They're all tired, worn out with too little sleep and too much work. His eyes feel heavy, dry and crusted, and he rubs at them, trying to concentrate on the horizon, on the thrum of machinery under his fingertips.

But it's useless; he needs to rest. If he continues to pilot the geo-cruiser, he might endanger the whole team.

'I need some sleep,' he says, almost frantically, and hears Gi shift in her seat, before standing. Gi, whose eyes are just as red and shadowed as his. Gi, who has bitten her fingernails to ragged stumps, blood smearing the corners.

But before Gi takes another step, he feels Linka's hand on his shoulder, and she nudges him from the pilot's chair.

'My turn,' she says with a smile. A tired smile, but still, a smile all the same. With relief, he notes that she looks a little more rested than any of them, her eyes not quite bright but not so bloodshot as his.

He smiles back, pressing the controls into her hands, slipping out of the pilot's seat and watching her slip in.

'Your aircraft,' he tells her, and she nods.

'My aircraft.'

He moves to the back of the geo-cruiser, stepping over Wheeler's long legs, biting back a sudden desire to snap at the American to move. Tiredness grates on them all, but he doesn't have the same urge to snap at the others as he does Wheeler. Perhaps it is because Linka and Gi are girls, and he cannot, even now, shake off the old chivalry instilled in him as a boy. Perhaps it is because he still considers Ma-Ti a child, a tall and gangly one at that, with hints of the man he will soon be forming in the shape of his shoulders, in the curve of his jaw. Perhaps it is because he loves the others more than he loves Wheeler. Or perhaps, as is more likely, it is because he envies Wheeler his current happiness.

Because, as Kwame well knows, right now, Wheeler is a happy man.

The American's eyes are closed, his face slack with sleep. But even in his repose, a smile plays upon his lips, and his eyelashes flutter with dreams. Good dreams. Dreams of happiness and hope and brighter skies.

He is a man in love, Kwame realises, with a measure of surprise.

Strange, he never thought of Wheeler as the kind of man capable of real, romantic love. Certainly, the American has never hinted at having feelings of depth, or of profound emotion. He's traipsed from girl to girl, after all. He's picked up random women in bars, after the other Planeteers have retired for the evening, and dispensed with them easily enough in the morning. He's been dating Trish, for what? Ten months now? If they were even still dating, that is. For even with Trish, after their initial reconciliation in New York, his feelings seemed to have cooled. Whenever she called these days, Wheeler's face looked strained. Whenever she visited, he made excuses not to be alone with her.

No, Kwame thinks. It is not Trish who has won Wheeler's well-hidden heart.

Worriedly, almost inadvertently, Kwame's eyes trail to Linka. She's flying the geo-cruiser with ease, her hair tied back and trailing over one shoulder.

He knows that Wheeler has always been attracted to their Russian colleague, while also understanding that the attraction was futile, and that Linka would never return his obvious advances. Not that he imagined, even for a moment, that Linka was completely unaffected by his charm. There were too many sparks between the mostly warring pair for that, too many lingering glances, too many harsh words, softened only by the occasional tender moment. How many times has he walked into a room, only to walk out again, seeing Linka in Wheeler's arms? How many times has he interrupted a quiet conversation between the pair, conducted when they thought no one was watching? Kwame's not blind, he knows Wheeler cares for Linka. But he's also not a fool... he knows Linka cares for Wheeler too.

But love? No. Not that. Not between them.

When the geo-cruiser lands in Iceland later that night, the Planeteers disembark and start hauling luggage from the hold. All but one, that is. Wheeler's still asleep, cocooned in the crook of his seat.

'Who's going to wake Sleeping Beauty?' Gi asks mischievously. They all know Wheeler hates to be woken at the best of times, let alone when they're all as sleep-deprived as they currently are.

Kwame groans, stepping towards the geo-cruiser, but once again, he feels Linka's hand on his shoulder.

