It was just after eleven in the morning when Bloom ventured outside her bedroom. She'd gotten sleep, somehow, but only after staying awake to hear Baltor shuffle off to his own room, grumbling under his breath and cursing her in one of Sparx's dead languages (she'd recently started learning it at the behest of her birth parents). It gave her an odd sense of calm, hearing him openly annoyed for his own sake and not because there was an audience. Maybe she was as deep in Baltor's head as he seemed to be in her own. A more equal playing field than he'd previously let on, which would be good news for her.

Maybe that was what finally allowed her to sleep.

That or the extra protective spell she'd put on the bedroom door.

Baltor had migrated right back to where he'd been the night before on the couch, only now the table next to him held a glass of juice, a datapad, and something wrapped in a dish towel - probably a bag of ice based on the condensation. Bloom made it a point to sound cheerful as she walked past him to the kitchen. "Good morning. Hope you saved some breakfast for me."

Baltor glared at her, rubbing a nasty-looking bruise on his cheek. "I think my jaw is broken."

She opened the refrigerator door, looking for the fruit they'd ordered yesterday. Vallisto was - surprisingly - known for its wide variety of apples, though the climate to grow them seemed off. "Good."

"Don't you think when the Council forced you into this, an unspoken but generally agreed-upon rule was to not allow physical harm to come to me?"

"You know, I actually don't, considering you cost the dimension three billion credits-worth of damages and tried to destabilize its geo-political structure. Anything else?"

"A simple no next time will suffice."

"Don't get drunk and take my shirt off next time, and I will just say no." Bloom slammed the refrigerator door shut. "Not that there actually will be a next time, or any instance where I willingly sleep with you."

Baltor didn't rise to the obvious taunt, instead regarding her with a look she couldn't decipher but instinctively knew she didn't like. "Do you know how expensive that bottle you emptied was?"

"To do that again," Bloom gestured to his cheek, then bit into her apple. "I'd dump two bottles."

Instead of answering, Baltor lifted his glass of juice to his lips. She'd seen him look murderous before, but this time the annoyance in his eyes seemed particularly charged. Her heart sped up a bit, but Bloom held his gaze, blue eyes on blue, until Baltor scoffed and reached for the datapad on the table. "It must be exhausting," he drawled with his usual mask of sarcasm and indifference. "To be so perfect and morally just all the time."

Bloom blinked. She didn't know what to say to that surprisingly astute observation. So she ignored it, her gaze drifting to the datapad. "Catching up on the headlines?"

"Reading chatter."

Her eyebrows rose. "Chatter about what?"

That familiar smirk came back to his face. "Me, of course. From some guards who work at the Council building in Magix. No one's been into my cell in the last twenty-four hours, the cameras for it are down, and none of the higher ups are answering questions. The rumors are flying."

"And that's just out in a news article or something?"

"Of course not. It's a message board on a dark corner of the realm-wide-web." He glanced up at Bloom when she didn't say anything. "Don't tell me you're surprised?"

"Honestly?" She took another bite of apple. "I'm just surprised you can work a datapad. You don't seem like a technology kind of person."

"It's not a speciality. Zenith and other technologically-based magic is weak in relative terms, but that doesn't mean it's without use."

"But you never raided Zenith. You never learned any of their spells."

The smirk, which had more or less remained on Baltor's face as they spoke, disappeared. It was replaced with yet another look Bloom couldn't fully understand. She would have been frustrated, but unlike the other times, she was able to make out the central emotion. For whatever reason, she'd made Baltor uncomfortable.

"I never needed Zenith's spells," he finally muttered. His eyes were on the datapad, but unmoving.

"Why not?"

"They're...hardwired, so to speak."

It took Bloom a second to untangle his meaning. "The Ancestresses. They...gave the spells to you when they gave you the rest of your magic?"

"Gave is not the phrase I would use. It's far too generous. The spells were infused - along with others - when I received my dark magic. What Zenith lacks in brute magical force it makes up for in spell writing. Their magic was deemed necessary for any of their followers."

From his tone of voice, Bloom could guess the infusion wasn't a pleasant experience, and that Baltor wanted her to drop the subject. She did. "Well either way, I take it being talked about on dark corners of the web is a good thing?"

"It means my contact will be keeping an eye out for me. And there's no point keeping them waiting." He set the datapad down and stood, walking past her to the kitchen. Bloom noticed that despite last night, he made no efforts to avoid close proximity, brushing his shoulder with her own. "We should head there tonight."

