He'd been younger then, though not much, and she, of course, rarely changes. It is difficult to improve on practically perfect, but she does her best to make sure that that practical perfection is maintained.

She'd met him on the sidewalk in Paris. He was dressed all in black with a beret tilted at a rakish angle. She'd stood with the sun at her back, looking down at him and the scenes he'd created, watching as he moved to the empty square in front of her and began sketching her hat on the concrete.

He'd looked up with eyes that sparkled with humor and knowing. "Mary Poppins," he breathed.

"Hello, Bert."

They'd not met before, but there was no question that they knew each other, somewhere deeper than on the surface, somewhere in the worlds of not quite normal where chalk is never just chalk and the wind only changes direction when needed. He took her hand tightly in his, holding on as they smiled at one another. A special kind of spark ignited between them and she nodded once and jumped, tumbling through color filled fragments only to dust the palest of blues off her skirt when they landed.

They walked through the countryside, skirting the edges of activity. He took her hand on his arm, his own warm over hers as they strolled slowly, music filling the air around them. It was the muted heat of early summer and the flowers were in bloom around them, bees buzzing and birds calling to each other. His fingers stroked over the back of her hand, tracing patterns she didn't recognize through her gloves.

"It's a lovely day."

"I'm thinking of England," he told her, something like a whisper against her ear.

"This is England." Her reminder was delivered with a soft laugh, her hand tightening on his arm.

"I'm thinking of going back."

"Well, it is where one would expect to find a Cockney gent." She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, her own hat tipping and curling from the pressure. She reached up to untie it and brought it down by her side, letting the wisps of hair slipping free of her bun dance in the wind and trail against Bert's neck. "Though Paris is lovely."

"You know who else one expects to find in England?" His lips moved over her hair, his breath like the light breeze stirring the grace and setting the leaves overhead rustling. "An English nanny."

"You think so?" She smiled though she knew he couldn't see it. "Do you think there are unruly children in need of a proper nanny?"

"I would think you'd know that best of all, Mary Poppins." He took her hand in his and moved away from her, then pulled her in close to dance with him. They made their way over a small, curved bridge and into a field of daffodils and tulips, waltzing through a sea of color.

"There are always children, Bert, in England and everywhere. It is more finding the right children."

"You always do." He shook his head as she pulled away, a few steps forward before coming back to him, letting him bring her closer once more. He wrapped his arms around her waist, as though unwilling to risk the distance again. They were far too close, far too intimate for the pastel colors around them. "Do you think, when you find these children, there'll be room in their adventures for a Cockney gent?"

"Do you know of an adventure that doesn't have room for one?" She laughed softly, slipping her hand free of his and touching the lapel of his morning suit. "You are lovely, Bert."

"Not near as lovely as you, Mary Poppins."

"Flattery, Bert."

"Not flattery if it's true," he assured her. He reached up to take her hand, wrapping his around it and holding it against his chest, against the faint beat of his heart. "You are lovely. Those sparklin' eyes. Those rosy cheeks." He smiled and shook his head, something different in his humor. "Those lips."

She felt her lips part at his words and she blinked, watching as he tilted his head slowly, leaning in until he was just a breath away. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Bert…"

He smiled, just the corners of his mouth turning up. She watched him, uncertain and certainly unused to the feeling. "Say yes, Mary Poppins."

"There are rules, Bert. Rules that must be followed." She shook her head sadly, her eyes filled with emotions she refused to let show. "You know that as well as I, Bert. There are rules that can't be broken."

"When duty calls. When the stars align." Bert nodded, though he didn't move away. "When the wind changes." He presses her hand flat against his chest, closing his eyes. "Rules must be followed, needs must be met. But what about you, Mary Poppins? What about you?"

"There is no me without the children, Bert."

"There are no children here now."

"There is." She assured him. "A child at heart."

He smiled widely, the softest laugh escaping him in the seconds before his lips met hers. She caught her breath, caught his as well, sinking into the warmth of his embrace, of his kiss. She shivered and let her hand slide up, curving around his neck for just an instant before thunder rumbled in the distance and the colors ran, leaving them standing toe to toe on the sidewalk in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, both breathless from a kiss.