'My turn,' she says, for the second time that day. 'You and the others start taking the luggage over to the hotel. We will meet you there, in the folio.'

'You mean the foyer,' Gi grins, but Kwame only nods, grateful for her help.

In the hotel lobby, Ma-Ti stretches, while Gi looks around them with dismay.

'This hotel is... something else,' she says warily, and Kwame sighs. The walls are crumbling, and the decor is tired.

'It is cheap, and a roof over our heads,' he shrugs. 'So many others do not have even that.'

Gi, to her credit, does not roll her eyes, though for a moment, Kwame thinks Ma-Ti does.

It shouldn't be a surprise, or hurt him as it does. But a roll of anguish goes through Kwame at the knowledge that Ma-Ti, his brother in all but blood, prefers Wheeler's company to his own. That the boy they've all raised these past few years looks to their American colleague for advice and inspiration. Sometimes, late at night, when he can't sleep and a thousand tumultuous thoughts are going through his mind, Kwame wonders if there is something fundamentally unlikeable about him. Wonders if he sounds like the worst kind of pious eco-warrior. Wonders if his words, meant to offer comfort, only offend.

He swallows hard, and turns to Gi and Ma-Ti.

'I have left my coat on the geo-cruiser,' he tells them. They do not need to know that it is safely tucked in his hand luggage. 'You check in, while I go back for it.'

They both nod, and Kwame turns back, walking outside and into the crisp Icelandic air. He takes several deep mouthfuls before heading to the geo-cruiser, hopping in and -

The scene before him makes him pause. Wheeler is awake, but still stretched out in his seat. And Linka... Linka is in his arms, her head resting against the curve of his neck. He's whispering in her ear, and the smile she wears... it is unlike any smile Kwame has seen her use before.

Kwame backs away, quietly, so as to not disturb the pair further, leaving them to their embrace.

When he returns to the hotel, he sits in a chair by the window, lost in thought, confused by all he has seen.

'Are you alright, Kwame?' Ma-Ti's voice, soft and full of understanding, breaks into the confusing patterns his mind is drawing.

'Yes,' Kwame replies. 'It is just...' he looks up at his friend, his brow furrowed, 'it is just... sometimes I wonder how well I know you all... truly, that is... sometimes I wonder if we are as close as I would like to believe.'

Ma-Ti sighs, and lays a hand on Kwame's shoulder. It is firmer than Linka's, but just as warm.

'We are family,' he says, his voice rich with confidence. 'We are family, Kwame.'

Kwame thinks of Linka and Wheeler. He sighs once more.

'I worry for them,' he admits, testing the waters, wondering just how much Ma-Ti knows.

But Ma-Ti smiles. 'I do not,' he replies simply. 'I do not.'

Kwame smiles, and tries to shake off his feeling of unease. 'I don't know why I am so anxious this evening. Tiredness perhaps,' he tries to be flippant. 'We are all exhausted and...'

But Ma-Ti's face clouds over, his eyes darkening, and though he stares at Kwame, Kwame knows he is not really there.

'Ma-Ti...' he begins, but before he can speak further, Ma-Ti startles.

He has returned, from wherever and whenever he went, though his face is still dark, his eyes still serious.

'Kwame,' he says, his voice stark, 'Kwame, when the time comes, you must depend on Wheeler and trust him. Please... do this for me.'

'What do you mean?' Kwame asks sharply. 'What are you saying?'

Abruptly, Ma-Ti smiles. 'One day, my brother, when the time comes, you will know.'

When he arrives from New York, Wheeler looks like shit.

Kwame tries to think of a more eloquent way to describe his friend, but nothing else in that moment springs to mind. Wheeler's face is drawn, his eyes are lined, and he's hunched over, like the weight of the world sits upon his shoulders.

In fact, he's so bedraggled looking when he emerges into the arrivals hall at Heathrow, that Kwame has to take a deep breath.

