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Who: Severus Snape [Beta], possibly Martha Jones. One-shot otherwise.
What: Decisions to be made. Lily drama. What else would it be?
Where: Snape-Jones Cottage in Sobek Croix
When: Immediately after Lily's first communication goes up.
Warnings: None as yet.

Severus stares at the CiD long enough for this to finally sink in. It takes a good five minutes. His mouth is too dry, heart pounding: this isn't fingerprints in dust or a letter left on his desk. This isn't the memory of her taking his place on the Barge. What he's seeing on the screen is Lily in real time, Lily alive, Lily here and within his grasp.

He doesn't know what he feels. Nervous, perhaps. Anxious. Agitated. Pressed to make a decision, though he can't, for the life of him, recall just what the other options are. So when he finally moves, it's a knee-jerk reaction because he can't think of any other way to face this. He goes in search of his coat, finds it hanging right where it's supposed to be (Because everything has its place in this household, doesn't it? And why is that? He brushes off the question like an errant fly.)

If he hadn't reached with his left hand, he would have Apparated to the Inn without a second thought. It was just by chance that he did, and similarly by chance that he saw that flash of red iron.

Oh.

Right.

His hand hovers over the coat for a moment, his attention captured by the ring, an accusation of a decision was been made for him (by him) years ago, before he ever married Martha. (I want this life.) That's quite a decision to stand by, he thinks, now that Lily is here.

Well, what's the alternative? Seeking divorce so he can - what? Pursue a married woman almost two decades his junior? One who has already rejected him twice? And what will that do to Martha? The question takes him by surprise, not because he doesn't think Martha's feelings ought to be a factor, but because he thought about them at all. He starts to explore the rabbit hole, considering just how this could affect her.

She'll be jealous; that much is obvious. She was jealous before. No matter what he decides, she'll be jealous and he will have to face that. Deal with it. Assuage her fears. But if he leaves - she'll be heartbroken. It isn't vanity which causes him to think that; he remembers the look on her face when he threw her out of their shared cabin on the Barge. After so much time spent reassuring her that he won't abandon her, this will devastate her.

Lily will be fine, he decides. Lily is no longer his responsibility; he 'finished', as the other Severus put it. Lily doesn't need him, and it's not his place to offer. Lily has a son here. She has Snape's younger counterpart. She has Charity Burbage and Hermione Granger and Nymphadora Tonks.

Martha has him. Just him. And more importantly, she wants him. That isn't something Lily can offer.

No, he'll leave that coat right where it is, sit himself down on the sofa with a glass of something noxious and strong, and not do a blasted thing about Lily Potter. For once, perhaps he'll even be happy about the choice he's making.

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Oh no, she would have been incredibly angry when he'd returned. There would have been shouting and tears and anger but she never would have denied him the entry back into their home.

She was glad that he hadn't left.

It wasn't funny to joke about their vows, but Martha's lips twisted upward a bit at the comment anyway. "Not really something you can plan for, is it? I mean, there's always going to be a bit of you that loves her." She said it very in a very matter-of-fact tone of voice that didn't have any anger or judgement in it. "She was a big part of your life for... most of it."

Again, truth; he'd spent the majority of an equivalency to Martha's lifetime living for Lily. "But I know you take your promises seriously, and I know that when you say always, you mean it."

The slight smile from her was almost a relief. Things would be all right. He could have kissed her for it, if she hadn't gone on talking. Instead, he sat staring mutely at her, expressionless, his unoccupied hand curling into itself on the arm of the sofa. Outward signs of inward repression. Fear. Guilt. He immediately forced himself to relax his fingers, but the damage was done.

It floored him. The last time they'd come close to talking about how he felt now for Lily, Martha had told him he didn't consider her needs. There had been a row. Oh, yes, they'd been under the effects of a breach, personalities altered slightly, but it didn't make it any less true in Martha's eyes. And so there had been a definite boundary drawn: Martha's needs did not allow for him to love Lily. That was what he thought she wanted, and back then he had been just desperate enough to ensure their relationship stuck that he...did precisely what he had taught himself to do over the course of a lifetime: he tamped down the emotion.

And now this exchange jarred him. It was as though she had known all along that he wasn't capable of letting go completely. She saw a weakness in him, and all the promises he made were a consolation prize.

Perhaps if she had been with him through the last year, she wouldn't be saying this now, he thought. But - then again. The last month had been no picnic. He suddenly felt quite useless and lost. How could he possibly make things right with her if Lily was here and this was how Martha saw him?

Martha couldn't help but see the repression in him. In some ways she could feel it as well; it was like the air had been suddenly sucked from the room. Watching him for a moment Martha moved. She untucked herself from his side and moved so that she was taking the familiar not a sofa position: straddling his lap and looking into his face.

One hand touched his cheek, and the other held his chin as she locked eyes with him, not wanting him to look away. Martha Snape-Jones would never see love as a weakness, and she didn't see him not being able to let go of that piece of his life as one.

"Sev, who we love, they're always a part of us. Just because we have new love doesn't mean that the old gets shoved away or whatever." One hand slipped down his face and rested above his heart, feeling his pulse beat through his shirt.

"There are always pieces of our hearts with those names on them. The pieces get smaller and other people write their names on much bigger ones." For a moment, Martha just traced a 'M' there. "It's alright that they're still there. She's still there. I know that you love me too."

She paused and then she added in voice that was low, but confident. "I know you'll always come back. And I know that you're mine and I'm yours." Simple really.

