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He'd had to get the entire door replaced at the end of it.

The blast from Root's shotgun had sent pellets into the door itself and the wall, which the landlord had tsked and sighed over, wondering how such a horrific attack could happen in such a relatively safe building. John had assured him over and over it was simply a case of mistaken identity and that the shooter was in custody -- he's a police officer, after all -- and with Karen's support, they'd managed not to get kicked out of their home due to endangering the lives of the other tenants with their ways.

"We're lucky we're as respectable as we are," John had murmured to Karen as the work had been done, doing his best not to smile.

But here they are now, with a new door, the wall patched and repainted, and John has come up with a new plan to ask Karen to marry him.

It's a little more complicated than the last time, but not much more so. When they both left the apartment in the morning, John had kissed Karen goodbye and promised not to be home late, then doubled back as soon as she was out of view and returned to the apartment to prepare for the evening. He's taken care not to make anything in the living room or kitchen look out of the ordinary, not wanting her to guess at his intentions too early, but the bedroom is covered with vases of flowers of all kinds.

And then he cooks. He spends all day cooking and preparing. It's one thing John knows how to do that he doesn't get to break out often, but his mother had taught him how to cook a long time ago and he's happy to get to use these skills now, preparing a thoughtful and delicious four course meal for Karen, from soup, to starter, to main and then dessert.

The ring is in his pocket. The flowers are in the bedroom. He's ready for this.

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With the snow and the weird shit that showed up with it gone, and their apartment repaired, things seem to have gone back to normal. It seems sort of cyclical, Karen thinks, though she wonders if the same would be true anywhere. For a while, there's nothing particularly eventful going on, a lull during which life seems as typical as it possibly could. Then it all gets temporarily turned on its head in some bizarre, unpredictable way. At least they both got through this last catastrophe in one piece.

The dust is still settling, though, and if part of her feels just a bit exploitative using it for work, she tells herself that at least she's not sensationalizing or glossing over it. People should know what happened, the truth of it. She's probably as good a person to write about it as any.

So it's a day with nothing out of the ordinary, busy not not overly so, the July heat the only thing particularly noteworthy. It has her in relatively good spirits when she gets home, unsure at first if John will be back already or not, a question she gets her answer to just about immediately. "Hey," she says, grinning lopsidedly as she locks the door behind her and slips off her high heels. "Did you get dinner already? It smells amazing in here."

"I got off a bit early," he answers, coming out of the kitchen to greet her, leaning in for a long, lingering kiss. There are still days when he reminds himself just how lucky he is that they've gotten to this place, to a relationship that's comfortable and secure, nothing at all volatile about them with the exception of where they live. Darrow is beyond their control, but that doesn't mean they can't still have something steady.

For a man who's had so little steady in his life, it's a very good feeling.

"I made us dinner," he says when they part. "I thought it might be nice to cook for us and stay in for the evening." He cooks every now and then, it's not completely unusual, but they do eat take out more often than not.

"I like the sound of that," Karen says, smiling as she looks up at him. It's surprising, but not terribly out of the ordinary, and staying in does seem nice. Though she would hardly have been opposed to going out, it's been a somewhat long, somewhat busy day. Like this, she can relax and not worry about anyone else. Besides, though she has no problem subsisting mostly on takeout — for her, that's par for the course, and was well before she got here — she likes when he cooks. He's better at it than she would first have suspected, though now she's not sure why.

"So what are we having?"

"We are having a caesar salad with homemade dressing, pesto pita appetizers, lemon rosemary roast chicken with blue cheese baked potatoes, and finally a chocolate mousse for dessert."

When he says it like that, it sounds more impressive than he had originally thought it would be and he wonders for a moment if he's tried too hard. If she's going to see through it right away, but he doesn't give her a chance, instead turning back to the kitchen so he can begin serving, first the salad and appetizers. There's champagne chilling on the counter in the kitchen and he doesn't want her to see it quite yet.

"Make yourself comfortable," he says. "I'll be right back with the food."

"I knew I liked you for a reason," Karen quips without missing a beat, shooting a quick grin over her shoulder as she walks over to the table. All joking aside, it sounds far more elaborate than anything she would ever cook for herself. She practically grew up in a kitchen, but there's a big difference between diner fare and the kind of meal he's describing, and sometimes she wonders if her upbringing has made her less inclined to put any of those skills to use for herself as an adult. Left to her own devices, she would rather live off takeout, but this definitely sounds better than what any restaurant would have delivered.

