Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean,

Present Day

A wide Japanese man in a suit stood solemnly by the cockpit door. He had a large square jaw and a severe haircut. Hints of Yakuza tattoos poked out from beneath his collar and cuffs. Nika had been maintaining eye contact with him for a while now. She could tell that he remembered her from when he almost foiled her plan to blow up his boss' casino. How he survived the explosion unscathed she wasn't sure but she knew he wasn't happy with her. She smiled sweetly at him until he was uncomfortable enough to look away.

Moriarty, who was sitting opposite, glanced over his shoulder at the man.

"Friend of yours?" He queried, returning his attention to his phone again.

"We have history," Nika replied.

"Yes, it seems you have quite the history."

Here we go, she thought. Nika sighed and gave him a look.

"Don't," she said.

"Don't what?"

"Look, you knew my history before you hired me. You knew I had potential baggage. And I'm sorry this is your problem since everything went to shit for you but we need to deal with this and I need you to focus."

"I am focused."

"You haven't been the same since I pulled you out of that prison wagon."

"Yes well it hasn't exactly been sunshine and rainbows the past year."

"That's not quite what I-" she stopped, thought for a moment and tried again. "I hear you say her name in your sleep."

"Who's?"

"Oh come on!" she snapped, "You know exactly who I'm talking about."

He was silent, keeping his gaze to the phone, though it was obvious he was no longer reading anything. Nika observed him for a moment, contemplating what to say next. He was never one for sharing personal matters and he often iced her out if she said the wrong thing. She had to choose her words carefully or risk killing the conversation entirely.

"Just tell me something," she said, trying to sound reasonable, "Can she be used to exploit you? Is she a weakness?"

"Ms. Abramovich, if you ever remotely dare insinuate something like to me again I swear I will grind your bones to make my bread."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I," he retorted, his wide black eyes glaring up at her.

She shook her head in exasperation. The money was too good to leave, but he was becoming too difficult to work with. Had she not been contractually tethered to be his 24/7 bodyguard she would have taken this plane by herself and ended her personal issue her own way. Though, she reasoned, her way may not exactly be the right way and that was another problem she had; she had become too reliant on his dependency of her for her own survival. Their working relationship had become desperately symbiotic.

"So what's your plan then?" she sighed, in an effort to quell his dark mood.

"I don't know. Give them money. Go home."

"That's it?"

"What you said. Reason with them."

"What if it doesn't work? What if they kill us?"

"They won't kill us in broad daylight in a public place. If they don't accept payment we'll offer some service. Your life can't be worth that much if they sent an amateur to assassinate you."

"Was that an insult?"

"Oh Nika," he doted, "Take comfort in the fact that I haven't killed you yet."

She considered the number of his employees she had put down in the past, mostly people who had either betrayed him or were no longer of use. She wondered if she too had an expiration date.

"What then?" she pushed, "Will the beach house be safe to go back to?"

In Russian he said, "Then I'm going to start recruiting again. Starting with any eligible Yakuza members."

She glanced up at the large man who seemed to be listening in on their conversation. She smirked. This was the Moriarty she knew and respected.

"You think it's the right time?" she said, "I thought you were going to wait until the heat died down."

"I've come to the conclusion that it will never be the right time," he responded, tucking his phone into his pocket, "And I'm bored and tired. Tired of running, tired of hiding. I was unstoppable once. I'll rise again. Even if it means getting caught on the way. I can't live like a coward anymore."

"I've never known you to be a coward," Nika assured.

Moriarty huffed with a laconic smile and rolled his head to the side to look out the window. It was still light out but they had been travelling for what seemed like a lifetime.

"How much longer until we land?" he said.

"Five hours I think."

"Fine. I'm getting some sleep. Try not to let any of these mobsters kill me in the meantime."

He shut his eyes and relaxed against the headrest.

"I'm going to kick you every time you say her name," Nika said.

"No you won't," Moriarty threatened.