Vincent was always fond of storms. Even as a child, hidden in the shelter of Tibet, exposed to the harsh weather almost all the time, he obtained strange fondness for this amazing, unstoppable phenomenon.

The lighting slashed viciously through the sky and the air shook with the force of the thunder. Vincent's hair stood on ends in primal fear, even as he tried to relax into the couch.

When the storm started, the lights went out, so the book sitting in his lap was relocated to the table. He looked around the room. This flat – it all seemed a bit empty and too peaceful, compared to the storm brewing in the air. The furniture was luxurious and dark, hardwood floors, shelves filled to the brim with books.

One flash after another illuminated his pensive face, as he waited for the storm to pass. His external stillness was a hoax. His insides more resembled the weather outside, with deep trembles caused by the thoughts flashing through his mind.

Solomon was still angry. That was notion that kept him waiting, kept him from going outside into the streets-turned-rivers, stopped him before he could pick up a phone and make a call and settle the issue. Instead, he calmed his body and told himself that he could endure the wait. It's not like he would drive far in this weather. And the landlines were out, too.

Vincent sighed and burrowed himself further into the couch. It was getting cold, the windows trying but losing against the howling wind, letting inside the cool breeze and the smell of ozone. There was no use staying awake, and the book couldn't provide much needed distraction. Unfortunately, when he closed his eyes, all he could see was the betrayal on the faces of his friends, the anger, suspicion, and so much grief on Solomon's countenance.

Of course Solomon knew. There was any hint of doubt in him. He clearly understood what Vincent was doing. Didn't he know Vincent did it all for him? Because he asked? He'd do anything for him, and Solomon was aware of that. However, that didn't keep him from feeling betrayed, because he wasn't let on the secret until the very end.

It was a terrifying experience – trying to find a way back into Dorna's good graces and then deceive them once again. He expected to die before he carried out his plan. He sighed and bowed his head, as the ache in his heart told him that death would be almost preferable to the sting of his family's lack of trust. He was deeply disappointed that they had been so easily swayed. It had made his task so much easier, harnessing all of that anger, using their emotions for his own goal, and making it 'real' for himself. But still, he could easily imagine them turning their backs on him permanently. It really hurt.

Forsaking the thought of sleep for now, Vincent focused on his inner world. Dealing with emotions in times like this was crucial to his ability of staying strong and reliable for his team. In this line of work any and each weakness could become fatal, if not taken care of properly.

He tried to analyze what he felt, and the first thing that came to mind was… disappointment. In his team, in Solomon especially. He knew that he did good work, that he did everything possible to retrieve the object, but the treatment he received for his effort was less than warm.

Nikko was still wary of him, if only slightly. He's young and easily influenced, but also very forgiving. Maggie smiled but remained troubled. Cal seemed to be even more scared of him than usual and even though it sometimes was a great source of amusement for Vincent, now it grated on his nerves. Hadn't he proven himself enough? Was the stigma of Dorna's employee going to follow him all his life?

But of course it was. It wasn't something that could be just washed away by the sweat and blood he shed for his team, no amount of effort is going to override his shameful past, nothing he could do would ever be enough to prove that he was a changed man. He still was an enigma, and secrets – as we all know – are even more dangerous than truth.

And then there was Solomon. His trust in Vincent never wavered but in the hours after the ordeal, all he could manage was to order Vincent to go home, rest, and 'we will deal with all of that in the morning'. He couldn't muster a smile in goodbye, he turned and left, not able to bear the cold atmosphere of the headquarters. The coldness in Solomon's eyes, the tired expression, the pinched eyebrows, concern firmly etched into his handsome features. Stormy blue eyes held no warmth in that moment, only grief. Vincent barely managed to reach his flat before the skies opened and the torrential rain did everything it could to drown this sorrow-filled bleak world under the thick layer of freezing water.

