Sheer implausibility

Summary

In which Jonas talks about the Chairman, and Capheus meets Kiira.

"Our existence depends on sheer implausibility."

— From S1E4, "What's Going On"

A/N:

The next chapter might not come for a while. Both my betas are doing summer fun stuff, while I'm gonna be stuck at my internship for one last week. BOOOOO. I'm so jealous of them!

But I will return with what is probably gonna be another 6000 word chapter in a week's time. Or maybe less, who knows. So hang in there, dearies! :)

July 9, 2017 (cont'd)

"Have you procured the records from Rasal Pharmaceuticals?" Veronika asked, laying the phone flat on her desk as she leaned back in her leather chair.

"N-No ma'am," Ajay said. "We're getting close, but—"

Veronika tutted her tongue. "What did I tell you?" Her voice rose, and she heard a sharp intake of breath from the other end. "You are to inform me after you have secured the import and export records overseen by Mr. Rasal. Not before."

"I-I know," he explained, speaking as fast as he could. "W-we have found a new development with Rasal's wife. That's why I'm… that is why I'm calling."

She waited for him to go on, drumming her long red nails against her mahogany desk.

"My men had pulled up some bank records," he continued, "and they found a lot of transactions from Rasal's account to France. Erm, I mean, Paris. We- we suspect Mrs. Rasal may have been relocated abroad."

Clever, Mr. Rasal. She reached for her favorite fountain pen, opened the cap, and dipped it in the bottle of indigo ink she always kept on her desk. "He knows his foolishness had put her in danger," she observed, writing down the new development on her teal Moleskine. "Mr. Rasal must care for her a lot."

"Yes, ma'am," Ajay said. "He fears for her safety. He told me when Manendra Rasal started running for office."

And here she thought only Sensates were foolhardy enough to fall prey to love. It was almost too easy. She scoffed.

Her arm shook slightly, and a blot of ink dripped from the black pen she held in midair and landed on the page. She dropped her phone on her desk and snatched a tissue paper from the box to suck up the ink before it bled through to the next page.

"Ma'am?" Ajay prompted, his voice partially muffled by the desktop.

"Yes, yes, I'm still here," Veronika tried to sound impatient instead of irked. With a shaking hand, she carefully tore out the page from the planner, crumbling the paper into a ball with her hand. Then she dropped it on her desk and smashed it with a fist. "Forget about the storage unit records."

"A-are you sure, ma'am?" he tried to sound like he didn't hear the sound. "I promise, my men have been working around the clock—"

"Forget about those records," she repeated, sounding impatient. She slammed her planner shut with a scowl, "and focus your resources on finding his wife."

"Y-You wish to find Mrs. Rasal, ma'am? But I thought the plan was—"

"Plan's changed." Her steel blue eyes glinted slightly at the new revelation before she looked down at her desk and saw the teal Moleskine, which, she remembered with a twinge in her hand, now had a missing page.

Look what you did, Veronika. Gone and ruined this, too? The voice in her head she'd long forgotten returned with a vengeance, too many decibels above her threshold.

A tear slid from the corner of her eyes as she gritted her teeth, grabbed the Moleskine with a shaking hand, and flung it to her right as hard as she could. It hit the wall with a thump. She buried her face in her hands, mascara smearing across her palms.

She heard Ajay drew a sharp intake of breath through the speaker, but she knew he wouldn't pry. "As you wish, ma'am," he said, likely pretending to be unaware of her outburst.

Nodding at no one in particular, she turned her gaze away from the couch on top of which her journal now laid. "Yes, yes. This new means of coercion will be more effective."

Veronika hung up before Ajay could say another word, and tossed her pen in her drawer with a clatter before pushing it shut.

"Tell me about the Chairman," Will said, sitting next to Jonas on the couch that afternoon. The crew had all gathered around the living room after lunch, sitting in chairs they pulled from the kitchen. Even Kala visited from Mr. Hoy's lab. Wolfgang, on the other hand, was in quarantine, Blocked at all hours.

Will had gathered that Veronika was an important figure from sifting through Whispers' mind last night, but he wondered why he could not locate a memory with the Chairman's face. Kala had speculated that perhaps the Chairman title was a ruse, and BPO has no single leader. Lito was inclined to agree—after Will showed them what he saw, the actor was certain the woman's power over the Headhunter wasn't an act.

