Kala takes a different route back to the hotel and drives past places Wolfgang has only seen through her: the temple where she worships, the markets where she shops. He glances at these places with some interest. Sometimes, she points to landmarks and favorite street vendors. She maneuvers her way between buses and scooters and darting pedestrians with expert precision.

Wolfgang sits in the passenger seat, impressed, an arm slung casually over Kala's head rest. His eyes drift toward her more than the things she tries to bring to his attention, lazing over her delicate throat, soft bare shoulder. He realizes she's grown quiet when she lets out a shaky: "Don't."

He blinks at her, surprised. "Don't what?" he asks.

Kala presses her lips together, looks ahead at the road. "Don't look at me like that while I'm driving."

"Like what?"

She makes a noise of disbelief. "Like you're going to eat me."

He raises his eyebrows, smirks as she blushes harder. "Oh my God, Wolfgang, you know what I mean."

He chuckles and she gives a huff of indignation that causes him to laugh outright, shake his head at his own sophomoric humor. Kala glances at him, irked but thawed by the sound of his laughter, and her lips tug up into an involuntary smile. "You're a wicked man," she repeats, but her tone is soft, affectionate.

Wolfgang grins at her, but says nothing more as he obligingly turns his gaze to the window and the streets of Mumbai.

He smiles to himself before his thoughts drift again: this time, to her family and to lunch, and the fact that he's only managed to put off the interrogation for another time.

At least now he has an idea what to expect.

He tries not to dwell on Aunty Ina's shocked expression, the worried look from Kala's mother, the carefully reserved face of Kala's father. Wolfgang tries to imagine what they'd do if they knew everything about him, but gives up guessing: It doesn't matter. It only matters that Kala knows, and she still wants him. Maybe even as much as he wants her.

Wolfgang's mouth twists wryly at where his thoughts lead him. Felix had asked him curiously if it's because of the "freaky mind sex", but really, it never was. Wolfgang had wanted her before they had even kissed.

He can point to the exact moment when he knew Kala was different; when he knew she could mean more to him than anyone else in his life, maybe even more than Felix, and not just in the obvious way.

Thank God for gravity, he'd said, drawn to her earnestness, her intelligence: a force impossible for him to resist.

So really, this thing between them is not about the sex. It was never about just the sex.

He pauses, mid-thought.

But f u c k.

The sex.

Wolfgang blinks back against a sudden, visceral surge of lust. He steals another glance at Kala and knows she feels it too: The sudden soft exhale, the return of a tell-tale flush to her neck and up to her cheeks.

Her hair is conveniently piled in a messy bun she'd hastily pinned just before getting into the car. His hand slides from her headrest to find her bare neck; caress the nape, thumb the cleft at the top. Kala gives a soft, surprised gasp. She catches her lower lip with her teeth, a gesture he associates with her concentrating. He smiles gently and stops teasing; his hand returns to the back of the headrest. It takes Kala a few minutes to visibly relax. It takes Wolfgang slightly longer to do so as well.

By the time they arrive at the hotel, they regain their outward composure. Kala leaves her car for the valet to park. She meets Wolfgang's languid expression with an overly-bright gaze that makes his heart race. They hold hands as they cross the lobby, lean closer to each other as they get on the elevator with other hotel guests. They walk down the hallway of his floor, unhurried, but feeling each other's mutual anticipation.

Six weeks.

They walk into his room and Kala spares an appreciative glance at the sea view before Wolfgang turns her into his arms. He doesn't kiss her right away: He simply stares at her for several seconds, eyes gliding over her expressive face, an enigmatic expression on his own.

"What?" Kala asks, suddenly shy. Her hands rest on his chest, the unfamiliar blue of his shirt almost startling against her skin.

"I'm here. In Mumbai," he states simply. His hand comes up to sweep the curls from her temple, although they fall immediately back into place. "With you."

She smiles softly back with deep, brown eyes that understand the seeming impossibility of it all: that reflect the improbable journey that brought them together. Her face is open, unguarded and unafraid to show him that she loves him. He will never understand how that is, how she can love someone like him. He thinks back again to London. Naples. Paris.

They had almost lost each other. The thought still brings with it a kind of sadness, insecurity, amplified in his head because he is damaged in more ways than BPO could do to him. He is not a good man. He falls far short of Rajan.

Kala feels his doubt; she frowns at him, cups his face in her hands. "Its always been you," she says quietly. "It's always been just you, Wolfgang. Do not doubt that."

He gives an exhale, nods. The lust he'd felt earlier feels different, no less intense, but so… He can't think of the right word, but he knows, like Kala herself, that it is different.

"I love you." She rests her head lightly against his shoulder. "I almost lost you. I know it in my soul. First BPO. Then…" She doesn't complete the thought but simply burrows closer. "It wasn't fair to Rajan that I felt our marriage was a duty to fulfill. It wasn't fair to you that I thought of what we feel for each other as something to be secreted away." She sighs deeply, her fingers tugging at his collar. "And I've not been honest or fair to myself when I've known all along what I really want. But I'm more than ready to be honest now. I'm done pretending to be happy being dutiful."

He presses a kiss against her hair, shifts so he can see her face again. "Kala," he says, his eyes taking in the tension in her expression, the unshed tears. He can feel her regret and her new resolve. She brings a hand up to sweep along the rough texture of his cheek and gives him a soft smile. He brings his head down, his mouth finding hers.

