Lorna was sitting on the sofa, a sushi spread laid out on the coffee table, watching a nature documentary on the television with a cup of sake in her hand. She looked up as he walked in and smiled, like nothing was wrong. That was how she could help Sebastian. He hated pity, and her heart was broken, but he needed normalcy, not her tears. "Hey. Your favorite is on. Birds. Oh, did I say your favorite?"

He rolled his eyes, walking over and picking up a piece of tuna sashimi. "You are such a dork. I cannot understand how you think sniping is boring and yet you're content to wander around a park for hours counting sparrows."

"When have you ever known me to walk around the park counting sparrows," she rolled her eyes, picking up a salmon roll. "Honestly, it's not that sniping is boring, it's just not as exciting as grifting."

"I haven't, but you'd be content doing it," he retorted, sitting next to her and leaning back, biting into the tuna and chewing slowly, closing his eyes with a sigh of content and trying to pretend he could turn his brain off.

"Not for measly sparrows I wouldn't," she scoffed, pausing for a minute as she popped the roll into her mouth and chewed it up.

"Oh, terribly sorry. How about..." he eyed the telly. "Purple herons?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I don't exactly have a lot of opportunities to bird watch."

He smirked, finishing the sashimi and sitting up, glancing over his options and picking up his plate, loading it with a sampling. "Take up sniping and you could do it while you wait."

She shrugged, following his example and making herself a plate. "I'll take up sniping if you teach me it, but you would have to fuck me on a roof at least once."

He grinned, close-mouthed, not responding until he swallowed his mouthful of food. "Well, that's a hardship I'll have to just deal with."

"Good," she smirked, eyes on the tv. "I've kinda had a fantasy about it."

"Oh?" he asked, reaching out to grab the kitten by the scruff as she got ready to jump up onto the table and have a go at the sushi. He held her off to the side while she meowed indignantly, and continued eating.

"Yup," she said, getting up to take Magpie from him and disappearing into the bedroom to lock her in before walking back out. "I mean, you're a sniper, am I gonna not?"

"So what does this fantasy involve, precisely?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Me, gun in hand, you, behind me, distracting me from the mission," she shrugged, sitting back down and eating a piece of sashimi before continuing. "Which is why it's a fantasy."

He smiled a little at that. "When was the last time you sniped, anyway?"

"Years. Before we started fucking. So about seven years," she chuckled. "I was pretty good, but it just wasn't for me. Plus, it was a waste of my talents."

"We should get you an assignment," he suggested with a small smirk. "Make that fantasy happen."

"Hell, I'm not going to say no," she chuckled, smirking back. "It should be a low priority target, though. Or we could make one up."

"I'll find something," he agreed with a smile. "I'm enjoying the image I have of you with my gun."

She chuckled around a mouthful of a roll, then swallowed to speak. "This is like the thing men get with women wearing their clothing to the max, isn't it?" she laughed. "I'm sure I'll look good holding it. D'you want me to make a pinup calendar with it?"

"I really wouldn't say no," he said, biting into a spicy salmon roll. The wasabi sent heat down his throat and he coughed roughly, almost choking on the food before he managed to swallow properly, and took another drink.

She reached over to pat him once on the back, purposefully unhelpful, winking at him once. She could do normalcy. She had to, for him. She couldn't let him see what this was doing to her. "I'll get right on that, then. If we're feeling particularly spiteful we can send one to Johnson. Really rub in his emasculation."

"One to him, and one to Vince," he said with a smirk. "But edit both of their versions with Mycroft Holmes' face over yours so that they can't enjoy it."

"But then it won't be so obvious it's me," she pointed out, leaning against his shoulder. "If we're going to do that might as well just grab any old calendar."

"You honestly don't think they'll know it's you by your body? Especially Vince. He knew your measurements before we got to New York for stocking that creepy closet of yours. But the other option would be to leave your face and put Holmes over your various assets." He smiled at the thought.

"I forgot that the closet was creepy, honestly," she muttered, frowning, "It was just all so tasteful. Ugh. I can't believe I had to leave it all behind." She brightened up. "I could do a couple in very obvious bridal wear. Very obvious ring, maybe a veil. That would fuck up Vince. Johnson probably wouldn't get that far, honestly. I bet he'd throw it out immediately."

He grinned. "Perfect. I wonder whether they were able to sew his dick back on? I should find out. Never bothered asking."

"Mm, me neither. I'd express my sympathy if he hadn't been asking for it so desperately," she rolled her eyes. "Honestly, it's still hard for me to believe that he tried to encroach on your 'territory'. That's like a harp seal squaring up against an elephant seal."

