He loves her so much that sometimes it hurts.

One day a gun is fired at them as they're running from a factory that has been releasing sewage into a local nature reserve. The bullet hits Linka in the arm and Wheeler spends a panic-stricken night in a third world hospital, waiting for her to come out of surgery. He vomits twice before she's given the all-clear, and when she's finally awake and sitting up in bed, he goes in to see her with red-rimmed eyes, a pale face and shaking fingers.

'Yankee,' she says quietly, taking in his wretched state with wide eyes. 'Yankee, I am fine. It was only my arm.'

But he cries hot tears of relief over her anyway, clutching at her hospital sheets while her fingers stroke through his hair. When Ma-Ti comes in later, his hands laden with grapes and magazines, he finds the Fire Planeteer asleep in his chair by Linka's bed. He's bent over at an awkward angle, one arm flung across her hips and his head pressed next to her stomach, tear-stains still on his cheeks. But his face is still and his breathing even, and there is such a look of content happiness on Linka's face that Ma-Ti backs out of the room quietly, unwilling to disturb them.

When they're back at home, Linka is temporarily forbidden from missions until she's fully healed. Every moment Wheeler can spare he spends in her cabin, sometimes taking her dinner in the evening and not emerging until the early hours of the next day.

'If you keep this up, the others will find out,' Linka tells him one morning, pulling the blankets from him with her good arm, trying to kick him out of her bed so that he can still give the impression of having woken in his own. But Wheeler, at this point, couldn't give a fuck about the opinions of the others. He's fairly certain Ma-Ti and Gi know anyway. Ma-Ti's just too kind-hearted to mention it without confirmation first from Linka and Wheeler, while Gi, forever chirpy, seems all-too-happy to ignore the changes swirling around her. And Kwame...

Well, Kwame has always been quiet, pensive even. But he's been brooding more than usual since Linka's injury, keeping to himself and taking long walks across the island. Whatever is going on with the Earth Planeteer, it engrosses him enough that he hardly seems to notice the burgeoning relationship between his friends. Wheeler keeps meaning to sit down with Kwame, to try and talk out whatever is bothering his friend. But he's been so preoccupied with Linka that he hasn't really had the impetus, and whenever he sees Kwame, they spend so much of their time discussing schedules and alerts and how to cover Linka's role during her illness that personal matters are at the bottom of what feels like a very long list.

'Ten more minutes,' Wheeler tells Linka, pulling her back to him and throwing the blankets over them both. 'Just ten more minutes.'

'You said that yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that,' Linka says, but her protest is an empty one. She lies prone in his arms, her back to his chest, sighing happily as Wheeler's fingers begin inching their way across her stomach. 'Ten more minutes,' she agrees, when his fingers suddenly dip lower, 'Ten more,' she moans, into her pillow.

'Twenty,' Wheeler grins, biting lightly into the soft flesh of her shoulder.

'My perfect capitalist pig,' she says, her breath hitching as he pulls down her underwear. 'Always wanting more.'

'My perfect socialist angel,' he returns, pushing himself inside her and feeling a pulse of sheer pleasure. 'Always sharing what she has so nicely.'

Later that day, he's happily throwing med-packs into the geo-cruiser when Ma-Ti appears, ready for their trip to the Mainland.

'Where's Kwame and Gi, Little Buddy?' Wheeler asks.

'Gi's just checking on Linka before we leave,' Ma-Ti replies. 'Although I told her you'd already checked on Linka yourself this morning.'

Wheeler's eyes snap towards Ma-Ti, looking for any sign of guile or shrewdness. But Ma-Ti's expression is flat, his smile easy, and Wheeler grins at him.

'Yeah, I did. Checked on her twice, in fact. Well, what about Kwame?'

'Ah,' at this, Ma-Ti's face fell slightly. 'Kwame has asked to sit this one out. He says it's only a care-run, after all, and not an eco-emergency, so...'

Wheeler frowns. 'He doesn't wanna come?'

'No. He has seeds to lay out for the coming season, and...' Ma-Ti trails off. 'I think he has things on his mind.'

'Yeah,' Wheeler agrees. 'He's been kinda... I don't know... off since Linka was shot. I mean, the guy's always kept to himself, but these past few weeks...'