"You are more right than you know." Jonas looked at the three of them.

"Jonas," Amanita chipped in, "if you're gonna start playing games again—"

He held up a hand to stop her. "I have had some time to reconsider my way of teaching."

Mavis muttered an "about time" under her breath, and a few others nodded. Even Sun let out a sigh of relief.

"So, the Chairman title is a lie?" Lito asked. Hernando leaned forward in his chair to listen, frowning as he tried to take in every word.

"In a manner of speaking." Jonas chuckled when he heard Nomi groan. "The woman Will saw is in a leadership position in the organization," he continued to explain, true to his word, "but those who work closely with her do not refer to her as the Chairman when they are discussing a private matter."

"But she's the Chairman as we know it?"

Jonas nodded. "She had asked me to refer to her as the Chairman after she intervened with my impending operation. She never told me her first name. But her business partners refer to her as Miss Makarova."

"Veronika. That's what Milton called her."

Jonas nodded.

"What else do you know about her?" asked Nomi.

"She's Russian. The Makarova name appears to be well known in Russia. It's an open secret that they are associated with Vor."

"Why is she in charge of BPO?" Will asked.

"I believe she joined the organization shortly after 9-11."

"Whispers didn't always work for her?"

Jonas shook his head. "No, Milton has been there long before her. She had acquired her position at the top of the organization a few years back. I haven't been able to find out what happened to her competitors."

Lito swallowed, hard.

"Do you think she's got something to do with the missing people?" Nomi asked.

"Most likely, yes. Veronika's family was in charge of one of the most prominent drug dealing operations in Saint Petersburg. It would not be hard for someone with access to BPO resources to develop a new drug that counteracts the effects of Blockers."

"And if she kept in touch with her family's old connections, it would be easy to distribute the new product," Kala added. Jonas gave her a nod.

"My father was negotiating with Russians a few years back," Sun added. "I believe they never did reach a consensus."

Amanita turned to her. "Do you think your brother's still working with her?"

"Nothing about Joong-Ki surprises me anymore."

Dani, who had been silent, leaned forward in her chair. "He's not the only one."

Sun raised an eyebrow.

Dani turned to Jonas. "You said her name was Makarova?" Jonas nodded. She let out a deep sigh. "Figures."

"What is it?" Hernando asked.

"She's one of my dad's business contacts."

Lito groaned, and Hernando buried his face in his hands.

Dani turned to them. "I saw Joaquín," she told everyone, and they all shuddered except Mavis and Jonas, who looked at each other, confused.

"Joaquín?" Lito leaped a little in his chair. "He's here? What is he doing here?"

Hernando lifted his face from his hands, his eyes wide open as he sunk back in his chair. "He could be negotiating with this… this Veronika woman," he sounded hoarse. "Joaquín works with your parents, no?"

Dani nodded. Lito looked like he was about to descend into madness.

Jonas cleared his throat. "Knowing the names of her collaborators gives us an advantage."

"Yeah. I'll start keeping a tab on their transactions," Nomi said.

Kala turned to Jonas. "Is there anything else you know about her?"

He thought about it. "When we were negotiating my new"—he looked at Will—"conditions… Something stood out in the way she spoke about Sensates."

"How do you mean?" Sun asked.

"I believe you have already deduced the intention behind the recent attack?" Jonas asked. Everyone nodded. "I believe there is a personal reason she wants to turn the world against Homo sensorium."

"She wants revenge against Sensates?" Capheus ventured. "But why?"

"Sadly"—Jonas glared at Will—"I was whisked away before I could investigate."

Will crossed his arms. "We'll ask when we get her."

They made their ways down the stairs slowly, Will's smile widening with every step as he guided a blindfolded Riley with one hand behind the small of her back. They'd missed dinner because Will had insisted on calling Diego from a burner phone to inform him of the nature of the missing person cases in California.

When the blindfold was lifted off, Riley realized she was in the kitchen. But the lights were off, and Lito was the only other person in the room. He wore a black suit and red bowtie, and what appeared to be his best leather shoes. Grinning, he held out a battered old pewter tray to offer them two glasses of some sparkling drink, which they accepted.