Before she takes a seat, she rolls down her stockings from under her skirt — it's too hot for them anyway — and takes her hair down only to put it back up again in a messy bun. With the food ready, she doesn't want to take the time to change into something else, but she's not working anymore, so she might as well relax.

"Seriously," she adds, "that sounds amazing."

"It pays to be let off early," he answers as he brings out the salad and the appetizer. As the meal goes on, she's sure to realize that's a lie, that he hadn't merely gotten off work a few hours early but had instead spent the day getting everything just right, but he doesn't mind if she starts to put things together.

It's more important they do this the way they wanted it. Just the two of them. It doesn't need to be a big surprise.

"I hope you like it," he says as he sets down the plate in front of Karen, then leans in to kiss her once more. "And if you don't, we can throw it out and order pizza."

"Oh, I am not passing this up for pizza," Karen says with a laugh. If all of this tastes half as good as it smells, then she's sure it will be great. They can order pizza any night. This isn't entirely unusual, but rare enough that she still doesn't want to let all the work he's done here go to waste, especially since it's not like she's about to cook a big meal like this anytime soon. Though she's not sure how he got it in his head to do this now, it is a nice change from their usual takeout routine.

She spears some lettuce with a fork to take a bite of salad, asking a moment later, "You said you made the dressing, too?"

John nods, smiling at her from across the table. "Is it good?"

His mother had taught him how to cook. She'd wanted to make sure he was capable when he ended up out on his own and not just that he could take care of himself in a fight, but in every way. She'd taught him how to clean, how to set different chores on different days, so it never felt too overwhelming. How to make a few staples he could build upon, how to sew his own clothing, how to balance his bank account. So many things he had never ended up needing to do until Darrow.

"I think my mother taught that recipe to me," he says. "She said everyone needed a solid salad dressing in their cooking skill set."

"It's great, yeah," Karen says, smiling at him around the edge of her glass before she nods. "Definitely a solid salad dressing." She's not sure she would have one if she tried, but most of the cooking skills she acquired as she grew up, she hasn't really done much with in the years since she left home. It's not that she can't cook, or doesn't; she just sticks to what's simpler when she does, and steers clear of anything that might be too reminiscent of her upbringing. That subject is a rather miserable one, and better left alone when she's having a nice, home-cooked dinner with her boyfriend. She may not be sure what prompted all of this, but she certainly intends to enjoy it.

"So you just... what, came home early and decided to cook a big meal?" she asks. This may not be completely unheard of, but it still seems noteworthy.

"I did," John agrees simply and he thinks she might begin to suspect there's something else going on sooner rather than later, if only because they've already spoken of getting married and acknowledged that they would like to do so.

But he doesn't say anything about it yet. He has a feeling they won't get through the rest of the meal if he proposes now, so instead he talks about work and asks Karen about her day. As the courses of the meal progress, they have mostly regular conversation, although they both know it might not be considered normal by others. They talk for a long time about a man John has been following, someone suspected of supplying drugs to young women in exchange for certain services.

By the time they're finished dessert, John is ready. He takes one last mouthful of his food, then reaches into his pocket and removes the ring box, holding it on his lap for the time being.

"Just you and me," he says, looking up at Karen with a smile. "Just how we wanted it."

Throughout dinner, Karen wonders occasionally if there might be something up, some reason for this. It is somewhat unusual, and she isn't the oblivious type. Everything seems normal enough within that, though, and it doesn't seem like any anniversary she can think of, some date with significance that might have slipped her mind before now. By the end of the meal, she's caught up enough in conversation — their brand of typical, even if it wouldn't be anyone else's — that she isn't thinking too much about it anymore, just enjoying his company, the food, and a nice night in.

She's just finished her dessert, about to offer to clear the table and take care of the dishes, what seems like the least she can do after he went to the trouble of cooking a four-course meal for them, when he looks up at her and says something familiar. It takes just a moment, but then it's like pieces slotting into place, the dishes forgotten and her breath catching. She remembers when she said that, what they were talking about. Suddenly, the meal makes sense, or it would if she were thinking that much about it. He hasn't asked it yet, but this is just how they wanted it.