'We all love Linka. It was a big shock to us.'

'Yeah,' Wheeler threw another med-pack into the cruiser, wiping at his forehead. 'Yeah, tell me about it.'

'But you love her the most,' Ma-Ti continues, and Wheeler stares at him.

'What? How do you... when did you...?'

Ma-Ti shrugs, holding up his ring, the sun glinting off the rose pink centre and making it shine. 'I feel things,' he says. 'Some things have been... particularly strong, recently.'

'What kind of... things?' Wheeler asks, his trepidation evident.

'Emotions, mainly,' Ma-Ti says, 'it is hard to explain.'

Wheeler pauses delicately, looking at Ma-Ti intently.

'Hey, Little Buddy, we've never talked about this before, but you don't ever feel... uh... you know, sensations, do you? Because I'm not sure I can handle knowing that...'

But Ma-Ti flushes hard, shaking his head adamantly.

'No, nothing like that,' he replies, and Wheeler feels his shoulders slump with relief. 'It is mainly...' Ma-Ti bites his lip. 'It is like seeing a shadow of something. Like when the air becomes heavy, and you know a storm is on the way. Or when you smell blossom in the air before the flowers open. That kind of thing. Just hints.' Abruptly, Ma-Ti frowns. 'There have been some strong hints recently. Intense love. Intense longing. Fear, underneath it all. It is... difficult for me.'

Wheeler nods. 'I'm sorry, Little Buddy.'

But Ma-Ti only smiles. 'There is no need for an apology. They are natural emotions. But I have never been in love, and it is difficult to process something you know nothing about.'

'One day it'll be your turn too,' Wheeler grins. 'One day, you'll meet someone who'll just take your breath away. And then it will be my turn to tease you.'

Ma-Ti gives an embarrassed smile. 'I don't know. I don't know if I want that for myself.'

Wheeler regards him with new interest. 'Well, what do you want, Little Buddy?'

'I'm not sure. It is hard to think beyond the next mission, here,' Ma-Ti's answer is honest and open.

'That's true enough,' Wheeler replies. 'But you gotta have a few dreams and desires of your own, you know? The things you think about during the hard times, so that you can make the next mission, enjoy the next day.'

Ma-Ti's brows crease together. 'What do you want?' He asks Wheeler with genuine interest. 'What do dream of? Desire for yourself?'

Wheeler stops, a flood of uncertainty filling him. 'You'll probably laugh at me if I tell you, kid.'

But Ma-Ti shakes his head quickly. 'I would never laugh at you.'

Wheeler nods slowly. 'Okay,' he says, licking his lips. 'Okay. I guess I think about the future. About leaving the Planeteers one day. Maybe having a regular job. A wife. A couple of kids. A lawn to mow on a Saturday. Soccer games on a Sunday. That kind of thing.'

Ma-Ti stares at him.

'What?' Wheeler asks, immediately self-conscious. But Ma-Ti only smiles.

'I was waiting for the rest. For the funny part.'

'That was the funny part.'

'Oh,' Ma-Ti looks confused. 'But there is nothing funny in that at all. It is everything that many a man across the world dreams of. Why would I find it so funny for you?'

Wheeler grimaces. 'Can you honestly imagine me, the family man? Look, Little Buddy, I grew up in a bad place with bad parents. No siblings, no real friends, no real dreams. There wasn't much for me to look forward to. I didn't ever think about the future, because I figured the future wasn't thinkin' about me.'

Wheeler throws another med-pack into the cruiser. When he turns back to Ma-Ti, the Heart Planeteer is looking at him curiously. 'So, anyway, across the road from our apartment there was this billboard,' Wheeler carries on, 'and for a few months when I was, I don't know, I guess about twelve? Well, it had this advert on. It was for Colorado, of all places. Colorado, home of the Rockies. Colorado, the clean state. That kind of bullshit slogan. It was corny and it was tacky but it had this picture of a family on it- you know, the picture perfect family... Mom, Dad, two cute kids. And I liked that.'

