Every now and then, the stars align
Boy and girl meet by the great design
Could it be that you and me are the lucky ones?
Everybody told me love was blind
Then I saw your face, and you blew my mind
Finally, you and me are the lucky ones this time

- Lana Del Rey - Lucky Ones -

It was almost an hour before they arrived at the address Jim had given, a small house in an equally small suburb. Jim paid the cabby well (Moran wondered where he had gotten the cash) and waited for him to drive off before he headed off in the opposite direction. "Come on. We don't have forever."

They went a few blocks down to a park. A nondescript blue sedan pulled up a few minutes later, and after a short conversation Jim ushered them inside.

The next three hours were a maze of switching cars and walking down twisting alleys and doubling and tripling back. Moran was exhausted and aching, and he knew Lorna and Jim had to be the same, but he didn't complain. The mess would keep them alive.

Finally they arrived in front of an old stone wall, with ivy creeping up it and covering the rusted iron gate. They entered a courtyard, at the center of which was an ancient church. Jim lead them inside.

The interior was surprisingly well-kept, with clean pews and a beautiful altar. A priest was at the front, lighting candles. Jim walked forward and the man looked up. "How can I help you, my son?"

"A man is a sinner, a man seeks redemption."

"All men are sinners. Few seek redemption. A light, perhaps?"

"I am looking to light a candle to St. Felix... perhaps you can direct me."

The priest nodded, and Sebastian got the impression that he was satisfied with a code. "Down the hall to the left. The entrance to the crypt is marked. Left, left, right, straight, second right..." The list went on, but Jim didn't blink, just nodded, and when the man was done they headed down the hall.

Lorna didn't even bother attempting to memorize the list of directions, leaving it to Jim's incredible memory. She followed him silently through the confusing and dark maze, wondering what exactly this place had originally been built for. "Armetti didn't set this up, did he? This is far too intricate..."

"No," Jim said calmly as they walked. "I did. I provided the only copy, hand-written and in a high-security box, to Armetti. Each head of my foreign departments has a similar, though completely unique, set of instructions, with orders to open it only under my explicit and personal orders." He turned a corner, the light from a wall sconce flickering and creating shadows on the tunnel wall. He had given the orders to Armetti as soon as Moran had gone missing in Belgium.

It was another ten minutes before Jim stopped, and motioned Moran forward, pointing him to a stone coffin seemingly identical to the hundreds of others they had passed. He hefted the lid clear, but instead of a body, there was a set of stairs leading down into another tunnel under the coffin. Jim went first, then Lorna. Sebastian came last, closing the coffin over them and entering the space below. Jim started walking again, stopped at a door and scanned his thumb to unlock it. Then suddenly they were through it, and they were no longer in a crypt, but rather in a cement shelter of some sort. Halls led off in every direction, well lit and carpeted, and there in the center of it all stood Armetti. He walked forward quickly to greet them, his eyes on Lorna. "My friends, sir... are you alright?"

"We've all been better, I'm sure, but we're alive," Jim said sharply, eyes examining the bunker, which he had provided the schematics for. It looked true to form, which he wasn't necessarily pleased with, as it was what he had expected to find. He wouldn't have accepted any less. "Show us to the medical room and we'll all be fine."

Lorna was pointedly avoiding Armetti's gaze, feeling like she couldn't handle his oppressive attention right now. Moran, who she trusted and loved, could be by her side, looking at her and talking to her forever, and she would have been fine with it. But even Armetti's presence, right now, made her anxious. If she had been in better condition and not recovering from a recent trauma, she could have handled him, wrapped him around her little finger without being bothered. Right now, she gravitated closer to Moran.

Moran returned his arm to around Lorna's shoulders. Armetti's eyes drifted to him, but Moran, for once, set hostility aside in favor of communication. He nodded slightly toward Lorna and shook his head. Armetti glanced at her again, and his eyes tightened in concern, but for once he kept his distance. "Of course, sir. This way. We have the staff you requested..."

Armetti continued talking logistics, and Moran tried to concentrate, but with a seat and painkillers so near to hand his focus dwindled down to putting one foot in front of the other down the hall.

