A bit of a short one for you guys but I hope it's satisfying nonetheless!

The next morning Harry woke up to Frank Sinatra.

"It had to be you…
I wandered around
and I finally found
the somebody who
could make me true…"

He looked around the room and saw Guinevere standing, her hips swaying to the song as she examined a book in her hands. He watched her for several moments and noticed she was singing along quietly. Her hips swayed to the soft and melodic trumpet and she hummed.

"And could make me be blue…
and even be glad
just to be sad
thinking of you…"

Harry watched her with a fondness he hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. She was absolutely wonderful—magnificent like his outburst yesterday. She was incomparable. Her bare feet twisted softly on the rug, she twirled a piece of her blond hair between her index and middle finger, looking closely to the words in the book in her hand. Harry wondered if her ribs were feeling better, he hoped at least they were beginning to feel better.

"It had to be you…"

The song ended and another Sinatra song started.

"Where did you get a record player?" Harry asked, sitting up slowly. Guinevere twisted her body around and smiled.

"I asked James to bring it over. I was surprised he did it; I kind of want to see what else he'd do if I ask." She chuckled to herself and sat on her bed across from him. James would serve himself on a silver platter if she asked him to, Harry thought to himself. But who was he kidding, he'd do it too. "I'm sorry I fell asleep in your bed last night. I was just so exhausted…"

"It's quite alright, Guinevere." Harry nodded and stood. She had brewed a pot of coffee and he poured himself a cup. "I have a question."

Guinevere looked up from her book with an expectant expression.

"Yes?"

"I like to pride myself in my hand to hand combat, and I always strive to improve myself."

"Your point?"

"Yesterday when you killed that man with your thighs." Harry paused, "Can you teach me how to do that?" Guinevere set her book down and looked at him with the most unreadable expression Harry's seen from her to date.

"Are you trying to get in between my legs, Harry?"

He smirked and pondered considerably; "Yes I am."

Later that day.

Harry slipped his glasses on and waited for Arthur. He dreaded this call but it had to be done.

"Galahad?" Harry looked out the window on the square their hotel overlooked. Harry was not thrilled by Arthur sounding particularly chipper.

"Yes, Arthur."

"You doing alright I gather?"

"Yes I am. Guinevere got the grunt of it I'm afraid to say." Harry looked at the bathroom door with yearning. She was currently showering, or bathing, he didn't know which. Either way he wanted to be in there with her. God he need to screw his head back on.

"Terrible thing. But I do have good news, we're shipping you back to England, and Miss Kelly back to Monaco. Myself and Monsieur Jacques Renoir of Monaco Secret Service have come to the conclusion that this is an international affairs issue and have conceded to remove you both from Paris to prevent further threat."

Harry paused for a moment, "How is that good news?"

"I'm sorry Galahad, it's too high of a risk to have two agents that have not been trained together for this type of threat."

"Jesus Christ," Harry muttered to himself. "So who's going to stop this man?"

"That's tentative."

"Oh, it's tentative. Arthur this man is insane and could literally strike at any moment. Taking away his number one target is only going to bring him out."

Harry had his hands wrapped around the back of a chair, his posture weak and tired, his knuckles white.

"We understand that and we're dealing with it…Lancelot will escort you and Guinevere to the airport tomorrow morning. No further questions."

The line went dead and Harry slowly took his glasses off. The door opened from the bathroom and Guinevere looked at him curiously. She was wrapped in a towel and her hair, wet and messy dripped on her shoulders. Her bruises were clearing on her face to a light purple/brown. Harry looked away from her and out the window again. No, he would not stand for this.

"What did King Arthur have to say?" She asked, drying the ends of her hair with a hand towel. Harry was silent for a long time. "Harry?"

"We're off the case."

Guinevere stood still. "What?"

"Arthur took us off the case. We're flying out of Paris tomorrow morning."

"He has no right Harry—"

"He spoke with Jacques Renoir, they both concluded we are not fit partners to continue pursuit together." Harry fiddled with his glasses, Guinevere struggled to breath and grabbed her side.

"This is bullshit." She blatantly said. "We work just fine together, wonderfully actually." Harry looked at her and suddenly an idea came upon him. Or at least the start of one.

"How's the ribs?"

"They're fine, still broken obviously." She muttered. Harry stepped closer to her.

"Do you think if you double wrapped them you could have painless movement?"

Guinevere looked at him like he spoke gibberish.

"Well, I suppose moderately painless—what are you getting at Harry?"

"We're going for Teshigahara. Tonight." Guinevere's head shot up and she had the inklings of a smile.

"Do you think we can?"

"Do you think we can't?" Guinevere stood motionlessly in front of him and nodded her head.

"We need a plan." She smiled while she spoke, "And we need to find out where he'll be."

"Leave that to me." Harry said.

"And I'll give my weapons guy a call. A grenade launcher sounds fitting right now." Harry paused for just a moment. The moment itself was soft and airy. He looked at her with admiration and guised excitement. She grabbed her phone, still in her towel and slowly drying hair. They were doing this. They were going rogue.