you think one would be enough or..."

The other woman frowned a little. "You won't have much luck with hummingbirds in Europe. We don't really have them here. I keep those around for out of towners."

"Really?" Maris had never really considered hummingbirds weren't everywhere and was honestly a little disappointed now that she had a yard to attract them to. "Oh well. Thanks for the info!" she said, appreciating the woman's honesty.

She took Rory's hand, whispering in her ear. "No hummingbirds. What kind of a hellhole have we moved to?" she teased.

Rory had been careful in recent weeks not to bring up Keats or Jane, so much so that when Maris did this time, her stomach flipped and she instinctively squeezed her wife a little tighter. "Don't you dare, even for that goddamn pun." She laughed, shaking her head slightly as she leaned in and kissed her wife a little more fervently than she would have otherwise.

Something about the idea that Maris was coming around to the idea of motherhood in any of its forms really did ease a lot of Rory's concerns. And they weren't even concerns about whether or not their family would grow, but more about how her wife was feeling about all of it. Their family could look like it did now, or add a few more furballs to really get the witchy lesbian vibe, and she'd be happy. Even if at the back of her mind, Keats and Jane really were just as real to her as they had ever been.

Rory's arm remained around Maris' waist as they walked, taking their time as their gait fell in step with each other. When she pointed out the hummingbird feeder, Rory grinned and was about to speak - when someone else beat her to the punch. She didn't mind it though, the way the woman seemed so intent on telling them exactly what they were in for.

"Really?" Rory said in unison with her wife, something she would have found funny if she wasn't so horrified by the idea of no hummingbirds. Her brow furrowed a little, wondering if she'd need to look up what sort of birds were more prevalent in London. The only one she remembered reading about was the Starling, because she liked the name.

"Honestly, we better pack it all up now and head right back. First no Trader Joe's, then having to remember not to circle words in red on essays because of the added "u" in a word... We've made a huge mistake." But Rory was grinning as she ended her gravely toned joke. In truth, as much as she missed things from home, London was feeling like more and more their own. "Way better KitKats here, though." Rory leaned into her wife again, strolling along the stalls and pausing when she saw a couple of little what looked like lovebirds snuggling together in a cage. She smiled, but was distracted by a stall next to it that had beautifully carved garden stones, boasting they could carve custom phrases into them. They looked like they were found, all sorts of shapes and sizes and colors.

"Ooh, now would it be crazy to bring back a literal rock from France?"

Maris was sort of disappointed about the whole hummingbird thing. They weren't her favorite bird, but... did people have favorite birds? That seemed like a very specific category.

The point was, she was fond of and sort of curious about them. She'd seen glimpses of them, but their speed meant she'd never really seen one up close outside of photographs. They were the sort of birds she wouldn't mind attracting to her yard because they were gorgeous and quiet, nothing like geese or songbirds making noises throughout the day. Or even worse, waking them up.

So as nice as learning something new thanks to the vendor was, the revelation put Maris in something of a funk as she followed Rory though the market.

It didn't last long. Especially after her wife asked about rocks.

"To most people? Yes. Not sure we count."

Normally Maris would direct some of her trademark cynicism toward the idea of buying a rock when there were free ones scattered on every inch of planet Earth, but she was in a good mood today and had been for most of the weekend. She could hardly deny the birthday girl anything (not that she ever did) and the rocks were pretty.

And apparently customizable.

"What would you put on it?" she asked, brow furrowed curiously.

It wasn't like Rory anticipated she and Maris would take up bird watching and head into the parks and woodlands of England with binoculars and a birding book or anything, but it was just something interesting and a bit disappointing that something they'd just always had wasn't a part of their life here in London. There were so many advantages to their move, but every time they discovered something that was very different from the states, it was a bit of an adjustment.

Rory's fingers held fast in their spot laced between her wife's, a grin spreading across her face at Maris' assessment. "Mm, you're right."

Her fingers of her free hand ran over a couple of the stones. Some looked a bit artificial, but most looked as though they had been found or plucked out of some quarry. Further into the booth, colors covered the table with cut geodes. "Our anniversary?" She smiled softly, the answer entirely marshmallowy, but she didn't take it back. "Or," Rory leaned in closer to her wife, her lips brushing against her ear as she affected a teasingly deep tone to her voice. "Dearest honey." On instinct, her thumb touched to her wedding ring, their joke turned not-so-much of one laid against her skin.

"Or Virginia deserved better. Really get niche so we can weed out the dummys who we won't be friends with."

Rory's answer caused Maris' lips to twitch, her heart skipping a beat even before her wife grazed her wedding ring, something that always got to her whether accidental or not.

"Why not both?" she said, knowing she'd probably insist on getting two rocks anyway. Even numbers and all that.

"We do our anniversary on one and then..."

She looked over at the stall owner to make sure he was listening. "Bonjour. Parles-tu anglais?"

He waved a hand as if to say, a little.

Slightly disappointed but undeterred, Maris nodded then asked in slightly broken but passable french, "Peut-on... graver quelque chose des deux côtés?"

Once she got the okay she turned back to Rory. "We do dearest honey on one side, then Virginia deserved better on the other. Two birds with one stone." She smirked. "Two words with one stone, really."

Maris was apparently full of puns today.

Rory's brows shot up at Maris' suggestion to get both, a wide grin slowly spreading across her face.

"Oh we're gonna just have to perfectly crafted stones in our garden?" Rory squeezed her hand, peering over at the stall owner as he came over to talk with them. It would have been really convenient if Rory's Italian translated to French a little better, but god did she love to watch her wife try it.

"First of all, that..." She gestured with her free hand to the space left between Maris and the stall owner who was rearranging a table, "Was really sexy." Rory didn't let that linger too long for fear of really getting carried away, and they had stones to look at. "Secondly, I love this brilliant mind of yours. It's perfect."

Rory laughed at Maris' joke, playfully rolling her eyes as she tugged her a little deeper into the stall. "You're too clever for your own good." She laughed, looking at the stones laid out on the table. She was drawn towards the colorful cuts of geodes, but stopped when she saw a shining black stone a little bigger than size of her hand. "Well, that one has to come home with us, doesn't it?"