Jim glanced back at the two of them as Armetti led them to the small infirmary, cautiously keeping an eye on their condition. They both looked exhausted. They stepped into the bright medical room and they both made it about three footsteps in before they both collapsed into a chair. He sighed. "Give them both a check up and wheel them to their room, if they can't muster the energy to walk. Now someone pay attention to my fingers."

Moran stiffened slightly at that, angry at first at Jim for the comment and then at himself for the show of weakness. He shifted away from Harrison, and stood.

He'd gotten too used to Ines. To needing to show weakness so she'd believe he wasn't a threat. Was rolling over and showing his belly habit now? That was a disgusting thought. Oh well. Habits could be broken.

He watched as a man escorted Jim over to a cot near the back room and went to close a curtain.

"No," he ordered sharply. "He stays in sight."

Jim rolled his eyes, but set about unbuttoning his filthy, tattered shirt anyway. It was a shame, really. It had been one of his favorite shirts. "Do as he says. He's trying to regain brownie points." He smirked.

Moran ignored the barb, his attention shifting to Harrison. A woman was approaching to look her over, and he wasn't sure how the grifter would handle it.

She ignored the woman until she was touched, and then didn't even flinch, her eyes just locking onto the nurse for a second before sliding off in disinterest. Not a threat.

He watched her carefully for a bit, before relenting to the insistent stare of another attendant. He sat, then, and allowed the older woman to help him extract himself from his shirt. They ended up having to cut some of it away, and soak other areas with water until the caked blood gave up its grip. The bandage was just as entertaining, the wound red and angry where the stitches had pulled.

Jim was having an equally enjoyable time as the physician poked and prodded bruised areas and examined cuts. He said repeatedly how lucky Jim was that no bones were broken, given the damage, but Jim didn't bother responding, eyes on his bodyguard and his grifter, quietly reading, evaluating, puzzling.

Lorna's nurse cleaned up her split lip further and then asked if anything else hurt, to which she shook her head. The nurse gave her a bit of a skeptical look but left her alone, fetching her a bottle of water and a package of crackers, seemingly suspicious her blood sugar was low. She considered asking to be brought to wherever she was going to be staying, but then realized she wasn't capable of making herself leave Moran's sight.

They applied a topical anesthetic, finally, and he relaxed as the pain faded. He was used to the tug of stitches and didn't bother paying much attention, keeping his eyes on Lorna. Suddenly Armetti was at his elbow.

"What did they do to her?"

He turned to the man, expression unreadable. "That's her story to tell. Not mine. But for her sake, leave her alone for a while."

"You'd rather make her relive it than tell me?" He challenged, unaffected by the man's cold demeanor. He didn't fear the sniper, not like most people did. At the most, he was jealous, and fiercely so. But there wasn't very much he could do about it without causing Lorna's ire.

He didn't falter. "No, but I'd rather get her permission before I do. You make her uncomfortable, at least right now. I don't want to increase that." He gave a cold smile.

He didn't know how to come back at that, and his mouth opened for a moment before he shut it again and turned away, the beginning of a sulk entering the set of his shoulders. Lorna was only paying enough attention to discern that something had upset Armetti, but she didn't particularly care what at the moment. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, sighing.

The doctor finished bandaging up his shoulder and handed him a bottle of painkillers. He tucked them into his pocket as he stood, walking over to Jim. His nurse was bandaging up his fingers carefully, and Jim looked bored. "What next, boss?"

"For you? Nothing, not right away. You're under investigation and I'm not going to tell you anything until I can be certain you're not going to turn around and fuck it up for me," Jim said, mostly without inflection. "I need to investigate a great deal of things, only one of which is you, so it might be a few days. Feel free to review the security measures down here and send me a report. There's only a couple of devices down here that aren't on closed-circuit, so you may use those without supervision."

He grit his teeth slightly, but took a slow breath and nodded. "Of course, sir. I'll have that report to you as soon as possible." With that he turned and walked over to Lorna, offering her a hand up, expression impassive.

