Welcome to Gaia! ::

The willingness to provide the affection that Mimsy could not manage to ask for was graciously welcomed, as she felt each little bit begin to fill the vast emptiness of a void that was so rigidly and purposely neglected in favor of what she knew she was capable of earning. What she knew she deserved.

Each new touch and the sensations they delivered to her were as simultaneously thrilling and satisfying as new evidence to support a long-standing theory might be. This was a marvelous new experiment in a field she had not practiced, and as underqualified as she may have been, he seemed to know what evidence she needed.

Which was why she found herself urgently attempting to stifle an unapproved whine when he stopped illuminating this new data for her. There was something terribly conflicting in this absence, when paired with his verification that she was right.

"We would have to decide together, should I choose to select it before tonight is done. Our decision, on our night." A sharp panic wedged itself into her chest as she wondered if this was a place where reality's dividing line should have remained, and her cheeks flushed as she hurried to justify it. "At the very least, I will need to know when I may come to see you."

She swallowed hard, then cleared her throat, and both failed to do anything to manage her nerves. Maybe if she just pretended that she never said it. They could just move forward again. That would be safe, wouldn't it? If he protested the idea, he would at least have something else to talk about on the balcony.

Standing was more difficult than she expected, finding her knees abnormally wobbly as she straightened upright, and she clutched the champagne in one hand as she partially extended the other.

"Will you lead the way?" A smile grappled with her anxiety, but barely managed to confirm its existence. "I think that I would be much too lost without you."

There was no shortage of reactions given to him, even without her knowing that he was watching and wanting for them: a hitch of her breath, a short gasp, a heavy-lidded stare, a quiver of her lip, a glimpse of her teeth biting down to stop it.

"Never?" The short question was the lightest of whispers, hiking in awkwardly in pitch halfway through. "I will be glad to accompany you tomorrow. But Robert...are you quite certain that you are truly discounting the option of keeping me for yourself, if you are now suggesting 'never'?"

As hard as she tried to obscure hope with humor again, she had no chance of hiding it when her eyes refused to leave his.

Even as he set her down and turned her towards the scene in Times Square, the vibrant lights and the demanding noise of the celebrants would have had little relevance to her interests, had he not wanted to share them. There was still a lingering urge to break away and return to the silent exchange they'd been having just a few seconds ago, but that would mean refusing the gift of this moment, leaving the warmth of his arms, abandoning the heartbeat that she could feel against her.

"Yes, I'm ready," she replied, rocking back and forth in time with his movement. "I can't imagine why I wouldn't be, but I can't recall being this excited for the transition between one year to the next before now. So I--I think that this will be our year. Do you?"

These were not the answers she wanted, despite how respectful they were. That was a commendable option for her freedom, but it was drowned by the paradox created by her lacking desire for that freedom to be exercised in this circumstance. Surely that meant that she was free to confess that she didn't want to be, Mimsy reasoned, and that was precisely what she would do.

You can, she tried to say.

The painful constriction of her throat wouldn't allow it, which only got worse with the discovery that she wanted to say the very same thing to what he next told her.

You can, she tried again.

But the way his lips brushed against her made her pulse pick up its pace, and paired with the presence of stubborn anxieties, she momentarily forgot how to speak completely. The world became a dizzying blur of lights and sounds and the warmth that he gave her, and she pressed herself against him to take more of the latter.

You can, she pleaded, one more futile voiceless attempt, as time continued to run out.

All of the contentment that she found in his embrace would have been enticing enough to never say anything ever again, had his question not created an urgency that snapped her back into awareness at the last viable second.

"You can. Yes, Robert, and you--you can. All of it. Anything. Everything. Please." Standing so far from the nowhere where this began, she closed her eyes, begging with every inch, every muscle, every molecule, for all of these incredible things that she hadn't known she wanted until now. "We will do everything. We won't worry about the rest of the world. We will have our own, because we can."

