This piece borrows dialog directly from Chapter 5 of A Deeper Season. Compared to the last piece, it's really written as much as possible from Gregor's point of view, but I have indicated the borrowed passages by coloring them blue. Let me know what you think!

Possibilities

... "I've considered," Miles said.

Gregor went utterly still, not even blinking. This was the moment of truth. He'd chosen Now over Never, weeks ago, and given Miles space -- a lot of space. Which of course, because Miles was involved, had gotten a lot more complicated than Gregor intended. But Miles was back, and it was time...

"What have you decided?" Gregor was, once again, happy that he'd learned to be so controlled, because even though his heart was racing, his words came out steady.

"I've decided that you underestimated me," Miles said. "Not on purpose. You probably did it because you didn't want to scare me off, I don't know."

Oh yes. Scaring you off... would almost be worse than having you taken from me, because you'd be choosing to go.

Gregor took a breath. He didn't know what Miles meant, but he felt it important to start with the safer option. "I don't follow," Gregor said. "But if I have . . . offended, I apologize. Abjectly, if necessary."

"It's all right," Miles said. "It was a perfectly reasonable mistake to make. I made it myself, for years and years and years. You forgot that I am Barrayaran, and I am Vor, and I am Dendarii hillfolk, when it comes right down to it. I will serve Barrayar, even if our Barrayar is not quite the one we inherited from our parents."

I told you that this was your decision. I... could not "request and require" your heart. It would be a service to Barrayar only because it would be a service to me...

Gregor's face tightened. "I do not ask for service," he said lowly. "I thought you understood that."

"I do, I do." said Miles. "But you did ask me to imagine the world without the Imperium, without Barrayar. You probably thought it would be easier that way. I don't think you intended to ask me the hardest question first."

Barrayar... is getting in the way. When I let Barrayar go, this is so much easier...

"I was apparently wrong," Gregor said.

"Well, yes," Miles agreed. "Not that the thought of being your consort isn't mind-boggling."

Consort. Oh. My. Whatever annoying thoughts of Barrayar Gregor had been having vanished, for a moment. Miles almost certainly didn't mean "consort" like the ridiculous Cetagandans did. The thought was ... delicious. Gregor resisted the pull of his deepest, most enduring fantasies of Miles.

"My ... consort," Gregor said.

Stay here. Stay here.

"My mother told me once that I've been serving Barrayar since the day they put me in the uterine replicator," Miles said. "I didn't believe her at the time, I didn't really care at the time, but it's come to mean something to me now. I think I could serve Barrayar in this, too. A service it maybe does not want, but, well. I've not always stopped to ask before."

No you haven't. Sometimes, it seemed to Gregor as if Miles, by merely existing, had actually served the Empire more than Gregor ever had. But this... if it became service, and Gregor really wasn't sure he wanted it to be, this would be service together.

Together. Another delicious word. He wanted to take Miles' hand, and started to reach, but it was too soon. He needed something from Miles... the right action, the right words, to be sure enough to touch Miles again. If the words are wrong... I will implode. He pulled his hands back, and once again found that his ability to control his expressions was... most necessary.

"Oh," Gregor breathed, "You said it was a hard question?" he prompted, as he steeled himself.

"It was. I spent most of the past six weeks thinking about the Imperium because believe it or not, that was actually a little easier. It's just . . . I think I'm finally learning how to serve Barrayar with all of myself. There's enough of me to really do it, and for the right reasons. I know how to do that - I think I could learn to be your consort."

That word again. As Gregor watched, and breathed, and felt the fantasy slip through his consciousness again, Miles licked his lips, as if preparing to do something he'd never imagined before.

"The thing is, I have no idea how to be your lover."

Gregor spoke, barely above a whisper. "Is this . . . do you wish to forget - I understand if - no."

He's not saying no... As Gregor rose from his chair, for some reason, his father's image flashed through his mind. But I can do this better than you could, Serg... He stumbled -- not surprising given that no matter what the context, thoughts of Serg's legacy were simply overwhelming -- and steadied himself against the desk. Miles watched him with the slightest smile.

I think that was it. It was OK now to touch, and he reached for Miles' small hands. When he had them, he could not bear the thought of letting them go -- the possibility that he had misinterpreted was fading, but not gone -- and he found himself hanging onto them as tightly as he could.

"You're not sure about me," Gregor said. "Let me convince you?"

I have had years to convince myself...

"Yes," Miles said instantly... "Yes. That's what I want. Let the Imperium come when it will, and we'll deal with it then. I think we can. Well, I know you can, and I hope I can. For the rest . . . I feel . . . I think I would always regret not trying. I'm sorry if that's not exactly what you were hoping for, but -"

Gregor felt himself floating.... he'd jumped, and it was fine. More than fine. Wonderful, whatever the possibilities. He smiled, slowly....

"It's enough," Gregor said. "It's more than I ever expected. Trust you to bypass the thing that terrifies me the most as if it weren't even important."

"It is important," Miles contradicted. Gregor watched Miles' smile mirror his own. "It's important. But it's not what I'm most afraid of."

"Yes," Gregor said. "You're not afraid to give everything to Barrayar. And I . . . I have come not to fear giving everything to you. Perhaps, between us, we can learn not to be afraid at all."

Gregor knew... that was at the heart of it. He was tired of always being afraid. And it seemed possible that the fear would leave him, if Miles were there with him always.

Always... like a promise... a vow.

He knew what came next, in the fairy tales, and the tradition. It was definitely a variation on the usual story, but that didn't matter to Gregor at all, right now. But later... He smiled, and leaned closer to Miles, whose eyes seemed glued to his. "It is . . . traditional," he said, tentatively. Miles could still say no... could always say no.

"Hold on," Miles said. He pulled away from Gregor to a chair, and began to scramble up. Gregor reached out to help him, awkwardly, with a memory of times when "helping" Miles with a physical task had seemed the right thing to do, only to be thanked with cold words and tantrums. He felt sure that Miles was having the same memories, but within a second, there he stood, on the chair, slightly above the normally much-taller Gregor, looking down with a bemused expression. Ready.

"So," Gregor said, sliding an arm around him. "Tomorrow night. Come for dinner?" He grimaced a little. "We'll have to eat with the Cetagandans, but we can get rid of them early, I promise."

"I'll be here," Miles replied.

Gregor suddenly felt like an idiot. Social planning, now? "You're up here for a reason, you know," he said.

"Oh, right. The pursuit of Vor tradition."

"We must obey tradition,"

A little fear remained, but Gregor knew it was time... He kissed Miles very, very carefully. Those fantasies weren't going away, and he didn't care. There will be time for that. This was passion... and from what the little attention he could wrest from the kiss was telling him, he was almost sure that it wasn't just his passion. Gregor slipped his other arm around Miles, and stopped the kiss, as slowly as he's started it. There will be time for that.

"Hail tradition," Gregor whispered.