She opened her eyes at the sound of footsteps, and took his hand, standing and then letting him tow her where he pleased. Armetti studiously ignored them, paying a weird amount of attention to medical supplies in the back.

The doctor that had seen to Lorna guided them down a few halls and then stopped in front of a door. "Ms. Harrison, your quarters are here. Mr. Moran, if you'll follow-"

"I'll find them later, thank you," he said in a clear dismissal, waiting for Lorna to scan her fingers to unlock the door.

"It's three floors down, room 325," the woman informed him, before heading back to the infirmary. Moran snorted. Subtle, Armetti.

She was thinking the same thing as she opened the door, her eyes landing on the very expensive interior. "How much do you want to bet even Jim's room is a lot less nice than this?" she asked, raising her eyebrows a little. The sofa was quilted leather, and a television that must have been 60 inches across was mounted on the wall. The kitchenette in the corner was state of the art, and there was an extensive liquor cabinet that looked as if it had cost as much as the rest of the flat combined.

"I look forward to my accommodations. It should be amusing to see how cheap he thought he could manage without blatantly insulting me," he said cheerfully as he closed the door behind them. He was instantly more relaxed now that they were alone. Despite everything else, this was what he wanted. Lorna, here, safe, with him.

"Shouldn't be too hard to add your scan to this door," she shrugged, making it over to the couch and sinking down, letting out a long sigh. She was exhausted. Idly, she wondered if there were clothes in here, so she could change out of this filthy hoodie. "I don't want to be living in different rooms."

He walked over to sit next to her, leaning back with a quiet sigh, looking around the room slowly. Then he looked over at her, and smiled a little. "Hey," he said softly.

She chuckled a little, rubbing her eyes. "Hey," she said back, a little amused that this was where they ended up. Months of grieving him, and then that moment of shock where she'd seen him and been devastated, even more than that fake betrayal in the labyrinth. And now, sitting together in a silent room on a couch again. It wasn't the same room or the same couch, but it was them, and that was what mattered.

He looked at her for another moment, then reached out and pulled her into his arms again. He wasn't ever going to get sick of being able to do that. "Jesus fucking Christ, I missed you," he said, loudly, because he could, pulling her into his lap against his chest, and tucking his legs up just a little, enveloping her in a hug.

She curled up into his chest, grabbing his new shirt with her hands, pressing her face into his neck, her heart jumping in her chest, unaccustomed to being with him again. "I missed you too," she said back, her voice hitching a little. "I missed you so much."

He took a slow breath, fingers gripping her tightly. "I'm sorry, Lorna. I am. I would do it over, but fuck, I'm sorry."

"I don't know what else you could have done," she sighed, closing her eyes, listening to his heartbeat under her ear. It was still comforting. "You did what you had to do to get back. I couldn't ask for anything more."

He nodded just a little. "Listen... About Ines... About fucking Ines," he said quietly, then trailed off. What did he say? "I shouldn't have done that. Shouldn't have..." He shrugged and trailed off.

She didn't say anything for a moment, just thinking about it. She couldn't just force it to the back of her head and pretend it hadn't happened forever. She wasn't good at that. That was a time-tested fact. "Look..." she started, finger tracing a random pattern on his chest. "I'm not going to say that it's okay, that I don't care, 'cause that's not true. But... fuck, Sebastian, it's not like I haven't made mistakes. I can't and won't hold it against you."

He sighed, putting his face in her hair. "I got lost. I'm not used to that shit and I got caught up in it."

"You're not a grifter, Seb, you've made that clear multiple times. You never learned the basic survival skills. The trick is to keep yourself from believing your own lie," she murmured, swallowing. "You can't always keep yourself from doing it, but you've got to try. If you don't, well, you pay for it."

He was quiet for a while, almost too long. The topic was sliding away into the silence when he said, "It was still wrong. I should have had more control. I know you won't hold it against me, but it was a fucked up thing to do. And I get that."

She nodded against his chest, letting out a quiet breath into the space between them. She didn't really know what to say. It was one of the most sincere apologies she'd ever received from him, and she hadn't even really been looking for it. "Thank you," she said eventually, voice soft.