Ma-Ti leans against the geo-cruiser, watching Wheeler with open and undisguised interest. Wheeler swallows hard before talking again. 'So I go to my Mom, and I say, 'hey, Mom, I wanna go to Colorado,' and she looks at me like I'm crazy. And then she went to my Dad and said, 'hey, Jim, the kid here wants to go to Colorado.' Now, my Dad is a real asshole, the kind who laughs through his nose and speaks with his fists, and he laughed at me. He laughed at me, before getting to his feet and opening up a can of Boulder Beer. 'Drink this, kid,' he told me. 'That's the closest to Colorado you're ever getting,' and then he slapped me on the back and opened another.'

Ma-Ti's face is one of horror. 'Wheeler...'

But Wheeler shrugs. 'That's why it's funny, Little Buddy. Because what the fuck do I know about families? What the fuck do I know about mowing the lawn on a Saturday or soccer games on a Sunday? I'm a grade A joke, always wanting what I can't have, like the perfect family, the perfect house...'

He goes to add 'Linka' to that list before he stops, thinking about his words. Because he still, at the end of the day, sees her as something above him. She's perfect; clever, beautiful, kind and just temperamental enough to keep him on his toes. He loves her, more than he's ever loved anyone or anything in his life. But there is an undercurrent in his affection for her of unworthiness, of doubt and self-dismissal. Linka's too good for the likes of him, he knows that. And she can kiss him and hug him and make love to him all she wants but ultimately, he's waiting for the inevitable day when she realises that too.

Ma-Ti is staring at him, and Wheeler flushes, uncertain as to how much of his thought process the Heart Planeteer has been witness to.

'I should finish up,' Wheeler tells him awkwardly, indicating to the remaining med-packs on the ground.

Ma-Ti nods, but looks at Wheeler seriously. 'You know Wheeler, I do not see a joke here,' he says, with an insight rarely found in a teenager. 'I see a man fighting for the things he truly desires in life. I see a man with a clear vision of his intended future. It is not a joke, but an admirable trait, my friend.'

'Ma-Ti...' Wheeler begins, but finds he cannot finish the sentence.

Ma-Ti takes advantage of his silence. 'I hope you get Colorado, some day. You deserve it, truly and sincerely, my friend,' he glances surreptitiously in the direction of Linka's cabin. 'Strange, I know a girl who also does not know much about families, about soccer games, or mowing lawns on a Saturday,' abruptly, Ma-Ti gives Wheeler an encouraging pat on the back. 'I wonder if she wouldn't also like Colorado, some day?'

And with what Wheeler would describe as a shit-eating grin, Ma-Ti opens up the door of the geo-cruiser and disappears within.

Linka sleeps in his bedroom, while Wheeler has to make do with his parent's old room. He's never slept in that room before, even though it's the bigger one. When he left Trish he simply came home and took to his old bedroom as though he'd never left, as though he'd never loved and lost one woman or married and lost another. As though he'd never been a Planeteer, or a television celebrity. As though he were still a teenager, and not a grown man. It's an act of regression, he knows, but one he doesn't think twice about.

Sometimes he gets tired of being an adult. Of making hard decisions when given impossible choices.

He tosses and turns all night, before getting up early and going for a run. He dumps a clean towel outside of his bedroom door, trying hard not to think of the girl asleep behind it. Having Linka in his home and in his bed is a strange sensation, and if it weren't for her travel bag, sitting neatly by his sofa where she left it, he might think he'd imagined the whole thing.

He's dreamed of her for years now. Sometimes they're tender ones, where she kisses and embraces him and forgives him, her tears like rain on his shoulder. Sometimes they're cruel ones, where she cries and blames him and berates him, her face hard, blood on his hands. But, more often than not, they're erotic ones, dreams where she pins him down and rides him hard, her face distorted and beautiful all at once. He's used to waking in the morning and mourning her loss anew. He's used to waking and taking a deep breath, pushing her memory from his skin.

He's not used to waking and knowing that she's here. He's not used to waking and being able to do something so innocuous as giving her a towel.

When he returns home, having run a short five miles where every footstep felt like lead, she's sitting in his living room again, freshly washed and in clean clothes, her hair out, the damp tendrils leaving translucent patches on her blouse.

He averts his eyes by wiping his face with a hand towel, hating his mind for automatically recalling the creamy swell of her breasts, and how they'd once felt under his hands and on his tongue.

