Miranda was tracing her fingers over the bare skin of Hart's chest, enjoying his warmth. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his wonderful scent. She was so very happy and she gave herself over to it freely for the first time in a long time. Hart was just as content. He felt peaceful and free and he hadn't felt like that in a long time either. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, his lips tracing her hair. They'd just collapsed after their third round of love making. Now that they'd caught their breath, they were just laying in each other's arms, talking. The two of them had postured with each other for so long and there'd been so much falseness between them but now they removed those barriers. They spoke to each other open and honestly and it didn't feel strange or awkward to either of them.

"You know, Henry calls you one thing. Joe calls you something else. So does Jack. So does Eye Candy," he said. He ran his fingers through her hair. He let out a small chuckle. "Are any of them the truth?"

She laughed, throwing her leg over his. "I've lived a long time. The people in my life know me by one name or another. They're all the truth because they're all who I am." She teased, "Don't tell me you and Jack aren't using aliases."

He laughed, his breath warm against her hair. "We're not."

"Not what?"

"Using aliases."

She let out a scoff, not believing him.

"Jonathan Wixson," he admitted.

"What?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him.

"My name. It's Jonathan Wixson," he repeated.

"Your name is actually Jon?" she said, surprised.

He kissed the top of her head again, smiling at her. "I shouldn't have to tell you that it's easier that way."

"Can I ask you something?" she asked.

"You just did, love," he said, brushing his finger down her cheek.

"Why did you join the Time Agency? I know Jack did do so he could find Gray but why did you?" she asked, tilting her head up to look at him.

Hart sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "Me joining the Time Agency was all part of Papa's big plan - money and influence."

She continued to trace lazy circles on his skin and said, "I'm guessing that he had neither."

"At first," he said with a shrug. "He'd amassed a small fortune by the time we were all born but it wasn't enough for him. I'm the youngest of six. My brothers and sisters? He carefully placed all of us on the right planets with the right jobs. I was the last piece of the puzzle, his crowning achievement - The Time Agency."

"Is that where you met Jack?" she asked.

He took his hand in hers and kissed it. "We were sitting next to each other during the first day's orientation. Couldn't have been more different, us. Country mouse, city mouse. We were thick as thieves and we were. Thieves I mean. Papa was why I started running cons with Jack, looking for that one big score that would leave me set and would free me from him. He kept us all under his boot. The only one who managed to get free was Een…"

Miranda didn't ask what happened. The grief and sadness in Hart's voice was all she needed to make her own assumptions. She hugged him close, nuzzling her head into his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"He made a choice," Hart said, knowing she would understand. "When the Agency fell, Papa didn't know what to do with me. Without my job, I was worthless to him and I'd never learned to be on my own completely. He cut me off while he figured out where to move me next… fucking pawns is all any of us are to him. I kept running cons because I didn't know what else to do… and that brought me here."

He was lying a bit. He couldn't tell her exactly why he'd come here but it was partially true. When he'd decided to take care of Gray, he'd given up. He'd decided to go back to Epsilon Kanai because he'd tried it on his own and it wasn't working. He'd decided to go back to his lot in life. Life under his father's boot wasn't easy but it was simple. It was something he understood. Before he went back, he'd decided to tie up some loose ends. That had all gone out the window when he'd met her.

He tugged at her arms and Miranda shifted to lay on top of him, her legs straddling his hips. She leaned forward, kissing him tenderly. Her lips were soft and cool. Hart plunged his hands into her hair as he slowed the kiss, turning down its volume. When they came up for air, she was staring down at him, running her fingers along the shell of his ears. He focused on the love and trust in her eyes. He kissed her again with more heat.

When they broke apart, Hart spoke again. He smiled and said, "Turning over a new leaf…"

She smiled. "Mei-Xiu was what my mother called me. She found me at the base of a tree on the edge of a forest. The area I grew up in didn't have a name then. We were simple people." She rested her chin on his chest. "My mother died of a fever and a few years later, I caught the eye of a local warlord. My father was more than happy to sell me." She reached up to run her fingers through Hart's hair.

She caressed his face, peppering his jawline with kisses. She buried her nose into his neck and inhaling his scent, trying to burn it into her memory. Her voice was muffled slightly against his neck. "The warlord who owned me was a decent man who didn't mistreated me. I was a part of his harem for years before we were attacked. Some of us were killed but most of us were claimed as spoils of war." Miranda pulled back slightly, resting her ear against his chest to listen to the slow strong beat of his heart. "Some of us were killed for sport later. Some of us succumbed to disease. Some of us starved. Most of us went to the warlord's bed to never return."

Hart's arms tightened around her.

"He gave me to his men first, watching and laughing. He was cruel; his appetites deviant. Something snapped in my mind that night. I started to laugh at him; mocking him. He beat me to death. I revived in a field. I thought I was in the afterlife or that I was a cursed spirit."

Miranda could hear and feel him chuckling at her. She sat up and glared at him. He was smothering a grin, desperately trying not to laugh. She dug her finger into his shoulder. "Oi! It was four thousand years ago!"