"Welcome to your first date."

Lito gestured to the dining table with a white tablecloth, on top of which he'd placed a glass coke bottle with the label removed. A pink rose was inside the makeshift vase, and two candles were on either side. The dinner table was intended for a dozen people, so two plates, covered with larger plates used in place of lids, were put next to each other on one end. Small candles decked the rest of the table, forming an outline of a heart.

Will put his glass down and walked over to one side. He pulled out the chair for Riley to sit down before he took the seat opposite of her.

"So, what's on the menu?" Riley asked.

Lito walked over and lifted the plate in front of her to reveal a medium steak, the way she liked it. Hernando had put sautéed carrots and asparagus on one side of the plate, and the peppery sauce on the other side was artfully poured into the shape of Cupid's arrow puncturing a heart. Lito lifted Will's plate to reveal an identical dish. Turned out coffee wasn't the only thing they liked the same way.

Riley's eyes widened. "Will! Wow. You did this?"

"Uhh," Will said, scratching the back of his neck as a blush crept onto his cheeks. Will's astounding ability to burn the most basic dishes known to American adults had been a recurring joke among the Cluster ever since he'd divulged the secret to Lito, a choice he regretted. "I may have enlisted some help?"

"Hernando made the food. Dani picked the soundtrack," Lito said to her a wink, flashing his signature swoon-worthy smirk. They hadn't noticed the red music player plugged into the speaker Riley had brought, which was playing a classical piano piece.

"No appetizers?" Riley joked.

Will shrugged. "We were running out of groceries."

Riley smiled before taking a sip of her drink, raising an eyebrow when she discovered it tasted like lemon. She was expecting something alcoholic. "What is this?"

"Homemade lemonade and sprite." Will said, beaming. "I made it."

"I like it," Riley declared, holding up her glass. "Join us for a drink, Lito?"

Lito shook his head. "I am not crashing your date." He opened the fridge and took out a jug filled with Will's lemonade soda. "You can serve yourselves, yes?"

After Lito set the jug down on the table, he waltzed out of the kitchen, humming to himself as he bounced up the stairs. They laughed as they raised their glasses.

"To us."

They threw back the drink, giggling as bubbles tingled their throats.

"I, uhh." Will's smile turned sheepish as he gestured to their dishes. "I did help with the chopping. But, umm, I didn't wanna risk burning the house down."

She laughed. "Is that what you say on all your first dates?"

"I"—Will paused, and decided to tease back. "I mean, usually we'd go to a restaurant? I don't remember. It's been a while."

A ticked eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah. Huh, the last one was… God, before I started my job?" He frowned a little, nose crinkling. She found that particularly endearing on her cop.

"Well then, I feel very honored."

Nodding, he paused for a few seconds, opening and closing his mouth to try and figure out what to say in response. He gave up eventually. "Maybe we should eat first."

She laughed and tried a piece of carrot. It was sautéed lightly and sprinkled with a pinch of salt. The surface was crisp, but the juice was still sweet inside. All her vegetables turned out bland. She made a note to ask Hernando to teach her his ways.

Will went straight for the steak. He cut a large piece and shoved it into his mouth, moaning when his taste buds decided it was the best steak he'd ever eaten. "God, this is so good." He cut another piece and brought the fork to Riley's mouth. "Try it."

"You know I have the same thing," she said but accepted it anyway, eyes widening when she took in the taste.

In return, she fed him a carrot. He chewed slowly, savoring the taste. Then he tried one from his own plate. "I think yours tastes better," he concluded.

She made a move to switch their plates, but he put a hand on top of hers to stop her, wiggling his fingers to graze the back of her hand, a small tickling move, he'd discovered in their days in Amsterdam, that could always make her grin.

"It's better because it's yours."

Her grin turned into a smirk. She reached over and stole a piece of his steak, bringing it into her mouth as his face morphed into one of mock vexation. "You're right," she said, taking a slow sip of her sparkling lemonade. "It is better."

They clinked their glasses again, downing their second drinks.

It was then that they noticed what was playing on the speaker. They had been listening to mellow ambiance music for the last half hour or so (who was keeping time?), but all of a sudden, Riley perked up in her chair.