'Good morning,' she says primly, and he nods at her. 'James, I want to apologise for last night and-'

But he holds up a hand to stop her as he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and takes a large gulp.

'No, look, just stop with the apologies, okay? I promised you yesterday that I would be your friend, that we wouldn't have any hard talks, and I'm the one who broke that promise, okay? So just stop. We might not know each other too well these days, but some things don't change, and you and I having words is clearly one of them. We both know how this story goes.'

She nods, looking down at her hands.

'You eaten yet?' He asks her, and she looks up, seemingly surprised by the change in his tone.

'No.'

'Good. You've probably noticed that I don't keep much in the fridge here. Give me ten minutes to get showered and changed and I'll take you out for breakfast.'

She nods again, her eyes flicking up to meet his, startling green orbs under thick dark lashes. He stares at her, momentarily flustered, before walking out of the living room and down the hall to his bathroom. He remembers her eyes flicking up at him under better circumstances, like the long nights back on Hope Island, when she would pant and writhe underneath him, her wrists pinned tight to the bed, her legs wrapped around his waist. She'd moan and plead with him in Russian, and he'd lick at her skin, tasting salt and sweet all at once. The taste of desire, for Wheeler at least, is forever linked with the taste of Linka.

He takes a cooler shower than normal, using every inch of his willpower not to take himself in hand and relieve the tension that's tightly coiling in his belly, before throwing on an old pair of jeans. When he goes back to living room he finds Linka sitting much as before, and he feels a flare of annoyance ripple through him.

'You don't have to just sit there like a doll, you know,' he tells her. 'For the next few days, at least, this is home.'

'This is not home, James,' she replies quietly, and he pauses.

'You know what, you're right. So, tell me, where is home for you these days? The U.K, right? That's why you're going to that consulate.'

She shrugs. 'I use the U.K as a base, yes. I have a small house in Cambridge. But I do not consider it home.'

'Russia,' he exhales, and she shrugs again.

'I have not been to Russia in years now. I do not think I have a home these days. Not really.'

There's an underlying sadness to her voice that worries him, and he crouches by her side, not touching her, but looking at her steadily.

'I'm sorry to hear that, Babe. Everyone should have a home.'

She looks around at his living room. 'You have a nice flat here, James. I remember it from when your...'

She stops, colouring, and Wheeler gives her a wry smile. He knows she was about to say, 'When your father died,' and he's okay with that.

'I redecorated,' he tells her, and she smiles.

'It looks good. Better,' she clears her throat suddenly. 'Where is your mother, these days?'

'Florida,' he says, standing again. 'Retirement village in Tampa with a side order of intervention. She's doing her 12 steps in the sunshine. It's better for her.'

Now Linka gives him a genuine smile, and his heart quickens at the sight of it. He'd nearly forgotten just how brilliant and dazzling her smiles could be.

'Your mother is... um, how do you say? On the carriage?'

He laughs, shaking his head at her. 'You've been living in England too long, Babe. It's 'on the wagon', actually. But yeah, she is. She's doing well. Even taking yoga classes and everything. All I ever hear when I speak to her is 'downward dog' this, and 'lotus position' that.'

'I am glad for you,' Linka says genuinely, and he smiles.

'Come on. We can talk over breakfast. I know a great deli down the road who do a mean vegetarian omelette.'

'With vegan bacon, I suppose?' Linka asks, but her cheeks flush red as she speaks, and he looks back at her.

'What is it?' He presses her.

'It is nothing,' Linka says, but he knows her too well. Linka never speaks without meaning. Nothing with this girl is ever flippant or thoughtless.

'Out with it,' he says, locking his door and taking her hand as they turn to the stairs.

'It really is nothing. Sometimes I speak without meaning to. My mind runs so fast and sometimes I speak before I can...' she stops when she sees Wheeler looking at her with sceptical eyes. 'It was just something I'd heard you say once, a long time ago. On the television.'

He looks at her blankly, trying to recall the instance she's referring to. A blast of cold air greets them outside, and without even thinking, he slips his scarf from his neck and loops it around hers.

'Vegan bacon...' he repeats, shaking his head.

'It does not matter,' Linka says, but he can tell from the tone of her voice that it does. 'Where is this restaurant then, James?'