Vincent got up and walked up to the window. Watching the world rage and scream and drown in its tears made wonders to Vincent's peace of mind. He imagined that he was the one screaming and raging and pouring his frustrations into the world around. Overturning the trash cans, jarring the trees, swishing the branches and finally falling hard on the pavements, floating through the streets to lay down somewhere quiet and peaceful.

The unease was hard to bear, but there was nothing to do at this hour of the night and at that weather. He would wait patiently for the morning to act. It might not quell the disappointment sitting deep in his stomach or calm his cumbersome heart, but for now it would suffice.
With final deep exhalation, Vincent tried to let go of his anger for the night and turn to sleep. He made two steps in direction of his bedroom when someone pounded on the door.

Was Dorna after him? Probably. The storm would cover the noises of the fight or the gunshots. And in that weather no one would come to help before it was too late. He was reaching for his gun when he heard a familiar voice.

'Vincent, are you there? It's Solomon!'

Never one to be unprepared, Vincent reached the entrance to his flat, gun and a torchlight in hand, and cautiously unlocked the door. Peering outside, he was surprised to see a totally soaked-through Solomon, dripping water everywhere, shivering minutely. He looked miserable.

'Solomon! What are you doing here?' He looked around, searching for hidden threats or some sign as to why his friend arrived at his door in that weather, and after midnight to that.

'Can I come in? I'm really cold'.

'Of course.'

Vincent let him in and looked around once again before closing and locking the door.

'Take this off', Vincent said, pointing at his water-logged jacket. 'Take everything off, I'll get you some dry clothes.'

Solomon didn't protest. Vincent was sometimes a total mama-bear, though he would never call him that to his face. However, the lack of expression on his face was a bit troubling, completely different from his default serene and attentive mask, and Solomon wondered if he should have waited until morning.

Vincent came back just as Solomon was getting rid of his wet jeans. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the flashlight in Vincent's hand. Vincent came close to his friend and put his own dressing gown around Solomon's shoulders. The warmth the man was emitting, the almost-hot touch of his arm on his naked, wet-cold arm, made Solomon shiver. For a brief crazy moment he craved to burrow himself into this warmth. He looked into Vincent's eyes, guarded but fond, and as always, felt the inexplicable pull towards the other man. His stomach was heavy with swirling emotions while he held his friends gaze.

A strong shiver pulled him out of his reverie.

'T-thanks', he said, teeth chattering.

Vincent almost smiled and stepped back. He gave him the torch.

'I left you some slacks and t-shirt next to the sink. I'll make you tea', Vincent informed him and turning away, he took the wet clothes Solomon had shed and disappeared into the kitchen.

Solomon went to the bathroom to take care of his appearance while Vincent put the kettle on and then hung his friend's clothes on the dryer next to the radiator. He turned the heat up to make the room more comfortable for his freezing guest. He started to look for some candles to make up for the lack of electricity.

Solomon got himself dressed in his friends clothes and found Vincent in the kitchen. His friend had just finished pouring water into the cup. The air smelled instantly of raspberries and honey, and the room was comfortably warm. It felt homey, almost intimate, and the several candles lit on the counters only increased that effect. Solomon seated himself at the table while Vincent finished preparing a drink for himself. He put the cups on the table and sat at the corner of the table, close to his friend.

'What brings you here?' He asked without preamble. He was too restless to wait.

'I worried that Dorna might appear tonight', Solomon said, looking at his hands and not at Vincent.

'And you arrived to protect me?', came the sardonic reply. Solomon colored slightly. 'With what?'

'Okay, okay. I was just…', Solomon felt at loss. It was difficult to describe the feelings that led him here today. He sighed and tried again. 'I was just worried', he reiterated. He looked at Vincent somberly. 'I'm… sorry. I think we all, the team I mean, we were unfair to you'.

Vincent took this in silence. Solomon couldn't read him, as usual. However, Vincent was getting angry again. He reminded himself of the teachings of his masters at Shaolin and let his emotions flow through him, but never affect his actions.

