When Saffron awoke, the amber late afternoon sun of autumn streamed through her bedroom windows. She lay in her bed, not moving but just looking at the patterns of light and shadow on the wall.

Weeping into her pillow until she exhausted herself into a fitful sleep was an old habit she didn't care to get back into. And here she was, spending what remained of her Saturday hiding in her room, wrestling with a torrent of feelings that she didn't fully understand.

I can sort it out myself, she thought. I did it before. I can do it again.

She'd thought she was fine. Until this morning.

Playing at word games and double entendres, teasing one another mercilessly, finding new ways to raise each others' hackles and then having fun bringing things back to the start again… All of these were things she was used to, things she enjoyed.

Things she loved doing with Jack.

But this day, she'd felt so wonderful doing all of them again — with Tony.

It wasn't right, was it?

She knew she was struggling when Tony walked off and she reacted like a sulking teenager.

And then he'd said it: "Gorgeous."

Every wall she'd built the past eight years fell in on her at once when he'd said the word.

Because she couldn't bear to blame herself for the shoddy construction patch-up she'd been doing on her emotions for the past decade, she unleashed the rage she felt for doing such a terrible job on Tony. Over a word — Jack's word. His special word just for her, the one that always made her feel like the sexiest, most desirable woman ever to have lived. The one that never failed to remind her how much he loved her.

The thing was… It wasn't Jack's word. It wasn't her word. It was simply a word for anyone to use.

It was just a word. Tony had as much right to it as Jack had or she had. He didn't know he'd done something wrong, at least in her eyes.

She'd made it crystal clear to him, though. That much was certain.

Her stomach ached at the memory of the way she'd treated Tony. The look on his face when she'd told him never to touch her again… How his smile vanished when she'd gone cold on him in the room with the mirror…

How she'd told him she hated him.

There wasn't any coming back from that, was there?

After the sunlight turned a deep butterscotch, Saffron drew herself a bath. Letting the steam and heat wrap around her, she closed her eyes and tried to forget about what was apparently going to be one of the worst days of her life.

She couldn't.

Rubbing her shoulder where Tony's hand had so briefly rested, Saff forced herself to think about him.

What was he doing right now? Was he going through everything like she had? Trying to make sense of it all?

Would she be able to face him? When? Where? What would it take?

And how could she ever make it right with Tony again?

That question brought about another thought: Exactly what was "right" between the two of them?

One thing she knew for sure. This day wasn't an example of it, whatever it was.

The bath helped, but Saffron's mind was still racing. She had to get out of her flat, but it was early evening now. The sky was a fabulous pink and dark purple as sundown loomed.

Taking the Tube, Saff found herself back at the cleanup project site. The building looked threatening in the fading light. But the thought of the mirror somehow being broken or destroyed nagged at her.

In truth, she hoped she'd find Tony there. She doubted she would, but maybe if he hadn't gone she could fix things with him. All the apologies owed were on her end, not his; Tony was guilty only of trying to make her smile.

Inside the building, there was barely enough light for Saffron to find her way upstairs to the third floor. She instinctively reached for her trusty glasses, but remembered that she was wearing contacts. So she went slowly, squinting against the growing darkness.

Finally, she made it back to the room where she'd found the mirror. Everything was clean.

And the mirror was gone.

Saff looked around, hoping Tony had maybe just moved it somewhere else in the room. Perhaps he'd put it in a closet to keep it safe. She inched her way across the room to the closet, which was open. There was nothing in it.

Sighing, Saffron felt crestfallen. The mirror was gone, Tony was gone and she felt foolish, standing in a dark, rickety, abandoned apartment building. There was nothing for it but to go back to her flat.

Turning back towards the way she'd come in, Saff suddenly had an eerie sensation that crept up her spine.

Someone else was there, watching her.

Waiting.

She tried to scream but no sound came. The figure hovered in the doorway, blocking her exit.

"Saffron?"

Tony's voice, soft and reassuring, greeted her.

"Oh, Tony!"

Saff rushed across the room, wrapping him in a tight hug. Carefully, Tony embraced her back. She buried her face against his shoulder. In trying not to cry, she found she merely sobbed that much harder and louder.

"Tony, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Tony hugged her a bit tighter.

"Saff, it's okay. Come on, please don't cry."

She wanted to stop, but couldn't. The day had been such a disaster; all of it left her exhausted.

"You know I don't hate you!" Saff sobbed.

"I know," he assured her. "I promise you, I know."

She sobbed some more, grasping him tighter. He hated that she was crying, but loved being in her arms. Already. And he barely knew her.

Allowing himself the secret pleasure of breathing in the scent of her shampoo as she rested her head on his shoulder, Tony silently thanked God that he'd decided to go back inside the building just one more time before leaving for the day.

He'd felt so horrible about what happened with Saffron earlier that he overexerted himself, working at a back-breaking pace to try cleaning as much as he could. Now he was starting to feel the aches and pulls of such physical work. He winced at a sudden sharp, stabbing pain in his lower right side.

Must've got a stitch there, he thought.

Saff, feeling Tony shudder and jerk a bit, pulled back from him, only slightly, so she could look at him. But it was now so dark she couldn't even make out his features.

"'Ow 'bout we get out of 'ere, ey?" Tony suggested, gritting his teeth against the oddly gentle throbbing in his side.

Hearing his Cockney accent return caused Saffron to laugh a bit, which made Tony feel so much better.

"Oy, girl!" he teased gently, "let's go get a pint and some supper."

He didn't really feel like eating, which was completely out of character for him, but knew that he should try to get something down. He'd started feeling vaguely nauseous late in the afternoon, chalking it up to overdoing the day's work. Also, he'd eaten nothing all day. He should be famished, shouldn't he? It was strange. Maybe he was getting sick, damn the luck.

Sniffing back the last of her tears, Saff nodded in the dark at the suggestion. Tony took her by the hand.

Together, they made their way cautiously back down the three flights of stairs, Saffron gripping Tony's hand as if she'd never let it go.