Haha, thank you as always FreezingPenguins, QuietLion and Tamara72.

Thank you JAtkins, I'm glad you're enjoying my story. Yeah, it is a bit odd, but then, I'm odd. :)

Things'll start progressing really fast soon, I promise. I'm just trying to capture the right mood.

Nights in White Satin

www. youtube .com /watch?v=9muzyOd4Lh8

Honesty –

www. youtube .com /watch?v=SuFScoO4tb0&ob=av2e

Just backspace the spaces when you put them in the address box, if you want to have a listen of the songs mentioned.

Please read and review. :)

Chapter Fifty-Two.

The soft hooting of Hermes brought Percy back to waking reality as he lay under the covers of his bed, the pillow pulled over his head. He moaned and threw the pillow at his bird who squawked and flew over to the headboard of his bed and peered down at him. He needed to sleep. Merlin he needed to sleep properly. He couldn't survive for long on the scraps of sleep he had been having. He lay there for a few moments pondering the risks on just letting it all go and succumbing to a coma of blissful slumber – but then he thought of a mug of hot coffee and the buzz of that beverage sounded a whole lot better. He pulled himself from his bed with a grunt to his aching shoulder and started walking to the kitchen to take one tablet. Just one – he would never make the mistake of taking too many again. As he passed through the hallway he walked past Michelle's door – and he could hear Nights in White Satin playing in her room, with her smooth, rich voice accompanying the haunting melody. He stopped, appreciating the throaty timbre to her intonation. He had heard her hum before, but he had never heard her sing properly, and it was almost as if it were velvety hot chocolate for the ears – a womanly Bing Crosby. Something that would lull the senses, cocoon you in its warmth.

"…Nights in white satin, never reaching the end,
Letters I've written, never meaning to send.
Beauty I'd always missed with these eyes before.
Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore…"

He shook himself out of his silly notions and moved on. Music must run through her veins as surely as magic, what with who her Father was.

He tried not to think of Morgan's words from the previous night, bent on pure spite. She was hurt and wanted to cause hurt in him, there had been no truth to whatever she was insinuating. He threw down a pill with a few swallows of water, and started percolating a pot of coffee. He was starting to feel better. More sane. More rational. That perhaps he could move on. Perhaps he could start a new life.

Or perhaps it was just the music. He smiled as he heard the evocative interlude of the flute from her room, and turned as he heard the flapping of Hermes soaring in the kitchen. Whatever the reason for feeling content, it didn't really seem to matter that much in the moment.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt," he said to Hermes as he landed on Percy's shoulder, "To go and visit her at her work, right? As a surprise? Yes? She's a pretty girl. Pretty girls like flowers. I could bring her flowers."

Hermes blinked at him, "Hoo."

"Michelle," he said taking out two freshly washed cups from the sink, "Who else do you think I mean?"

"Hoo."

"Michelle Matthews, the fair maiden that lives with us, Hermes," and Percy snorted at the scathing look on his bird, "Yes, yes, I know. Pitiful joke. Ronald used to hate my jokes…" he paused and murmured defensively, "Mum thought they were funny though."

He poured two cups of coffee and added the amount of sugars, then walked to Michelle's room, knocking slightly. She opened the door and smiled up at Percy as he held out a cup, then, because he felt like it, he bent down and kissed her. She took both cups and moved them to the table beside the door, then wound her arms around Percy and returned the kiss. He chuckled at this and cupped the back of her head, yielding to her intoxicating scent of vanilla and when he took a moment for breath, he muttered huskily, "I'm becoming smitten with you."

There was just something about her that caused him to want to abandon everything and let himself melt. He had spent his life with rigid standards and he wondered why on earth he had spent so many years with a stick up his arse. He had missed out on so much.

The music faded on a lingering note, and he pressed his cheek to hers, "Put something else on, Michelle. Music and you – how had I ever lived without it?"

She looked up into his eyes, detecting a new-found rawness and suddenly had the feeling that if she let him go, it would disappear. She needed to hold on to it – to him – to keep the spell going, and she held his arm as she stepped back slowly, till they moved to her CD player, where her hand reached out and she pressed the skip button a few times, then gently placed his hands on her waist, and then one of her hands on his good shoulder, and they gently swayed to the soft piano. Percy lowered his face to her shoulder, leaning his cheek against her neck, for the first time noticing a tiny bluebird tattooed into her flesh. For some reason tears began to fall at this revealed intimacy of hers and he planted his lips in a kiss on the creature, and her arms around him tightened. He didn't want anymore secrets. He didn't want anymore mystery. He was tired of distance, tired of withdrawal. It had never served him well. It had damaged Penny, had hurt his Mother, had kept his baby sister at arms length.

…If you search for tenderness
it isn't hard to find.
You can have the love you need to live.
But if you look for truthfulness,
You might just as well be blind.
It always seems to be so hard to give...

Honesty is such a lonely word.
Everyone is so untrue.
Honesty is hardly ever heard.
And mostly what I need from you…

He let out an audible sob at these words from the sad little song, but he felt Michelle's kisses on the side of his face. Her comforting, reassuring, gentle touch.

"I want you," he said quietly, and rushed on as a euphoric sense of excitement and boldness took him. He moved from her arms, pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes locking into hers, "You're – you're exactly what I need. You're exactly what I've always needed. I think – I think you balance me out. I know – I know I barely know you, and Merlin Michelle, if you knew what I was really like – what I've done, then you'd turn the other way and run. So I suppose it's better I never had you until now. I can start afresh – you're my redemption, Michelle," he placed her hand in his and kissed it.

"Percy…"

Her quiet voice brought him back, the moment of fever passing over him, and he blinked, embarrassed at the intensity of what he had just said.

"I'm sorry – I – I was too forceful –"

Her finger gently brushed his lips and he instantly silenced, and she said, "There are things…" she paused, "There are things you don't know about me either. I have secrets too, and…I'm not your redemption, Percy. People have a funny way of becoming hurt when they think they see that in someone else."

He began to argue this, but she hindered this with a soft peck on his mouth, "Let's not be each others saviours, yes? Let's just be…I like what you said about beginnings. Let's just be each others beginning."

He gazed down at her and smiled at these words of insight, and he felt a warmth spread through him. The burden of intensity from before began to lift, and he said quietly, "You know. You do balance me out, Agent M," and he laughed, "I'm a pretentious, cantankerous old bugger. Someone once said to me I was born an old man, and they were right. But you're full of pearls of wisdom," he lingered a kiss on her mouth, and then said, "One day, when I'm the Prime Minister of Great Britain," she smiled approvingly that he was talking about entering politics again, his obvious passion, "The first thing I'm going to buy is a string of pearls for you. Pink, though, of course. Light freshwater pink pearls."

Michelle said nothing to this, but leant her cheek against his chest, and they continued swaying to the sound of Billy Joel's lament.