Maris shrugged. "I picked up a little french when I was here doing my research." And a bit before for fear of giving off the appearance of an ignorant, American who expected the world to revolve around them.

But Maris had definitely learned faster by immersing herself in the culture than she ever had with books and courses. Her first trip to France had been as fun as it was fruitful, but it was a strange time. And even stranger to think that Rory hadn't been on her radar then. She'd been so sure they'd never cross paths again and now here they were.

Choosing rocks.

And Maris was weirdly excited by it.

Even if she couldn't resist teasing her wife a little. "Why did we have to buy the heaviest things the market has to offer?" But she agreed the geode would have to come with them, already weighing whether she wanted to place it on a side table in their living room or on her writing desk. Even if she wasn't forward to lugging any of it through the market or on the train.

The stone carver may not have spoken much english, but he seemed to pick up on what Maris was saying pretty well. After another slow, but grateful exchange, Maris beamed at Rory. "He says it's going to take him a while to put what we want on anyway. But he can text when he's done so we can still shop in the meantime."

After thanking him profusely, Maris passed along her number, slipping her arm into Rory's so they could keep walking.

"Flowers and birds as far as the eye can see. And we get rocks," she muttered playfully.

But the smile she gave her wife as she sent her shoulder into hers said she wouldn't have it any other way.

Rory loved museums. They were some of her favorite places to be and exploring the new ones in London was honestly kind of a dream come true. She missed the Met, but The V&A museum, the Museum of London, The British Museum -- these they had barely even tapped into because there was just so much to see in each of them. London as their home had barely even begun to have its surface scratched.

And now Paris. Rory had been as a barely out of high school teenager, but hadn't appreciated it like she did now, hand and hand with her wife.

The Louvre had beckoned her from the time they arrived, and today was the day. Map in hand as they wandered into the giant building Rory paused to glance over her map, brows furrowed in concentration as she bit the back of her thumb.

"I guess it's probably obligation that we have to see the Mona Lisa? I do want to see the Nike sculpture though." She nodded, turning back to her wife with a smile. Rory in a museum was a bit like a kid in a candy store, but she had her priorities. "What's something you want to make sure we don't miss?"

Determined not to squander a minute of her trip to France because she had so little information on Julie to begin with, Maris hadn't done much sightseeing the first time around. Like her wife, she loved museums. She wasn’t sure she’d ever told Rory (or anyone) as much, but she’d entertained the idea of becoming a curator before going into teaching.

It would have been the perfect marriage of her father’s knowledge and her grandfather’s love of antiques, but she was ultimately glad things had turned out the way they did. Even if she wasn’t always sure she liked teaching as much as some of her colleagues, including her wife, she wouldn’t have met Rory otherwise.

“We don’t have to see anything,” Maris scoffed, her distaste for the Mona Lisa (and being told what to do) well documented.

“But I’m not really sure yet. I mostly want to see their Egyptian artifacts.”

Ancient history was not Maris’ area of expertise, ancient Egypt had a way of fascinating just about everyone. She wasn’t about to pass up a chance to see some statues and sarcophagi in one of the few museums that actually had them.

“Wait a minute, let me grab a map too,” Maris said. She trusted Rory’s sense of direction, but the Louvre was huge and she figured another wouldn’t hurt. At the very least they’d have one to save as a pristine souvenir if they didn’t use it.

She plucked one out of a little display, then turned as she heard a familiar voice.

“Maris? What are you doing here?”

She turned to face a pretty biracial woman with freckles dotting her cheeks. Her short curls were pushed back with a wide headband and there was a name badge pinned to her denim shirt dress.

It was obvious that Nina worked at the museum, but that hadn’t been the case when they met. It made sense though, she had been one of the first people Maris sought out when she arrived in Paris.

An art expert, she had helped Maris find the picture of Julie on the front of her book.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” she countered playfully as the other woman automatically pulled her into a hug and air kissed her cheeks.

Maris always thought it was a stupid custom, but she reciprocated, feeling a little awkward because the last time she’d seen Nina, they didn’t mime kissing anything.

Nina was a fellow American. Her accent was softly southern, Cajun, to be exact, which meant she had a bit more French under her belt than Maris did, but still had to deal with people not quite understanding her.

“I told you I was putting out feelers for a new job!”

“I know but this is…” Maris gestured toward the museum. “This is huge. Are you a guide or…”

Nina nodded and Maris, noticing Rory looking confused, gestured her to come over as the other woman confirmed that was the case.

“Rory, this is Nina. She helped me track down a lot of the portraits of Julie for my book. Nina, this is Rory. My wife.”

Nina looked clearly taken aback by this. Their little tryst had happened fairly recently in the grand scheme of things and Maris had acted very single during it. Still, she recovered well, blinking for a moment before standing a little straighter. “Hello,” she said a bit tentatively.

Rory couldn’t help the smirk that curved her lips at her wife’s obstinate response to the Mona Lisa, barely stifling a laugh at the way her wife scoffed at such a thing. Rory wasn’t opposed to the idea of seeing the Mona Lisa, but honestly it was nowhere near a priority.

“Oh I want to see the Egypt exhibits too.” It really was such a fascinating time in history, one that Rory really got a lot of her information from books and movies - which, she supposed The Mummy wasn’t remotely accurate about most things. But the exhibits she’d visited throughout her life on Egypt remained some of her favorites. She’d like to visit the actual pyramids sometimes.

Leaving Rory alone in a museum was a dangerous thing, but she stayed put in the bustling lobby, stepping aside only once as a pair of kids raced by her, trailed closely by their already frazzled parents.

Maris had been gone longer than usual,, so as she glanced the way she’d gone, she noticed her talking with another woman, who just then pulled her into a hug. Her brows narrowed curiously, noticing a familiarity with her wife and this beautiful woman with a name tag.

The funny thing about this time around with Rory and Maris, was how jealous she didn’t get. Well, jealousy was a flexible term really, because it was replaced by a kind of pride and protective quality. She had so much trust in her wife, in what they had, that the idea of someone from their past (or even some aggressive flirt in the present) didn’t even phase her. But she did feel like she stood a little taller and her chin lifted a little higher when someone was made to realize that they belonged with and to each other. My wife chose me was this internal monologue that always made her feel damn good.

