(A/N : I do not own Little Women. If I did, I would make Jo say yes to Laurie's proposal, and everyone would live happily ever after.)

Chapter 1 –Husband and Wife

He is aware that he is sweating a little, and he knows it has nothing to do with the pleasant spring weather. Taking a deep breath, he tries to make himself focus on something else. Amy is sitting next to him – beautiful, porcelain, delicate Amy – and they are both riding a charming new carriage to visit Meg and Brooke for Demi and Daisy's birthday. There is nothing abnormal or wrong about that.

Except there is, because he is going to have to see her again. He is the most miserable at times like these, because he has missed her, and now he is going to have to be so terribly close without touching, without letting it show.

But of course he wants to – needs to- see her. He has to let some light enter the black hole that starts and ends in his uncooperative heart.

"My lord, are you alright?"

He is getting very good at holding back the involuntary cringe that itches every time he is brought back to reality, brought from the longing that eventually leads to dreaming and fantasizing. Because what makes his misery pathetic is the fact that he has no right to be miserable at all.

Amy's golden curls glisten in a sun that exists, that rises and sets every single day. Amy's gentle, fragile curves still press against him in the intimacy of the small seat. Her eyes, blue as the sky on a crisp winter day, look on him with transparent love and care. Her high cheekbones and her full but dainty pink mouth beg to be kissed.

But it really is never enough, he thinks to himself bitterly. Because Amy's golden curls glisten, but they somehow lie flat; Jo's curls are dark and mysterious, springing out with gusto against anyone who tries to control them. Amy's curves are gentle and fragile, but she politely declines food and squeezes into corsets; Jo's curves are natural and healthy. Amy's eyes are a crisp blue, but Jo's are an enticing brown, warm like fire and fudge on a snowy evening, beckoning to come closer. Amy's lips are full, but Jo's are always moving – talking, smirking, pouting, smiling, laughing.

How he needs to see his Jo.

He realizes suddenly that he has ignored his wife, and he turns his neck so quickly that something cracks. He forces his lips to curve up. "Yes, my lady?" He knows that his smile will not reach his eyes, but he hopes that at least it will not look too demented or morbid.

Blue pools search brown ones, but she smiles back. "Are you excited to see our family? It has been nearly a week. My goodness! And Daisy and Demi… 3 years old already! Oh, where does the time go?"

"Time is funny, dearest Amy, sometimes it crawls and sometimes it runs"

Did he really just say that? Laurie cannot believe something so blatantly trite just came out of his mouth. Jo would have burst out laughing, head thrown back. He is tempted to do the same now, but he cannot bring himself to, not when he is feeling so despondent, and Amy actually (Dear God! Really?) looks impressed.

"Isn't that so? Oh, look, there's Jo and Professor Bhaer!"

Laurie turns his head too quickly for the second time this morning, only to have his heart plummet just a little bit more. Jo looks radiant. And she and Friedrich –what a horrible name - are holding hands, leaning into each other as they walk and delve deeper into what seems like a serious discussion. The fried old man looks patient and slightly amused, and Jo looks earnest – her eyebrows raised, eyes opened wide as she tries to convey something. A flair of intense, roaring jealousy hits him in the gut. How can she act so happy? She knows he is watching.

Neither Jo nor her precious professor knows about the brand new carriage. They are oblivious to their audience. He shoves that thought away, determined to be angry, so maybe he will not melt when he actually meets her. But he knows that would never happen. He loves – cherishes – her too much.

"They look happy, don't they?"

Amy's eyes are suddenly shrewd, and they reflect his jealousy – perhaps they show their own. Deep down, Laurie thinks she knows. And maybe she thinks that he thinks that she knows. But he pretends not to know any of this, and he knows she needs to do the same.

"I daresay they do. But it is a happy day, isn't it?"

His words ring shallow and empty, like the giggles at Sally Moffat's tea parties, long after they reach Meg and John's house and slowly descend the carriage. He offers Amy a hand, and she takes it. They are, after all, husband and wife.

The first chapter of my first fanfic ever! Please,please, please review?