"What are you going to do with me?" she asked quietly, without much inflection.

He looked at her for a long moment, then sighed and stood. "Something I'll likely regret," he muttered, walking forward and kneeling behind the chair, unlocking the various sets of cuffs. "Please keep in mind that if you give me any reason, I have no problem reversing this decision and tearing you to shreds."

She couldn't move for a moment, she was so surprised, but then she slowly stood up, rubbing her wrists distractedly. "Yeah, yeah, no, of course not. I'll just... sleep on the couch, I guess?"

"You can if you like, but if I were you I'd take the guest room upstairs," he said casually. "There's food in the refrigerator. I've had a long night. I'm going to bed. Don't try to leave. I'll know. Plus your employer will probably feel less confident about your death."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," she nodded quickly, suddenly nervous. She hadn't expected to get this far. Hadn't expected any sense of comfort or familiarity with a man she'd only just met. Maybe she'd expected to be dead. She wasn't really sure.

He headed up the stairs, but paused outside of his and Lorna's bedroom. Suddenly, he didn't want to be there. Didn't want to have to explain his decision to her. So he turned instead to push into the office. He set up the house security cameras on his computer and turned the monitor towards the couch, and then lay down to sleep, with an alarm set to inform him if anyone tried to leave the house or enter Lorna's room.

Lorna didn't leave the bathroom, battling off the combative fear and coldness that threatened to close in an icy sheath around her heart. She trembled with the effort of keeping still, of not dragging bloody furrows down her own arms, of not smashing the mirror, of not ripping the shower curtain from its hooks. Trapped. She was trapped, paralyzed, frozen solid. She couldn't do anything, not on a job like this, not on something so important. All she could do was sit there and try not to cry in silence. Sleep wasn't a possibility.

It wasn't until he'd studied the cameras for a while that he realized that Lorna wasn't in the bed. He frowned, getting up from the couch and walking over, looking across the cameras for a while. There was no camera in the bathroom, so he figured she was there, but as twenty minutes turned into forty, his patience evaporated and he walked out of the office and into their bedroom. "Lorna?"

She couldn't make herself unlock for a moment, then her hands clenched into fists against her face, and she coughed. "I'm fine," was all she said, in a voice that wasn't as normal she was expecting. This was not acceptable. He couldn't see her like this. He would think it was for all the wrong reasons. She pressed her hands against her eyes harder, ignoring that they were already slick with tears.

A dark basement, filthy children. Armetti screaming.

His sister is gone but there's nothing she can do about it.

Her voice was wrong.

His boot had broken the lock before he even had time to think about it, carefully so as not to hurt her if she was sitting against the door, and he pushed the door in, feeling her slide across the tile with it as he stepped inside, half expecting to find her bleeding. Instead, he found her curled in a shaking ball on the ground. He crouched down, his hands finding her fists, trying to figure out what was going on. "Harrison...?"

She let out a muttered, sniffly swear, not bothering to fight his grip. "You've got too much shit on your plate to worry about this, Sebastian, don't-" she shook her head, only able to open her eyes and look at him for a second before she closed them again. "I killed him. Luciano. I thought I did." She took a breath. "It was personal. He took Armetti's kid sister. She died before we could get to her. And I'm not one to like kids, but this girl..."

He didn't ask further, just sat down and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

He wasn't sure when exactly he'd become a hugger. He needed to consider that some day when he had fucks to give.

She stuffed down another spike of fear about Luciano finding her and burrowed into him. Maybe she could still trust him. She still loved him more than anything, that was certain.

"You're fine," he said quietly. He wasn't sure what she was upset about, precisely, but whatever it was, they could handle it. He had no doubt of that.

"I'm just a little freaked out," she whispered, "You know how I hate feeling cornered. Luciano can't find out where I am, and Armetti can't know I failed. Christ. I can't believe he survived. I wonder what damage he still has..."

"What the hell did you do to him, anyway?" he asked, his arms tightening around her just a touch at the mention of Armetti.

