(post-show)

From your place next to him, you reached over and gently began playing with John's fingers. Your eyes were trained on his hands. Those hands that could easily kill people but were so gentle with you. John's other hand tightened slightly on your hip in his sleep. You smiled to yourself as he began waking and your mind began wandering.

During the war, you and your family had decided to relocate to Canada. It was safer there during the tumultuous years between America and the British. But it wasn't until Lt. Colonel John Graves Simcoe was given the office of lieutenant governor that you met him.

Your father was close with the British officers in Canada and was, of course, invited to the celebration of the new lieutenant governor. He brought you, your mother, and your siblings along. When you first met John, his stare had intimidated you. But there was something more behind those striking blue eyes that you couldn't quite place. You found yourself staring back at him, unable to tear your gaze away until your father brought your name up in his conversation.

"Oh, I thoroughly agree. As the first lieutenant governor, Governor Simcoe should have his portrait painted," your father was saying to one of the many officials in attendance. John looked rather bored, but gave a tiny smile as your father continued, "My daughter, Y/N, is quite the painter. She has done portraits of everyone in the family and a few of the other officers here. I'm sure she would be honored." He looked at you, his eyes daring you to disagree.

"O-Of course, Father. Though I am certain Governor Simcoe would rather commission a more experienced painter." Your gaze met John's again although this time, his looked a bit more interested. He hummed lightly. "Perhaps, if I were to see some of your work, I would be better informed to make a decision." He spoke to you as if you were the only person in the room. In truth, it terrified you to have his attention. He was so intense.

"Yes. You must join us for supper tomorrow evening. You would be able to see Y/N's work then." Once again, your father spoke for you. That didn't bother you. You were used to it, but it did seem to bother John a bit. "Tell me, Miss Y/L/N, are you a selective mute?" Your brows furrowed and you shook your head. He gave you another smile before turning to your father. "I would appreciate if, in the future, you let your daughter speak for herself in my presence."

Your father blinked in surprise. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting that. Even you could sense the threat behind the governor's words. "Of course. My apologies," your father stuttered out and you had to prevent yourself from smiling. It wasn't that you didn't love your father, but sometimes it was nice to see someone speak to him as if he weren't better than they were. John turned to you once more and you found yourself inviting the governor to dine with your family yourself.

The next evening, after supper, your father shooed everyone from the room except one servant that acted as a chaperone so that John could discuss your work with you in private. He looked over the portraits you had in your family's parlor as well as some of your sketches and a painting you had been working on.

"These are quite good, Miss Y/L/N. I would like to commission you to paint this portrait the officials so badly desire." You looked at him in confusion. "Thank you. I take it you aren't exactly keen on the idea of having your portrait painted?" He frowned a bit. "No, but one must do what one must." You smiled at him. "True, but why me then?"

"You have talent, Miss Y/L/N. And, if I may be so forward, I would very much like the opportunity to see you again." You felt your face heat up and you cleared your throat. "Oh. Thank you, Governor." He smiled at you. "Shall we begin tomorrow then?" You nodded immediately. "Of course." He gave you a slight bow and bid you good evening.

That was how it all began. The two of you sat for hours every day for weeks while you painted his portrait. As you painted, you talked to one another. At first, he sat stiffly, afraid to open up even a little, but that soon changed. He told you the truth about his past. He admitted the part he played in the war between America and the British. He admitted that he had done terrible things for what he thought was right. You had been shocked and somewhat horrified. But then, you remembered hearing about all the policies he was enacting as the lieutenant governor and softened. He wasn't the same man he was before.

You don't know when or how it happened, but over the time you spent together, you developed feelings for the man. Feelings that only grew stronger the closer you got to finishing the portrait. You found yourself becoming sad whenever you realized that there would soon be no need for the two of you to spend time together. It upset you a bit, truthfully. Especially as he had given no indication that he returned any feelings for you. Until the day came that you finished the painting, you were in the dark of the man's interest in you.

"I've finished," you told him as you put your paintbrush down for the final time. John rose from the chair he'd been posed in and came around to look at the painting over your shoulder. He was so close you could practically feel the heat radiating off of him and yet, he wasn't close enough. You rose as gracefully as you could and moved away from him. He stared at the painting and said nothing. His eyes scanned your work, taking in everything.

"You hate it," you said sadly when he still made no comment. His eyes met yours. "Quite the contrary. It is exquisite." You smiled a bit, but there was no mirth in it. John cocked his head to the side. "You are unhappy?" You were a little surprised. You didn't think he would be that in tune with your moods. "I, well...yes and no. I am please with the work I've done. It is one of my best, if I may say so."

"Then why are you not pleased? I must confess, the minds of women confound me still." You let out a little giggle at that, prompting a smile to appear on his face. You took a deep breath and confessed, "I am unhappy because I shall now be deprived of your company. I must admit that I have come to enjoy our time together. Our hours together have been the happiest time of my day recently."

John didn't reply at first and you had no clue what he was thinking. He schooled his features well. You waited rather impatiently for him to say something. You wanted to know what was going through his mind as he stared at you. With every second that passed, your heart broke a bit more. When you finally thought you might cry, John spoke.

"I confess you surprised me. You've given no sign of this. I had hoped to approach the subject with you before I spoke to your father." You looked at him. "My father?" John smiled. "For permission to court you, of course. If that is something you wish." Your jaw dropped open in a very unladylike fashion.

"Leave us," you told the servant. She opened her mouth to argue, but did what she was told when you gave her a pleading glance. Once she was gone, you turned back to John. "Do you mean that?" He nodded. "You will find I never say anything that I do not mean." You beamed up at him. "I would be honored to be courted by you, sir." He took a step closer to you, gently taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Please, call me John."

"What are you thinking about so intently?" John's voice, still rough from sleep, asked.You tilted your head up to look at him with a smile. "How we met. How we ended up here." John's grip on your hip tightened even more. "Fond memories then?" You playfully rolled your eyes and sat up just enough to place a kiss to his lips. His hands traveled to your spine, holding you closer."I love you, John," you mumbled against his lips. "And I adore you, my wife."