Once they were alone in the conference room, Brenda sat back down and sighed heavily.

"What is it?"

She shrugged, a mix of emotions swirling across her face. "Oh, nothin' worth worrying about."

"Is it something Captain Volkov said?"

Brenda chuckled. "All of it, I suppose. I mean, it's not so much about what he said as it is, well . . ." she trailed off.

Maura sat back down next to her, face soft. "How long has it been?"

Brenda looked at her, smiled gently. "Since I spoke Russian? Or since I did a little investigatin'?"

Maura just shrugged.

"A long time. For both." She sighed again. Didn't like the feeling tugging at her, a sharp pang of nostalgia and sorrow and a flash of the deep, simmering anger she'd hoped she'd long since buried, but here it was again, clawing at her, just a little.

"You were very impressive," Maura said. "Even though I didn't understand much."

Brenda blinked. "Much? You know Russian too? I mean, I remember you speak French and Italian and, uh—"

"Serbian," Maura replied. Brenda's eyebrows shot up. "The Slavic languages share some similarities," she continued, "though it's easier to read than to understand when spoken. I also know some conversational Spanish, but primarily the Castilian dialect, and not well."

"How do you—" Brenda was staring at her with something like awe. "Well, my goodness," she murmured.

"I was always good with languages, I suppose. I like that there are rules, it makes it feel more like a problem I can solve." She blushed slightly. "But about what Captain Volkov said—"

"Right," Brenda cut in. "I certainly have some thoughts on that, and I have a feelin' you do too." Maura murmured her assent. "But would you mind terribly if I could get out of these shoes? They're real nice," she said quickly, "but I ain't worn any kind of heel in a long time, and turns out not everythin' is like ridin' a bike." She grimaced slightly.

"Of course," Maura said.

They stood, moved toward the door. Brenda put her hand on the knob, hesitated. "I left my clothes at your house," she said, a little strained. Maura's face paled. "But I have some other stuff at the apartment, and that's closer," she continued quickly, her voice lifting a bit too high, too anxious, "so why don't we just go there for our little post-mortem?"

The corner of Maura's mouth lifted. "I've never liked that turn of phrase."

"Well I guess you wouldn't," Brenda smiled back. "But why don't we go by mine and dissect that conversation, see what we find?"

"Very well," Maura said, and Brenda could see her shoulders relax.

She thought about being in Maura's house, in her private space; she understood easily why Maura was so hesitant about letting her in, seeing who she had become after half a lifetime. She'd been careful not to snoop, had let herself see only the furniture and the books and the painting on the wall. Had surprised herself by not wanting to look around, not wanting to know anything Maura didn't want to share with her, wanting to protect them both something she wasn't quite sure how to name.

Thought about what Katie had told her. About how Maura had risked her life over and over to save as many people as she could; how she'd been braver than Brenda figured she herself had ever been. Tried not to think too hard about this Jane person, who Katie had described as Maura's wife. Of course Maura had found new happiness; so had she. Brenda knew she should be glad. She was. But she still felt that cold stab of jealousy, stupid and irrational and undeserved.

Would Maura feel the same shameful, irrational way about Sharon? Brenda sincerely doubted it. Maura was kind, and sweet, and good, and Brenda . . . wasn't.

She felt herself slipping dangerously back into some old skin; it was the Russian and the interrogation and Maura and everything, all at once; she felt cold prickles of the person she had been all those years ago, that ruthless, manipulative, cruel girl who wrung what she wanted out of people and left them in a heap on the ground as she disappeared.

Not that she hadn't been wrung out too. But not by Maura. Never by her.

She shook her head. Maura noticed, gave her a concerned look. "It's nothin'," she said with a lightness she didn't feel. Maura clearly wasn't buying it either. She sighed. "It's nothin' we need to get into right now," she amended.

"All right," Maura murmured, though she lifted her hand, placed it on Brenda's arm for the briefest of moments.