It strikes him hard that he hasn't laid eyes upon Wheeler in over ten years. Strikes him hard that they are mostly strangers now, with only a few stilted conversations between them, though they share history, and a deep love for the same woman.

Linka, Kwame realises, is the strongest thread between them. Perhaps the only one they can use to move forward from the past, or this point.

It doesn't take long for Wheeler to spot Kwame waiting for him, and he stops for a moment while they stare at each other. Kwame tries to smile, tries to speak, but finds his mouth empty of words, his face empty of feeling. It's then that the American slings his bag over his back and walks towards him.

'Hey,' Wheeler says, a brief, almost rueful smile fluttering over his mouth.

'Hello, old friend,' Kwame replies.

Again, they stare at each other. Wheeler rubs his neck, an old nervous tell of his, while Kwame clears his throat.

'My car is this way,' Kwame tells him, and Wheeler nods.

'Sure. We goin' straight to Lin's place?'

When he speaks Linka's name, Wheeler's face crumples slightly. Kwame feels a little of the hardness around his heart soften, and he places a hand on Wheeler's shoulder.

'Yes. There is something I want to show you.'

'What?' Wheeler asks instantly. 'What do you know?'

Kwame pauses. 'Nothing, really. Not for certain, anyway. I want your opinion.'

'My opinion?' Wheeler begins. 'That never meant much to...' he drifts off, looking down at his shoes. 'Sorry. I told myself I wasn't gonna do this. Not here.'

'I understand,' Kwame says, with a stab of sorrow. 'We have much to say to each other. I know we did not part on good terms.'

'That's the nice way of puttin' it,' Wheeler agrees. 'Come one. I want to find Lin.'

Kwame nods. 'Yes. Me too.'

Once more, they stare at each other. Kwame takes in the fine lines around Wheeler's eyes, the harder, more muscular tone to his body. He's is older, Kwame realises. In his mind, whenever he pictured the American, it was as a young man, the cocky, life-sure Planeteer. This older, more measured Wheeler comes as a surprise.

But then, he is older too, he reasons. There is a peppering of white in his hair, and since Haya joined them, there is a new tiredness to his eyes. Age, Kwame thinks, plays havoc with them all.

But then, Kwame thinks of Ma-Ti, and remembers that the opposite, not aging, is worse. He and Wheeler stand together as two men, both missing a brother. If Gi and Linka, as the female planeteers, were like parallel lines, than he, Wheeler and Ma-Ti were like a triangle. The strongest shape, Kwame remembers Ma-Ti telling him.

Ma-Ti, who should be here with them.

Ma-Ti, who never should have gone.

He swallows again and bites down on his lip, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Wheeler must notice, because he sighs, and throws his arms around Kwame's back.

'I've missed you,' the American says softly, and Kwame nods.

'I have missed you too, old friend.'

Wheeler sleeps most of the two hour journey to Cambridge. When he wakes, at some point on the M11, Kwame smiles at him.

'You did not sleep on the plane?'

Wheeler shrugs. 'Flew in on Delta. Not the best airline for comfort. Besides, with Lin...' he trails off. 'Just couldn't rest till I got here.'

'You can afford to fly better than Delta,' Kwame remarks.

'Yeah. But they had the first flight outta Atlanta. Didn't want to hang around waitin' for a BA flight.'

'Atlanta?' Kwame asks in surprise. 'But I thought you were in Brooklyn?'

'Not for three weeks. I've been travellin',' Wheeler replies, almost uneasily.

'Where?' Kwame doesn't want to pry, but then, he can feel discomfort coming off of his friend in waves. He wants Wheeler to be comfortable around him... as much as he can be, at any rate.

'Here and there, man. Here and there.'

'You do not wish to tell me,' Kwame shrugs. 'I did not mean to...'

'Nah, man, it's not that,' Wheeler interjects. 'Or maybe it is. I don't know. I was... look, I was on my way to Colorado.'

Kwame feels ice roll down his spine. 'Why?' He asks, sweat on his brow.