It was the Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major, the same music that lulled Kala to sleep when they were still plotting a way to get Wolfgang back. With Wolfgang safe in Kala's hands and the new situation with Veracity, it seemed a lifetime ago that their biggest concern was how to interrogate a certain white-haired Headhunter.

Will frowned, concentrating. "I think I've heard this before."

"My papa used to play this a lot. It was one of my favorites."

He paused to listen. "I like it. Did you ever learn to play an instrument?"

"I used to play the piano. Papa taught me the ukulele, too."

"Do you know how to play this one?"

She shook her head. "I used to beg him to teach me. He told me it's a lot harder than it sounds, and he'd teach me when I was older." She looked down at the fork in her hand. "But I don't play anymore."

His gaze softened. "You don't have to tell me if—"

"I stopped when mama died. She used to watch me play." She swallowed hard, remembering the times she looked to her right as she played, expecting to see her mother but finding nothing but empty space. "Sorry." She shook her head, smiling in apology.

He returned the smile and reached over, putting his hands over hers, prompting her to look into his eyes. "It's good to remember." He sounded wistful. "That's what my dad used to say."

"It is," she agreed.

"I don't remember my mother," he continued. "But dad said I take after her."

"What was she like?"

"She was a social worker. He said she worked at a children's shelter."

Riley pictured a smiling woman with warm eyes like Will's. She would have liked to get to know her.

He smiled. "A lot of her kids used to get in trouble with the cops. That's how they met."

"Did she get them out of trouble?"

"Mm. Dad said she was pretty forgiving. They argued a lot about these things. She always insisted on giving them another chance."

She thought about it. "Did he listen?"

"Not always. More often when they started dating, though."

She laughed.

"I think, when she died, he went back to how he was before." He picked at the vegetables on his plate. "Especially with me. I thought I could never make him proud. And all the shoplifting and lock-picking didn't exactly help," he tried for self-deprecation, hoping to lighten the mood.

Riley shook her head. "That's not the Will I know."

"Isn't it?"

She walked over to embrace him from behind and kissed the top of his head. "The Will who saved me from Iceland? The one who never gave up searching for Sara Patrell? I believe he would have been proud if he knew the truth."

July 10, 2017

Kiira had set up a meeting with Capheus at a cafe near University College London.

Mavis had insisted that at this stage in the operation, it was best to have everything in the open. Of course, it was entirely possible that Kiira's birthday and country of birth were no more than a miraculous coincident, but apparently, there was another way, a Sensate way, to confirm their relation.

Though as soon as Capheus made his way to the back of the cafe where the booths were, as soon as the young woman looked up from the book she was reading, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, he knew. It was like looking at a young version of the mother he remembered from his early childhood. Except her hair was tied up in two afro puffs atop her head, and she was donned in black ballet flats and a white off-shoulder dress.

Then a memory of her birth flashed before his eyes, and his flashed before hers. Kiira tilted her head to examine his expression, big brown eyes filled with curiosity. Just as he remembered when he was eight.

"I suppose this tests your hypothesis," she concluded. Her voice was soft and had a light quality to it, unlike the chipper way Mavis spoke. And, despite knowing she was raised in Cambridge, her accent gave him a pause. "I'll be honest, I don't quite know what to say in a situation like this. I haven't pictured this scenario in my mind for years."

He nodded, mouth hanging halfway open. Words became a jumble in his mind, but everyone else except Sun, who was on just-in-case security duty, was on Blockers. I would start with a simple hello, she suggested.

"H-Hello, Kiira," he croaked.

"Right. Hello." Kiira leaned forward, tilting her head a bit to the left. "I suppose that is the most logical response. Capheus, is it?"

She was calmer than he had expected. Though come to think again, he wasn't sure his mind was in a state to expect anything before the meeting—it all happened so fast. But her composure, and the fact that he was surprised by what he was witnessing, only served as a reminder of how much he didn't know about his own sister.

Kiira cradled her mug with her hands and turned it back and forth on top of the saucer, one thumb fiddling with the string attached to the teabag inside. "I'm Grace to most people," she told him, interrupting the train of thought he now realized must have been broadcasted to her mind as well. "But you can call me Kiira if you wish. My family does."

