AN: R/J Kind of in the same steampunk!verse as Smoke and Mirrors, cause I can't think of another place it should go.

I do not own the characters.

"Stranded in this spooky town,
Stoplights are swaying and the phone lines are down
Floor is crackling cold,
She took my heart, I think she took my soul

With the moon I run,
Far from the carnage of the fiery sun
Driven by the strangle of vein
Showin' no mercy I do it again
Open up your eyes
You keep on crying, baby I'll bleed you dry

Skies are blinking at me
I see a storm bubbling up from the sea
And it's coming closer

You shimmy-shook my boat,
Leavin' me stranded all in love on my own
Do you think of me?
Where am I now, baby where do I sleep?
Feels so good but I'm old
2000 years of chasing takin' its toll
And it's coming closer."

-Closer, Kings of Leon

The trail for the jewel went cold, but his heart was warmed - touched in a way it had never previously. In a place he never expected to find something resembling love, there it was. The mysterious fan-wielding woman proved an enigma, but with secrets of his own, he did not press her. Instead, he approached her as if some fantastic mythical creature, ever so slowly trying to gain her confidence. Weeks turned into months and while other visitors came and passed, he remained, seemingly stuck. Whispers and words came - his band of rogues, his brothers at arms, were looking for him. He sent no word in return. His quest abandoned, but his hope endured.

With nothing more than shared glances and quiet conversations, he had finally made a decision to pack up and move when she appeared in his rented rooms. She said nothing, but removed her clothing, never breaking eye contact with him.

Trying to hold pure passion in his arms, he spent every ounce of his being between her thighs. As they caught their breath, he asked, "Why?"

"Will you take me with you?" she asked.

"Of course." Up until this moment, he hadn't considered asking her to join him.

"I know of what you seek."

"Why…?"

"You had to give up everything. It was the only way."

Whether or not her logic made sense, he chose not to comment. Instead, he stood up and poured them a single glass of what passed for alcohol in these parts. Taking a sip, he offered her the remains. Ruby red lips he knew to be highly capable sipped cautiously. As she didn't offer a further explanation, he asked, "When do we leave?"

"Your compatriots..."

"I wouldn't call them that." He had no idea how she knew of the three raconteurs he associated with.

"They are necessary."

"Says who?"

"The fires have deemed it so."

Having purpose again felt better than he imagined. Stooping to pick up his trousers, he said, "Let me ready the airship. We'll leave at dawn."