Note: WHR still not mine, but a girl's gotta dream right?

Sarah studied her husband carefully while she put the final touches on their meal. The phone call they had received almost a week ago was still bothering him, she could see it in the stiffness that had returned to his shoulders. She didn't want to ruin the one meal they ate together, but something had to be resolved and she was not going to settle for another round of, "we'll talk more." She turned the on hot water in the sink and drained the excess oil from the pan she had been using.

He's thinking about it again, she thought privately. Three years ago today and he's still thinking about it. "I think we should go home," she said quietly, waiting to see his reaction at her directness. When he didn't answer, she added a gentle tease, "And we should wash our hair before we do."

"Are you sure?" he asked. He pinned her with a serious stare. "I only wanted to let them know Robin and Amon had survived the factory, and nothing beyond that."

She met his eyes, her depth equaling his caution, "They suspect much more."

Rob didn't answer right away, choosing instead to pick at his dinner for a few moments. "Nagira may think he recognized my voice, but yours made him doubt just enough."

Sarah balled up a napkin and playfully tossed it at him to lighten the mood, "Never mind that you say more in one day now than the first year I knew you!" Now, I need to get him to agree now, or it will never happen... She didn't want to use this tactic with him, but she couldn't think of anything else that would shock him enough to work.

"Besides, Husband Mine, I do believe Amon's getting tired of your taste in hair dye."

He sighed heavily, a noise he had recently become accustomed to making when she pushed him like this. "Fine, but until we know more, nothing else changes, just my hair color…" He tried his best to focus on the meal and ignore the smug grin on Sarah's face. You really do become what you live, he noted sarcastically.

Nagira was busy typing up notes relating to a case for one of his special clients, a cigarette hanging precariously from his lip, when the phone rang. He glanced at the mini-switchboard to see if it was his personal extension before realizing that it was his cell phone and not the office line. "Yes," he answered.

"I'm coming home for a visit, call me at home later and we'll set it up."

The caller hung up immediately after delivering his message, but after what was said, Nagira was not surprised. He rested his head on one hand and lit another cigarette.

"Amon, you little bastard," he said to the now closed cell phone, "I knew you weren't dead."