"Luciano? Poison. Cyanide, probably, considering what materials we had available at the time," she murmured, irrelevantly pleased that he'd pulled her just a little closer. "When I needed to kill someone at an event I always used poison. Blood was too easy to spot. I don't know why it didn't kill him."

"Sometimes you just get unlucky," he said with a shrug. "Whatever the reason is, I would bet on him being a bit excited to hear you're around."

"That's what I'm worried about. I saw the conditions he held those children in. And he thought kids deserved special treatment. What would he do to me?"

"Nothing," he said calmly, his voice not sturdy or harsh, just logical. "He won't get close. Don't be an idiot."

"It's happened before, Sebastian," she reminded, a little defensively. "I appreciate the comfort, but statistically speaking, it could happen. It might."

"Statistically speaking, I'll kill him first," he said, just a hint of an edge to his voice. "I won't fail like that again."

She didn't say anything in response, just let out a quiet breath and reached for his wrist to press a kiss to the back of his hand. A sniper's hand. Calloused, strong, rough where hers were soft. She'd always liked his hands, even before they'd fucked in Italy - it was something she couldn't help noticing about dangerous people, like her subconscious was assessing just how easily those hands could strangle her. She ran her thumb over the back of his hand, her nail catching on his ring for a split second. "I love you," she said quietly.

He watched her as she took his hand, playing with it, and let her, absently fascinated by how much smaller she was than him. Her fingers barely came to his first knuckles. He refocused as she spoke, and tried to decide what sort of mood he was in this evening. After a few moments he pressed his lips to the top of her blood-red hair.

"I love you, as well. You'll be fine. Between the two of us he won't stand a chance."

"They rarely do, in the end," she snorted softly, relieved he hadn't pushed her away, physically or emotionally. Declarations of feelings were always a gamble. "I'm exhausted. I'm going to go to bed."

He nodded, pulling his arms away so that she could stand. "Alright. Sleep well."

"What, you're not coming? How on earth am I supposed to sleep without the living space heater?" she asked reproachfully, climbing to her feet and looking down at him with the slightest bit of pout.

He stood, too, rubbing his half-asleep arse. "That's what blankets are for. I need to do a few things. Get some sleep."

"Okay," she sighed, turning for the door, "Come to bed when you can, yeah? Aw, shit, I need to give the kid a pee break. Ugh. I'll be back."

"Nope, it's fine, already done," he said calmly, his long strides easily making the door before she could without appearing rushed. "Go to bed. I'll talk to you later."

"You better not," she muttered, turning for the bed. "I'll be asleep."

"Just shut the hell up and go to bed," he smirked, heading out the door and shutting it behind him. He took a breath and headed back into the office, glancing over the monitors. Keira was in the guest bedroom, sitting on the bed, and he nodded a little to himself, laying down on the couch and closing his eyes with a sigh.

She crawled into bed as the door shut, shifted between the covers, and passed out without another thought to Luciano, Armetti, or the girl next door.

He drifted in and out of sleep that night, waking up every hour or so to check the monitors. Neither Lorna nor Keira woke, however, and when dawn started to break, he dragged himself off of the couch and headed downstairs to make himself a pot of coffee.

Lorna woke a few hours after dawn, crawled out of bed, shuffled the door, and opened it onto the girl in the hallway. "Jesus," she jumped, a hand going for the door frame. "He better have let you out, because I do not want to have to fight this early in the morning."

She nodded. "Last night," she added, considering Lorna. Moran hadn't told the woman he'd let her out. That was interesting.

"Good," she sighed, dragging a hand through her hair and slipped past into the hall. "I'll get you some clothes a little later. You'll probably fit."

She straightened the hoodie she'd slept in and headed after her. "Harrison, right?"

"Yeah," she sighed, heading for the linens closet. "First name's Lorna. I don't care what you call me, I'm not in charge of you," she shrugged. She opened the closet door and started to root around, coming up with an extra towel and a new toothbrush.

