The results were in, and despite it all, she didn't want to know.

She didn't want to be told. She didn't want anyone else to know. She'd fought for these tests, fought to receive the results, and now they were in her hands...

"You're not going to open them, are you?"

He had known all along that she wouldn't do it - she realised it now. He knew her far too well. She placed the envelope delicately onto the table, and took his hands instead.

"I'm not ready to know, not yet. I've had so long getting used to the idea of not knowing, almost resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't know. Even when they were testing - " She winced at the memory, the needles - "I didn't think it would come true, I was sure something would go wrong."

He tugged her into a hug. "Oh, love."

"It's real now. And I'm not ready for it to be real. I don't know if I can handle it being real." She buried her head in his strong embrace, not wanting to leave this safety. "I'm frightened. I want my blissful ignorance back."

"You have never been ignorant in your life." He replied gently, squeezing her tight - tighter than he should, she was delicate, precious, she needed his protection.

The envelope lay on the table, taunting them with its secrets, its knowledge, its prediction.

They never opened it.