He leads the way, keeping tight a hold of her hand as they make their way towards the deli. It's warm and cosy inside, and they sit at a table by the window, Linka looking outside, deliberately keeping her gaze from him. In her silence, Wheeler orders for both of them, and then sits, drumming his fingers on the countertop, waiting for her to talk. But Linka remains quiet, looking away from him, and he knows something is on her mind. He follows her gaze, catching sight of the flakes of snow that are falling gradually from the sky, dusting the ground white.

'A perfect New York winter,' Wheeler remarks, hoping to draw her back to their conversation, back to him. Anything but this unending silence.

'This is nothing compared to Russia,' she replies, but her voice is cool, detached even. It makes his blood heat with fury even while his spine feels cold with fear.

'Just spit it out, will you, Babe?' He begs suddenly. 'Look, we've only got a couple of days together... and... and I just can't bear the thought of you holding out on me. If you want to say something, just say it. Don't fucking mess around.'

At that, she finally turns to him, and there is a blazing anger in her face. 'Why did you not speak to me that day?' She asks sharply. 'You were there, I saw you, but you did not speak with me.'

'What day?' He asks, still lost on 'vegan bacon'.

'When I gave that lecture at NYU,' she says, and he feels himself go pale. 'You were in the audience that day, Yankee. I saw you. You were there and I saw you and I waited for you to find me but you did not.'

A vague feeling of nausea goes through him.

'But... but the lighting...' he stutters. 'How did you even see me?'

Linka mutters something in Russian under her breath. 'You were a Planeteer, Yankee, not James Bond. They dimmed the stage light before the projections began and I saw you sitting in the back. You are a large man with red hair. Who else would it be?'

He's floored that she saw him that day, and even more floored when tears begin to gather in her eyes.

'You were there, listening to my every word,' she says, hurt in her voice. 'My heart was beating so fast and I could hardly talk once I knew you were there. I was sure I would trip over my words or make an error. I was so angry and so excited all at once.'

'Angry?' Wheeler asks, his heart in his throat.

'Yes, angry. I had looked forward to that talk for months, prepared for it all day and night for weeks before. It was my first lecture post PHD... my first chance to prove myself and my thesis.'

Wheeler swallows. 'Babe... I had no idea... if I'd known-'

'Well, you did not,' Linka snaps. 'Besides, even if you had known, would you have stayed away?'

Wheeler shakes his head. He's always been a bad liar where Linka is concerned, unable to lie to her face, and unable to lie to others when talking about her. He spent years with Trish, sidestepping any talk of Linka, never mentioning her name, never talking about anything to do with her or the Planeteers, just in case he slipped and revealed the aching loss she had left in his heart.

'No,' he replies now without hesitation. 'I'd still have gone. I don't know what it was, Babe. I just wanted to see you,' his face darkens. 'And I saw you alright. You. And him.'

A waitress dumps a pot of coffee on their table and Linka busies herself pouring out two cups. 'Ah,' she says shortly. 'You saw me with Dr. Cox.'

'Dr. Cox,' Wheeler sneers. 'I knew the guy was probably a dick.'

Linka slams her cup of coffee on the table, a dark droplet spilling out and onto the white tablecloth. He waits for her to clean it up, to ask the waitress for soda water and salt before it stains, but she's too busy glaring at him to indulge in her normal fastidiousness.

'Richard is a good man,' Linka says tightly. 'A good man, who helped me on many an occasion.'

'Richard?' Wheeler can't help his pettiness. 'Definitely a dick then.'

Linka shakes her head at him in disgust, but Wheeler can't help himself. He's angry and hurting and in the mood for a fight.

'Your boyfriend, right?'

'He was,' Linka replies, her voice ice-cold.

Wheeler feels both a dart of pain and a shimmer of relief at her words. He hates the thought of her with any other man, almost as much as he hates himself for feeling so unnaturally possessive of her. Linka's not his, she doesn't belong to him and he shouldn't resent her having relationships with other people. But he can't help the small voice in his head which says that she is his, that she does belong to him. The same voice which, at this moment, is celebrating her apparent singleness with glee.

'That's why I didn't speak to you,' he admits. 'I waited in the foyer for an hour,' he flushed, still smarting at the memory. 'You came out and that guy was all over you.'