He sighed, and nodded a little. Then said, "And the next time I die, you don't even think about that fucking gun, you hear me? Dammit, Harrison. That's not fucking good shit."

"I didn't know what to do, okay?" she said defensively, curling up a little tighter, jaw tightening. "We'd just gotten back from India, where you basically single-handedly nursed me back to something resembling health, and then you were gone." She was silent for a moment. "You know, I actually blamed Jim at first? I barged into his office, screaming at him. He was just as upset as I was. I think maybe I wanted him to kill me. But he didn't, and he stopped me from shooting myself later," she sighed, closing her eyes, trying to remind the approaching anguish in her chest that it was over, that he was back. He was here, and he didn't have to pretend he hated her any more. "Fuck, Sebastian, I just didn't see the point to keep going. At least if I die you have Jim. Jim and I only grew closer when you were dead because it was the only thing left of you that we could touch."

"Yeah, well, I'm not impressed with him either," he snorted. "I can't be the only reason the two of you function, Lorna! It's not fair, and I can't do my job, because fuck, if I have to choose between dying for Jim and knowing you'll die too, or..." He trailed off. That was a dangerous thing to say right now. "We need to work on finding something in life that you enjoy besides me. Because I can't deal with being the only reason. I'm going bloody grey."

She took in a deep breath, trying to decide what to say to him. She'd known since his amnesiac episode that she didn't have anything going for her besides him, but she'd been careful to keep it from him. She would not get in the way of him doing his job, or living his life, just because she wasn't strong enough to keep going without him. Honestly, that had worked up until he had died and then come back to life. She didn't like the idea of lying to him, but if it took that.. problem out of his equation... "I'm sorry," she murmured, rubbing at her eyes again, and sighing. "I didn't... intend for this to be a problem. I never thought I would have to explain myself to you. I know that's not an excuse, but I've admitted before that I'm a deeply miserable person, and I've been surviving on increasingly healthier -shockingly- addictions for years. I can't just summon a reason to live. I'll look, to ease your mind a little, but Christ, Seb, I can't just erase the feeling that you're the best thing that will ever happen to me."

He sighed. "Just... fuck." He didn't know what to say to that. "I considered it, too, when I thought you died," he said after a while. "When Jim told me you were dead. I had my gun in my hand. But it felt wrong, somehow. Because you gave a shit about me, so it seemed fucked up that my first reaction to your death would be to destroy something you cared about."

She chuckled, weakly, then took a deep breath, suddenly feeling like she needed to hold back tears. "That makes you a better person than me. I was too selfish to consider that."

He laughed, a real one, deep and full. "I think that is the first time anyone has called me the better person. I'm slipping," he said, tickling her side gently and letting the topic drop for now.

She giggled, squirming in his lap. "Christ alive, man, stop, I'm sore and bruised! Have mercy!" She begged, trying to wiggle away from him a little.

He relented slightly, though he didn't stop completely, still grinning. "Are you really begging a sadist for mercy, Harrison?" he asked, bending to nip her neck.

"Try a new tune, Moran, I swear to god," she laughed, managing to grab onto his hands to stop his assault and planting her foot in his thigh. "Seriously, you keep going, I'm going to 'accidentally' kick you in the balls."

"Now that's just low," he said with a fake pout, but didn't struggle, just gripped her hands and leaned forward to kiss her gently.

She kissed him back tentatively, her stomach doing an odd flip. It hadn't been prepared for Moran to be back in her life, to be touching her again, and the tolerance she'd built up over time was shot to hell. Not to mention the fact that a man had attempted to sexually assault her today, and she was still coping with the lingering anxiety.

He just lingered against her lips for a moment before pulling away. He had no intention of going further than that, the image of her fighting the man off still burned in his mind. But he had needed that much, that little reassurance. How many times had he imagined the ways he would fuck her when they got back together- rough and bloody and pinned to walls- but now they were cuddled up on a couch kissing with the intensity of kindergartners. Still, he was happy.