"Did I say anything?" he looked down at her with feigned innocence. He was desperately trying not to laugh nor was he the slightest bit phased that she'd just admitted to being four thousand years old. "A cursed spirit? Really?"

"You're mocking me," she said feigning hurt. She gave him a playful smile. "I was an uneducated slave. I didn't even know how to read most of my life."

"And look at you now, Dollface," he said, resting his hands on her hips. Remembering how much she always objected to his use of the endearment, he quickly said, "Sorry…."

"I don't mind it really," she said. She felt her cheeks warm.

He slapped her leg playfully. "I thought you were cross about it!"

"My first husband used to call me something similar," she admitted.

"Do I remind you of him?" he asked.

She thought about it for a minute. It was the first time, in a long time, she hadn't thought about him without pain. "Not really."

"Tell me about him," he said, honestly wanting to hear.

No one had ever asked her that before. "After I revived, I wandered for a long way. I don't know how I got to his home. I'd collapsed from thirst or hunger or both. I may have died from exposure a few times, I don't remember."

She ran her fingers up and down Hart's sides, tracing her fingers along each scar. So many… "I remember drinking so fast from the bowl he gave me that I was sick. I was bedridden for days, too weak to stand. When I finally was strong enough to walk, I offered myself to him and he refused me."

"A man of will," he said with a wry smile.

Miranda gave Hart a playful slap on the chest. "A man of honour. I started out serving him as cook and housekeeper. I didn't believe him when he told me I was immortal. I thought he'd nursed me back to health from my wounds."

"How'd he convince you?"

She let out a chuckle. "He killed me."

"Bet you believed him then," he teased.

She gave him another playful slap. "He taught me the Game and the sword. I don't remember as much about him as I'd like." Her eyes unfocused, looking distant but sad. "He was tall, strong and broad. He liked mushrooms. Sometimes, when he chopped wood, I'd catch him chanting this throaty sort of song. He almost never smiled or laughed." The corner of her mouth quirked. "I'd lived my whole life in a certain station - ruled over and commanded by men. But not with Anj. He taught me that I was his equal. He taught me my worth."

"A king's ransom," Hart whispered, flipping them over so he was on top of her. She let out a small squeak of surprise as he buried his face between her breasts, breathing in deep. "You smell amazing… like jasmine flowers and woodsmoke…"

Her eyes slid closed as his hands ran over her skin, his lips trailing across her chest. She said breathlessly, "So do you… sandalwood… leather and cinnamon…"

She let out a sharp cry and arched her back as he took her nipple into his mouth.

"Jon…" she gasped. Her hands reached up and cradled the back of his neck.

He had no idea how but he knew she was calling him Jon and not John but he did. It was something in the way she said it. And he made it his mission to make her gasp and scream his true name as much as possible. His tongue flicked gently at the hardened nipple, teasing the line between pain and pleasure as he suckled harder. He felt the thighs wrapped around his hips quivering. He brought his other hand up her side, sliding it underneath her, between her shoulder blades. Using that hand, he lifted her up and sat back on his heels, bringing her into his lap. His hands drifted down, gripping her hips, he pulled her forward, sliding himself into her for the fourth time that night. The last time had been a bit playful.

"What's your pleasure this time, love?" he whispered into her ear.

He reached down near the point of his hip and pressed. His cock began vibrating and Miranda let out a stifled cry. She leaned back, locking her eyes with him. "Surprise me."

He smiled. He turned the vibrate setting up to level three. "We'll keep it simple tonight."

Miranda laughed. "Your cock is vibrating. How is that simple?"

With a wicked grin, Hart hit the mod controls again as he thrust into her slowly. This one activated several texturing features at random. Her eyes went wide and he let out a small chuckle. "The latest upgrades, Dollface."

She laughed again and then he thrust into her harder. Her eyes rolled back into her head. "You require such enhancements?" she teased.

"I take that as a challenge," he said with a laugh. He hit the mod controls again, flipping off the texture control and the vibration. "Au natural it is then…"

There was a smile on her face but a seriousness in her voice. "Just you."

Hart felt his world slide away. There was love in her eyes. The pure love he'd seen that first time without pain or grief. He kissed her, feeling a wave of warm spread through him. It started in his chest and as it expanded, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

She rested her forehead against his shoulder and moaned. Hart shifted, tilting his head down to suck hard on her neck, leaving a large purple love bite behind. His lips trailed up towards her ear and his voice shook as he gasped, "The Twins, you're intoxicating…"

She interlocked her ankles behind him, using them as leverage to move, setting a pace that was neither fast nor slow. Her arms snaked around his neck, she clung to him desperately, almost as if she were afraid he'd vanish. He took over control, letting his rhythm wax and wane. After he'd slowed, he sped back up, staring into her eyes. He watched them slide shut and her forehead rested against his. He slowed again and the two of them fell into a deep kiss. He gave one good hard thrust into her g-spot.