"O-Okay, yes." Capheus' cheeks flushed.

He and his mother had picked the name together, but he reminded himself that they were not the family she grew up knowing. Mavis had called her Kiira, but she was in her Cluster. Could he do the same? Or was he overstepping? He shouldn't have assumed—

"It's alright, really," she reassured, smiling politely. He could have kicked himself for forgetting, for the second time, that they were both Sensates. "It's… I do like the name." Something from my past to remember by, he heard her think.

"Would you like to know about"—he stopped himself, wondering if the question would make her angry. Or upset. Or both? Did she inherit mother's temper or father's?

She nodded, knowing what he was going to ask. "Tell me."

He didn't know where to start.

"Mavis told me you're running for political office?" she prompted, pulling her teabag out of the mug to lay on the saucer. "Does it run in the family?"

"Well, in a way. Our father set up a tea planters' union."

"Is he still in office?"

"No." He sighed. "He was killed during one of his riots."

"Oh," she replied. "I'm sorry. It must have been hard for you." The grief in her mind was an echo of his. He knew from the thoughts that ran through their shared mind that she was wondering how she should feel, and what was expected of someone in her situation.

"It was hard on all of us, yes. We were"—Capheus recalled how he and his mother had starved, how he had worried if his then-unborn sister would survive. He hoped she'd hear him out. She furrowed her brows as she picked up the thought.

She looked up. "Was that why…"

He wasn't the only one at a loss for words. But if Mavis was truthful about how long she had been reborn, that meant Kiira would be more acquainted with her powers than he was. And it appeared Mavis was telling the truth, he concluded, as he saw glimpses of a young Kiira laying awake at night, mentally listing the 50-and-ongoing possible reasons she was separated from her birth family.

"We never wanted to let you go, Kiira." He tried to bring forth the memory he had shared with Riley at the graveyard, but being on Blockers all the time meant he was out of practice, and the images came out slightly blurred, his mother's voice somewhat distant. "But we wanted to give you your best chance."

She was silent for a while as tears brimmed in her eyes. For a moment, he thought he had upset her. But she shook her head.

"It's not… It's… I felt your"—Kiira sighed, giving up when she couldn't find the right words to describe the emotions she'd received from the memory. "Thank you."

"I owe you the truth."

She thought about it. "We've not gotten acquainted enough to owe each other anything."

"I guess not," he conceded. "But… I'm sorry if I'm overstepping"—but are you happy? his mind blurted out before he could stop himself.

"I am."

"Mavis told me you're in medical school? What a gift."

She nodded. "It is. I'm studying to become a neurosurgeon."

"I don't know if this means anything to you," he looked at Kiira, who nodded, prompting him to continue. "But our mother, she wanted to be a doctor, too."

"Interesting," she said, tilting her head a bit to the left again.

She was raised by two English professors, and she'd always wondered if her desire to heal came from her birth family. He smiled when he heard her thoughts. But her parents were in Cambridge, and she was in London. And Whispers and the others were still hunting. "Is it… Is it safe for you?" To be out here? Alone?

Her eyes widened. He knew she'd come to the conclusion that it would be beneficial for the sake of their safety to stop talking out loud and directly project their thoughts into each other's minds. Mavis' contacts got me enough Blockers for a decade.

But what about your professor?

Kiira fished a phone from a backpack she kept near her side and showed him a picture of the professor's profile on the UCL website: Andreas Thorsten. Acclaimed neurologist. Received his Ph.D. from the University of Chicago.

I'm working on a way to locate alternate IDs he may be using—she pointed at the picture of the professor on her phone—but it would be a challenge. It would be highly illogical for him to keep his medical records in his office. I don't know where else I could look.

We have someone who can do background checks.

Your Cluster-mate?

Yes. She's very good at accessing the inaccessible, he thought, beaming.

Kiira nodded, impressed. Seems you have quite a resourceful assembly.

We do.

I'm glad to be of help. I wish I could have come with you.

I'm sorry about your Cluster-mate. They had been informed about Morgan's death, Kiira saw inside their collection of recent memories.

Thank you.

She looked at the back cover of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy on her lap, and Capheus knew she was listing 50-and-ongoing possible ways she could exact revenge on the BPO Headhunter like an organized mental to-do list.