'You have to understand', said Solomon urgently, laying a hand on Vincent's arm, 'you have to know, I never doubted you.' He squeezed his arm and looked at his friend beseechingly.

Vincent shook his head.

'I know', he replied.

The air felt thick with tension, as if the world was somehow out of balance.

The sat still for a while, listening to the booming thunder that shook the windows, lightnings flashing in irregular intervals, casting strange shadows around the kitchen. Solomon lifted his head and looked at Vincent just as a bolt flashed across the sky, illuminating his face, his familiar, friendly face, now filled with pain and sorrow. Solomon felt helpless, not knowing why he was here, what was happening to them, what he should do.

He took the hand away from his friends arm and rubbed his face, heaving a long frustrated sigh. He startled as he felt Vincent tap his shoulder. The man pressed a steaming cup of tea into his hands. Their fingers touched briefly and Solomon felt warm. He told himself it was because of the hot cup burning his hand.

'Ah. Always taking care of me', he said quietly.

'That's my job,' answered Vincent in a rough voice.

'I know,' replied Solomon. 'I know, and I am thankful.'

'But?'

'But nothing', Solomon tilted his head and frowned, looking at his friend. 'I really am grateful for everything you do. I, I understand that some of your choices were difficult and I am sorry I did nothing to help you, that I wasn't…'

'You asked me to do my job and I did it!'

'I know, I know, it's just…'

'You keep saying you know I wouldn't betray you and then you became angry even when I didn't. I don't understand'.

'I got scared.' Solomon admitted quietly. 'From the moment I knew what you were doing, I kept thinking that I sent you to your death.'

'That is also my job'.

'I don't want dying to be on your job description.'

Vincent laughed quietly. 'I believe it's too late for that'.

'I wish I could keep you safe,' Solomon whispered.

'Solomon, you know that it is not possible in this job. Not when we both are so invested in finding the Truth'.

Solomon, didn't respond, his throat clogged with grief. He brought the cup to his lips and drank deeply, the concoction thick and soothing and warming him from the inside. The tightness in his throat eased after a while.

'This is getting too mad. Dorna is not a forgiving bunch, they are going to come after you,' Solomon tried to explain his thoughts. 'I know they are going to try, I knew that from the moment I realized what your objective was. And the thought of you failing…'

'You can't know when one of us will die. The only thing we can do is to try not to.'

'You say it like it is normal'.

'Because it is. Life, death, they're two sides of the same coin', Vincent replied peacefully. After all it was the truth he accepted long ago. He wished he could make it easier for his friend, but unfortunately, it is the truth one can only discover for oneself. He tried to move the conversation on a different track.

'So what is happening with the sphere now?'

Solomon touched the cup to his lips. 'Right now? I think Julie is still molesting it,' he smiled faintly. 'She said she won't be able to make it home before the storm. Apparently the sphere emits some kind of signal…'

'Why did you come?' Vincent asked again. 'You could have waited until tomorrow.'

The cup clunked lightly when it was set on the table.

'I needed to see that you are all right', Solomon shrugged, watching his friend carefully. 'Are you?'

Vincent turned away his head, his eyes shuttered. Solomon took that as a 'no'.

'Come on, Vincent, talk to me.'

The man sighed heavily and drank for his cup, before turning wholly to Solomon.

'It disturbs me how easy it was for them to think the worst of me.'

'Ah.'

'Nikko was sure I was a traitor. He's known me only for a short time, I can understand that. But the rest of the team?' Vincent shook his head, the ugly feelings rising in him again and showing on his face in a bitter grimace. 'Even after I brought the sphere, they kept their distance, as if I had some disease.'

'You felt that you were betrayed'.

Vincent only closed his eyes.

'I never doubted you, not for a millisecond, do you hear me?' Solomon insisted, putting his hand on Vincent's shoulder. For someone so reserved, he's such a tactile man.