Linka rolls her eyes. 'I doubt that,' she says drily. 'Richard was never the kind to be outwardly affectionate with me. He knew I did not appreciate it.'

Wheeler nods, because he hasn't forgotten that. It was one of the things he loved about her, one of the things he's certain he could still love about her, given the chance. He always loved how tightly controlled his girl would be in everyday life, unravelling only under his mouth and fingers when hidden away together.

'I was hurt,' he tells her simply. 'I don't like seeing you with other men. No, let me finish...' he carries on, when he sees her mouth about to open with protest. 'I know I don't have any rights here. I get that. But I can't help the way I feel, Babe, and seeing you that day... with Dr. Cox all over you...' he shrugs. 'It was like having a bucket of cold water thrown over me. You'd moved on.'

Linka brushes a tear from her cheek, looking into her coffee. 'I thought you did not want to see me. I thought maybe you had come just to, I do not not even know... perhaps make sure you had made the right decision to let me go. I tortured myself thinking about that, for a long time.'

Another tear falls down her cheek, and Wheeler reaches out, gripping her hand tightly.

'Babe,' he says firmly, 'Babe, look at me.'

She does, her eyes greener than ever. He loves how her eyes change colour with her mood, but he hates that he's responsible for her tears.

'Babe,' he whispers. 'Babe, it was the worst decision I ever made.'

She hitches back a sob at that, and he wipes at her cheek himself this time.

'Why Trish?' She whispers back, and he feels a deep wave of shame wash over him. 'Of all the girls to hurt me with, why her?'

'Honestly? I don't even know,' he admits. 'I was lost, I was lonely, and I thought I'd lost the only girl I'd ever loved by pushing her away. I was saving you from myself, and I was arrogant enough to imagine that we could go back to the way we were before...'

'Ma-Ti,' Linka whispers, and Wheeler blanches.

'No,' he says. 'No, before us. And Trish... she wasn't about hurting you, Babe. Please believe that,' he swallows hard. 'I guess, in a way, I picked up where I left off. I'd failed the Planeteers, I wasn't good enough for you... Trish was there, in my old life, right where I'd left her and...'

And he trails off, squeezing Linka's hand.

'There's so much I got wrong,' he says. 'There's so much still to fix.'

Linka looks at him keenly, her eyes suddenly sharp. 'That was the last thing Gi ever said to me, you know,' she admits, and Wheeler's head snaps up.

'What?' He asks. He still can't help but wonder what happened to the Water Planeteer.

Linka nods. 'She turned to me, just before she left Hope Island, and said 'Linka, I am going to fix this, if it is the last thing I do.' And then she left, and I have not seen her since.'

'I don't even remember what the last thing Gi ever said to me was,' Wheeler says, his throat dry.

'Ma-Ti...' Linka starts, and Wheeler shakes his head.

'Don't...' he begs, 'let's not do this-'

'Ma-Ti told me to trust you,' Linka carries on. 'Just before everything went black, he told me to trust you.'

Wheeler stares at her.

'What happened?' Linka suddenly implores. 'One moment I was in that box, and Ma-Ti was in my head and then it all went black. I woke and he was gone. What happened? Did he say anything to you?'

Wheeler closes his eyes. His fists are clenched tightly, and he can recall, with sickening clarity, the glass prison around him. Across the room, Linka lies slumped, her forehead bloody, while Gi screams beside her. Water pools faster and faster at his feet, swamping his shoes, and Linka is so close to...

But beneath his fingertips, a button lingers, and he's going to press it, he's going to be the one, this is the moment he was made for, the perfect hero's ending, and...

Wheeler opens his eyes. He's crying, tears running freely down his cheeks, and he shrugs at Linka.

'Colorado,' he half laughs, half sobs. She stares at him. 'The last thing Ma-Ti ever said to me was 'Colorado,' that crazy, stupid, fucking kind-hearted kid...'

'El Dorado? It is a place? Why would Ma-Ti...? I do not understand, Yankee...'

'Colorado,' Wheeler corrects her through his tears. 'And it's a place... but Ma-Ti... he knew it was something more... and he wanted me to have it. He died, so that I could have Colorado.'