While he normally welcomed her when she did this, just now it made him particularly uncomfortable. Here they were, talking about how she knew he was still in love with Lily Potter, and she was straddling his lap. He wasn't certain how he ought to respond to this. He couldn't exactly get up and leave without dumping her unceremoniously to the floor. He didn't think arousal was an appropriate response, either. So he endured it tensely, hoping she moved off either the subject or his lap.

More problematic was the fact that he was so focused on what he shouldn't be doing, he was struggling to keep up with her logic.

It was sound, he supposed. He knew she still loved the Doctor. But that was different, wasn't it? Oh, and she made it all sound so simple. He would very much have liked it to be simple. Perhaps he was over-complicating things; he had a talent for doing that.

Finally, he simply replied, "I promised you I wouldn't leave." That settled things more than any other assurances they gave one another.

Martha would differentiate between loving someone and still being in love with them. While she would always love the Doctor, she definitely wasn't in love with him any longer. It certainly wasn't the case that he made her smile or made her heart do the little skipping bits that hers did when Severus looked at her.

If his still did once he'd gotten over the initial shock of seeing her and having her be alive, then they'd deal with this again, and it would probably have a much different (and more final) ending.

Right now she wasn't going to think about that. Right now it was old loves still having a place, and it was the two of them getting through this and over to things on the other side of this and trying to find footing that felt like it was less on mud.

"I know," she said softly. "And I love you."

He almost let it go with his usual flippant reply, then realized rather abruptly that she likely wouldn't take kindly to being called a fool right now. Then, too, he worried the words might ring a little too true. Oh, he had absolutely no intention of ending things with her - it hadn't even crossed his mind. His heart hadn't tripped over itself for Lily. Not the way it did for Martha, at any rate. (Shock and a surge of adrenaline were another thing, entirely.) But calling her a fool for loving him might be a self-fulfilling sort of prophecy; perhaps she would find good reason to agree with him.

So he remained silent for a long moment, his right hand finding her left, fingertips absently tracing the ring he found there. When he looked at things from a less emotional standpoint, he was really rather lucky. She was trying to comfort him, when clearly she should be the one in need of reassurance and comfort. She was being reasonable, understanding, and loving. For heaven's sake, she was straddling his lap.

"You started setting your alarm an hour early some six months ago," he offered finally. "Entirely my fault. I tried every day to convince you not to leave, and you thought you'd be clever and let me believe I at least won an hour of your time. I suppose it was a victory, in a way, but I never stopped asking. So that does beg the question: if I want you enough to beg you every day to stay, doesn't it follow that I don't want to leave, myself? As bad as-"

He faltered, chided himself for bringing it up - surely she would push for answers - but plowed right on. "As bad as it was at times, I hope you have the chance to live this last year as I have. Perhaps you'll understand when I say that you have me in a way she never did. We've gone through hell for one another."

He looked rather rueful there, and added, "Literally, if you take the same view of the Barge as I."

She didn't break the silence between them; there didn't seem to be any reason for that, and Martha didn't want to say anything that would undo what she'd already offered. She didn't know what she would have said if he'd called her a fool; but it likely wouldn't have inspired anything but a smile coupled with her normal response about being his fool.

Of course then it would be that there would be the little sadness on his face, and she didn't want to revisit that, especially now that this was going on. No borrowing trouble not when they had enough on their plate for twenty marriages.

But she smiled when he touched the odd mental ring that had once been a fire engine. The red metal wasn't something she'd trade for any precious metal in the world; it was still the most fantastic thing she'd heard of it.

The smile only increased when he mentioned the hour a day; yes, that seemed like something that she would do in order to make him happy; small victories and spending as much time as she could with him. Perhaps eventually Martha may find that problematic, but for now it was worth it.

The mention of the year made her frown, because she wanted that year; she wanted their wedding and she wanted the fights and she wanted the memories of them together on the beach. Not having them was something that bothered her to an absurd amount and a part of her just wanted to go to temples and beg that she be allowed to go back and have the year just so the two of them matched. Of course if it didn't work for the Malfoys (if they'd tried it; for some reason Martha wanted to believe that Lucius had), then it probably wasn't going to work for her.

If she'd not had the conversation with Sebastian about the Barge and purgatory then perhaps she might not have agreed with Severus, but in the end she decided on something simple: "It's all worth it you know. For me I mean. I wouldn't change any of it because of where it lead." To them, she meant.

He inclined his head slightly in a gesture that might have been agreement - or may simply have been acknowledgement. There were things he would change, but they weren't things from her past. Squabbles. The Mirrorverse. One very painful week not so long ago.

"The point is," he responded quietly, "I love you as well. The point is also that you are my wife, and I have paid a high price to be with you. What's more, you've had your own price to pay for me. I'm not stupid enough to dash out the door for a memory when each of us is clearly what the other wants."

He paused, then decided it was high time to address the elephant in the room and added evenly, "Now, if it's all the same: off the subject or off my lap. You can't possibly imagine how awkward I find this."

Martha just smiled when he said that he loved her as well. That was the point of it all, really. That was why this was worth it, and the truth was that the high price (and it was high, Martha would cede that) was something that she would bear over and over for this, and for them.

But the smile shifted to laughter when he mentioned they should be off the subject or off his lap. "Change of subject then, because I'm comfortable and I am definitely enjoying this wifely privilege."

Martha didn't want to talk about it anymore; she didn't want to think about it or worry about Lily any longer. There were other people who could worry about Lily: Sebastian, Hermione, Tonks... the other Severus didn't even enter into her head; she hoped he'd know better.

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