"No one really is, at the moment," she pointed out, taking the offered items with a nod of thanks. After a moment's pause she ventured "My dad... What's he like?"

Lorna snorted, giving a quiet laugh. "Well, that's the one-hundred million dollar question, isn't it?" she chuckled, turning and heading for her bedroom again. "C'mon, might as well pick you out some clothes now." She paused in front of the walk-in closet and opened the door, waving a hand at the clothes. "Pick what you want. I'll tell you what you can't have. As for your father, well. He's a bit of an asshole, honestly. He's used me, betrayed me, and nearly killed me." She lifted up her chin a little. "That's his handiwork, on my throat. But I just can't seem to stay away. Guess I fell in love with the better side of him along the way," she murmured, leaning her shoulder against the wall. "If I could go back, knowing everything I do now, I would make the same choices. Sometime maybe I'll tell you what I did to your grandfather for Sebastian."

"Grandfather..." she muttered, thinking that word over for a bit. She hadn't thought about that part of the equation, though if she was judging by Lorna's tone correctly, she didn't need to. "You are married, then," she said, nodding to the ring on Lorna's finger as she started to look through the clothes.

"No," she shook her head. She was unexpectedly disappointed to hear herself say it. "No, we're on a job. The marriage is just a cover. Christ, I can't imagine Moran emotionally tying himself to someone in that way to save his life. But we've been through a lot of shit together. That's probably where our 'married' vibe really comes from."

"And the fact that you're fucking," she retorted casually, pulling out a few pairs of jeans and some shirts, glancing to Lorna for approval.

She waved a permissive hand, and shrugged. "In our line of work, I don't think it's all too unusual. But I suppose we've had an arrangement longer than most. With more bumps, too."

"How much is longer?" she asked curiously. The more information she had about the man downstairs, the better.

"Years," she shrugged, "I don't know. I'm not good at keeping track of time. I spend too much of it locked up or traveling."

She nodded just a little at that, taking her selections out of the closet and heading for the guest room. "Does he have any other kids? Other family?"

"No," she replied, following. It was only half a lie. Sara wasn't a sister to Sebastian. But the part of it that was a lie was just to keep the girl from knowing too much. That wouldn't do. "No one. If he has other kids we don't know about them."

She nodded just a little at that, again. "Yeah. He did seem a bit surprised when I mentioned my relation."

"Granted, I think that's the same for everyone," she pointed out, taking a step backwards towards the hall. "Now, if you haven't got any other questions, I could really use a cup of coffee."

She nodded, heading into the guest room and closing the door, heading to the bathroom to shower and brush her teeth.

Sebastian was halfway through his second pot of coffee, staring absently at his computer. He looked up as Lorna came down. "Morning."

"Mornin'," she yawned, making a beeline for the coffee. "Ran into Keira upstairs. Until we figure out where to put her we can say she's your cousin."

He nodded just a little, scrolling through emails. "I have to tell Jim."

She snorted as she poured herself a mug. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled with the news. He can start training up a replacement bodyguard for when you kick the bucket."

"That's a good spin. I might try that," he said absently as he pulled out his cell phone, flicking through his contacts to Aunt Ruth and dialing.

"Hello?" An elderly woman's voice.

"Hello, Aunty. How are you?"

"Sebastian! I'm just fine. Fifi has been ill, though. We had to take her to the vet."

"I'm sorry to hear that. How's she been eating?"

"Very well, so I don't think that's it. Oh well."

"Hopefully her new collar will cheer her up."

"You're right, dear."

A pause, then:

"Your codes are correct and the line is clear. What can I help you with, sir?"

"I need to speak with Moriarty."

"I'll transfer you now, sir. New codes will arrive to your email within ten minutes." There was a click, and then more ringing.

Jim picked up a few minutes later, wondering what the hell Sebastian had to say so early into the job.

"What is it, Moran?" he droned, looking down at the little blinking red light that said he was connected.