"I thought we were giving it a day?"

"And I thought you wanted this over with," Baltor said. "But we can be overly cautious - you are in charge, after all. Another night in a secluded, small house. Just you, me...the unlocked cabinet of alcohol -"

"So we go tonight, great. When and where is the meetup point?"

Bloom was turned, and therefore unable to see the expression on Baltor's face, but she could just tell it was that self-indulgent smirk. "After sundown. The meeting point is a club in the city center called Ayin."

She raised an eyebrow and did turn to face him then as he refilled his juice. "Your contact in an evil underground network stealing light from the universe is at a club?"

"A loud club in a resort town where people come and go unnoticed all the time." He replied pointedly. Baltor again gave her a look as if he found what she'd said particularly stupid. "You constantly think of evil as myself, or one of the Trix. And while true, is not how most evil exists in the universe. It's in greed and anger and sadness, done by normal people who haven't come close to wrecking the havoc I have."

The candidness of Baltor's words caught Bloom off guard. "People like that are not as bad as you."

"Maybe not on a grand scale," he admitted after a moment. "But sometimes the greatest evil comes from personal betrayal."

Her thoughts flashed back to Sky, years ago at Eraklyon's Millennium Ball as he called Diaspro up in front of the crowds to declare his love for her. Amongst the cheering and sounds of glasses clinking in celebration, Bloom had felt her heart shrivel up and go cold. Even now, knowing the circumstances behind it, thinking back on that night for too long made her upset. "I guess you're right." Bloom said quietly, more to herself than him.

Baltor looked mildly intrigued, but said nothing out loud. She almost thanked him for it, before getting a grip on her emotions and shaking her head. "So," she continued with the same fake cheeriness she'd used when first coming in the room. "We need to keep attention off ourselves tonight, I take it? Which means going into town and finding some beachy, non-conspicuous clothes?"

The change of conversation seemed to surprise him. He gave her a curious look while he finished his second glass of juice. "You expect me to know that?"

Bloom gave him a look. "Baltor please. You are the most primping, looks-oriented man I've ever met. Don't act coy, just tell me what to wear."

It was several hours later, after visiting three different shops in town, that Bloom truly regretted her words.

She had been foolish. She knew - she knew - what beach towns were like. Areas of Gardenia and the cities around it were beach towns. There were five-star resorts, sure, but people her age wore low-cut dresses and open shirts, walked around with drinks in hand at all hours of the day, and attempted to sleep with anyone that had a pulse. Regardless of monetary standards. That meant in order to go unnoticed, she had to look like one of those twenty-somethings. And that had been far easier to pull off in her head compared to real life.

And there were other things to worry about.

"It might appear suspicious to other members of the Council, requesting these documents."

Bloom frowned at herself in the mirror, shifting the phone from one ear to the other as she tried to make her eyeliner match. "The Council owes me, Tom. They gave me less than a day to decide on working a major undercover mission. The least they can do is send me copies of the files they have on the war criminal they paired me with."

"Anything happen we should know about?"

She made a face in the mirror and set the eyeliner down. There was no way she was going to go over what occured last night. "Nothing's wrong, just what I said before. Fighting Baltor is a lot different than working with him."

"If he's giving you trouble, we can -"

"Pull me out?" she chuckled humorlessly. "You and I both know that's never going to happen."

He didn't try and deny it, which Bloom appreciated. "I can have the files rushed and dropped in the morning, including the depositions you and the girls gave. Anything else you want me to include?"

"That truth lasso?"

Tom did laugh at that. "Good try. Anything else?"

Bloom thought for a moment. "Could someone stop by my dorm? I had a few books checked out that might help me. They were just in a pile on my desk."

"I can arrange that. Nothing from Alfea's restricted section? Don't want an earful from Faragonda."

"No, but...there's two in there from Cloud Tower."

It was silent on the other end of the line for a while. "They are going to talk."

Bloom bit her lip, then swore to herself when the red lipstick smudged on her teeth. She reached across the vanity for a tissue. "I know."

"You should've given those back months ago."

"Icy's still out there somewhere," Bloom reminded him. "Tell them that if they ask. I was looking for background information on how to track her down. God knows you expect us to do it, anyway."

"I don't expect that."

"And the rest of them?" she said pointedly, because Bloom liked Tom, really. But she couldn't say the same for everyone else.