But he already knows why.

'Always wanted to go.'

'Colorado was the last word Ma-Ti ever said,' Kwame says, accusation in his tone.

'Yeah,' Wheeler agrees softly. 'Yeah, it was.'

Kwame inhales sharply, trying to keep his eye on the road.

'One day,' he says quietly, 'one day, you will tell me what it meant. Remember, I was there too. I saw it too. I deserve to know what his last word meant.'

'You deserve to know?' Wheeler scoffs.

Kwame grips the steering wheel tightly between his fingers. 'You are right. That was the wrong word to use. I meant... I meant...' momentarily, he struggles for the right phrase. 'It would give me comfort to know. Like Linka, he loved you best, I know. But he was my brother too.'

Wheeler runs a tired hand over his face. 'Lin loves you more than you realise. She was frantic when she first thought about you, waitin' for her at the airport,' he pauses, pain crossing his face. 'Kwame, man, I just wanna say... look, that is... thank you.' He swallows, and Kwame knows he is struggling. 'Thank you for pickin' up the pieces, after I left that mornin'... thank you for takin' care of her for me.'

Kwame's grip tightens again. 'I did not take care of her for you,' he says firmly. 'I took care of her for her.'

Wheeler pales. He looks wretched. 'Yeah. Yeah. You're right.' He stops for a minute, and when he speaks again, his voice is sincere. 'Ma-Ti loved you so much, Kwame. Please don't doubt that. He loved us all.' He pauses again. 'It should've been me, you know. It should've been me.'

Kwame blanches. 'Ma-Ti made his choice, Wheeler. That last mission was a trap. There were no good decisions to be made.'

Wheeler's face stiffens. 'If I'd just pressed that button first...'

But Kwame shakes his head. 'You didn't. Ma-Ti did. You must accept it for what it is. We cannot change the past.'

In his mind, he feels the hands of Blight's henchman on his body. Feels himself being thrust into a glass coffin, standing upright. Sees through the glass four other coffins, in a circle, so that they can read the agony on each other's faces.

'One must die so the others may live,' he hears MAL's voice coolly intone. 'Before each of you is a button. Pressing that will flood your coffin with water and release the doors on the others. When one of you is dead, the others may leave without fear of attack.'

Kwame's hand is already in the air, his ring glowing, the word 'Earth' on his lips.

But just like that, a thump sounds, and Linka slumps to the bottom of her coffin.

'No calling the Captain today, I'm afraid,' MAL tells them. 'Madam's orders.'

A trickle runs down Kwame's neck, and he looks up. Water is slowly streaming in from above him, settling in a dangerous puddle at his feet.

'If one of you does not press their button, you will all drown. Another of Madam's orders,' MAL informs them. 'Five minutes remaining. I would get choosing, if I were you.'

Kwame takes a deep breath, looks to Gi. She is frantic, aiming her ring at the water above her, at the water over them all, saying 'water, water, water,' though it has no effect. There is nowhere for the water to escape. No gaps or breaks or hidden panels.

He looks to Ma-Ti, who is sitting at the bottom of his box, staring at Wheeler.

He looks to Wheeler, but the American has eyes only for Linka. She is unconscious, slumped in her coffin, and if someone does not press a button... if someone does not choose to go... she will drown first. Wheeler's fists are clenched, his face set into determined lines.

Kwame feels fear run through him. Wheeler always plays the hero. It's like an addiction, a compulsion. He is always their hero... and today, he means to meet a hero's death.

Because he loves her.

Because he loves them all.

Kwame glances at Linka, pale and still. It suddenly occurs to him, like a revelation in his soul, that Linka and Wheeler love each other. That they are meant to be together. That if one of them dies, the other will too. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day, the loss of their other half will destroy them. Kwame feels that as firmly as he feels the water sitting like a snake against his skin.