"Jon!" she shouted, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Hart laid her back down onto the bed. He steadily increased the force and pace of his thrusting until he arched up and gripped the headboard, using it as leverage. Miranda let out a nearly deafening scream as she came hard. With only a few more hard snaps of his hips, Hart let out his own cry, emptying himself deep within her. After a few more languid thrusts through the aftershocks, he collapsed next to her, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. When he opened them, he turned his head and saw Miranda laying on her side, staring at him.

"What?" he asked. The love was still in her eyes but her eyes were shining. He could have sworn it was tears and a second later he was proven right. A tear slid out of the corner of her eye, onto the pillow under her head.

"Hey… hey, don't do that…" He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her towards his chest. The sight was too reminiscent of the grief he'd seen when he'd first met her. He never wanted to see that look on her face again. "Please, love, I can't bear it."

She whispered, so softly he nearly didn't hear her, "I love you."

He answered immediately, "I love you, too."

Slowly, he realised he'd never uttered those words to anyone. Not once. Not to a family member or lover. Never. The epiphany sent ice pouring down his neck. Fear gripped his heart like a fist and sent it pounding into his throat. He was close to a panic attack. Miranda seemed to not notice the change in him. Their lusty athleticism had exhausted her. He felt her body relax and her breathing slow and even out. She'd fallen asleep. He swallowed, trying to calm his pounding heart. Terrifying thoughts, one after the other, began steam rolling through his mind.

He didn't really love her… did he? He wasn't capable of loving anyone, not really. What was he doing? Had he lost his mind? He was a lying, murdering scoundrel. He was damaged goods. How could anyone feel anything for him? She might be damaged too but she dazzled brighter than anyone he'd ever met. She looked so relaxed. There was a lightness to her face in sleep. He hadn't expected that. He watched her breathe, her chest slowly rising and falling in a regular rhythm. He could have stayed there all night, watching her sleep. And that thought caused more ice to run down his neck.

His brother, Een, had wanted to marry some nobody from some mid-regional colony and their father was having none of it. He had some dingbat he needed to be 'part of the family'. Though Hart hated most of his siblings, his two eldest he'd been close to, Een and his sister, Judi. Een had confided his plans to him.

Nothing is worth pissing him off, he'd warned.

She's worth it, Een had insisted. Love is worth it.

But how do you know you love her? he'd asked his brother.

I like to watch her sleep. It's all about the trust. She trusts me to be vulnerable around me, Een had replied. To always be mindful and watchful was a lesson they had all learned. No weakness. No vulnerability.

Papa will never allow it, he'd said. He hadn't believe his brother that anyone would be worth what their father would do to them.

What's he going to do? Een had said, dismissively.

Een had found out. Their father had had the young woman killed. The authorities had pulled her pregnant body from some river in some dirt part of her home colony. Their father had murdered the woman carrying his first grandchild. His brother, grief stricken and heartbroken, had begun using drugs to what even Hart considered wanton excess. He'd died of an overdose. It was an overdose that Hart was positive had been intentional. His brother had gone mad with grief and taken his own life.

Hart had thought his brother had been foolish and stupid. He'd learned well over the span of his life that his own survival, his own safety, was of chief importance to him. He cared little about what he had to do to protect his own skin. What did it matter? His father had made him do plenty of honourless, cheap and base things for his own greedy ends. At least when he was protecting his own hide, Hart was getting something out of it for himself. Doing something to purposefully defy their father? The idea had made Hart shudder. He didn't think he'd could ever love someone like that and now this radiant creature was laying in his arms. The idea sent him into a panic. His heart was racing. His palms were cold and clammy. He felt like he was suffocating. His throat tightened. His skin crawled like thousands of insects were swarming over him. He had to get out of here. The urge to flee was overwhelming him and he gave in. He shifted as carefully as he could, moving himself away from her. Miranda let out a frustrated keen as she lost his warmth.

"Jon…" she whispered in her sleep.

He swallowed, stamping back the terror in him. He flipped open the cigar box on the bookcase shelf and popped down a few vials of something or another. The high started to hit him and he immediately began tossing his things into a large duffel bag, haphazardly, but quietly. He didn't care if he left anything behind really. He hadn't looked at her once as he packed but after he'd zipped the bag shut, he looked automatically. She looked so peaceful. He wanted to crawl back into the bed. He wanted to fall asleep beside her tonight and every night for the rest of his life. Those three words began creeping up in his head again. He fisted them, crushing them into dust and pounding them into nothingness inside his mind.

He'd completely misinterpreted the situation when he'd first seen her. He hadn't encountered his own death. The reality was so different, he wanted to nearly laugh at it. The gut wrenching grief he'd seen on her face was because he'd left of his own accord. He told himself it was better this way. He'd secured the time line. His job was done. It was time to make like a shepherd and get the flock out of here. He'd come full circle. He strangled the part of him that wanted to stay with her, that wanted a happily ever after. Happily ever after didn't exist for people like him.

With trembling hand, he flipped open his wrist strap and tapped out some random coordinates. By the time the vortex sucked him in, he'd nearly convinced himself the tremor in his hands was from the drugs.