She nestled back against him, warmth and comfort in her chest for the first time since India. Even though it wasn't true, she had the feeling that everything was right in the world. It didn't matter what kind of shit they were put through; as long as she could curl up against his chest and soak in his warmth, any suffering she was going through eased. After a few minutes of silence, a small smirk appeared on her face. "Have I mentioned I like your new hair?"

"God, no, not you, too," he groaned, arms wrapped around her. "It looks so... boy band. It's horrendous."

"You look stylish. Roguish, even," she grinned, half-serious. "Plus, let's all admit that it's actually spitting distance from Jim's hair, so you might want to be careful with insulting it in front of him."

He raised an eyebrow. "It's a far cry from Jim's hair. Plus, it was Ines's idea. Still a fan?"

"Less of a fan," she admitted, grimacing a little. "Doesn't make the hair terrible, but it does take the fun out of it."

"Yeah. She took far too much pleasure in being able to control precisely every aspect of my existence. It was not enjoyable." He snorted in annoyance. "So I'll be cutting this off as soon as possible, thanks."

"Yeah, alright," she agreed, still grimacing. "What a bitch. I look forward to paying her back a little revenge."

"Agreed," he said with a snort. "Though honestly, if she had just come into the organization, she would have done well. Jim would have liked her."

"Or she would have been viewed as competition. I don't know if Jim would be comfortable with someone else smart enough to be running a network hanging out in his lobby," she said, shrugging a little. "I think he might have killed her."

"True," he sighed, nodding a little. His hands wandered across her shoulders gently, massaging slowly, trying to work out knots and tension.

She let the conversation fade, just enjoying his presence in silence. She'd missed this. She'd missed him.

He massaged her back for a while longer before finally smiling and nipping her ear. "Come on. Let's find out what your shower's like."

"Let's find my wardrobe first. It's chilly in here, I don't really look forward to wandering around in the nude," she chuckled, unfolding herself and climbing out of his lap.

"I could turn up the heat," he offered with a smirk, but let her go. He sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing for a moment.

She explored the flat a little, mostly ignoring the small kitchen and pushing open the door that looked like it would lead to a bedroom. She was a little taken aback by how big it was - nearly as big as the living room - but moved on and headed to the armoire in the corner. Opening up the drawers, she began to root though it, looking for something comfortable to wear. She passed over silk and lace pajamas before eventually coming across cotton ones, and, pulling them out, stuck her head out of the door. "Alright, let's find that shower."

He opened his eyes and then stood to walk over her, admiring the bedroom with a low whistle. "Nicely done... Shame he won't ever see it," he smirked a bit.

She chuckled, slinging the pajamas over her shoulder. "Not anymore, at least. Somehow I doubt he's completely stayed out of here," she snorted, spotting a door in the corner of the room and moving to pull it open. It was a walk-in closet. "Damn, where's the bathroom? I don't really need this much closet space..."

He snorted slightly, starting to walk around the room opening random doors. "Study... another closet... Jesus, bathroom," he muttered, opening the door the full way so that she could see the large room that lay beyond. The floor was covered in flagstones of light sandstone. The walls were tiled in white, accented by sandy tan and seafoam green. Shells made a border around the room at about waist height, intersecting the counter, which was made of acrylic that, while smooth on the surface, had inner contours made to look like foaming seawater. Fake waves crested in the center of the counter to form the lip of a sink with brass fittings.

There was a shower in one corner, also brass and shells, and the toilet was in another corner behind a screen partition. Central, along the back wall, was a large jacuzzi, the exterior mosaiced with tiny shells to form stylized waves.

"Jesus," he repeated.

Lorna rubbed her eyes, letting out a long sigh. "Jesus," she agreed, looking wearily at the opulent bathroom. "I don't even really care about the beach," she shook her head, stepping into the room and moving to stand over the jacuzzi, checking it out. "Shower or soak?"

"Shower first," he suggested. "I'll get the jacuzzi filled. You've been in that cell a while. You're filthy." He headed over to turn the water on, running his hand under to feel the temperature.