"There's been a small... complication," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Apparently I have a daughter. She's shown up."

Jim put down the phone for a moment, lifting his free hand to rub at his eyes. He sighed heavily. Picked up the phone again. "How old, Moran? Are you sure she's yours?"

"Sixteen. And yes, sir. I've checked into it extensively. Everything but a DNA test, and that's not really necessary given her appearance. She's mine." He leaned back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. "Her mother's dead."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, swiveling in his chair and staring at the french-blue wall for a moment, just absorbing. It wasn't often that he required an absorption period. "I assume she's working for someone else if she found you, so that leaves you with two options. You kill her, or you vouch for her, and she comes to work with us. If you vouch for her and she betrays us, you should be perfectly aware how displeased I'll be with you. You have a week to make your decision."

"Understood, sir," he said with a nod. "I'll send you a file with her details if you want them, and let you know within the week."

"Good. Choose wisely, Moran, for your own sake," was all he said in reply, and the line went dead a second later.

Lorna sipped her coffee, raising her eyebrows as he dropped the phone from his ear. "That seemed to go shockingly well."

"It's always more disturbing when it does than when it doesn't," he said, pocketing the phone. "Threats are predictable, even Jim's. Instead he's given me a waiting period and a sense of foreboding."

"Jeez," she muttered. "I hate it when he does that. It's harder to tell what he's really thinking. How long do you have to decide whatever it is that's up for debate?"

"I have a week to decide whether to put a bullet in her head or employ her," he said, flicking his laptop open again. "If we employ her, her performance is on my head."

She sighed into her coffee. "Well, shit. That's a hassle."

He shrugged. "But it makes sense. If I decide to vouch for her, I'm responsible." He pulled his gun out of its holster, turning it over in his hands a few times.

"Whatever you decide to do, I'll support it," she said, even though he probably didn't need or want to hear it. "Don't kill her here, though, if you can help it. Don't need a mess, here."

"I'm not an idiot," he said, with no particular venom to his voice. "Kindly don't insinuate otherwise."

She rolled her eyes, though, similarly, there wasn't much emotion to it. "You know I just say shit for the sake of saying shit. I never insinuate anything about you, unless it's completely inappropriate for polite conversation."

"I'm well aware," he said with just a bit of a smirk. It faded quickly, and after a moment he turned to look at her. "What should I do here, do you think?"

She was a little surprised he'd asked for her opinion. She'd been deliberately avoiding giving it to him, just because she was worried about what he'd spit back. She took a sip of coffee to mask the pause. "Use the week wisely. Find out if you even like her, for one. No use keeping around a little snot; Jim'd kill her anyways, if she's too much trouble. If she follows orders and doesn't fuck up, get her a job. She's smart. I think she knows enough to keep on your good side, and Moriarty's."

He nodded a little in acknowledgment, standing with his empty coffee mug to get his seventh cup of the morning. "This is an... unusual situation," he finally said as he poured the hot, black liquid. "I'm more hesitant than usual when I consider how to handle it."

"She's your kid. You're genetically programmed to keep her alive," Lorna pointed out, moving to sit on the sofa, her arm stretched along the back. "Add in how much the rest of your family sucks ass, and you're bound to be a smidge conflicted."

"Mmm..." was all he said, taking a long sip of coffee and walking over to sit back in his place. The fact that it was right next to her, under the small stretch of her arm, was completely coincidental, and he made no acknowledgment of it.

She let the conversation drop for the moment, drinking her coffee in silence, her hand dropping forward a little bit to absently run through his hair.

He closed his eyes at that, hands still on the keys, not tense or relaxed, just focused on her hand in his hair for the moment.

She let herself enjoy this minute of peace, this moment where she could almost believe they were married, that this was their house, that they didn't have to worry about the life of the girl upstairs. Then the moment passed, and she sighed, though her hand didn't stop. "What are we going to do if they come after her?"

"Kill them," he said, as though it was the easiest answer in the world. For him, it was. He would actually relish the chance to get his hands dirty. He'd been starving for the feel of a good pulse between his fingers.