Heading over when Maris beckoned her over, she smiled a greeting to the other woman. “Nina, nice to meet you.” She offered her hand to shake, almost (honestly) delighting a bit in the surprise on Nina’s face. Her free hand slid around Maris’ waist loosely, not even meant to be possessive or even performative, but just the natural way she always did it when they came close to each other.

Rory was nothing if not friendly to just about everyone she met, and while she could guess a few things just from Nina’s reaction and well, the fact that she was indeed a beautiful woman, she had no reason to be anything but to her. “Were you working here when you two met?” Yes, Rory could easily be the very cool wife who was nothing but secure even in the face of meeting someone who had likely been with her wife, even as her arm stayed easily around her wife’s waist.

Nina had a similar mindset to Maris when it came to relationships.

Their few sporadic hook ups had been fun, but she hadn't gotten overly attached. At least in the physical sense. She'd missed Maris' company and biting wit on more than one occasion. Like the couple in front of her, Nina wasn't a jealous, possessive person, but the idea of Maris having a wife was a shock. She just didn't seem like the marrying type and since most people, especially those inclined to be wary about the whole instruction, took a while to find their spouse, she couldn't help but wonder if there was something Maris hadn't told her during their time together.

Had Rory been in the picture all along? Waiting back in the states while Maris was traipsing around Europe?

Nobody liked the idea of being a homewrecker.

Even if Maris hardly seemed to mind becoming entangled in the messiness that was the rekindling of her and Rory's relationship.

Nina shook Rory's hand, shaking her head a bit incredulously as she looked from Rory to Maris then back again, letting out a soft laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my head around..." She narrowed her eyes at Maris. You got married?"

Maris' former flame (and professor), Caroline had said something similar, expressing the same sort of shock when she'd been told Rory & Maris were engaged.

Maris couldn't really blame them. She had been nothing not independent and scornful of the whole idea of marriage before Rory. While part of her sometimes felt a bit embarrassed, like she'd somehow caved and gone soft or like abandoning her principles made her somehow less cool or interesting as she once was to the Caros and Nina's of the world, another was a tiny bit hurt.

She wondered if old lovers doubted her ability to commit, to stick it out and stay faithful to her wife. Maris had never really cheated. Relationship boundaries were kept purposefully loose so no one could accuse her of leading them on or purposefully hurting their feelings. But she hadn't always been attentive. Or the best at sticking around.

"Surprise, surprise," Maris said dryly. "It's...well, it's a long story."

Their time together (romantic and otherwise) may have been brief, but Nina still new better than to pry a story out of Maris if she didn't want to tell it. She simply nodded and hoped she would get the details.

"I wish," Maris snorted. "It would have made tracking her down a hell of a lot easier."

"I had a job at a much smaller archive when we met."

"Nina, your 10:30 is waiting." A short, balding man said, coming between them to interrupt their conversation.

"It's 10:20, Marcel. They'll live," she snapped, giving her boss a look that immediately sent him in the other direction.

"Nina came very highly recommended, so..." Maris trailed off a bit awkwardly, prepared to wrap things up if Nina needed to get back to work.

That (and Nina's interaction with her boss) kind of explained everything. Whether she knew it or not, Maris had a type. Not necessarily physically, although Rory and the two past lovers she'd met were all gorgeous brunettes with dark eyes.

She'd never been able to resist an intelligent woman with spirit.

Nina sighed a little, grabbing a handful of curls as she exasperatedly cast her eyes up to the celling. "I really don't wanna do this tour, but I could give you guys a look around at lunch time. The food in the cafe's not bad if you wanna meet up there first."

While Rory couldn’t be called anything much of a serial monogamist, she had the tendency to get attached when something felt really good by way of relationships. It could get her into some trouble throughout the years, surely, but overall she just enjoyed the people she was with over her life. It probably was the reason she ended up remaining friends in some capacity with most of her exes. Not necessarily great friends, but good ones.

During the dark years, Rory had gone off the rails a little bit, chasing whatever felt good, refusing to get into any real or deep connections - until someone finally broke her down. She knew now what she wished she had known then: Never settle for anything less than exactly what you want and what you need.

As they confronted (which felt like too aggressive of a word) this Nina, Rory was curious about her relationship with Maris. Had either of them been deep enough in whatever fling they were in to feel slighted at the end of it? She wasn’t worried so much as she wanted to sense the actual vibe here.

Nina’s incredulous reaction to Maris getting married made Rory’s eye twitch a little, her brow furrowed in a bit of a warning look. She wasn’t about to jump in and answer for her wife, but it did annoy her a bit just the same.

Sure, it might have surprised even Rory once upon a time, but nobody else was exactly in their relationship. Nobody else really knew the journey they had been on, the sacrifices they had made, the work they had put in to be together again. Rory knew she would never let Maris go again, and she felt the same coming off of her wife.

Glad they seemed to be moving past all of that, Rory smiled a little easier, listening to their story. “Oh did you? You’ve come quite a ways then.”

Nina’s proposition was a kind one, and Rory had to admit that it would be nice to get some insight to the exhibits and art they were about to see. Her gaze shifted to her wife, that silent wife mind-meld way of speaking without actually speaking. She nodded while still looking at her wife until her gaze went back to the other woman. “That would be lovely. Both would be actually. So long as it’s no trouble?”

Maris knew Nina was probably the best guide the museum had. She'd give them an amazing tour even if they joined the larger, presumably rehearsed one she was about to lead. A private one would be even better, but she was a little wary of what would happen if the three of them spent time together.

It was silly, really. She and Nina had parted on good terms, both knowing that Maris wasn't staying in Paris for long and that some sort of long distance romance was more trouble than it was worth for either of them.

It was just sporadic sex that sometimes occurred after dinner or research, either because it was something to do or one had said something that impressed (okay turned on) the other. Nina hadn't even been a girlfriend (and she sometimes wondered if Rory knew the number of women she'd bothered to make that sort of firm commitment to could be counted on about half of a hand) but the idea of her and Rory occupying the same space was...weird.

Which was as strange as it was silly for a woman who had little to no shame, especially when it came to sex.