"Yeah, I'm pretty gross," she agreed, lifting a hand to gingerly touch her greasy hair, then dropped her backup clothes on the floor and turned on the shower, which had very good pressure immediately, which she was thankful for. She stripped out of her filthy clothes and waited for the water to warm up, leaning against the wall, tired. Without really meaning to, she began wondering about her relationship with Jim. Was this something that she needed to discuss with Sebastian? She hadn't been pleased when she'd been missing and found the two of them were regularly fucking, but she didn't think that sentiment went both ways. She closed her eyes, sighing. "Hey... do we need to talk about Jim?"

"What about him?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the jacuzzi to pull off his shoes. He was pretty certain why she was asking, but didn't particularly feel like jumping into that topic unless he was certain. Even then...

She stepped into the shower, flinching a little under the heat, and sucking in a sharp breath. It felt weird on her sore muscles. "I... exclusively fucked Jim for what... I don't know, like three months? I don't know how you feel about that."

"I was dead. It made you feel better. I fucked Ines," he said, shrugging and then tensing slightly as his shoulder protested. He started working on removing his shirt.

She ran her hands through her now-soaked hair, trying to work out any dirt or blood that was clinging to her scalp. "I know," she sighed, "I just... it feels different now."

He was quiet for a minute, considering that, his fingers playing absently in the water of the filling jacuzzi. When he spoke, his voice was carefully nonchalant. "Would you rather be with Jim?"

She didn't even have to consider it, but she was quiet for a moment, because her throat was trying to close up. "Never."

"Okay, then," he said, not dwelling on that thought any longer than he had to. "So what's different?"

"I don't know. I don't know," she said, scrubbing her face under the water, partially to clean herself, partially to make herself feel better. "I've never been in this situation before. I've never been an equal participant. I've always been a third wheel, not the third side of a triangle."

He smirked and stood stiffly, and walked over, sliding the shower door open a little and reaching in to take her hand in his. He was always a little surprised by how small her hands were compared to his own. "Welcome to the triangle, I guess. You're fine. On more solid standing than you used to be, I'd wager."

"Yeah, I guess so," she agreed, squeezing his hand. Her eyes found his shoulder, and she frowned a little. "When did that happen?"

He glanced down at the bandages and then back up. "A couple days ago. Jim tried to kill me with a nail file. It was a sharp nail file." He released her hand and walked over to turn off the water, the tub nearly full. "It'll heal fine."

"He tried to kill you? I'm surprised you didn't try to break us out after that happened," she commented, grabbing mint & eucalyptus shampoo from the rack in the shower and lathering it up into her hair.

"The original plan was to actually take back the network, not just run for our lives," he sighed. "I managed to convince him while I had him pinned that I was on his side, so I thought I could keep things progressing."

"Too bad that set off Ines," she muttered, just loud enough to be heard over the shower, rinsing the suds out of her hair most of the way before she turned off the shower and stepped out, dripping water on the flagstones. "Is the tub ready? If you can call that a tub..."

"Yeah," he said, hitting a few buttons until the jets came on. Then he started removing his trousers.

She climbed into the jacuzzi with weary limbs and sank into the warm water, letting out a quiet sigh, and leaned back and shut her eyes. It was odd to be comfortable again. Some little voice in her body was hankering for a drink, but she wasn't depressed, and she wasn't afraid, and she only had a few superficial injuries, for once in her goddamn life. Now that he was back, she wouldn't have to miss her scars, either. The night she'd realized that they'd gotten rid of one of her concrete memories of him she'd broken a glass against the wall. "You know," she said idly, "You're lucky you came back when you did. I was gonna give Keira a couple of your guns."

He smirked. "I would have gotten them back." He climbed into the tub a moment later, careful to keep his bandaged shoulder clear. "She was more affected than I expected her to be. I wasn't thrilled when I found out she'd gone on a bender on her motorcycle." He shot Lorna a look.

She looked offended. "It's not like I just let her go, I tried to get her to drink with me. She had one drink and left, and I was in no condition to stop her."

"She's a teenager, Harrison. My daughter. Those two things combine to make a rather stubborn personality. I know you weren't good, but, fuck..." He sighed and leaned back against the edge of the tub.

"I wasn't thinking, Sebastian, I'm sorry," she huffed, running a hand through her newly washed hair. "What did you want me to do? Knock her out and lock her up so she had no one left to trust?"

