They arrived at the dreaded house after Holt had discharged herself from the hospital. The doctors had been reluctant, but essentially okay with letting Benji go. The break was clean and would heal without trouble. Along with the countless bruises it required painkillers, but was not really a reason to make him stick to a hospital bed.

Their opinion differed when it came to Holt's shoulder, but she wouldn't hear anything about it. She hated hospitals.

Benji watched her stride through the rooms, collecting pieces of equipment from all over the place and shoving them not particularly gently into the bags. He was at the computer, already on finding out what Nolan had had access to and trying to assess how much damage he had done.

They had hardly exchanged a word since she'd left his hospital room that morning, and now the sun was already low in the sky. She had either avoided him or had looked so withdrawn and somehow angry that he had kept quiet as well, although by now the silence was killing him.

Holt zipped the last bag shut. "I'll just check upstairs," she announced, and turned away from him.

Benji looked up. He had seen enough of the lower floor during the past week as well. He checked one last time that the door was locked and followed Holt upstairs. Due to the flat roof, the upper floor was small. There was a tiny kitchenette and a sofa, and the sliding door in the glass front that led onto the terrace. A single door led to another bedroom. It was a nice safe house, Benji had to admit that, but there was no sugar-coating what had happened here.

"Hey," he began quietly. He didn't want to startle her, coming after her like that, nevertheless she flinched, and turned away from the window to face him. "I wanted to thank you. For getting me out of there." He tried to smile.

Holt just shrugged.

Benji noticed that she was still very pale. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she suddenly shouted. "I'm perfectly all right, it's not as if I almost died because someone who was supposed to be on my side didn't notice that he's been living with a notorious super villain for a week, who not only tapped into our communication but also almost got into our agency's system!"

Benji didn't know where that outburst came from. It was as if she had swallowed her fury all day long and now it was coming out as one big eruption.

"So, for your information, apart from a stabbed shoulder and a knife going over my face, and the loss of that briefcase, the only thing we had to go on, yes, I am all right, thank you for asking!" she yelled.

"What is your problem, anyway? At first you don't talk to me all day and now this," Benji asked sharply. He was genuinely mad now, for the simple reason that he did not understand. "I messed up, and I almost died, you had nothing to do with it, you don't even like me!"

She didn't react in any way; her face was a mask of tension. Benji had run out of things to say.

"So what do you care?" he added, because he couldn't stand the silence.

"You just don't want to understand, do you?" She was still shouting, which scared him to death if he was honest. "You might be unaware of this, but we're supposed to be a team. So I do care. And besides, you have absolutely no idea what it's like to lose a partner, so don't talk to me about dying." Holt's teeth were clenched and she was trembling because she was so mad, but now there was something else, too. For an instant they just stood there staring at each other, then she turned away, opened the sliding door and stepped outside onto the roof.

Benji watched her, slightly dumbstruck, not sure what to do.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Holt sat down on the step that divided the lower part of the flat roof from the actual terrace of the apartment, facing away from the windows. A couple of minutes later, Benji sat down beside her, handing her a steaming cup.

"Tea? Honestly?" She hated her voice for sounding so thin and quiet.

"With Scotch."

She took it, and his smile went unnoticed.

"Sorry about back there," she croaked. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine."

"It's nothing against you, it's just... been a tough day."

"It's not just that, though, is it?" He waited a couple of seconds.

Holt didn't answer.

Benji decided to try something. "You know, on my very first mission a member of our team got killed. Trevor. He got shot, just like that, in broad daylight. I didn't know him before that mission, but he was a great agent. He helped me a lot, being out in the field for the first time." He paused, a little unsure how to go on, and looked at her. "When he was – when there were just two of us left, it was pretty horrible. I can't even begin to imagine how horrible it must be when you really know each other. Jane... our team leader – she took it pretty badly, and I was sort of left over, it sucked."

"Jane Carter?" She still looked straight ahead.

"Yes."

Holt just nodded and bit her lip.

"So... you want to tell me? About your partner?"

She took a sip from the mug. He gave her time, watching the steam rise from his own.

"I can't tell you a lot," she finally said. "It's classified." She took a deep breath. He looked at her. "We had this mission near Samara, Russia. We had reached a point where the only way to protect certain... assets was to... to do something that would have resulted in both of us getting disavowed. But we were ready to meet that responsibility," she continued. "We..." She closed her hands around the mug. "It would have worked out perfectly. Only he spontaneously changed the plan." Her face became stone again. "I can't tell you what exactly happened. But he... he got himself killed, which gave me time to escape along with the people we had to protect." She sat completely still. "He sacrificed himself."

Benji had listened intently. Aware of the risk that she was likely to smash him into the glass front behind them, he put his arm around her. "I'm sorry," he said, cupping her uninjured shoulder with his hand.

To his surprise, she didn't do anything to prevent it. She simply took a big gulp of Scotch tea and impatiently rubbed a hand over her face.

"It's not your fault."

They sat in silence for a while. It was chilly, but the hot tea in combination with the alcohol did its job.

Benji found himself annoyed by a question. He carefully removed his arm. "Did you... I mean, were you..."

Holt looked at him. "What, lovers?" He nodded briefly. She looked back at her mug and smiled, shaking her head. "No. No, he was my best friend. More like a... a brother, if you will. You know. Partners." For the first time, she smiled at Benji. "We were a good team."

He smiled back. "What was his name?"

"Connor."

Their thoughts trailed off and they both just sat there, drinking flavoured tea.

"I thought about quitting," she said. "Going back to a desk job. Or leave the IMF entirely. But I couldn't. After what he did for me I feel like I owe him to stay in the field. But ever since that happened I don't work well in a team. And it's been over a year now." She took another slug. "Maybe I should drop it after all. Request to get back into an office once we're back in D.C."

"You shouldn't quit." She met Benji's eyes, quizzically. He held her gaze, and for the first time she noticed his mismatched eyes. On first glance they were simply of a dark greyish blue, nothing unusual. But he had this tiny spot of brown in his right eye. "You really shouldn't," he persisted.

She wanted to ask what made him sound so sure. After all he had almost died because of her. "I never asked your first name," she said instead.

Benji was honestly surprised by that. "Benji. Well, Benjamin, but, you know."

She smiled at him again. He found he really liked that. It made him feel warm. Although it might have been the tea.

"Benji..." She chuckled softly.

"What?"

"Nothing. It suits you." He wished she would never stop smiling at him. "I'm Skye." She extended her right hand, overly polite. "Just Skye." She was mocking him. He loved it. They shook hands, which was a bit awkward with the mugs and various injuries, and there was that chuckle again.

Their eyes locked. Say something, Benji. "Skye?"

"Yes?"

"I tagged the briefcase."

For a second she couldn't have looked more incredulous, then a smile spread over her face, almost a grin.

"Nothing's shown up yet, but I'm sure I can track it at the latest when we're back to more trusty equipment." Benji grinned back at her.

Skye laughed lightly, as if she was a bit out of practice, then sighed relieved. "I owe you an apology," she said, looking way more at ease with herself than just a few minutes ago. "I underestimated you."

The warm light from the setting sun was long gone, and their Scotch tea had vanished.

"Let's get out of here," he said and got up.

Skye nodded. "Benji? Thank you." She indicated the now empty mug, but he wasn't sure if she was talking about the drink.

"You're welcome."