Across the static of the line, she could hear him tapping on a surface. "And how should I explain any bookmarks or notes you left in them? Will they be regarding Icy, or how fairy dust affects dark creatures?"

Bloom didn't say anything to that. Tom joining the Council later on meant he gave Bloom more leeway compared to the other members - he hadn't been around to see her as a bumbling teenager, only the girl people whispered about as she walked down a hallway. He found her to be capable, and never treated her with kid gloves. He was too perceptive to do that.

It also meant he easily picked up on the guilt Bloom had when Baltor emerged for a second time. And he understood why she had gone to Griffin to ask for a special authorization to check out books from Cloud Tower's library - he had signed off on it. Bloom desperately wanted to understand where she had gone wrong in trying to destroy Baltor. Part of her had even wondered if she could get Baltor to tell her over the course of the mission.

She gave up on that idea around the time he tried to french kiss her belly button.

"Tom, come on," was all Bloom said aloud.

There was a long pause. "I can take out any bookmarks you left in them."

Bloom sighed in relief. "Thank you."

"Thank me by coming out of this unscathed. We're still looking for background information on this Ayin club, but there's nothing out of the ordinary."

Finally satisfied with her makeup, Bloom began to dig around in the shopping bag she'd brought back from earlier with her clothes (or what passed for clothing here). "So it's clean for the most part?"

"Clean as far as a place like that goes. Usual drunk and disorderly arrests, and a red sand bust four years ago. But the owners filled out all the paperwork and paid the fines."

"Were the owners Dyamondite refugees?"

She heard papers flipping. "They...were, yes. Still are. Owned by the same person since it opened. We're still working up a full profile on him. How'd you know?"

Bloom yanked the tags on the top off with her teeth, feeling momentarily guilty when the tags tore before remembering she hadn't used her own money to purchase it. "Lucky guess. Will you send the full profile over with the other stuff? I'm about to head out."

"You'll have everything you need. I'll keep the line on in my office. Watch yourself out there and with him. Baltor's clever: stay one step ahead."

The advice seemed too little too late. "You got it."

Now that both of her hands were free, Bloom adjusted the shirt as well as she could - it was a sheer, bright thing; something she expected to find in Stella's closet instead of her own. She was grateful she'd packed that black bra - it seemed to be coming in handy on her trip. Once that was done she walked out to look herself over in the full-length mirror of the bedroom.

She looked like a twenty-something tourist ready to dance and get drunk, that was for sure. Bright top, shimmery eyeshadow, and low-cut shorts she never would have picked for herself in a million years. Bloom pulled at the garment in question, debating if she'd be more comfortable with showing extra skin below her navel or at the top of her thighs. Neither sounded good.

Bloom looked over longingly at the flowy, floor-length beach dress she had brought with her and planned to wear before their shopping trip. It looked comfortable and covered far more than what she was wearing now.

She huffed, frustrated, and turned on her heels, walking out of her bedroom, across the hall, and into the doorway of Baltor's room. The ensuite door was ajar, and Bloom could hear him rummaging around inside as the sink ran.

"Is this really necessary?" she called.

The sink turned off. "At the risk of bruising the other side of my face?"

"I look ridiculous," she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror as she said it, and started fidgeting with the hem of her top. "This flimsy piece of fabric shouldn't even be classified as a shirt. And it cost sixty-three credits!"

"You could always just let me go inside alone."

"Nice try," Bloom shot back, letting her eyes scan over the room. The bed looked like it had actually been slept in, which she hadn't expected. A half empty bottle (when had Baltor had time to get into the liquor cabinet again?) was on the nightstand next to a glass of water, and his other clothes were strewn about the room with the exception of his jacket, which had been folded over the back of an armchair with care. The normality of it was striking. "It had to be a beach club? Your guy couldn't have owned a Michelin star restaurant?"

"A what?"

Stupid untranslatable Earth references. "Forget it. You ready to go? The sooner we get this over with the better."

There was another pause. "We should go over a few things before we do."

"Can't we do that while walking to Ayin?"

The ensuite door opened and Baltor stepped out. "No. Discussing it on the way is discussing it when we've already begun. It's an amature move."