She'd owed Rory (and Nina) nothing during her time in Europe, a period that was the tail end of the years spent apart from her wife... so why was her stomach so tight?

And why did she feel so sheepish, allowing a somewhat awkward silence to settle between them once they watched Nina disappear into the crowd again once she instructed them to meet her at the cafe around twelve?

"It'll be good. She's uh, really knowledgeable," she mumbled.

Rory loved to just explore museums, wander around and see what caught her eye, discover a new artist or sculptor or piece that she wouldn't have sought out or researched before. One of her favorite statues was one she'd spent probably a cumulative hour looking at, a Guidi of Andromeda that sat under skylights in the Met.

She hoped that with agreeing to Nina showing them around later, they'd have the best of both worlds. Time to explore on their own, but a little knowledge in a tour later on.

And she was a little curious honestly, about this woman who had spent some time with Maris in the time that Rory had been separate from her. It wasn't jealousy whatsoever, she after all, had the ring and the marriage and the kind of love others were certainly jealous of. But she was curious.

As Nina took off, Rory glanced over at Maris, a wry smile on her face as she kissed her wife's cheek and squeezed her hand. "Oh this is going to be fun." Rory teased, grinning wider as she kept hold of her hand. "Should we have a safe word? Or maybe a term like escape word is a better one." Rory didn't often have a troublemaker sense of humor, but she did love to get a rise out of her wife sometimes, that mischievous side of her rearing its head.

Rory brushed her fingers through her wife's hair and kissed her squarely on the lips, quickly, almost playfully. "C'mon, let's go find Egypt while it's just us."

"Don't be ridiculous. Besides, you know our safe word is always thermometer," she grumbled. "But its going to be fine." There was a slight edge to her voice, like a teenager who had just gotten caught doing something and just wanted to change the subject. Which she kinda did.

As excited as Maris was to see more Eyptian artifacts than she'd ever seen in one place, she was still dragging her feet a little as she and Rory tried to find where they were located.

Running into Nina would have caught her off guard even if she didn't have her wife in tow. Paris was huge. It was basically New York. What were the odds that they'd actually run into each other again.

While Maris liked art and researched artists she was interested in with the same zeal she gave everything else that caught her attention, there was no denying that this was more her speed.

They were beautiful objects, certainly art in their own way. But there was history attached. Undeniably more, rich history in them than some of the landscapes and pretty posing women on canvas downstairs.

As they reached the first of many rooms where the Egyptian antiquities were housed, Maris' head spun. She was used to seeing handfuls of scattered, usually battered artifacts tucked into the corner of one museum or another.

Never quite a whole room full and never ones so pristine. The display didn't even end with the room they'd wandered into.

"Wow," she breathed in almost awe, holding Rory's arm for support. As silly as it sounded, Maris was so overwhelmed her knees were weak at the sight before her. And even Rory had probably never seen her so childishly excited before.

"Damn right it is." Rory grinned, squeezing her wife's hand as she tried to stifle a laugh at the way she was pouting about the turn of events for the day. Granted, Rory wasn't particularly thrilled to spend time around someone who clearly knew her wife somewhat intimately, but it did give her this air of cockiness she'd be riding high for at least the next couple of hours.

The museum was huge, likely the biggest one she'd ever been in ... was it actually the biggest in the world? She'd have to look that up. They only paused a few times along the way, and admittedly it was usually Rory getting distracted by something she knew nothing about, but found pretty or interesting.

A much as Rory wanted to see all of the Egyptian artifacts, she was momentarily distracted by her wife's reaction to entering the first room. She smiled softly, watching the way Maris took it all in.

It was only after a prolonged moment of watching her wife that she finally tore her gaze back to the room filled with artifacts. Rory squeezed herself closer to Maris, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her temple. "It's beautiful." She nodded, a grin still on her face. Watching Maris take this all in might actually be her favorite part of the whole day.

"No reading aloud from the book of the dead, deal?"

"Oh, like they'd let us get close enough to touch anything," Maris scoffed. While she would be right there with museum employees scolding people putting their grubby hands all over precious art and artifacts, the sheer amount of security scattered around the museum did have Maris a little uneasy.

She felt like she was being watched by people waiting for her to mess up.

"Besides, my ancient Egyptian is very rusty," she joked.

Once she'd got her bearings a bit she almost reverently walked toward the first things that caught her eye. Some canopic jars trimmed in gold. The Mummy was the first thing that sprung to mind. Followed by a slight tightening of her stomach at the idea that they'd held human organs at some point, but she supposed it wasn't much different than urns used to hold people's ashes these days. Just a bit more...spread out.

"Do you think every kid has an Egyptian phase?" Maris mused aloud. "I certainly did."

It may have been common, but most kids probably didn't get as into the gory details as Maris, budding historian did. Luckily her dad understood the fascination and never scolded Maris for being morbid about it (or her subsequent interest in Anne Boleyn and Marie Antionette's executions) at the dinner table.

She really couldn't have been born into a better family on the career front.

"Ooh, cat mummy!" she said a bit too loudly, side stepping to the next lighted display.

"If everything wasn't behind glass, I'd say quick, I'll distract them." Rory laughed. She remembered the first time she went to a museum as a kid, where they had those hands-on workshops for kids to look at fossils and make imprints of their own. Her mom had kept it for so long, she had vague memories of seeing that dumb little fossil all over the house.

She wondered if the museums in London had anything like that for kids. For later.

"Well we can work on that for next time."

Rory was glad to have Maris lead the way through the artifacts. She wanted to see everything, and knew that her wife wanted the same. She paused to read the little plaques that came with each piece.

"Oh definitely. I read this little Cleopatra book when I was like... nine? And became obsessed. Mom took me to a King Tut exhibit in San Jose at some point. They had a whole tomb replica that freaked me out but was really cool."

Rory had so many different phases as a kid, ranging from wanting to be a baker, at one point a jockey (seriously... and weird), a dancer, a scientist -- but really that was only the week she got to make a volcano in sixth grade. She'd been obsessed with some TV shows, some movies, a lot of books - all of which gave her new things to explore as branches off of those things.