He kisses her fiercely, releasing the doubt that had built inside from the moment she left Paris for Mumbai, from the moment one week turned into two and then three.

Six weeks.

His hands course along her body, drag her hips to press against his own. She sighs into his mouth and brings her hands to tug impatiently at the hem of his shirt. They break apart to take off each other's clothes: Kala makes quick work of the shirt but curses softly at the buttons of his jeans; Wolfgang deftly removes her blouse and bra before he stops to help her.

"I'm out of practice," she says, smiling playfully up at him.

"We'll have to fix that," he answers, removing the last of their clothes himself. He reaches for her and they moan at the rush of sensation their full contact brings.

The feel of their skin against each other in real life never fails to leave them breathless, awed by the intensity of their connection. They take a moment to bask in it, tangle limbs, before the need for even closer contact overtakes them both.

Wolfgang wraps her legs around his hips, smiles at her heavy-lidded gaze as he carries her the short distance to the bed. He pauses before he lays her down.

"I've been thinking how you could make things up to me," he smirks.

He watches the pupils in her eyes dilate, a smile curve her lips. Kala leans closer to touch her nose to his, rest her cheek against his own. She presses her mouth by his ear. "I've been thinking, too," she whispers.

His stills, slack-jawed, and murmurs a profanity as he lowers her on the bed, legs still wrapped around him. He presses against her as she sighs her approval, mouths crashing eagerly together.

They kiss hungrily, fingers splayed across each other in a singular need to remember the feel of each other in real life. Wolfgang's hands move over Kala, palm her pelvis, her thighs, glide under her knees. Kala spreads her fingers wide over his back, sweep lazily forward to cover his pecs. She tightens her legs around his waist, bucks up a little to rub against him. The pleasure of it drags a moan from them both, sends a shudder through the Cluster who tacitly leave them to enjoy their reunion alone.

Wolfgang breathes deeply, intensely aware of Kala's scent, heightened by her arousal. He kisses along her neck, her jaw, her breasts, intent on moving lower, when Kala sits up, hands pressed against his chest. He looks up at her flush face, hair spilled from the pins, mouth bruised, and he moves to kiss her again when she shifts from under him, pushes him back against the bed. She watches his face as she straddles him, and the naked want he feels makes her breath grow heavy.

Kala leans toward him, her hands finding his, twining their fingers, raising his arms over his head.

"This is how I make it up to you," she says, her voice husky.

And she does.

...

They laze in bed the rest of the afternoon, talk, make love. Wolfgang falls asleep, Kala across his chest. When he wakes, it's dusk, and Kala isn't beside him, the bed sheet dragged over his body. The sound of water running draws his attention to the bathroom door; he hears the shower a moment later.

Wolfgang sits up, craving a cigarette but reluctant to get out of bed. He knows Kala doesn't like him to smoke, disliking the smell that clings to his clothes, his skin. He's mostly quit, except for the almost reflexive need to have a drag after sex.

"Here." Sun hands him her cigarette. She sits in bed next to him, dressed in a black sheath dress, black pumps.

"Thanks." Wolfgang accepts the cigarette gratefully, takes a long drag before returning it to her. He smirks at Sun. "I'd visit, but…" He trails off, and she smirks back, eyes flickering over his naked chest.

"Your reunion went well," she says, eyebrows raised, "even if lunch was a little tense."

Wolfgang nods in agreement. "Where are you?"

"At a bar. With Mun." She takes a puff from her cigarette, side-eyes Wolfgang with a faint smile. "I hadn't planned on it. But something convinced me."

He chuckles a little, shakes his head. He wants to tell her thank you for being there earlier, even if he didn't want her or anyone else there. He wants to tell her that it meant something to him. "Have a nice time," he tells her instead. She meets his eyes, and he knows she knows. Sun nods and their connection ends, the faint smell of her cigarette still wafting in the air.

He smiles widely as he hears Kala hum over the water. He gets up, walks to the bathroom and lets himself in. He leans against the marble sink, watches Kala as she rinses the soap from her eyes, face upturned to the shower head, humming momentarily suspended. The glass shower door is partially steamed, but not enough to hide her from his appreciative gaze. She wipes her eyes with her hands and turns an owlish look at him.

"Hello," she smiles. "You're finally awake."

"I am." He walks toward the shower, presses his fingertips against the glass. He lets his eyes linger over her curves, watches the water pool and drip between her breasts, trail down to her navel.

"I'm done," she says, eyes soft, matching her fingertips to his.

"Are you?" He presses his forehead against the glass, smiles back at her.

Kala laughs and turns off the shower. "Yes," she says with finality. "And I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."

"Mmmhm," he agrees, eyes dancing.

Kala looks at him in mock horror. "Wolfgang," she chides.

He grabs a towel from the shelf by the shower and lets himself inside. She watches him warily as he dries her off, motions for her to turn around, and does a reasonably good job, even if he pauses to drop kisses along the way.

"I'm done," he announces wrapping the towel around her, backing her a little against the wall. "But you're welcome to stay."

Kala wants to laugh but the look in his eyes sends a shudder of desire down her spine. She swallows and gives a deep exhale. "Maybe we should just get room service," she murmurs.

He smiles wickedly at her, tugs the towel loose. "That's brilliant," he says, dipping his head to kiss her.

A/N: Thank you for your patience. Writing Kalagang after the special was kind of a slog, but that's what fanfic is for, right?