Two nights later, Lorna awoke in an empty bed. She wasn't surprised; it wasn't all that late, now that she saw the clock on the nightstand. Moran wasn't really the type to turn in at 8 in the evening. Her sleep schedule was just still off. Every time she woke up, she felt a little better, but perfection was still a ways off. The fact that she seemed to be the victim of sleep paralysis now was not a comfort. She'd already awoken once to find the corpse-like creature perched on her chest, pinning her down for an incalculable amount of time. This was something she desperately hoped didn't happen again. She had, of course, neglected to mention this fact to Sebastian, since he hadn't been present at the time. If it just went quietly away, that would be for the best.

Sebastian flipped through channels, bored. Lorna had been asleep for a few hours, but he had nothing to do. The network had been surprisingly taskless the past few weeks. There was a lot of busywork to be done, but busywork wasn't remotely his department.

Lorna walked gingerly out of the bedroom a few minutes later, her footsteps still relatively unsure, still fairly painful. She slowly lowered herself onto the sofa beside him with a grunt, then sighed, leaning against his shoulder. "Anything exciting happen while I was out?"

"Someone won jeopardy and some idiots got caught on a cop show. The mistakes those people make are abysmal," he muttered blankly. "How'd you sleep?"

"Alright," she sighed. And she had slept alright, this time. "Longer than the last time. That's good."

He nodded a little. "You're making progress," he agreed. He looked up at a knock at the door, and raised an eyebrow, shifting her gently off and standing, walking over to the door and opening it. He was surprised to see Jim standing there.

"Hey Boss... Everything alright?" he asked, looking over him quickly for injuries.

"I'm bored. We're fucking. I assume you don't want your belle to know, so my penthouse is open. Let's go."

Lorna's voice came from the couch then, loud and clear. "I think the two of you should come inside and take a seat."

It was one of the very rare occasions that he could justify giving Jim an exasperated look. A look that said you absolute idiot.

He did not waste the opportunity.

He considered his options. They could leave, Lorna would be unable to follow, but that would only delay the inevitable and make said inevitable much, much worse. He stepped back, making a broad sweep for Jim to enter.

Lorna's impatience grew as a pause indicated hesitation on Jim's part. Her gaze fixed on the doorway. "Jim, if you don't come in here this instant, I will drag you in here myself."

He paid absolutely no attention to the threat, but he entered anyway. This could be an opportunity.

Moran sighed, and followed Jim inside, shutting the door and waiting for Lorna to start.

Lorna folded her hands together in her lap. She looked, in one word, pissed. "Let me preface this with 'what the fuck?'" She snapped, eyes mostly on Sebastian, though she still wanted Jim to hear what she had to say. "Sebastian, you can fuck whoever you damn well please. Whatever. I don't care. But if it's a regular thing - what, did you think that telling me was just too hard? And you," she snarled, rounding on Jim - which was very little movement, considering her condition - "While I was M.I.A? Really? Did you even wait a week, vulture? JESUS!" she spat, tossing one of the sofa cushions in their general direction. Then she got to her feet, a bit unsteadily, her face burning with fury, and made for the door. "Fuck this. Fuck this."

Seb caught her as she teetered too far in one direction, and scooped her up into his arms despite her indignant protests. "First of all, the reason I didn't tell you was because it hadn't come up. We haven't fucked since you got back, and I had other priorities, namely keeping you from starving to death."

"What do you mean it didn't come up?" she screeched, looking up at him like a very angry cat on the verge of becoming a claw tornado. "How is that not at least the third thing you say once we were back? Put me down!"

"No, you're going to fall over. Be as pissed as you like, but you're staying here," he said firmly. She looked about to attempt to claw her way out, but he didn't particularly care if he got a bit bloody. "And because that's not the best opener, is it? 'Welcome home, I'm glad you're alive, I've been fucking Jim.'"

"Bite me," she hissed, elbowing him, though it wasn't exactly with a lot of force. "You were pissed when I fucked Armetti. At least I didn't do that while you were fucking M.I.A., you asshole! Christ! I've been home more than two days, Sebastian! You couldn't think of one second in there that you might have clued me in? Just because it's hard to say doesn't mean you shouldn't say anything at all."

"What exactly are you pissed about, Lorna?" he sighed. "Two minutes ago you said it didn't bother you if I fucked people. Okay, yes. I should have told you. I'm sorry. I am."

"Don't you sigh at me, Sebastian. I'm pointing out your hypocrisy. It bothers me that I had to find out from Jim propositioning you in our fucking hallway. Are you sorry? Cause you don't fucking sound like it," she seethed, squirming in his grasp, getting angrier every second he held her against her will. "Let. Me. GO."