As they left the town hall, Brenda felt the stares of the residents who were still waiting around outside burning on her skin.

"It's all right," Maura announced. "There's nothing to worry about. This is Brenda Johnson; most of you know she arrived last week with her friend Dr. Fernando Morales; we're all very lucky that she speaks fluent Russian and is helping figure out what's happening with this ship."

"What is happening?" a young woman asked, arms folded. "Are we safe?"

"I—" Maura glanced at Brenda.

"Nice to meet y'all," Brenda said in her sweetest voice. "Please don't worry, anybody; those folks are just tryin' to find one of their friends, they won't be stayin' long." It was a weak explanation, and she could tell most of the faces looking at her didn't quite buy it, but as they looked back to Maura, saw Maura's reassuring smile—tinged with a slight worry Brenda hoped only she noticed—they nodded, shrugged.

"You just let us know what we need to do, Dr. Isles," another woman called. "If you need any help."

"Thank you, Charlotte," Maura said. "We'll all get together and talk just as soon as we have a better idea."

Most of the townspeople seemed to relax, heading back into their homes or down the street. "Oh," Maura called after the woman, Charlotte, who was going into what looked like a little shop. "Charlotte, can you and April put together a few baskets of provisions for our visitors? They've been sailing for a while and I can't imagine they've had much to eat."

Charlotte glanced at her skeptically for a moment, then nodded. "Of course, Doctor. How many people do you think there are?"

Maura glanced at Brenda, who shrugged. "I dunno," she said. "Twenty?"

"Twenty," Maura called. "Food and clean water, please. I'll have Pierre and Liz come pick it up in a bit."

Charlotte nodded again, ducked into her shop.

"Charlotte's our baker," Maura murmured. "Well, she runs the bakery in addition to keeping an eye on our food supplies. April is her assistant, though they have four or five others helping out as well."

"You've just got everything figured out," Brenda murmured back.

"It's been eight years, Brenda, I'd certainly hope so."

"I'm just impressed, is all," she grumbled.

Maura grinned. "Thank you," she said. "We're all very proud."

They moved up the street to the clinic, where Katie stood in front of the doors.

"Everything go all right, Doctor? Chief?"

Hearing the old title sent a little unexpected jolt through Brenda, and after everything that had happened today, she was briefly afraid she might cry. Maura seemed to notice, but didn't react.

"As well as could likely be expected," she said. "Katie, we're going to go discuss the meeting in Brenda's apartment; if anyone needs me that's where I'll be."

Katie gave them both a little glance, one that Brenda couldn't quite read, but she thought she detected a hint of amusement. Damn that Fernando Morales, she thought. Dirty snitch.

But she wasn't truly upset. It helped a little, not having to hide the entirety of her awkwardness; at least not having to make up some lie to explain it. She could have, she knew, but long years of having no need for any of those little lies had made the impulse a bit farther away.

"You want me to bring anything up?" Katie asked, her voice a little too carefully neutral.

"I think we'll be fine," Maura smiled. "I'll come find you later. Oh," she said as Katie moved to go, "can you please find Cherry? I'm afraid we'll have to miss dinner this week."

"She'll ask why," Katie said, rolling her eyes a little, but affectionately.

"Of course she will," Maura replied fondly. "You can tell her I'm talking with Brenda."

"Sure thing," Katie said and Brenda swore Katie gave her a little wink.

"And oh, I almost forgot, can you get Liz and Pierre to run by Charlotte's right away and have them take some baskets down to the dock? See if Matthieu and Andrea can go too."

"Got it," she nodded as she turned and walked up the street.

"She's a nice young lady," Brenda said, feeling immediately a little embarrassed. And old.

"She is," Maura murmured. "Very capable. None of this would have happened without her."

"I'm sure some of it would," Brenda said before she could stop herself. "You're . . . you've done an amazing job."