'Depend on Wheeler and trust him,' Kwame recalls Ma-Ti's words, and he looks to the South American boy again, who is still staring at Wheeler. Ma-Ti looks calm, almost content, and Kwame puts his hand against the button before him. 'When the time comes, you will know.'

That time, Kwame decides, is not today. It is not Wheeler's day to die, he resolves. He will play the hero today, make the sacrifice, save the others -

But Ma-Ti stands, and speaks one word: 'Colorado.'

Ma-Ti presses his button, though Kwame pounds on the glass of his coffin, wanting to stop him, to stop this. Wheeler and Gi are screaming, tears staining both of their cheeks, and they are all forced to watch as Ma-Ti's coffin fills with water.

But Ma-Ti meets death, as he lived life, with grace and compassion. His eyes close, his body relaxes, and his ring glows hard on his finger.

Gaia is with him, Kwame realises. Gaia will not let him die in agony. Gaia will take him to the other side.

When it is finished, the doors on their coffins release. Ma-Ti's body falls to floor in a wash of water, and Wheeler crawls to his side, shouting at him and hitting his chest and crying. Gi remains curled up in her box, sobbing, her chest heaving painfully.

It is left to Kwame to tend to Linka.

He picks her up, noting with relief that she still breathes.

'I've got you,' he says to her limp form. 'I am here.'

Kwame lets them both into Linka's little house. He peels his shoes from his feet, and motions for Wheeler to do the same.

'It is Linka,' he explains to a perplexed Wheeler. 'She likes things tidy. You know that.'

Wheeler nods, a smile lighting his weary face. 'Yeah, she does.'

Kwame leads them straight into Linka's office.

'What do you notice about this room first?' He asks Wheeler, testing a theory.

Wheeler is staring at the room, at the litany of things about them that make up Linka's home and life. A home and life he has never known, or played a part in.

'It looks like she might walk in at any minute,' the American replies uneasily.

'Exactly,' Kwame nods. 'Look... her work is laid about, as though she were interrupted from it. There is a tea there, half-drunk. Her phone is still on her desk, abandoned.'

'There's a pregnancy test on her desk too,' Wheeler remarks, and Kwame turns to him. His friend looks dumbstruck.

'Yes,' Kwame swallows. 'Yes, there is.'

'You've already seen it?'

Kwame swallows again. 'Yes.'

'Is it positive or negative?' Wheeler demands.

'My friend...'

'It's positive,' Wheeler says flatly. 'I know that voice you use, Kwame.' He takes a deep breath. 'Lin's pregnant.'

Kwame lays a hand on his shoulder. 'I did not know how to tell you.'

'Where the fuck is she, Kwame?' Abruptly, Wheeler spins on his feet, facing him angrily. 'Who the fuck took her?'

'That is the thing, my friend,' Kwame points to the scene before him. 'I am not sure anyone took her.'

'You think she left?' Wheeler asks, his voice still tight with indignation and anger. 'You think she just left? Without a word to either of us?'

'No,' Kwame says. 'Look... she was interrupted. She put her pen down mid-word. I think someone came to her door. Persuaded her to leave.'

'Lin wouldn't go with just anyone,' Wheeler snaps. 'She's the smartest person I know. She wouldn't just go with... with a stranger...'

Kwame looks at him helplessly. 'What if it was not a stranger?' He suggests.

Wheeler pauses.

'Who the fuck was it then?'

Kwame shakes his head. 'I do not know. I cannot imagine who Lin would implicitly trust so as to just... just leave with them... not these days. Not after all she has been through.'

Wheeler's fists were clenching and unclenching violently. 'There's no one she trusts but us,' he spits out. 'Whoever was here... whoever she went with... they must have forced her. She only trusts us, Kwame. There's no one else.'

Kwame opens his mouth to speak, but before the words can leave his lips, a movement catches his eye behind them.

'I disagree,' a softer, more feminine voice breaks in.

Wheeler and Kwame both spin around, their mouths falling open as they take in the person who has just entered the room.

'Gi,' Kwame breathes.