As if to combat the very argument that she was trying to make, the crowd roared against her words; she spoke louder and more emphatically with each word as a result, refusing to let them take this, denying the mundanity of their collective cheering to overtake what was rightfully theirs. They had slipped so easily out of that existence and into their own, and she had no intentions of allowing it to dissolve into the place of the past that comparably had absolutely nothing to offer again.

This was something worth fighting her lifelong compliance for, worth fighting for entirely, and she would not allow anyone else to be the victor. Not this year, nor the next, nor ever again.

There was nothing to compare this to in her mind, no metric that she was familiar with, but Mimsy still felt confident that this was among the greatest of first kisses that had ever occurred. It was indisputably factual. She should remember every detail to write it into an informative report, she decided, so all of humanity would not be deprived of this valuable discovery.

But in the next instant, as he pulled her towards him and kissed her harder, she heard the nearby whistle and approval for what he'd done - it resonated in her ears with a tone that roused every bit of envy within her, its energy churning with a necessity to exhibit desire for what was hers. There was only a brief moment of uncertainty as her trembling hands pawed at him before the motions became more ardent and determined, fingers clutching his shirt so tightly that her palms ached. She didn't want to share that first kiss any longer, or the next, or any that followed. Someone else would want it, upon learning how extraordinary it was, and she refused to be anything but selfish this time.

She had given the world everything that she had ever earned, everything that she knew, everything she discovered. She had been incapable of publicly attributing any sort of credit to herself, even when the work had primarily been hers. She had offered her existence to humanity, and it was a meaningless effort, changing absolutely nothing.

Not this time. The rest of the world couldn't have this. This wasn't theirs to consume and destroy.

He seemed to share this sentiment, or perhaps he'd just managed to intuitively gather it; no matter the reason, he carried her inside and away from them all, and she did her best to show her gratitude in the kisses that she gave him in return. Then he moved past her lips, and she no longer knew what to give him in exchange, nor could she work out a solution when her thoughts were buried in unending euphoria. There had to be something.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she exhaled through a smile. There had to be some way to share this with him. He deserved to have this too.

"You'll, ah, lead me again, won't you?" Between the short breaths that abruptly rushed in and out of her lungs, she laughed in nervous disbelief of the fact that she was even admitting this. "I've never--I don't want to disappoint you."

When her eyes sluggishly opened to greet the day, and a languid stretch of her arms returned to her body with her glasses, Mimsy was met with a sight that she was entirely unaccustomed to. Mornings typically granted an unimpressive visual of stark white, of empty walls in a small room lit by the glow of the sunlight that strained to slip past the blinds that she always kept closed. She knew a bed that was fitted with stiff white sheets, which never achieved any warmth, that was much too small for her alone. That was familiar: waking alone on cold mornings, present in the residence only long enough for a menial hygiene routine, a change of clothes, and a fresh mug of coffee. Colleagues that lamented their inability to 'just stay in bed' on some mornings seemed strange and nonsensical at best, and she never comprehended how anyone would want such a thing when it would directly detract from time spent with ALICE.

That appeal was pretty clear now.

The sheets that she was tangled in were comfortable, amazingly, and the warmth shared between them was pleasant and enticing - so much so that she shifted to be closer to him, almost reflexively. Where the aesthetic of her room was more clinical than a hospital, his was bursting with color and passion. The red of the drapes and furniture and decor, and the warm tones that accompanied them, seemed to fit well with his personality. He'd even accented it with a collection of awards, she noticed, which were especially impressive when the sunlight spilled onto them. It seemed to agree with her that he was someone special.

She nudged her glasses up to rub her bleary eyes, more worried than she would reasonably admit over the concern that none of this would be here when her vision cleared. As she stretched a second time, she clumsily retrieved her phone, and opened just one eye to look at it. There were no messages. She didn't notice.

They had crafted an appealing reality together that she relished in extending, but they would still have to get out of bed at some point, and she would become one of the people who lamented that fact. To soften the harsh truth of this, she pressed herself against him, closed her eyes, smiled, and took a picture. The phone remained in her hand just long enough to decide that she liked the picture very much, at which point she dropped it on the bed and shoved it right off the edge.