'The rest of the team, they were shocked. They will see the truth and apologize. Give them time. Please.' He wanted to shook the other man, or maybe hug him, but it would be awkward in this position, so he just kept the arm on his shoulder and scooted closer. He lowered his voice, before saying, 'I know this is hard. You're such a difficult man to know closer, hiding behind this Buddhist stoicism and sarcasm. I don't blame you, with the life you had… Come on, look at me!'

Vincent reluctantly turned to look at Solomon. His gaze was so earnest, and yet Vincent was unsettled.

'You kept your distance too', he said.

'Does this feel as distance?' Solomon asked, squeezing his shoulder harder. 'I came here in this awful weather, only after making sure Nikko was safe at home, this is why I was so late. But I'm here, is this distance?'

Vincent could barely look at his honestly pleading friend. He knew he should let go of his anger, it is poison and hindrance only.

'I was angry that you told me to leave.'

'I know. I'm sorry. You needed me and I wasn't there. I… was trying so hard to stop thinking about what could have happened. But all I could think of was Dorna trying to get you, even before the plane landed, or on your way here, and wanted it all to stop.'

Solomon withdrew his arm and covered his face with his palms. He remained silent, slouching over his empty cup, hiding his expression from being seen.

'It was the risk I gladly took,' Vincent reminded. Solomon lifted his head again and his eyes were so full of grief it made Vincent's heart ache.

'A lot of people take this risk. Look what happened to them! Traumatized, kidnapped, tortured or dead like…', Solomon had to stop himself from crying, but his eyes held pain. 'I can't bear the thought of losing you too'.

Vincent looked solemn when he got up from the table. With gentle hands he prompted his friend to stand up. Solomon was confused as to what was happening, but he got up too, only to be enveloped in strong warm embrace of the other man.

The conversation and the presence of Solomon did great things to Vincent's state of mind. Although the storm outside raged on, he regained his equilibrium and was able to lend some of that to his upset friend. He felt Solomon tighten his arms around him, as If trying to convince himself he was real. He could feel his fingers digging into his back and his chest pushed against his with every breath.

'I'm sorry', whispered Solomon straight into Vincent's ear. Vincent shivered but tried to quell the thoughts lying dormant for such a long time. 'I'll try not to disappoint you like that ever again. I can't bear the thought of losing people I love'.

This time Vincent could suppress the shudder. He hoped Solomon would write that off as a passing chill but his friend was too perceptive for his own good. He drew back slightly and looked squarely into his eyes. His gaze was warm, even though it still hid the great pain. Of course he knew something was amiss. Vincent straightened a bit, strong and calm, like he always was.

'Thank you, and it's okay'.

But perhaps he wasn't so good at putting his mask back when his closest friend was around, because Solomon smiled gently, eyes crinkling, and he moved one hand to cautiously place it on Vincent's jaw. His fingers were warm and soft as they travelled the expanse of his cheek.

'Thank you', said Solomon. 'You have to know', he started, voice thick, 'you have to know I…'

Vincent allowed his head to fall forward and touch his forehead to Solomon's.

'Shh. I know.'

Solomon swallowed hard. 'I need you to know…'

'I know you are scared', Vincent reassured. Solomon drew back suddenly and frowned at the man.

'That's not what I'm trying to-', but he didn't finished, when he caught a little self-satisfied smile on his friends face.

'You smug little bastard', he whispered fondly, before leaning slowly and just touching his lips to the lips of the other man, as if testing the waters, a bit apprehensive and timid. The answering push from the other man was the response he needed and he exhaled gently in relief, breaking the touch for a moment. He licked his lips and met Vincent's again as the other man was leaning down. The kiss was achingly gentle and sweet, as slow and reassuring as their embrace had been. This was the comfort, this was the calm in the middle of chaos. That was their friendship described in one touch, support and trust and devotion and a whole lot of fear, but even more hope that they will weather the storm.