"Oh no way." She gasped when she looked over at the cat mummy, putting her fingers on the glass before drawing them back sharply, unsure if she was allowed to do that. "It's no wonder ours act like deities, they descended from these worshipped cats." She laughed, looking at the way it was wrapped and the designs painted on them.

"Did you ever think about being a hands-on historian like an archaeologist or anything? Digging around and discovering things like this?" She paused a moment, twisting her lips into a smirk. "Though those are probably the most cursed people on the planet."

"I think they have a tomb in the next room. A real one," she said. "Like how they just grabbed the Dendur temple and plopped it in The Met."

While not necessarily an art enthusiast, Maris loved the Met and that section in particular. She'd taken Rory there on an unofficial date a few weeks after their first night together. Visiting another Egyptian ruin, even on an entirely different continent as a married couple seemed sort of fitting. A strange little full circle moment.

Maris smiled a little, though she wasn't as enthusiastic when there was a nearby mummified crocodile. A cat lover, animals she could relate to (and understand the devotion for) just struck more of a chord.

"Definitely," she said a bit softly. "I used to be obsessed with Indiana Jones. Ramona used to think I had a crush on Harrison Ford, but..."

Her devotion to Indy made sense on more than just a historical front. Maris' dad was a professor, after all and she always assumed that once she expressed interest in going into teaching, she'd become one too. She still wasn't entirely sure why she hadn't. Not always a patient woman, Maris probably would have done better with adult students, but she'd simply ended up where she did.

She'd always envisioned something a little grander, that she would be the one making discoveries or cataloging them in a museum like this one but... life had a way of turning out differently than you ever thought it would. For better or worse.

She'd never thought she'd have a wife, either.

Besides, teaching did feel slightly new and rewarding again after her time away. And she always had writing to fall back on or fill some sort of void if she ever found something or someone she wanted to go in depth on again, but she'd also never really told Rory that teaching sometimes left her feeling somewhat unfulfilled, even if she had a feeling her wife could pick up on the fact that she was often less than thrilled with lazy students and bureaucracy from their bosses.

She knew Rory liked teaching. And it wasn't that Maris felt that she could do or deserved better, but sometimes she wanted more.

She slid an arm around her wife's waist, using it to pull her in closer and drop a kiss on the top of her head. "We would have made quite the adventurers. In another life."

Their current one was increasingly exciting. The fact that they were coming up on their first anniversary as a married couple wasn't lost on Maris. She had loose plans that still needed fine tuning But she was mostly looking toward the future.

The really big stuff.

Things she'd nearly talked herself out of months before.

She was ready to talk to their doctor and since Maris was pretty sure she knew what she was going to say, she was also ready to talk to her and Rory about moving forward.

Well, she'd definitely be talking to Rory first on that one.

A family a few displays ahead was hardly helping matters. There was a little boy in overalls and a striped shirt, leaning out of his stroller to check out everything on display while his mother quietly kept scolding him to sit back, occasionally using her palm to lightly push him back into his seat. He was nearly big enough to start causing the stroller to tip. Maris didn't know much about kids, but it was plain to see that the boy wouldn't be in the stroller much longer. A blessing (and a curse) for any parent.

Their first year at their new school had gone well. There were growing pains to get through and their second go around would probably still be a little bumpy since their school was so new, but Maris didn't have much to complain about. The admins seemed to like her even though she knew her students would always need a bit of convincing. She was an acquired taste on the personal and teaching front. Being a foreigner would always make people a little wary of her, especially when she was attempting to teach them their history but things were fine.

And the admins would grant her leave if she needed it. If she did manage to end up needing her own stroller next year. Of course, there'd be no need for leave at all if they timed things right. She could work during the school year, get pregnant at just the right time and have the baby during a summer off.

If she managed to get pregnant. Maybe timing it like a vacation was a bit ambitious. Possibly impossible but... things were beginning to seem like they could work out.

Maris was finally allowing herself a bit of hope. Not that Rory knew much about it. As usual, she was busy formulating things in her mind. Not even her wife was privy to things until she'd looked at them from every possible angle.

Often to her own detriment.

She wasn't distracted watching mother and son for long. She walked toward a gold sarcophagus in the middle of the room once they stepped away from it, not quite ready to be all that close to people after the previous year. "Nic Cage has a pyramid in New Orleans. Think he has one of these ready to go?"

“Wait, seriously??” Rory peered excitedly towards one of the big open doorways as though she could see it through all of the artifacts and people. “I love that … but at the same time, I wonder if they… and we are just asking for it. Taking these tombs and artifacts, surely SOME of them are probably cursed, right?”

Rory made a wide-eyed face, but broke into a smile in just a second. Beyond archaeologists being cursed, surely there was something to be said about the ones that took the pieces away from where they were buried in the first place? But as much as she loved The Mummy and other films like it, she didn’t really believe in curses and all that … not really anyway.

“Even Harrison and his whips couldn’t earn your devotion. I get it.” Rory laughed, bumping into her wife playfully as she moved over to a case that had ancient Egyptian jewelry in it. “Too bad these full necklace that could double as breastplates aren’t really in style huh?”

While Rory’s interest in history really did revolve mostly around literary works and their authors, she did have a deep love of museums and art, of the way stories were told and preserved throughout time. It made so much sense that her subject of choice and her wife’s were so intertwined, something that always made her smile to look back upon their first months together. They’d tiptoed around each other, planning their lessons, catching each others’ eyes every now and then. She still felt that way when her wife caught her gaze from across the room, a kind of swell of butterflies in her stomach and warmth that spread all throughout her body.

Just like it did these days with their classrooms once again within a stone’s throw of each other. At least for now. Rory knew that her wife had ambitions beyond the classroom, and she loved that about her. It honestly gave her thoughts at times as well, if she might open up her own mind to take more space for herself and her passions. They’d joked about writing books together before, and maybe that could one day be a reality as well.

Rory allowed herself to be distracted by a display in front of them, but did for just a moment allow her gaze to follow her wife’s to the little boy in overalls. A slight pang hit in her chest at the sight of him. Since that night in their bonus room, Rory had been patient and not wanting to push her wife. She had taken every little piece she’d given her about where her mind was at, how she was feeling was collected and kept close to her chest. They already were a family, but adding to it was always something she (and they) had wanted. She’d wait, and she’d let Maris take the lead. She had faith that they’d get there at the time they were supposed to. However, and whenever.