Maura blushed again, made a soft little noise. "I need to check on a couple of things," she said, clearing her throat. "I'll meet you upstairs."

Brenda nodded, turning away quickly so Maura didn't see her own blush. "I'll go get changed."

She went up the stairs as fast as her aching feet could carry her, only fumbled a little at the lock, but it was enough to cause Dr. Morales to crack his door open, peek at her from across the hall.

"Everything all right with our new comrades?" he asked, then gasped. "Brenda Leigh, look at you!"

"I know," she muttered.

"Where have you been hiding that?" he said, indicating her dress, the trench coat slung over her good arm. "I think I would've remembered it."

"It's Maura—I mean, it's Dr. Isles'," she muttered.

"Bren-daaaa," he teased. "Sharing clothes already? I know your kind likes to move fast, but—"

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled, slamming her door behind her.

"You look hot," she heard him call from the hallway. She rolled her eyes but allowed herself a little grin, then a sigh of relief as she kicked off the boots. "How did I do this every day," she wondered aloud, searching for a pair of socks.

She was struggling to get out of the dress—somehow more difficult for her broken clavicle than getting into it had been—when she heard a knock at the door. "One second," she called, her voice muffled by the fabric, and then "oh shoot," as the cowl neck somehow got twisted up in the sleeve.

"Is everything all right in there?"

She was about to reply when she heard Fernando's voice, low enough that she couldn't quite make out the words, but whatever he'd said made Maura laugh. She felt a warmth in her belly at the sound, high and light, like little silvery bells.

She wrenched the dress off, hissing as a bolt of pain shot through her collar. Slipped into a pair of soft yoga pants, a tank top, wrestled her zippered hoodie around her bad arm, yanked the sling back on, darted to the door.

Maura and Dr. Morales were standing together in the hall, talking softly. They stopped when she opened the door.

"All right, magpie," she said, "go on now, the adults need to talk."

"Mm-hmm," Fernando smirked. "See you Tuesday, Maura."

"What's Tuesday?" Brenda said, wishing instantly she hadn't sounded so suspicious.

"Dr. Morales has very kindly volunteered to help at the clinic, so I've offered to show him around. Provided everything goes well with-"

"And then we're having dinner," he cut in. "Strictly an ME event, no Chiefs allowed."

"Well all right, then, bye-bye." She stared pointedly at him. Maura grinned as she moved across the threshold. "No eavesdroppin'," Brenda hissed. He looked affronted, held up two fingers in a mock salute.

"I swear on your life," he said.

"I wish you'd stop doin' that," she grumbled as she shut the door on him for a second time. "Last time it almost worked."

Inside, Maura was standing a little awkwardly, looking around, even though Brenda knew she'd been there already. "Have a seat," she said brightly. "I'll make us some tea."

"Water is fine," Maura said quickly.

"What, you don't like boiled nettles?"

"I hardly think anyone likes them. But no," she admitted. "I don't."

"Water it is, then," she said, pouring two glasses from a large carafe on the counter. The plumbing in town worked, but the water was best for washing up and the pressure tended to be bad; Brenda had learned from Katie that there was an old drilled deep well out of town that most people's drinking water was drawn from, deposited in large jugs around the village. She'd found one in her room when she arrived, though she wasn't quite sure how to go about getting it refilled. A question for later, she thought, as Maura sat on the armchair, her face thoughtful, serious.

"So," she said, accepting the glass Brenda handed her, taking a small sip.

"So," Brenda echoed. "Where should we start?"

"Why don't you go over the conversation again? What did I miss?"

"Honestly, not too much. A lotta posturin'. Volkov said they'd been searching around way up north by the Arctic Circle for a scientist, a botanist who'd been working with a Russian research team in Alaska before everything happened. That he was doing some work on developing crops that could be grown in the northern plains, and that they'd been looking for him even before."

"And you think that's true?"