She had no desire to bother with such a thing when it would directly detract from time spent with him.

With a happy little 'mm' she smushed her cheek against his shoulder, distorting her smile. She curled her arm around his, and settled against him until their intertwined bodies fit snugly against each other. By now, there had been enough wriggling about to wake him up, but she felt that her actions were justified - he'd woken her twice during the night, and she was sure that he would want to be awake now too. Her motives were wholly selfish, but she told herself that her intentions were nothing but polite.

"Wake up, Robert," she murmured against him, arms tightening into a hug that only managed to encapsulate about a fifth of his body. "Wake up. I miss you."

Pleasant laughter bubbled up at his first attempt to tell her that he was awake, and Mimsy shook her head, already knowing better. She held her comments for the moment, since he did seem to be trying, and readily accepted every bit of attention that he began to offer to her.

That included the pleas, as ambivalent as they began. The need to distinguish between realities was now nonexistent to her, so she took them all and clung to them and believed only what she wanted to. That seemed to work well for them.

"All right. I'll stay. I like this very much." The problem was already beginning to solve itself in her mind, variables effortlessly filling with values (she could afford new clothes, she could work from a distance, she could have her belongings sent over), multiple strings of facts and numbers that combined with a simple magnetism, as if they were meant to be this way all along. It had begun to seem ridiculous that she ever intended to return, and she repeatedly had to remind herself that she had not known him before she got on that plane. That she hadn't known him at all, until all of her primary intentions were null.

"I won't go," she continued to assure him, already significantly beyond the necessity to assure herself. Her fingers gently stroked his hair, curling locks of it around them, moving just enough to catch the sunlight in ways that made the blonde strands match its luminous glow. "I don't think that I could. I have no desire to be elsewhere. If I did board a return flight, which is frankly not among any options that I'm presently considering, I would be in Switzerland only long enough to board a flight to return here. Where I belong."

The anxiety that accompanied every instance where she feared that she had crossed a line, or doubted what she was allowed to say, had not survived the night. There was no longer any question that she was needed by him, or that she was wanted here, or that she was right in wanting more than they had first promised to each other. Nothing had ever felt as comfortable, as natural and free of structured rules and devoid of the necessity for human-shaped masks - not ever - and she would not force any of that into this. She wouldn't ruin it with guidelines that he had proven she never needed to be cared about, especially in the wake of her rejection by the person who had defined those guidelines for her entire life.

She kissed him once, and a second and third time when she couldn't resist, then lay still as she stared into his eyes. They were so genuine, with an emotional depth that she sorely envied, that ignited a spark of desire to have them to study and emulate on her own. The spark fizzled out as she lost herself in the stare, counting the infinite array of wondrous things he showed her through them.

"And I won't get lost again. I promise." Her voice was soft and sedated, and she remained completely entranced. "I'm glad that you found me, and I know that you would find me again, but there is no reason to leave you. As long as you want to be my star, I..."

There was no question that she was allowed to say it. She just never really had before. She pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips and smiled, tiny and simple.

"I love you," she whispered, her delicate words dancing across his skin. "I love you, Robert. I know it."

Of course he did. The phrase was as meaningful as acknowledging that she knew this, and it all came together into a definitive absolution that she found especially appealing. These were words and assertions that she typically reserved for claims of scientific nature, for that which could be proven and recorded as factually accurate, and she truly believed that this was no different. This was something quantifiable, something incredible, and they alone had discovered it.

With a giggle that didn't quite fit her voice, her toes curled against him as the energetic thrill of hearing those words coursed through every inch of her, and she hid her face in the warmth of his shoulder just in time for him to pull away. It was strange to be aware of the distance that had once been between them, an entire ocean and half a world apart, when only a foot or two of empty space now felt like too much. The hands he placed firmly on her shoulders served well to keep her anchored here, allowing no room for worries over even the smallest span of separation.