“Wait, does he really?? Why does that not even remotely surprise me?” Rory laughed, hugging her wife a little closer to her and pausing to steal a kiss for no other reason than she wanted one. “Alright he stole the Declaration of Independence. If you could steal one historical artifact, what would that be?”

Maris took a moment to mull over Rory's question. There were too many choices and she was almost sure she'd think of another, possibly even better answer once she settled one one to give to her. "A Hatshepsut statue," she said after a beat. "Or I'd be able to magically find one just to piss her stupid nephew off and prove she existed."

It seemed fitting given their surroundings. But as expected, a couple other things sprang to mind. Old favorites, really. "Or one of Julie's swords. Or Anne's B necklace. Well, if it is her in that portrait and therefore her necklace," she trailed off with a mutter, not wanting to go on a tangent she knew her wife had heard before. "Either way I'd give that last one to you so you could wear it all the time." She slid her arm into Rory's, then peered down at the gold coffin again.

"What do you want to happen?" she asked softly. "When you're... you know, gone?"

This was a conversation they hadn't had before.

A morbid, possibly mood killing one but it seemed fitting. And not just because of what they were looking at. Maris was looking toward all aspects of the future.

If you'd asked her what she wanted done after death a few years ago she wouldn't have cared much. In a way she still didn't.

A body was just body once a person was gone. It didn't really matter what was done with it. She'd cared about what happened to her grandfather and even participated in that long, torturous shiva ritual she didn't even believe in. Grief was hard when you were the type of person who believed that death was the end and there was nothing that came next or to look forward to. There was little comfort in that. She'd sort of wished she could believe.

Her grandfather was buried next to her grandmother and that had been something that soothed her.

And now it was something Maris wanted too. She may not have believed in the afterlife, or that she and Rory would have any other besides this one, but if a body was all she'd leave behind, it seemed all the more important that it be placed next to hers.

"Matching tombs, yeah? Or tombstones." It was a weak joke and even though the tone was light, she still ducked her head. "Sorry I know it's not...the best conversation."

But it did prove how serious she was about Rory, how sure she was that they'd eventually have to start thinking about these sorts of unpleasant things.

They were going to stick together until the end.

So many times since she'd been to her very first museum as a kid, she'd dreamed of the things she'd bring home if she was allowed. A sculpted statue so perfectly crafted in marble from the hands of a artist centuries passed, a book with pages so old they'd crackle under ungloved hands, ancient jewelry, pottery, paintings. Imagine how devastated a ten year old Rory was when she found out she couldn't take home cuff bracelets from ancient Greece. Rude, honestly.

"Okay I love this answer." Rory laughed, but the idea of the swords, that was definite. It made Rory think she really needed to get on getting them a pair of actual steel made swords. She was not kidding about that though ... she'd probably need to do a little research for baby proofing ... if/when. "You're so good to me." She blushed at the mention of the necklace being adorned on her own neck -- which, hopefully would have a far different end than Anne herself.

Rory didn't think a lot about what came after life. She wasn't particularly religious, but also didn't think that just nothing happened. She kind of hoped there was some after-life in her romantic mind, so she and Maris would have even more time together.

"I used to think I wanted to be cremated and just scattered in the ocean or something." She rolled her eyes at herself, back when she'd just shrug at the very idea of death or an afterlife at all. Things changed as she got older, and changed even still when she had someone she walked side by side with through life. Someone that was her entire world.

"But you're right, definitely matching tombstones. We should have something really cheeky on our stones, too." She smiled, sliding her arm tightly around her wife to bring her in close to her. She didn't mind the morbid topic, even if the actuality of death wasn't something she wanted to think about. She liked knowing that they both wanted to be together in the most romantic way, even in death.

Rory leaned in and kissed her, slowly, a long kiss in the middle of the museum but she didn't care one bit about eyes on them. It was Paris, after all. People made out ever ten feet.

"But just so you know," She started as their lips broke apart, a slight grin edged into her words. "If I go first, I'm haunting the shit out of you. In a sexy way, of course."

"Oh god, I'm going to end up one of those nut jobs telling everyone they've fucked a ghost."

Because if anyone could find a way, it would probably be them.

Her joke may have been said with her usual sarcasm, but there was a smile on Maris' face as she took her wife's hand and lead her into the temple.

Stepping into the (admittedly shabby) temple gave Maris a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. It left her even more awestruck than the room that came before it. She let herself believe that she and Rory really were explorers off on some grand adventure before conceding that they really could see something like this (or at least Egypt) some day if they really wanted to. They could have plenty of adventures yet.

Even if the one she was most interested in starting would mean staying a little closer to home.

And making sure their new place really felt like one.

When Nina texted that she was on her break and ready to show them around, it was another, different sort of blast from the past and Maris inwardly sighed, not sure how she felt about it.

She knew they'd never find a better guide. She wanted to know what the other woman had been up to since she left Paris, but she also found the idea of her and Rory in the same space and interacting so weird she couldn't even wrap her head around it.

Maris didn't exactly have a lot of exes. She wouldn't have even classified Nina as that but she had been important during her time in France, mostly on the research front.

But Maris' work trip seemed different now.

Because it had been the last one she'd ever taken without Rory.

"Come on," she said, nudging Rory a little. "We can always come back up if we want."

They met Nina in the museum cafe. She'd already grabbed lunch and her choices were proof that you could take a person out of the states, but their tastes really didn't change.

Nina's plastic spoon was sitting in a bowl of tomato soup, a grilled cheese sandwich and a bottle of Coke sat off to the other side.

"There any Jack in that?" Maris teased, sliding into one of the chairs across from her. She remembered Nina's signature drink and admiring how simple and unpretentious it had been in a city that could sometimes take itself a little too seriously.

"It might get a little before the day is over. Depends on how my tours go. You two gonna eat?"

"Maybe. Not overly hungry at the moment."

Nina shrugged, taking another bite before pointing her spoon at Maris. "You get my email? I found you another picture."

Maris looked confused. "What?"