"It isn't even really the fact that he was encroaching on my territory... He was treating you like an object. That doesn't do either of us any favors." His nose wrinkled slightly in disgust.

She shrugged. "As a grifter, it's actually quite helpful. Who cares what you say in front of the woman? She's not a person. She doesn't have her own motivations or opinions. It's beneficial for people to underestimate me. Even in HQ, it can be helpful. They try to get in my space, and don't realize that I have a knife ready to gut them. Either way, I'm used to it. I appreciate it, though."

"You're not a grifter anymore, not first and foremost. You're Jim's third. You can't afford the luxury of that particular brand of 'helpfulness'." He decided he was full, and put his feet up on the table, relaxing.

She sighed heavily. "I can't rely on brute intimidation like you can, you have to remember. I have to surprise people."

"Physical intimidation is one thing, and yes, you can't rely on it. But I've seen you intimidate people just fine. You need to make sure you have a reputation of being someone that no one wants to cross." I'm not always going to be here to glare at people over your shoulder.

"I already do, for the smart ones," she muttered, rolling her eyes a little. "It's those fucking stupid ones..."

"Then you need to find a way to make it abundantly clear," he stated firmly, which his lungs resented, retorting with rough coughs a moment later. He swore under his breath.

He was being more insistent than usual, and she didn't like it. It felt like he was trying to make sure she would be okay if he died. "Alright, whatever you say," she relented, raising her shoulders a little, defensively. "Either way, I think it's fun when you step in on my behalf. I like watching you scare people."

He half opened his mouth to retort, but then closed it again and started packing leftover sushi away. "Sure."

She raised her eyebrows a little. "Sure?"

He shrugged. "It isn't worth arguing about. I don't care." He stood up, bringing the leftovers into the kitchen.

"Arguing about what?" She asked, mystified.

"Whether or not you need to make a formidable presence for yourself." He put the sushi in the fridge, and then leaned against the door for a moment. He felt tired, in more ways that one.

"I gave in, didn't I?" she said, standing and heading into the kitchen after him. "I don't want to argue, either. And it's not like you're wrong. I'm just... a little stuck in the past, maybe."

He didn't bother responding to that, straightening once he heard her approaching, posture returning to normal.

She considered him as she entered the kitchen, and leaned against the entry frame. "I love you so much, you know that? It hurts. But god, I'd never give it up."

That hit a chord he wasn't expecting, an ache reverberating deep in his rusty soul, and he didn't dare look at her. "Seems a bit stupid now, doesn't it?"

She shook her head a little. "What seems stupid?"

"Doing this to ourselves," he said, straightening his shirt habitually. "A relationship. Marriage."

She chuckled a little. "We haven't even gotten married, yet. But no, I don't think it's stupid. I don't know if I would have made it this far without this. You. Not with the shit that's happened to me."

"A lot of it wouldn't have happened. My father, your mother..." He shrugged. "Getting married doesn't make too much sense at the moment, anyways."

Her stomach dropped a little, and she half turned away, biting the inside of her cheek. She disagreed, but couldn't bring herself to say anything. This would be a fight, and she couldn't bear one right now.

He looked over at her once she turned away, saw the stiffness of her shoulders. "It's... You can be not okay, if you want."

She swallowed hard, still unable to look at him despite his permission. "I... Doesn't it make sense, Seb? Fuck, if you.. if you die I don't just want to be your girlfriend."

"Why not?" he asked, leaning against the counter. He was suddenly oddly calm. "You would rather be a widow? How does that make your life any better?"

"Because then at least I'm your widow," she said, lifting her head and looking at him, her eyes a little glassy.

He worked his jaw for a moment, uncertain how to respond to that. Looking at her, he knew- she was far from alright. She had dealt with his death already, far too recently. Had mourned him, had tried and failed to move on, only to have the rug ripped out from under her when he resurfaced with Ines. But this... There was no doubting this. No rug under either of them, no last minute plot twist. Just a diagnosis. Cold and simple. When this was over, if he died, he would be dead and that would be it. But she was going to have to watch him die and keep going.

She wasn't okay, and he needed to fix that somehow.

"Then we'll get married," he said calmly, nodding, eyes on hers. "Like we were planning. And make Armetti skype in, the bastard."

She nodded a little, looking away again and trying not to let the tears building up in her eyes spill over. "Sounds like a plan to me." She cleared her throat a little, stifling a sniff. "Thank you."

He nodded, too, and then walked out of the kitchen, across the living room, into the bedroom. "I'm going to shower."

She nodded and started to clean up the rest of the dishes, giving him his space. It was better for her. She could cry freely.

He opened the bathroom door, stepping inside. The place was spotless, and he knew their cleaner must have come through to get the blood off the floor. He turned on the shower and stripped out of his clothes. He wanted to wash the scent of the med bay off of him.