Bloom opened her mouth to respond, but as her eyes slipped over to Baltor, she found it impossible to speak. It wasn't as if she was surprised he cleaned up well - he had always been handsome, and Bloom knew that. But he looked so...casual, so unlike himself for a moment her brain short-circuited. His hair was tied up in a bun, something on-trend for the men of Littus but unexpected for him. The clothes, too, had been swapped for dark jeans and a low collar shirt. It fit loosely, but it was obvious that if pulled tight, nothing would be left to the imagination.

"Feel free to stare as long as you like," Baltor's voice brought Bloom back to herself, and when she met his gaze there was a glint of what had been present the night before.

She swallowed, shaking her head. "It's...you look different. That's all."

"I could say the same. You were right - that does barely qualify as a shirt."

"And it's nice to see a new look can't hide the fact that it's still you." She straightened up and crossed her arms, telling herself it had nothing to do with obstructing any sort of view. "You said we had to talk. Talk."

The look on his face turned serious. "I wasn't lying to you before. The kind of people working for my master are not the type to show restraint. It doesn't occur to them. They don't trust anyone."

"Which is why we're doing this," Bloom moved her hair to expose the side of her neck. There, just visible under the lights, was a replica of Baltor's mark she's spelled on herself. "So if they get suspicious, there's a plausible reason I'm with you."

"It's not if they get suspicious, it's when. That," Baltor reached out as if to touch the mark, but stopped when she leaned away. "Is not a guarantee of our safety."

"Our?"

"Yes, our. If they realize I'm leading them on, I'll be just as dead as you. And they'll probably kill me first."

Bloom sighed, trying to disperse the tension starting to build in her shoulders. When she looked at Baltor again, he was still giving her that serious expression. But he also looked concerned. "This is why I didn't want you here," he said after a moment, and she was surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "You have no experience with deceit of this caliber. It's going to be hard enough for them to believe I broke out of the Magix Council's basement, but that I managed to mark you and take you with me?"

"It's a hard sell, I know."

"Do you? Because while yes, you're powerful, it seems to me you're a girl in over her head."

"I'm not about to blow this," Bloom met his gaze and tried to sound more confident than she felt. "I may not be crazy about dressing like a party girl and pretending to be under your control, but I can look past that to the bigger picture. The universe is in danger. And if I don't help you now, a lot of people are going to get hurt. I'm not about to let that happen."

For the briefest second, it looked like Baltor didn't believe her. She wanted to call him out on it, but just as quickly the look was gone. Instead he nodded. "Then you need to let me take the lead on this, and trust me not to ruin it. Because even if you don't like me, rest assured I don't feel like dying in this hellhole city via a group of low-level criminals. If you show the slightest apprehension, this isn't going to work."

It was the most sincere Bloom had ever heard him. She thought back to the little cell he'd spent the last month or so in, and the clarity of his yes when she asked if the people he worked for scared him. Baltor had never seemed to scare easily in the time Bloom had known him. He'd laughed at authority and gone ransacking planets with reckless abandon. He was smart, a gifted sorcerer, and perhaps most importantly, never let on when he wasn't in control. It was very obvious he didn't feel that way now.

Tom had told her to stay one step ahead of Baltor at all times, to not let her guard down. But he also knew she and the rest of the Winx worked best when they had people they trusted at their side. Bloom didn't trust Baltor fully, not by a long shot, but she trusted the fact he wanted to get through their arrangement in one piece.

"Okay," she finally said, and let her hands come down to rest at her sides.

Baltor raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"I don't like it," Bloom admitted, and allowed the smallest smile to cross her lips. "But that can't matter right now."

There was a pause for several seconds as Baltor seemingly processed her willingness to follow his lead without a major argument. "No," he said after a few moments. "It can't."

"Then we understand each other." Bloom turned and headed to the living room, but not before picking up the half-empty alcohol bottle and waggling it in his general direction. Baltor muttered something under his breath, but followed her. "Are there specifics you wanted to go over? How I'm supposed to act?"

"Let me lead the conversations. All of them. Unless not answering would raise suspicion, and even then I want you to look at me first. You need the people in there to believe that I control you."

"Fine."

"I'm going to say things you won't like. I'll offend you, I'm sure. You need to get over it now, and not react later."

"I already know you're an asshole." she looked over her shoulder. "Basic disguise spells? Even with the makeover, you're a recognizable face."

"Yes. Be prepared to drop them when needed. Follow the clues of the conversation. Make it look like I still have my powers."