"Okay, yes, but, I meant more if they blow our cover," she sighed. "I can only hope they don't already know where we are."

"We'll take it as it comes," he said quietly. "To an extent, we have a cushion. This Sebastian has had some shady dealings. He's ex-military as well. I can pretend I was in deep cover with a gang or something. We can talk our way out of a lot with these people, if you give them what they're looking for. A hero or a victim, either way you have them in your hand." He leaned back against the couch, giving up on the pretense of work for the time being, head falling back against her hand.

"Mm, that's a good point. Fuck it, I guess," she snorted, deciding to follow him and just forget about their potential problems for a little while. God, and they weren't even having sex.

He was quiet for a bit, before he reached out without much of a word and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her down next to and inward of him as he lay down on the wide couch. Coffee or not, he'd barely slept the night before, and when field adrenaline wasn't pushing him forward, lack of sleep was miserable.

She threw back the last of her coffee as he pulled her down so she could set it to the side, more than willing to curl up with him. She'd missed him the night before.

He closed his eyes once she lay down, tucking her into a now-familiar position beside him. His mind wandered back to the first time they'd slept curled up together, also on a couch. The tense wariness he'd maintained had seemed so important at the time. With anyone else, it still would be. Yet at the time, even defying Jim to defend her had seemed the obvious, simple choice. Now, even more so.

It occurred to him for the first time that if Jim asked him to kill her, point blank, no other option...

He wouldn't.

It didn't bother him as much as it should have.

He drifted off a few minutes later into a light doze, arm around her waist.

Lorna stayed awake for a little while. She didn't trust the girl upstairs enough to let her catch them both unawares at once. It kept getting harder to hold her eyes open, though, with his heat warming her up to a cozy comfiness, and eventually she drifted off, no longer able to fight off the sleep.

He woke a few times over the next couple of hours, mainly when Keira walked in or out of the room, but for the most part he just slept.

He was in the room. He was always in the room. The tele sat against the far wall, the three VHS tapes he had managed to acquire stacked carefully on top of it. His plate of food (toast with peanut butter, gone cold and stale, but still delicious whenever he dared to take a bite) sat on the end table beside his bed. He was reading a book that was mostly pictures and far too easy that, he'd read a hundred times before. But this time he was seeing how much he could guess about the next page before he turned it. He knew the words by heart.

He was afraid, he realized. His father had been gone so much longer than usual. He probably wouldn't be back tonight. The tape player clock said it was almost eight. He was regretting having three bites of toast at six for dinner. It might need to last until tomorrow night.

His heart was starting to pound as he strained his ears for sounds of his father returning. The world was so, so silent... He stood, walking over to his dresser as if in a trance, and paused as he saw the mirror. There, his reflection. But he wasn't the too-skinny six-year-old he should have been.

He was Keira.

He started awake with a small intake of breath, hand going for the knife beneath his pillow but finding neither pillow nor weapon.

She was woken from her light sleep by his jolt, and she stayed still for a moment, waiting for his breathing to slow a little. Moving too suddenly when he'd been yanked from sleep like that was a bad idea. "Nightmare?"

"Must've been," he grunted dismissively as he sat up, trying to look casual as he stretched.

"Mm," was all she mumbled in response, running a groggy hand over her face. "Shit, what time is it? I didn't mean to fall asleep."

He pulled his phone out and glanced it. "A little past two," he muttered, rubbing at his eyes before standing and heading for the bathroom.

She groaned, pushing herself up and sliding off the couch, heading for the kitchen, where she remembered setting her laptop the night before. She needed to check her email, see if Sara had anything new for them to do. Hopefully, Keira hadn't touched it.

Their next job came much quicker than he thought it would. He was almost through his next pot of coffee when his phone buzzed.

I assume you succeeded. I need you to get into Hanover's party this weekend. Get yourself invited. It's a benefactor's rally for her campaign. Do not miss.