"You have many, many years to make up for," she teased, attempting to wriggle her way back to him. "But so do I. I am dreadfully lacking in practice, due to the fact that I have never loved anyone else, but I'm willing to learn, and I learn very quickly."

After a great deal of tactical maneuvering, she finally managed to slip out of half of his grip. The momentum was not as anticipated, however, which resulted in her flopping heavily against his arm. Undeterred, she twisted until she could see him again, and continued speaking.

"I waited for you. No one was worth it, all because you existed." One finger playfully touched his lips to emphasize the 'you' in her sentence. It wasn't necessarily the reason why she'd refused to humor the idea of romantic relationships before now, but there was no evidence that it was false either, so this seemed okay. "That may have been selfish of me. I apologize. You worked so hard to prepare--but it's my turn to be diligent. That's what I learned. Only the subject of my focus is important to me, which means that it gets all of my time, and my energy, and my interest, and my..."

She slid closer to kiss him again, lengthy enough to very nearly distract her from the point she was trying to make to him. When she pulled away, she smiled, took a trembling breath, and glanced up to look into his eyes again. They were distracting in their own way, so she skipped through the majority of her elaboration and went straight to the point.

"And--I want your surname," she said, quiet and intoned in a sense that made it sound less like a demand and more like a polite plea or question. "I understand that this is strange and unconventional, and I know that we've just met, but this is...it's different. We have known each other for much longer than that. Everything you've said to me, and all the love that you have already given to me and are willing to give, is more than I've ever had. I thought I had it, but I was wrong, and you showed me that. And it feels similarly wrong to carry a name tied to someone who didn't. It feels wrong that I have a name that doesn't indicate to everyone how important you are. I don't want that to be true for even another second."

As serious an implication as it was, and as heavy a consequence, her eyes said that this was something honest. Even the occasional twitch of her brow and flicker of disgust as she spoke of what was hurtful and abhorrent seemed to prove that there was truth in what she'd said, and earnest need for what she asked of him.

"Don't apologize," she scoffed, squeezing his arm where she'd been resting her hand. "We took different paths to learn, and it was critically important that your path did not end in waiting. You had to find me. That couldn't have happened if we were both waiting, so you never stopped searching. Until now!"

The schoolgirlish actions that were driven by her newfound fixation were such a sharp contrast against her words, but she wove them together effortlessly, and never really seemed to notice anything strange about it. She appeared to be trying out a whole arsenal of affectionate gestures, and showed no signs of stopping.

There was a pause, however, that met his silence following her request. When he had not offered something instantaneous, she allowed him time to think without her distractions. This was too important to give any impression of triviality over. She studied his face in the meantime, trying to accept all of the data as objective until he responded to her. He looked like he was thinking, and had an expression she couldn't quite place, and as badly as she wanted to see how it felt beneath her fingertips, she continued to withhold intrusive actions.

Then he answered, and a delighted gasp emerged from the confines of his arms as he hugged her close. As soon as she could free one hand, it found its way directly to his face - she was patient, and didn't forget.

"Thank you, Robert," she sighed, her gratitude laden with relief. "You are similarly welcome to anything of mine, though I'll admit that I may not have much else to offer that would be appealing to you."

Her thumb attempted to smooth his brow, and she attempted to determine what he'd meant by the remainder of what he'd said. Was there another option? Had she said something wrong? Was he in some way disappointed now?

It seemed that there was another option after all. The grin was more promising than the look of some sort of conflict, and she grinned back at him, fighting a persistently-surfacing giggle so she could reply. He had such an incredible talent at sharing his feelings with her, in what she believed was an entirely literal sense.

"Or what?" Her fingertips passed over the corners of his grin, and she could almost feel them tingle with his energy. "Do you have an alternative to propose? Or do you have a dark secret to confess? Will I be inducted into a multi-generational shadow organization?"

Curiosity was getting the better of her, and though she intended to continue this for at least dozen more theories, she stopped to let him speak, pleading 'tell me!' through her squirming and fidgeting.