He finally put her down on the couch, but stood by to field her if she made another break for it. "If you want to be alone, we'll leave. Separately. You aren't in any condition to go storming off." He knew he needed to apologize, but he wasn't about to do it with Jim looking on.

Jim, who been standing by watching the altercation with as blank of a face as he possessed, rolled his eyes, turning for the door. "I can see I'll have to find entertainment elsewhere tonight," he snorted, half out the door. Before he closed it behind him, he leaned in again, and fixed Lorna with a hard stare. "If you ever deign to raise your voice against me again, I'll have you gutted alive. The only reason I won't tonight is because I found myself liking the vulture comparison. Don't push your luck." With that, he was gone. Lorna remained on the sofa behind, still in a bad mood, her jaw gritted.

Moran walked over to close the door, taking a slow breath before turning around. "I am sorry," he said, walking over to sit in the armchair. "I didn't know how you would react. It wasn't ever intended as a slight. I was looking for you every day. Jim was keeping me... relaxed. Sharp. I don't fucking know."

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. She'd taken a (painful) shower the other day, so it was nice to feel clean again. She didn't know what to say for a few minutes. Then: "I probably overreacted a little. Sorry. I was... jealous, I guess. Not really in the best frame of mind," she murmured, giving a tiny shrug. She didn't look at him.

He nodded a little. "It... I was wrong. Not telling you. It was just an odd circumstance. We'd both discussed Jim joining in so often that it didn't seem like a violation."

A violation of what was something they hadn't discussed, but maybe they needed to.

'Joining in' was the operative term, there, but she wasn't going to say it. She didn't want to add fuel to the fire. Not when it was starting to die down. "I could use a drink."

"No," he said calmly, quietly. "Sorry. But no." He leaned forward onto his elbows, his fingers interlaced, staring at his hands.

She sighed. "Yeah, didn't really expect that one to get through. Had to try, though," she snorted, leaning back against the sofa, closing her eyes. It felt weird, having this fight with him. They hadn't had any real (or real, instead of hallucinatory) confrontations in a long time. And this one was.. shockingly civil, as their fights went. Maybe it was time they got around to defining this, whatever it was they had. But there was no way in hell she was going to bring it up to him.

He hated being in the doghouse. It was not a place of control, and there were very few people who could put him there. Two, to be exact. Jim he knew how to apologize to. Lorna was different. He'd never really had cause to before, and he needed to learn what worked. It would probably take experimenting.

She eventually grabbed the remote and turned the TV back on, flipping to some anthropology documentary that she found interesting enough to occupy her head a little, and divert its attention away from him, where he was sitting in the peripheral of her vision. She wasn't furious with him, not now that he'd apologized, but it felt too awkward to act normally.

He stood up eventually, heading for the bedroom. He needed to think, and he guessed she probably did too.

She remained where she was, and, a few hours later, passed out in the dark room, the television still playing on in front of her.

He eventually wandered back out and found her asleep. He watched her for a few moments, before turning off the television and scooping her far-too-light frame up into his arms, heading for bed.

She woke up far too early the next morning, tangled up in the covers. Anxiously, before she opened her eyes, she checked whether or not she could move her arms. They moved. She let out a quiet breath and opened her eyes. The light in the bedroom was dim, but she could make out Sebastian's shape next to her in the dark. Normally, she wouldn't have bothered to check, but in a rare thing, they weren't touching.

He opened his eyes a few minutes later, her shifting waking him up. He took a moment to wake up more fully, then said quietly "You alright? You need something?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm ok. Just... wake up at odd times."

He nodded a little bit, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling, content to be awake for the time being. He wondered if she was still angry at him, but hell if he was going to ask.

She didn't speak for a long time, but eventually, the darkness and the silence were too much. "Sebastian... I think we should talk."

He took a breath, but nodded just a little. She had the right, especially now, to ask that. "Okay... what about?"

"I think we should... define this. If not putting words to it, at least.. setting guidelines, or something. I don't know," she sighed, rubbing her eyes.

He nodded, though it was a few moments before he responded vocally. "Alright. What sort of guidelines do you have in mind?"

Now that she'd started down this road, it was a hell of a daunting task. She didn't know what to say for a moment. Then, it was just hard to say it. "...Communication, mostly. Just, fuck, we gotta say shit. I understand that there are some things, work things, that can't get passed around, but..." she let out a huff. "A lot of our issues are caused because one of us said too much or too little."

He nodded a little. "Yeah, I suppose that's fair," he agreed softly. A lot fairer than he'd been expecting

She nodded in the dark herself, relieved that he'd accepted it so easily. She was quiet for another minute. "If you want to add anything, go ahead. I shouldn't be the only one making the rules, you know?"