I wanted you to get your shit together long enough to care about someone other than yourself.

But he couldn't keep fighting this fight. It was pointless, it wouldn't change anything.

"Nothing. Forget I said anything, you're right."

She fell into an unhappy silence, unsatisfied with his response but very unwilling to continue the conversation. She didn't want to relive that time any more than she had to, and she was ashamed that he now knew what a mess she'd let herself become.

He closed his eyes, trying to let go of the anger and frustration that he hadn't really noticed building up. He reached up to rub at his face.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the bubbling of the jacuzzi. "I'm sorry," she said eventually, not looking at him. "I know I shouldn't have fallen apart like I did. I can explain it, but it doesn't make it right. But I can't promise to be much better. You're too important to me."

"Don't say you're sorry," he muttered. "You won't change, that isn't sorry." He shrugged, and then swore under breath as his shoulder protested, and stood, water dripping off of him. "You don't need to be sorry. She isn't your job, she never was." He grabbed a towel and stepped out, suddenly done with jacuzzis.

That stung, probably more than he had intended to, and her eyes prickled, making her blink. She bit the inside of her cheek out of habit, too used to communicating with Jim to call him back immediately. He got a few wet steps away before she managed to speak. "Yes, she was. As long as she's been your responsibility she's been mine. I dropped the ball that night. But I didn't again." She got up out of the water and sat on the edge, her hands in fists against her knees. "Once I... I don't know, committed to Jim I'd give him warning if I decided to kill myself, I watched her. I'm sorry for that night. I'm sorry I fell apart. But fuck, what else was I gonna do, Sebastian?"

"Nothing!" he said, turning to look at her. "That's the point, Lorna. You wouldn't have done anything else. But that's what so bloody frustrating. My life is pointless. I died, and everything I had worked to build, to protect, everything in my life I cared about- You, Jim, Keira, the network- it all falls to shit as a result. My life's work gone in a few moments, because I died. Hell of a legacy to leave," he spat. "So I just need to get used to that, alright? I need to let it sink in. My pride is stung, so just let it be, okay?"

She looked away from him, nails digging into her palms, her eyes stinging badly. She couldn't speak even if she had had something to say, her throat closing up. What could she say to him? All of them had insulted him with the way they'd carried on after he died, and she couldn't solve that. She just stayed where she was, returned to familiar paralysis, and waited for him to leave so she could blink out the tears waiting in her eyes without judgment.

He watched her for a moment, trying to decide what to do, before he stooped to pick up his clothes and headed out into the bedroom.

They spilled over her cheeks as soon as the door closed, and she let her head drop to her hand, taking in a shaking breath, reminded of nights she'd fucked Jim. Fucking him always hurt. Whether physically or emotionally, it was meant to ache.

Sitting in the penthouse bathroom on the closed toilet, her head in her hands, breath shaking. He hadn't even said anything particularly hurtful, she'd just been reminded too strongly of Moran and now couldn't contain herself. He knew she was crying in here, there was no doubt about it, but they'd managed to strike an unstable peace, consisting mainly of willful ignorance and leaving each other alone.

She kept wiping tears away, trying to stop the flow, but her hands just kept getting wetter and there was no sign of stopping. It didn't help that she was alone in this. There wasn't any comfort left to her. She couldn't show this in front of Jim.

He got dressed, then, after looking around for a moment, found pen and paper.

Going to find my room and clothes. Back soon.

He left the note on the bed and headed out, closing her door quietly behind him.

He needed the space to think. He hadn't really been able to articulate his frustration until it had all come spilling out just then, and he was turning the realization over slowly. But it was true. His life was meaningless. The moment he died, everything he'd done was going to be wiped off the map. It was staggering.

By the time she gathered her will to move, her joints creaked in protest, and she pulled the drain on the tub and got dressed still damp, feeling too hollow to bother drying off the rest of the way.