I'm worried about Mavis, she admitted. How is she?

He showed her his memories of the young ex-spy inside his head, starting with the image of Mavis rolling her eyes as Will pinned her against the front of the van, to Kiira's utter amusement judging by her giggle.

They sat in silence for a while as he waited for Kiira to sift through his mind. As the sky dimmed outside, she looked at the leather-strapped watch on her wrist. "I'm afraid I must to leave. I'd rather reach my flat before it gets dark."

Kiira stood up, as did Capheus. "Do you need an escort?"

She shook her head but smiled. "That won't be necessary. It's only three blocks away"—and it's best if we go in different directions in case we're followed. "But thank you."

Before she made a move towards the stairs, though, she paused to survey Capheus again. His head was slightly bowed so could see eye-to-eye, and his hands were clasped in front of his chest. Upon seeing the signature tilt of her head, he read her thoughts and found out she had a tendency to do the same whenever she was nervous. She was counting the little cues in his mannerisms that she too possessed, wondering how many were caused by genetic factors.

Then his mouth opened slightly as he searched for more to say. Truth be told, it had been years since he last imagined the two of them meeting in person, too. He projected this thought forward, hoping she would hear it.

She nodded.

"Imagining a meeting is different from experiencing it," she concluded. "But it's been good, getting to know you." She held out her hand, and he shook it. Her grip was firm, and her chin was raised, giving off an air of confidence much like their late father.

"Yes, it's wonderful to finally meet." I've missed you.

"You could stay a while longer. They have excellent tea," she told him before she made her way down the stairs.

I hope we'll meet again, Capheus.

The last thing Sun had expected that night was a call from Detective Mun. But life's found a way of defying her expectations once again, she concluded, as Nomi shoved a burner phone into her hand and guided her to the kitchen.

"I didn't know you had a romantic streak, Miss Bak," Mun said through the line. "But thanks for the chocolate bars. They're my favorite."

It's true. He used to buy one every day.

Sun glared, and Nomi winked and nodded at the phone. "There are many things you don't know about me."

"That's true. I don't even know where you are."

"Nice try, Detective."

She heard ruffling from the other end. Then, "Huh. No return address on the envelope. Well, it was worth a shot."

She glowered as she focused on the presence of Nomi's mind. You sent a card?

Who sends gifts without a greeting card? was the reply.

"My friends at the station," Mun continued, "told me someone found the footage of my shooting from the Gala?"

"And?"

There was the sound of a wrapper opening, then he gave a slight, satisfied moan as he bit into the chocolate bar, savoring the taste. She sighed, annoyed at the dramatic pause.

"I'm asking because… You disappeared, and then a mysterious stranger tipped off the police?" he asked with his mouth still full, before swallowing. "I can't help but wonder if you're involved."

Mrs. Cho was right, Sun thought, crossing her arms. Rhetorical questions are the worst.

"Don't worry, Miss Bak. I'm looking for your brother, not you."

"Stay away from Joong-Ki. He is more dangerous than you think."

"I know," he sounded almost solemn when he spoke again, but then the air of gravity was broken with a chuckle. "But so am I. He's failed to kill me twice, after all."

If they were talking in person and he wasn't injured, she would have punched the smug grin she knew he was wearing right off his face. "I'm serious, Detective."

"So am I. I can take care of myself, Miss Bak."

"Just be careful."

"I'll talk to my lawyer tomorrow when I get out," he told her. She heard him break off another piece of chocolate. "He's not getting away that easily."

Wolfgang was addicted to hearing Kala talk about grenades. Maybe it was because her improvised explosive had once saved his life at his uncle's. Perhaps she always looked like a Goddess when she was surrounded by orange flames; or, in this case, rows of colorful chemicals bubbling in beakers.

"It has to be able to break on impact," Kala said to Mr. Hoy, who was sitting on a stool nearby, documenting their progress with the Blocker assembly that day. "But if we were to carry it around, we also can't risk having it break by accident."

"Aye, you won't want your wee backs to be marred when you've got Headhunters chasin' after you," Mr. Hoy agreed.

She turned to Wolfgang and Felix, who sat nearby, pressing filled black capsules together with their other halves, the last batch that day. "What do you think?"