"Of your girl, Julie," Nina said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I found an etching in a book a few weeks after you left. You said you were worried about not having enough visual aids."

"Really? God, there are barely any records of what she looked like. Just the-"

"Three or four crappy paintings you have and the five I found for you? I know," Nina chirped, looking very pleased with herself.

"I didn't get any email..." Maris mused aloud before making a bit of a face. "Of course I did get kind of distracted once I came home. And didn't really check that one once the book got published. Did you get the copy I sent?"

Nina nodded.

"Did you read it?"

The other woman cheekily shook her head. "You know me, not enough pictures."

The two women shared a bit of a grin before Nina settled back in her seat and looked at the two of them. "I guess I can't blame you for getting distracted. Being a married woman and all. You working on anything new?"

"No, not really," Maris said a bit sheepishly. "We got married and moved so-"

"Christ, girl, how many times do you move? You told me you were going to Maine."

"I did go to Maine. Now we're..." She gestured toward her and Rory. "In England."

"Well, at least it's Europe," Nina said with a shrug. "Means you can visit me more often. And hit me up if you write anything new. You sure you don't wanna do something on Dido Belle?"

Maris blushed. It was a project she'd sort of talked about doing while she was in France. She and Nina (and Belle) had mixed race heritage in common, after all. But she'd never mentioned it to Rory. "Maybe some day."

"You should. I already have some stuff hoarded. You know it's my pet project."

“Oh you absolutely are. So my ghost wife gave me a crazy intense orgasm but just non-corporeally…’” Rory just barely managed to keep a straight face before she broke into a fit of giggles at the absurdity of it.

She bit her tongue so she didn’t keep making jokes as a couple of school aged kids suddenly ran in from the other room. It only made her giggle a little harder, clinging to Maris’ hand and bowing her face against her shoulder.

Thankfully her giggles had subsided by the time they walked into the temple, her hand still firmly in the grip of her wife’s as they entered. It did feel a bit sacred, especially as it seemed they’d picked a moment when most of the other foot traffic was elsewhere. She squeezed Maris’ hand, though her gaze traveled along the walls of the temple, the way one worn rock curved into another one. Being here with Maris made her think weirdly back to an old relationship of hers, just after college when she’d planned this whole date to go to the museum of Natural History. It had been such a dud, her date complaining about being on her feet the whole time and just bored by the idea of looking at one thing then looking at another thing. It struck her how good it felt for about the millionth time to have a wife who enjoyed all of this with her. Maybe even more than her. Before Maris, she really didn’t quite understand the depths of what it would feel like to be with someone who was intellectually stimulating in addition to everything else. Just one of the infinite things she loved about her wife.

Rory felt a little bubble of nervous(?) energy as they walked off to meet Nina. “We can. And if you want to have an escape word I need to fake appendicitis to get us out of here, you just tell me.” She winked, leaning over to kiss her wife’s cheek as they walked into the cafe.

Sitting down next to Maris, Rory watched the two women interact with a curious kind of fascination. Unfortunately, Maris had had a front row seat to how Rory was with Jess, which felt like an entirely different plane of existence now. She hardly remembered a single thing about her relationship with her ex, or how she even felt then. She wondered if that was the same with Maris, that sitting across from her ex (something-rather), would feel like she was looking at someone who represented a time of her life that was almost foreign now. She’d have to remember to ask her that later.

It was curious, the way it felt to watch the two of them talk about the book that Rory had pored over and devoured, and it was curious still while there were little twinges of what — jealousy? They only seemed to enhance the overwhelming feeling of love that swelled in her chest for her wife. It felt almost unnatural, two things that countered each other, but were exactly the right feeling. It left Rory with a bit of a fond smile playing on her lips as they talked.

But the idea that the two of them had some project that they’d talked about that Rory didn’t actually know certainly did steal her interest, an inquisitive brow raising as she regarded Nina, and then Maris. “Dido Belle?” Rory couldn’t recall Maris telling her about it, and the sudden idea that Nina might be angling to spend more time with her wife on a project certainly had that fond feeling running for the hills. Her lips twisted a bit into a more stern look, a little foreign on her softer features.

"Yeah, she-" Nina's brow furrowed a little. "You take this one. You're better at explaining things."

"Says the tour guide," Maris countered warmly. It was easy to fall into a sort of easy banter with Nina. The two women were an awful lot alike.

Which was further proof that Rory or no Rory, a more serious relationship between the two probably would have been an absolute disaster.

"You are!"

Spurned on (and undeniably pleased) by Nina's compliments and faith in her, Maris turned to face Rory, her smile faltered a bit as she noticed her wife's expression. She knew her wife was less than pleased, but she couldn't really piece together why at the moment.

She slipped her hand in hers under the table all the same, hoping her touch would be soothing.

"She was an heiress. Her mother was black and her father actually acknowledged her? She was a part of the family which was obviously really unusual for the time. She got some of his money when he died and she just... had so much freedom and actually did something with it. She was a civil rights activist before that was really a thing."

"Well, that's the cliff's notes," Nina said with a bit of a shrug.

"There aren't many notes to go over," Maris said pointedly as if to prove to Nina that was why she hadn't really dove into the project to begin with. "She was a woman. She was black. Of course the history books didn't write about her."

"You didn't have much on Julie when you came to Paris either," Nina said just as pointedly. Like Maris, she was stubborn, not afraid to push people to their full potential even if it meant sometimes edging into rudeness. "You did alright."

Nina had a point. Maris had cobbled together a decent record (the best to date, though even Maris would hardly say as such) of Julie's life out of scraps. She'd done the work and was a meticulous researcher to a fault.

But it wasn't as if Dido was unheard of. In fact, Maris had only learned of Dido's existence thanks to a film made about her a few years back. In her usual fashion, she'd started researching to see just how far off the mark they were once they'd finished it. They'd taken some liberties, but even Maris couldn't blame them for that. They'd done their best with what was available. And she'd probably found the same information the filmmakers had. She had little hope there'd be more if she really did go all in.

She wasn't sure why she hadn't told Rory about Dido.

Her wife usually got an earful about every historical rabbit hole she went down. Maris had pet historical figures the way other people had favorite actresses or baseball players, but Dido was never one of her rotating roster.