He shrugged a little, which was useless in the dark, and reached up to rub at his face. "I don't know. This isn't my area. Commitment. I'm honestly fucking terrible at it."

"Believe me, I can relate," she mumbled. Commitment with him was even more terrifying than normal commitment. With him, she needed to play by the rules.

He was quiet for a while before he finally added, "It's worth it, though."

"Yeah," she agreed, voice soft. "It is." She swallowed. She'd never guessed about how possessive she'd be over him.

He was quiet for a bit before finally saying "We should probably discuss Jim..."

"Yeah, probably," she agreed, then fell silent. She would wait for him to tackle that one.

He was quiet for a bit until it became clear that this was going to be up to him, and shifted a bit. "First off, are you still angry?"

She let out a long breath. "No," she said eventually, "Not particularly. I'm... sore, on it. But not angry."

He nodded just a little. "Can you clarify exactly what it was that bothered you?" he asked finally. "You touched on a few points..."

"I... I don't know, exactly," she whispered, her face hot. It shouldn't have been that hard to determine, but she didn't.

"Okay," he said, nodding just a little and letting that sit for a few moments before taking a slow breath. "I don't... I knew... Fuck, I don't know, Lorna. I never meant to hurt you. At all. It didn't occur to me that it would bother you. It probably should have."

"I know," she murmured, curling up a little, drawing the covers up to her chin. "I know. The two of us just... aren't very good at this, are we?"

"Fuck no," he laughed, though it died quickly. He closed his eyes, then rolled over and reached out a hand for her shoulder, letting her decide if she wanted it there.

She didn't move for a moment, but then instinct intervened and she shifted closer to him, fighting back a ridiculous urge to cry.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, still letting her be further away if she wanted to be, though he wished he could pull her closer.

She curled the rest of the way into him, burying her face in his chest. "I love you," she whispered past the lump in her throat. She was so afraid of fucking this up. So afraid she'd have to do this without him.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, nodding just a little, eyes shut tight as he took in her familiar smell.

"I love you too," he whispered, barely a breath. "Just you."

She curled her fingers into his shirt, silent, heartfelt acknowledgment. She knew how hard it was for him to admit things like that. And she appreciated it each and every time he tried.

He held her close, rubbing her back just a little.

"I need to ask you something," he said quietly. "And I've never done this before, so bear with me."

Her heart started to beat a little faster from anxiety. "Alright," she agreed nervously, "Go for it."

He felt her heart rate pick up, and so worked to get the words out quick so as not to torment her overmuch. "I need...Can you say you forgive me. Please. Because I want you to."

"Christ," she huffed out a breath of air, "Had no idea where you were going with that." From anybody else, asking for forgiveness like that would have earned them a cold shoulder. From him, it was a hint that he truly was worrying over this. And he was the exception every rule she'd ever made for herself. "Alright. I forgive you, Seb. But only 'cause you asked so nicely."

He nodded just a little. He was well aware he'd done a ripping poor job of asking for forgiveness, but it was the best he was able to manage. It wasn't something he could remember doing, at least not since he was a child, and very rarely, if at all, then. He didn't ask people to forgive him. He didn't need them to. Most people.

It was strange, being able to feel this way about a person. They both let the other get away with so much - way more than they would ever let anybody else get away with. The fact that they'd both gotten to a point where killing the other wasn't likely was astounding. And it was comforting, feeling secure in someone's arms. She wouldn't trade that for anything.

The next few weeks were slow and strained. Lorna recovered, but at a rate that was frustrating for all involved, and there was tension between Moran and Jim that had no clear resolution. She was mostly at a point where she could do most of what she had been able to before she'd been captured. She was still a little weaker than before, but at least she could walk on her own and pick up things as light as a bottle of orange juice. That had been an incredibly frustrating time.

He had been working reconnaissance and hits the last few weeks, mostly solo. Occasionally he had a spotter, but he didn't need one for shorter shots, so he kept to himself. It was good to be back in his element, what he loved to do rather than the renaissance of other jobs that had been required of him over the past few years.

He was out on such a mission now, lining up a shot, when there was a stinging sensation in his shoulder.

His fingers had just enough time to brush the feathery end of a dart before he lost consciousness.

Sebastian never took this long on hits. At the most, he took seven hours; if he was going to take more than that, he sent her a message, warning her. It was less of a 'couple' thing as it was a 'just so you know I'm not in the hands of an enemy thing'. But this was ten hours now, without contact.

Until the picture came.

Sebastian, tied, unconscious, to a chair. An address was attached. She was out the door in two minutes.

I got so sick of being on my own, now the devil won't leave me alone
It's almost like I found a friend who's in it for the bitter end

- Panic! At The Disco - Turn Off the Lights -