She cleaned up the coffee table and the kitchen and then couldn't keep herself under control anymore, sinking to the floor of the kitchen, her back against the cabinets, and just cried. Oh, how often she ended up like this. On a kitchen floor, trying to forget the latest trauma. This time, she didn't turn to alcohol. She knew that if she started it would be hard to stop, and she couldn't sink into alcoholism while he was sick. She was going to have to take care of him, and she couldn't do that if he was too busy trying to take care of her stupid ass. Eventually, she realized that this wasn't even entirely her problem. Keira had yet to find out, and eventually, the rest of HQ would know something was amiss. If things got truly bad, to the point that Moran couldn't even make a general public appearance to prove he was still kicking... There was a fresh bout of tears at that thought, her heart aching. God, it was happening again.

He stayed in the hot shower for a long time. The steam eased what was becoming a familiar tightness in his lungs, so much more sinister now that he knew the cause. He was faced with the prospect of a slow death, and he tried to accustom himself to that. He needed to be strong. Needed to be certain that, no matter what happened, Jim and Lorna were taken care of. He knew what cancer did to people, but he would be different. He would not break. He was Sebastian Moran, the Butcher of London. He could handle a little cancer. He had faced worse odds.

Eventually she realized that he would not be in the shower forever, and she got up and tried to make herself look normal while she still had the time, but there would be no hiding her red eyes, and she could only decongest so much. She stood there unsure of what to do with herself for a minute or two, then exited the kitchen to find her laptop and sit down on the couch. Work. Something to occupy herself with.

He emerged a few minutes later, dry and in pajama trousers and a clean tee, and walked over to sit next to her. He had seen her face when he crossed the room, but didn't mention it, just shifted an arm around her shoulders casually.

She shifted a little to fit better under his arm and then returned to work, content to wait to speak for a few minutes. If she overcompensated too much it would be too obvious that she was trying to keep both their minds off the elephant in the room. "You know - I don't think the grifting department has had a fire in a while. Knock on wood."

He smirked a little. "Less due to their skill improving, I would say, and more due to your categorical ban on anything that could start a fire."

"I learned a thing or two about fires and what causes them, that's for sure. I don't know if there's a single hot glue gun in my department anymore. We donated a lot of them to Props," she smirked.

"Ah, so we're just shifting the fire plague," he smirked. "Or, are we hiring smarter people in props?"

"They're not using fabric as much in Props, and yes, they're usually smarter when it comes to making things," she smirked.

"I'll accept that," he sighed, grabbing the remote and turning on the telly, starting to search for a decent movie to watch. For once, he wanted to escape reality.

"I'm just glad Kelly has gotten his act together. Means I leave the grifting department in much more capable hands than I used to. Of course, he'd rather not lead, but that's alright. Means I don't have to watch my back quite as hard. Poor sod was relieved when we took back our places from Ines."

"Sounds familiar..." he hummed sarcastically. "Where have I heard that description of work ethic before...?"

She laughed. "Fuck, don't curse the man like that. Too much happened to me that changed my work ethic." She was silent for a brief moment, finishing typing a letter on her keyboard. "It actually occurred to me recently that I think my personality changed after my stroke. I used to be... different, somehow."

He glanced over at her. "Yeah, Jim mentioned that once or twice, come to think of it. He found it entertaining. At one point I think he was comparing brain scans."

"Jesus," she muttered, rolling her eyes a little and shutting the laptop. "'Course he was. If we end up having drinks like he promised, I'll ask if he still has those floating around. Put those in my medical file, where they should be. Last I saw the thing, there wasn't any brain scans in it."

"He's probably got them stashed away somewhere," he agreed, propping his feet up. He listened to the quiet narration as a shark swam past the documentary camera. He wondered if Jim would do drinks, now. What the man's long-term reaction to this news would be. He was bound to have some sort of plan, some way of preserving the network as best as possible... Shit... I still need to tell Keira...

"Somehow I doubt the man ever throws things out. Actually, I guess that's what his enormous brain is for, isn't it? There has to be a reason he has such a big head..." she trailed off, stifling a smirk.

"Feeling risky today, are we?" he asks dryly as the shark stalked a seal.

She shrugged, chuckling a little. "Some days you just gotta say 'fuck it.'"

"Today of all days," he agreed, smiling dryly.

She shifted her laptop off to the side and leaned against his side, pulling her legs up off the floor and her knees up to her chest, head pillowed on his shoulder. "Yeah. Today of all days."

Help me out of this hell
Your love lifts me up like helium
Your love lifts me up when I'm down, down, down
When I've hit the ground
You're all I need

- Sia - Helium -