Brenda snorted. "No ma'am, I do not. Well," she said. "It's true that the Russians have been trying to grow things in Siberia for, well, I'd say just about ever, and that fact alone means it's not a good enough reason to be searchin' for this one man all over for a decade, which is the only part I believe. Plus I don't like him, and we all oughta be real careful around him and his men."

"Mm," Maura murmured her agreement. "Do you have any ideas about what they really want?"

"Not at the moment, I'm afraid," she said. "I just don't know enough yet."

Maura sat quietly, thinking.

"Why would they come here to look for this man?"

"Volkov said they heard your transmission and they decided to come on down because they couldn't find him up in the Arctic after lookin' for all this time."

"Hmm," Maura murmured.

"Hmm indeed," Brenda sighed. "He's obviously hidin' somethin'. But also, from my experience, that's just the Russian way, sorta. Secrets. Leverage. Everythin's a negotiation until they get what they want."

Maura smirked just a little.

"What?"

"I suppose I can see why you were a success," she said, and Brenda's face darkened. Maura looked immediately chastened. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "That was insensitive."

"Well," Brenda grumbled, "you ain't wrong. 'Cept for the success part depends on your definition."

They sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Brenda also stealing glances at Maura, illuminated by the soft light of the lamp next to her chair. Her face thin, drawn, older, but still achingly beautiful. Her hazel eyes still wide and bright. Her hair gone silver now, long and thick and gleaming a little as she mulled over possibilities, shaking her head slightly as she discarded each one in turn.

The quiver in Brenda's chest returned, her heart feeling a little too big, too constrained by her body. She bit down on her lip, hard, forcing herself to breathe evenly.

Maura made a sharp little noise, abruptly staring into Brenda's eyes.

Brenda cringed a little, worried Maura had felt her watching, had heard her trying to calm her breath, but her face was serious, her brown knit in concentration. "A botanist," she said.

"That's what Volkov said. He was real precise about it."

"Who had worked in Alaska years ago."

"Yes," Brenda said. "Maura, what are you thinkin'? Do you know somethin'?"

"Perhaps," she said, frowning a little, twisting at the ring she wore on her left hand, the one that Brenda had just fully registered.

Jane was Maura's, uh . . . she was her wife, Katie had said uncomfortably, awkwardly. Brenda knew she was trying to be careful of Brenda's possible feelings, even though they'd barely met, and Brenda had felt a sudden awkward, uncomfortable rush of gratitude as she'd felt hot tears prickle at her eyes, but made sure to tell Katie, uncomfortably, awkwardly, that she was fine, just fine. Had told her a little more about Sharon; had let a few of those tears fall, had felt a little better, and Katie had seemed to feel a little better, too.

Maura noticed Brenda's expression change, followed her eyes down to the ring she twisted, abruptly cleared her throat, clasped her hands together.

"It's okay," Brenda whispered after a long, fraught moment. "I—I know. I'm real sorry, Maura, for what happened to her."

Maura's brow furrowed deeply, she bit her lip, nodded. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick. Took another sip of water. Another deep breath.

"So," Brenda said, rubbing her good hand briskly on her thigh. "You were thinkin'?"

"Yes," Maura replied, her voice clearer. "He may actually be here."

Brenda's eyebrows lifted. "Seriously?"

Maura nodded. "Doctor Peter Avery. Our botanical expert. He arrived here I think—yes, four years ago, on a ship that had picked him up in Vancouver."

"What kind of ship was it?"

Maura thought for a moment. "Korean," she said. "They had left from Busan six weeks before; they stopped in Hong Kong, a town near what used to be Shanghai, a settlement in Alaska, then Vancouver. The route passes us every other year."

"Very comprehensive," Brenda murmured.

"Every detail is important," Maura replied, her face firm. "It's how we've managed for so long."

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry—"

"But Dr. Avery boarded in Vancouver, I'm sure that's what he said. He said he had been working as a professor at the University of British Columbia."\

"Do you do any kind of checkin' on people who come here?"

