"I had to know," she whispered, and he wondered how easily he he could drown in that whisper; when she turned her gaze away, he wondered how easily he could drown in those eyes, too. "I had to see.. if there was something there."

And he'd already drowned and sunk deep, hadn't he?

"Had...to...know?" he echoed her words, not quite of his own volition; not quite question, not quite statement, just a ghost of a whisper which somehow brought a little life back into a dry, dry throat. Exhaling again, slowly, he leaned back against the tall, dark wood shelf which provided them cover from prying eyes, and let his own eyes rest on her, content for the remainder of however long this moment was in passing to simply watch this fae creature who had somehow taken a fancy to him.

Still sinking.

"There was, wasn't there?"

Was there? Yes, No, Maybe, Maybe Not, all answers flashed through his mind, all equally true, all equally false. How was he supposed to answer a question like that? They were mere children still, as far as love and its related maladies were concerned; blind fools who still believed that flights of fancy might not be so fanciful, that moments in passing might yet form a framework for undying love. He'd used to believe in that once, and right now he realised he was almost beginning to believe it again.

But how, oh how was he going to answer her, when he didn't know the words?

The mere thought gave him pause, and he blinked, searching and almost finding a reflection of his own doubt in her eyes. Of course he wasn't sure, but could he deny her - deny himself, deny the both of them - a little hope at least? He didn't have that right; hope was a rare commodity as it was.

"Yes," he said finally, loosening the cradle that only her right hand was left in his clasp, still holding on as if it were a fragile lifeline, glass and too easily prone to shatter. He hoped it wouldn't, not at what he was going to say - going to have to say - next.

"Yes, there was," Kabir continued, reaching with his free hand to tuck in a few stray strands behind her ear, leaning a little closer, still whispering, still nervous, "But it's still - it's still just one moment, can't you see that?"

Just one moment. Oh yes, Just.

He'd Just died, ascended the seven heavens and descended the seven hells, and only now been released into purgatory, and it was Just a simple matter, really.

Just one moment.

The little word stung his tongue like a burning hot coal, but this heat was nothing as comforting as the fire between them - just - one moment ago. Shutting his eyes, he looked down, biting his lip, exhaled heavily, ("merlin" ) and when he looked up again his brows were furrowed - a mix of worry and concern, concern for her reaction and worry that it'd be exactly as adverse as he half expected it would.

"One moment, Anjali," he said, surprised at how easily the word came to his tongue now, "and they expect us to build a life together."

Another pause, another exhalation; he lifted that same hand he'd been clasping till now to his lips, whispered a ghost of a kiss on the top of her palm.

"One moment, and we have to build a life. Is this how you want to start it all?"