"Yeah," she says quietly, something softly pleased and a little hopeful in her expression. She probably shouldn't assume what this means, but it's apparent enough what he's getting at. Still, he hasn't asked yet, and she's not going to cut that off before it happens. "It is."

John reaches across the table to take Karen's hand, the ring box still held lightly in the palm of his other, and he runs his thumb gently across the back of her knuckles. In thinking about this, he had imagined he might be nervous or the right words wouldn't come, but now, sitting here with Karen, he doesn't feel nervous at all.

"I love you," he says simply. "I think I probably loved you from that first day we met, when I woke up in the hospital and found you had already become my wife just so you could stay and make sure I was okay."

He opens the ring box then, holding it toward Karen. "I know this place probably can't give us forever, but I also know I want to spend whatever time we do have together. Will you marry me, Karen?"

Even knowing what this is and where it's going, Karen still feels her heart skip a beat when he opens the ring box. They may have discussed this already and determined from doing so that they want the same thing, but there's a big difference between talking about it in theory and having it actually happen. This isn't someday; it's now, and they're really doing this. She knows, of course, what her answer is even before he's finished speaking. It doesn't require any real thought. He's right that things just made sense from the start, even if neither of them could have known it at the time, and the life they've built from that, no matter how unconventional, is the one she wants. She can't imagine there being anyone who could fit better with her.

No amount of common sense or certainty or prior discussion could override the emotions that come with something this significant. Her smile widens, her eyes just a little watery, as she nods enthusiastically. "Yes," she says. "Yes, of course I will."

John doesn't smile often, not widely, but at that one simple word, at that first yes, a smile bursts across his face that he couldn't have controlled even if he wanted to. Karen's answer isn't a surprise, they've discussed it, they've both known it this coming, but even so, her response brings him a surge of happiness, the kind he knows he hasn't felt with anyone else since Jessica.

Still smiling, he gets up from his seat and goes around the table to take her hand, wanting to put the ring on himself. He'd taken care to get it sized properly so it fits when he slides it onto her finger and he exhales shakily at the sight of it, surprised by just how deeply it affects him to see it there.

"If you don't like it, we can get you something else," he says and it's a stupid thing to say when he's this happy, but the words just seem to come out. For the first time, John doesn't quite have control of his faculties.

"No, it's perfect," Karen says quickly, a little breathless, as she glances down at the ring he's slid onto her finger. Growing up, she was never really the kind of girl who fantasized about her future wedding and planned out all the details. A few times here of late, she's caught herself looking at displays of rings in windows, but even then, she hasn't put much thought into anything concrete, hasn't pictured what her ideal engagement ring would look like or anything of the sort. Looking at this, though, the size and color of it, nothing too huge and gaudy, it seems just right, something she might have picked out for herself if she had started trying to do so. "I love it."

Her cheeks starting to hurt from smiling, she looks up again from the ring to John. "I love you."

John is still smiling as he gently tugs on Karen's hands to pull her to her feet and he wraps his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair. He feels almost nervous with pleasure, happy to be here with her, happier than he had ever imagined he would feel over getting engaged.

But Karen is different than anyone else he's ever known.

"I love you," he echoes softly, then pulls back a little so he can kiss her. For so long he'd held himself apart from her, not wanting to cause any trouble in a very good friendship and knowing himself well enough to feel it was probably better for her to do so. But this is better by far. This is everything he's wanted.

The ring isn't just perfect, but all of this is. Karen may not have been one to plan ahead about all of this, but now that it's happened, she can't imagine anything better, anything more right. It's simple and quiet and private, no roles to play and no one else around, a fairly normal night instead of an absurd amount of fanfare. With the kind of work they so often do, it makes something like this all the more appealing, part of a life that's just theirs rather than one they've taken on out of necessity and for show. She wouldn't give any of the rest of it up, but she wants this, too. She can't imagine herself fitting better with anyone else.

She could say something, and maybe she should, but for the time being, all she really wants is to bask in this, her arms draping around his neck as she leans into the kiss. This is a moment worth savoring, one she wants to hold onto for as long as she can.

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