"Bombs are always a good idea," Felix said.

Wolfgang nodded. "They won't be expecting it. And it's easier to aim."

The clock struck twelve. Felix passed Wolfgang the pressed capsules and bade everyone good night, followed by Mr. Hoy, who retreated into the Speakeasy underneath the chemical workstation to contact an Archipelago Blocker dealer.

Wolfgang counted twenty capsules to put inside each reused bottle. He covered the old labels with blank stickers and wrote the new date on top.

Kala stood up to go wash the beakers near the sink. "I suppose it would be useful for those of us who can't shoot well. But it's not as fatal."

Wolfgang smiled at the way she frowned when she thought about the damage her explosive should bring. "Do you want it to be?"

She turned off the tap so he could hear her response. "It just has to be corrosive and create enough of obstruction for people to stop shooting at us. But oh"—she turned around and ran back to her laptop, still speaking as she frantically typed down her ideas before she could forget—"if I can create a reaction that produces a poisonous fog, perhaps it could take out the enemies more permanently."

He stood up and inched his way towards where she sat, one side leaning against the edge of the station for support. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds very sexy."

She smiled as she scrolled up, scanning her earlier notes for the grenade design. Her hair was in a messy bun, and one strand had fallen loose on the side. He reached out a hand to tuck it inside the rubber band, kissing the area where it tickled her neck.

"It's midnight," he said into her ear.

She turned to face him, frowning as she took in his still-pallid complexion. "You should go to bed, bhediya."

"What about you?"

"I'm working on the formula for the grenade." She turned back to her screen.

Words he never thought he'd hear someone say. He smirked, showcasing his dimples in their entirety. "You can finish tomorrow."

As if on cue, she yawned. "No, you go ahead. I'll finish up."

"I'll wait for you, then." He tried to sit down slowly, but the stool he had chosen was too low, and his body betrayed him as he let out a strained gasp. Felix was right. He still needed a fucking cane.

She sighed, turning back to him as she lowered her stool to look him in the eye. "Wolfgang. You're recovering. Go to bed."

And that smirk was back, the one that made her cave every time. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't have my cane."

"Wolfgang," she groaned, closing her laptop. She stood up. "Alright," she declared, crossing her arms. "I am only helping you because I don't want you to fall down the stairs."

His smirk grew wider. "Yeah, okay."

She held out her hand and pulled him up gently. She wasn't wearing heels, and for the first time, she noticed their height difference: she'd have to stand on tiptoes so their eyes could be at the same level. Laying his arm on her shoulder, she put her arm against the small of his back and guided him outside the room.

The stairs weren't much of a challenge, but she could tell they were going a little too fast for his comfort even though he tried to keep himself from grunting. All the way up, she wondered if she should scold him for not using his cane, but then he paused halfway to catch his breath, and she nearly kicked herself for being harsh.

Her grip on his back tightened, and her voice was softer when she spoke again. "We're almost there."

He nodded and continued walking, slower now, trying to keep his frantic breathing under control. When they reached the top and rounded the corner, they stepped into the first room, the one they'd been sharing. She guided him to bed and gave him a new ration of Blockers, not wanting any Headhunters to invade his mind in his sleep.

He'd all but collapsed into the bed when he tried to lie down.

After washing up, she climbed in from the other side. He turned to watch as she settled in next to him, smiling when she noticed she was still awake. She helped him undress, lifting the shirt he wore over his chest, and he cringed when he looked down and was greeted by the new bruises and old scars he'd tried to forget.

She pulled the shirt off, lowering his head into the pillow slowly. Then she took off his pants and socks but decided against pulling off his boxers. She had caved enough for one night.

"It's getting better," Kala said, kissing a particularly angry bruise.

Wolfgang wasn't sure he believed that. But when she laid down again and turned to face him, she was smiling, and the last thing he wanted was to see the smile vanish. So he nodded and inched closer to peck her on the lips.

She closed her eyes and hummed, sounding content. He smoothed her hair back with his fingers in the way he knew she found calming, and soon he felt her drifting off, her presence fogging in their shared consciousness until only an ever-present radiance remained, even as his Blocker kicked into place.

"You're the cure," he mumbled, watching her smile grow wider as she slept.