He wasn't in the bedroom, and she picked up the note, read it, and then put it on the nightstand. She suspected he wouldn't be back for a long time, if at all today, despite the note. So she turned off the lights and crawled into bed in the near pitch blackness, curling up under the covers with the achingly familiar feeling of an empty bed around her. He probably would be unable to get back in without her being awake, but she didn't know whether or not she could make herself feel either way about it. He was angry, and she wasn't good with anger she could do nothing about. Especially for something she had not been able to help.

He found his room on the third floor down, and scanned in without problem. It was significantly smaller than Lorna's had been, which he'd been expecting. It had a central living area, a kitchenette, and a small bedroom and bathroom. It was well-furnished, and a bottle of mid-shelf scotch sat on the table, but he didn't bother, just walked into his room to find clothes.

He found a fully stocked wardrobe and changed carefully, being cautious of his shoulder. Then he sat on his bed, elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced.

Nothing. My life is worth absolutely nothing.

But what could he do about it? Lorna would never change. She wasn't strong enough. Jim might, and he could try his best to influence that, but in the end it was always going to be up to Jim. Keira... Keira was best left mostly alone, for both their sakes, though he could at least rail her for bloody drunken driving.

In the end there was nothing to do but accept it. Accept that Lorna was selfish, Jim was chaotic, and Keira was a child. Those were the people he chose to share his life with, and in the end they controlled what happened to it after he left. He could either hate them for it, or accept it and move on.

And he desperately missed Lorna.

He stood, then, tucking basic necessities into a bag he found in the closet and heading back up to Lorna's, knocking.

She had just been falling asleep when the knock reverberated through the flat in a way that made her think a sound engineer had been involved with designing the place. She sighed and got out of bed, shuffling through the darkness into the living room, and opening the door. She was a little surprised to see him there. "Hey," she said quietly, and stepped back to let him in.

"Hey," he said, stepping inside. He took in the mix of sleep and confusion in her expression, and raised an eyebrow. "I said I'd be right back."

She snorted a little, closing the door behind him. "Yeah, you did. Sorry, I'm still running on Jim Time. Plus, you looked pissed," she replied, pushing off from the door and heading back for the bedroom.

"I am. But not at you, really. Besides, your room is way nicer. I'm not going to stay alone downstairs in Motel 6 when I could sleep up here in your penthouse, next to a sexy woman." He flashed a small grin.

She laughed, walking into the bedroom and turning the light on so he could pack away the things in his bag. It would probably bother him if he couldn't make things orderly. "Alright, now you're just sucking up," she smirked, climbing back into bed.

"To you? Never. What use is that? I outrank you," he snorted, starting to pack his things into an empty drawer.

"You might outrank me, but you are trying to weasel your way into living in my penthouse, remember?" she chuckled, leaning back against the quilted leather headboard. She wondered vaguely when she'd convinced Armetti of her undying love for quilted leather. Maybe he hadn't been involved in the interior design. Who knew.

"Oh, I'm weaseling, now, am I?" he snorted, shutting the drawer with a grin and walking over to turn the light out before lying down on the bed next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Well then. I'll weasel." He kissed her shoulder.

She shifted to be more horizontal, some of the anxious tension in her chest unraveling with his contact. "That's the easiest you've ever conceded on something, I think."

"I'm in your bed, aren't I? What use is fighting when the situation is in your favor?" He pulled her up against his chest.

She simply chuckled in response, too tired to continue quipping with him, the six-hour nap on the plane not nearly enough to combat a few weeks of exhaustion, and curled into him, letting her eyes shut. She just didn't want to think for a little while. She could deal with him being pissed at her later.

He tucked the blanket up around her and sighed, relaxing.

He waited until she fell asleep, then forced himself to get up, starting to check through the apartment carefully for bugs, surveillance equipment, whatever. They weren't safe, not really, but he needed Lorna feeling like she was. She'd gone through too much shit lately.

She shifted a little when he got up, but was too tired to wake up all the way. She just curled up tighter and relaxed again, sighing softly. For once, the dreams that contained Sebastian didn't hurt.

He returned an hour or so later, and climbed into bed, pulling her into his arms again, her head on his good shoulder. He took in the feel of her there, her smell, and finally drifted off, completely exhausted.