She took note of the gold cuffs still on his wrists. With his current attire, they easily passed for bracelets. "I can do that," she set the bottle in the kitchen before grabbing her bag off the coffee table - a small thing that only had room for one of the magic crystals, some currency notes, and the red lipstick she was wearing. This wasn't so bad. She could do this. "Anything else?"

"Let me touch you."

Bloom whirled on him, fully expecting to see that smirk on his face and becoming concerned when it wasn't. "What?"

"You may be able to hide your face, but your body tells a different story." Baltor took a step forward, and Bloom in turn drew back. That caused the smirk to return, as if the last few minutes of sincerity hadn't happened. "You'll be under my control, remember? They're going to have a hard time believing that if you flinch every time I take your hand."

Her eyes narrowed. "You could just...you know, not do that."

"And miss out on flaunting the greatest thing I could take from the universe? Unlikely."

"I'm not some object to possess. And I don't flinch," Bloom added after a moment.

Baltor gave her a pointed look, and began raising his left arm as if approaching a scared, feral animal. It was painfully slow, and painfully obvious he was doing it for dramatic effect. Bloom rolled her eyes, and before she could second-guess the move, snatched his wrist and placed his hand on her bare shoulder. "See?" she snapped. "Perfectly normal."

The look didn't falter, but in the next moment his other hand was on the opposite shoulder. Bloom felt herself beginning to tense up before literally forcing it to stop. She took several deep breaths and, because she had nowhere left to look, tilted her head to meet Baltor's gaze.

He still looked amused at her reaction, but there seemed to be some sincerity in his gaze. "Relax," Baltor said, and even his voice had gone lower. "Breathe. I don't bite. Unless you want me to."

"You wish." His hands slowly ran down her arms, then back up. Bloom took several deep breaths, managing to keep herself relaxed.

"Very much so," Baltor said, so casually Bloom didn't register it at first. By the time it caught up to her it was too late to retort. And she was too distracted as one of the hands wrapped around her shoulder and drew her close. "But I'm sure you'd like to avoid any...public displays of affection."

In an attempt to regain the upper hand in the situation, and to convince herself what Baltor was doing wasn't bothering her, Bloom reached up and snaked her arms around his neck. Even without the Dragon Fire, he was still warm. "That would be a correct assumption, yes."

"Hmm. I'll make a note of it. Turn."

She did, her hands sliding over his own as Baltor pulled her back flush against his chest. "I should let you know, regardless of the charade we're putting on tonight, if you go for my bra again I'll make sure they kill you first."

She felt the breath of a laugh on her ear instead of hearing it outright. "I'll be sure to go into explicit detail beforehand if my hands have to wander anywhere less than gentlemanly."

The tone of Baltor's voice made her shiver involuntarily. "Just because a bunch of horny college kids might be attempting to have sex on the dancefloor doesn't mean you need to follow in their footsteps. We're here to do a job."

"And a job we shall do." Baltor leaned forward, and Bloom could see his face out of the corner of her eye. "See? Not so bad. And believable, with a little coaxing."

Her pulse was racing. The only sound besides their breathing came from outside, where animals were no doubt skirting around in the lush forest the back balcony overlooked. "I'm glad. That it's believable, that is. Since it doesn't mean anything."

"Now when did I say it would?" Just as quickly as Bloom seemed to get used to his hands on her body, they disappeared. Baltor stepped away from her and over the front door of the house. He held it open, looking at her expectantly. "Shall we?"

A power play. Every damn thing he did, even with risk to his own mortality. Darcy, of all people, echoed in Bloom's head: if you play that game, you can get what you want.

Bloom had been trying to play for the last twenty-seven hours. She wished she was better at it.

"We don't have all night, you know. It'll be too crowded soon."

A desire to punch him again came on so suddenly it almost made her double over. Bloom looked around and, instead of actually doing so, grabbed the bottle she'd taken out of Baltor's room and took a large swig. Rum, dark and aged, burned as it slid down her throat. She'd never been a fan of the stuff, but it chased away the murderous thoughts.

Baltor was staring at her in open shock when she straightened up. Carefully, keeping her eyes trained on his, she slid her tongue along her lips to gather the excess drops of liquid.

His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, and Baltor gulped before very noticeably trying to regain control of his emotions.

Off his guard. Exactly the reaction she wanted. Bloom walked right past him and into the warm night air, grinning.

Truly, truly, I apologize for the delay in updating. 9 months, jeez, some of you guys could have made a kid in the time it took me to write this (but I hope you found better ways to spend your time).