I thought John had not seen me. Focusing on his struggle on the ground with Jeff, he had given no sign that he knew I was on the roof, wrestling with Bolton. And yet he had noticed me and realised that I was in peril and formulated a plan to take Bolton down and eliminate the security team all without letting on that anything was happening.

This is one of my favourite things about John: his competence.

There is another aspect to this which makes it even more remarkable - makes him even more remarkable.

Until the moment that he saw me, John can have had no proof that I was definitely still alive.

Anyone can make contact through a blog. Anyone can play the childish, hurtful game of masquerading as a deceased friend.

John cut through all that in a microsecond. He saw me and understood it all at once and saved me.

He fell in with my plan to escape, to run, and do whatever tasks tomorrow brings, without question. He displayed that absolute trust and confidence in me which I have always found so astonishing - and touching. Who would ask nothing, demand nothing, under circumstances such as these? In my experience, only John.

And then like the utter fool that I have been playing, living in my body as not-me, I told him about Jeff and he was terribly, terribly angry.

It was difficult to see, driving in those dark lanes, but I think he was almost crying with fury.

I mentally kick myself. Selfish. Forgetting that he is unaware of the not-me and only knows, has only ever seen, the me who lives under Mycroft's eye, the half man who fills his life with work to avoid revealing anything about love.

And I don't love Jeff, anyway, though it would not help to mention that now. I did like the sex though, very much. Warm kisses and tender touches, have not previously featured greatly in my sex life, but Jeff was an affectionate and generous lover. Another thing to not say to John.

I am bewildered by my own stupidity on this point. To mention sleeping with Jeff, to John, who thinks I exist in an asexual bubble, would be startling and crass at any time. To further add that it was marvellous fun, is pure insult. No wonder he was upset.

I am an idiot.

I need, urgently, to be me again.

I need to start lying to John again.

He is sleeping now, lying on one side of the Land Rover floor, with the sleeping bag spread over him. It is just dawn outside, and as I emerge from my thoughts I notice that I have turned my body towards him as I sit, as if he radiates comfort across the cold space to me. I understand this subconscious action. John is a very comforting person to be around.

I have missed him more than I ever imagined possible.

I shift my body slightly. I have been sitting up, my back against the wheel arch, with my arms around my knees, all night. It is time to get up and my limbs are aching.

I stretch as best I can in the confined space and then kneel beside John. In the increasing light I see how the grey in his hair has multiplied and how he holds his jaw set and clenched, even in sleep. He looks like a solider.

I stay very still.

John. It is John, at last and I am not alone.

I do not move, barely breathe, for some time. I am drinking him in and it is such relief that my throat aches.

At last I must wake him. I touch the back of my hand to his cheek.

His eyes open and his nearest hand shoots out and grips my shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"It's time to get up," I say, and then turn my face away so he cannot see that I have been weeping.

Xxxxx

Author's note: just a short chapter. But there will be more soon! -Sef