"Not for refugees," Maura said sharply. "We do initial interviews, and we keep a close eye on new people for a while, but there's no possible way to verify anything, especially when so many have lost everything." She looked at Brenda hard.

"Of course," Brenda said gently. "I'm just tryin' to find out everything I can."

"I know," Maura breathed, her voice thin, strained. "It's just . . . we've been doing so well for so long, for the most part; we've been peaceful, we've been healthy. And to have this happen, it's just . . . for so many people, it means . . . it could mean—" Brenda could see her sudden, mounting panic. She'd felt it herself so many times in the days since; memories and nightmares and the wrong word said at the wrong time and her heart would start pounding, she couldn't get enough air.

She reached over and stroked Maura's forearm lightly, coaxing her hand out of her lap, squeezing it with her own. "You're all right," she said. "It's all right. I understand why it feels frightening and Maura, I admit I'm at least a little afraid myself, but you're smart, and strong, and just look at all these people here who would do anything for you." Reached up and tentatively, delicately, brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Maura's eyes slid closed, her breath catching in her throat.

"I don't want them to have to do anything for me," she whispered roughly. "That's the problem. These people don't owe me anything, and I'm so afraid I'm leading them into danger no matter what happens, no matter what I decide."

Brenda's face crumpled slightly, she reached a little closer, stroked Maura's cheek with her thumb. Maura didn't pull away, leaned slightly into her touch, her shallow breath ghosting over Brenda's skin.

"That's the thing, honey," Brenda whispered. "It ain't you decidin'. It's us. I'm here, Maura, and we're doin' this together. And Katie, and Dr. Morales, and Pierre and Charlotte and everybody. You're not alone, and you're not going to put anyone in danger, I promise." Maura let out a soft sob. "I promise," Brenda said again, still soothing at her cheek, wiping away the first tear as it fell.

Maura inhaled sharply, hiccuped a little, sniffled, pulled away. Smoothed at her hair, wiped at her cheeks. Looked at Brenda, her eyes soft and warm.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

"None of that," Brenda said briskly. "Ain't nothin' to be sorry for, you're just human and you've got the weight of the whole world on your shoulders, it feels like, so let me carry a little of it for you, all right?"

Maura offered a watery smile. "All right."

Brenda grinned back, wide and sincere. "Now," she said. "This Dr. Avery, whereabouts might he be? I'd certainly love to ask him a couple of questions, if you don't think he'd mind."

"Of course," Maura said. "He's very kind. Very intelligent. He's helped us get our farming to a sustainable place, and he's very good with herbal medicines."

Something tickled at the back of Brenda's brain. "Is he now," she drawled after a moment. "That's interestin'."

"Is it?"

"Well, you and I both agree that it ain't worth goin' on a wild goose chase to find somebody doin' research that's been done for hundreds of years, not to mention would take a lot more resources than I reckon anyone's got to make it viable."

"No," Maura said slowly, her brow furrowing slightly with focus. "It doesn't seem like it would be."

"But medicine, well, that could be a whole other story."

Maura bit her lip, her expression a mix of intense interest and fresh worry.

"So what do you say we pay a call to Dr. Avery? Do you think he might appreciate a visitor or two?"

"He's never turned away a glass of wine before," Maura said, the faintest sly grin tugging at her mouth.

"I can't imagine a soul who would," Brenda replied. "Startin' with me."

Maura nodded, stood up.

"Wait, right now?"

"He's usually at his workshop quite late, and it's not even five o'clock yet," Maura said, looking at the little watch on her wrist. "How do you feel about a drink and a chat before dinnertime, Chief Johnson?"

"That'd be just fine by me," she grinned. "Let me just put on some other shoes, I got another pair of sneakers around here somewhere." She went into the bedroom, fished around in her duffel bag. "All right," she said, sliding them on and draping the overcoat around her shoulders. "Lead the way."