Maris had once told Rory she wanted to exclusively write about queer women, especially lesbians erased by history. It was niche, and one Dido didn't fall into. Maris wanted to write about people like her but Dido was too. Just in a different way.

Her racial identity had always been a lot to unpack. Maris wasn't entirely sure what being black (even though she was fairly certain no one ever read her as such in every day life) meant. She wasn't sure she ever could considering her mother (and her mother's side of the family) was lost to her.

She'd liked Dido because in a way, she reminded her of her mother. Which meant that she'd probably think about Christina while writing it and well....

That was never a very good headspace for Maris to end up in.

In a way, Nina understood but even she could never wrap her head around what the project would mean to Maris either.

It was complicated.

Things involving Maris' mother, even indirectly often were.

"Maybe someday," Maris muttered.

Nina seemed to know when to drop a subject. Their tour was relatively uneventful. Maris cheered somewhat as she and her old friend fell back into their easy, conversation that occasionally veered into playful one upping but Nina eventually had to get back to work.

After both women made sure they had the right contact information for each other, they said their goodbyes and even Rory got a warm hug from Nina before she disappeared back inside.

Maris took Rory's hand as they left the museum, knocking shoulders with her playfully. "Well, that was eventful," she said dryly.

Honestly the contact from her wife was more than welcome, and comforting — but it always was. She tried to continue her pleasant feelings, leaning more into a fondness for her wife and the smug thrill it gave her that she was the one who Maris had decided to build a life with. She didn’t know enough to pinpoint the exact moment when that twinge of jealousy or annoyed feeling reared its ugly head, but she didn’t like it. If she had to name the feeling, she realized she really didn’t like being reminded of the time when they weren’t together. Those dark years were indeed dark for a reason.

But as she listened to Maris passionately talk about this person she hadn’t really heard about before, she couldn’t help but feel that same snap of annoyed anytime Nina cut in with her opinions or two cents.

Ultimately, she didn’t like that someone else had inside jokes and stories with her wife, as irrational as that was to actually feel. She liked being the one who Maris came to with her myriad of ideas and thoughts on historical figures she admired or even found interesting. The reminder that she hadn’t always been that person was a bit of a tough pill to swallow. God, it’d been a long time since she’d felt jealous, and it would be hilarious if it didn’t make her shift in her seat and errantly squeeze her wife’s hand. It was a weird feeling to be jealous and yet not threatened at all? Once outside of the moment, Rory would roll her eyes at herself and laugh at how absolutely absurd it was to feel that way at all.

Still, she did her best to put it aside for the rest of their afternoon, glad to keep hold fo Maris’ hand as they walked along and listened as Nina took them on a tour. Rory was mostly quiet throughout the tour, only asking a few questions here and there.

“It was.” Rory said after Nina had disappeared, exhaling like a weight had lifted after that hug goodbye. “She’s nice.” Rory might have cringed at the way that she said the words, calling someone nice in this context was about as genuine as a Southerner meaning bless your heart. But they were outside and she could breathe and she squeezed Maris’ hand. “Did you have fun?”

All things considered, Maris was glad they'd run into Nina. She'd wondered how the other woman was doing more than once since she'd left France. She knew she'd check her old email to see what she'd sent, including the picture she'd mentioned digging up for her, but seeing her had been strange.

She couldn't quite put her finger on how she felt about it. It was just as strange for Maris to remember a time when they weren't together. Part of her didn't really want to. It was easy to believe they had simply picked up right where they had left off, that nothing had happened and there had been no lovers in between. It had certainly felt that way when they were alone, even when Rory's fiancee had been in the picture.

Maris knew her wife well enough to know when she was in a mood. She could tell Rory was jealous, but Maris didn't know how she felt about that.

It was a feeling she knew well when Rory was engaged. She knew better than anyone how much it sucked but the idea that Rory was and could still get that way even now that they were married was weirdly... flattering?

She didn't want Rory to feel bad. Ever.... but... it was nice to feel wanted. Jealousy meant someone cared. That they were scared to lose you and appreciated what they had and that they didn't want anyone else to be a part of it.

Maybe it was an unpopular opinion but Maris didn't think there was anything wrong with that.

In acceptable doses.

There was a faint smile on her lips as she slid an arm around her wife's waist to pull her closer, dropping a kiss on the top of her head as they started toward the train station so they could head back to the hotel.

"I ran into you a couple weeks after I left here," she murmured, subtly reminding Rory that despite everything, they'd found each other again.

Looking back at how easily it had been to be with Maris again, it really was alarming how little she thought about the time they had been without each other. If she let herself dwell on it, she really would feel bad about how half-invested she had been in her relationship with Jess, how easily it had been for her to fall out of love with her because it was never fully there. How devastating it would have been to marry someone she didn't love, out of obligation, out of the desire to just have someone.

Maris coming back to her had been breathing life back into her. She felt like Dorothy seeing technicolor for the first time. She could feel bad about the way she had gone about things, sure, but wouldn't regret or change a thing. She couldn't. Her heart and soul had been given to Maris a long, long time ago. Anything else was just faking it.

Even knowing all this, she couldn't help the way it felt to be the jealous one now. It was stupid really, considering she wasn't the slightest bit insecure about her marriage and her wife. It was being jealous of a past time, which felt entirely absurd. It lit a fire in her, maybe even some sort of territorial vibe that made her feel both smug towards Nina, and heated in a way that made her want her wife even more, if that was even possible.

Rory let herself be drawn into her wife's arms, leaning into her as they walked and feeling a great deal better with the way she held her so tightly. She caught that smile on her lips and she twisted her own from her face as best as she could. She didn't want to give up so quickly.

"Mm." She nodded, the gears in her head working as she paused in their stride. "You don't have to look so pleased." Rory teased, her smile breaking through as she reached for her wife with her far hand, cupping her cheek and leaning in to kiss her squarely on the lips. The kiss was immediately passionate, her arm around her wife's waist pulling her in tighter as she kissed her in a way that she meant it. "In case it wasn't abundantly clear how happy I am you came home to me." Even if Maine hadn't been their home before or even after they were married, Maris had really always been her home.