Basically the calm after the storm and fluff goodness.

There was a long, tensed silence that lingered in the kitchen air of Stefano's estate, shrouding its two occupants who were seemingly lost in their own winding thoughts.

A lethargic sigh escaped Kenna's lips. Her head was still aching, though the ice had helped to assuage the throbbing. Bruises were probably starting to form all over her body now as she stared right through the white tiled walls, her back against the pristine marble counter.

A cigarette settled between her slim fingers, the smoke curling around her hand. She was too tired to think, too restless to sleep. Her mind was practically still buzzing from the fight before, it was as if she had lost her on and off switch somewhere across Union.

Her eyes decidedly diverted to Stefano who was sitting on the stool directly across her, a glass of aspirin in his hand fizzled like a snowglobe.

He was basically a wild mess— well, they both were—but his hair was in complete chaos, his scarf and jacket were placed neatly on the seat next to him where Kenna's jacket and gloves also resided, leaving him in his rumpled shirt that hugged his lean form like a second skin with both sleeves rolled up.

She took a long drag of her cigarette and looked the other way.

"Stai bene? " Stefano began, breaking the silence.

Kenna blew the smoke out and glanced at Stefano's direction. "What?"

"Are you okay?" he kindly translated the words for her.

"Oh..." Kenna pondered, hadn't really expected the question. The battle had become one giant elephant in the room at the moment ever since they got back and she was somehow glad he brought the subject up to the table. For Kenna as well had been wondering just how he was holding up with growing frequency. She just simply didn't know how to start.

"Well, I'm not exactly hunky-dory, but I'm hanging. Well… besides the fact that I've been thinking just who was the fucking idiot who thought that installing a timer on a fail-safe device was a good idea, anyway?" Kenna groused.

An amused smirk crawled over Stefano's face and he chuckled, genuinely in mirth, despite sounding weary. "Apparently, those brainless philistines that call themselves Mobius."

Kenna laughed as well. "Touche." She paused then. "How about you? How's your eye?"

At the question, any trace of smile instantly disappeared from his face, replaced by an almost bitter look that acted as a do-not-disturb sign that he put up.

"It's fine," Stefano dismissed a little too quickly. Kenna didn't buy it. She knew a practiced lie when she heard one.

"Come on, Stef, I saw what that thing did to yo—"

"I'm fine, Kenna," he said again. His tone showing no room for argument resulting for her to frown. There was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment when Kenna thought she saw guilt passed over him.

She looked at him now, finding his prevaricating manner annoying, though Kenna kept her opinions to herself. In another life, she would have probably rolled her eyes and stomped off of the room, leaving him to sort out his own problems, but right now, Kenna was just too tired to give a retort.

Kenna genuinely wanted to help him, medically or psychologically. True, she still hadn't forgotten what Stefano had done to that Lost, but she found that she couldn't be angry with him anymore.

Not when they bear the same scars now.

Overcame with a sudden boldness, Kenna set her cigarette on a nearby ashtray and crossed the space between them, like sleepwalking. She stood uncomfortably between his legs, looking down at him with eyes slanted. His familiar scent and buzz welcomed her, the kind that she reserved as him though still, his proximity still rose red flags in her mind.

"Let me see." It was more of a question than a demand.

His eye remained fixed elsewhere. She bent over to his level only resulting for Stefano to tilt his head even farther.

"Stefano, let me see your eye," Kenna tried again, softly this time. "Please?"

Her plead was finally paid off as Stefano slowly cocked his head up to meet hers. He looked miserable, annoyed and exhausted but managed to give her a measured stare, waiting. Kenna's mind was swirling, goosebumps threatened to rise on her skin. She was sorely tempted to turn around and let the matter rest, but she didn't. Kenna couldn't understand why but the thought of Stefano hurting bothered her.

So she let her hands— her cold and bare hands— reach down to him, reminding herself that this was simply for medical purpose and nothing else, and cradled his cheeks in her palms.

Stefano blinked, probably taken aback by the gesture, but remained still. His breathing steady. Under her touch, she felt his tension slowly unwind.

His skin was slightly colder than hers, his bleached blue eyes shone brightly against the backdrop of warm yellow light and Kenna fought so hard to avoid his gaze, to neglect the fact that she was touching him. It was a weird sensation. His five o'clock shadow lightly scraping her fingertips, her hand then traveled higher to stroke Stefano's dark hair out of the way, revealing the flaw it concealed.

A sense of relief flashed over her face. The light in his eye had indeed returned. Stefano was right, he was indeed fine and her relief easily vapored into embarrassment upon realizing that she was overreacting.

Though Kenna didn't say anything— she couldn't, she simply stood there as a sudden dryness had inched up her throat.

The last time she checked, Kenna was fully aware that the concussion hadn't been that serious and that her mind was still fully intact. In any rational sense, she should pull away from him now knowing that he was okay. Yet Kenna found herself lingered, absorbed by the faint flare of the device in his eye and the scars that surrounded it.

She was well aware that she was treading a dangerous zone here. Stefano was an uncharted water for her— no, he was the rough seas, the Belladonna, the miscreant, he was everything that humanity should steer clear of. But so help her, the thought of leaving somewhat hung far and dim in the distance. Something just drove her toward him, she had no fucking idea how. Kenna could be as well losing her fucking mind now and she hated the fact that she was losing it to him.

Her thumb delicately tracing the bulging veins as if he were a China doll ready to break and Stefano closed his eye, leaning into her gentle touch like cold hands to a fire. She felt his lips ghosting over her palm, parted and damp, blowing out warm breaths on her bare hand whilst his hands made their way to encircle around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Stefano leaned his head forward and rested in on her sternum. Kenna made a sudden intake of breath. Her whole body went rigid, frozen to the spot. Her head swirled again. Her nostrils picked up the scent of his slightly smoky hair whilst his ear pressed against her heart. Though if Stefano could hear the continual tango that her heart made, he didn't make a comment.

Stefano inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It wasn't my intention to be curt to you."

It took all of her willpower not to gape. For a moment there, Kenna only looked down at the top of his head with an unrestrained disbelief. It simply never occurred to her that he was capable of uttering an apology to anyone at all, she was speechless, trying to formulate a proper response. She wasn't exactly sure how she felt about this.

When Kenna still remained silent, Stefano took that as a cue to continue.

"It's just… I didn't see it coming, Kenna. I didn't expect Theodore would go to that extent to try to take over Union," he sighed again, his pent-up frustration pulsed through him as his hold on her waist tightened.

Kenna took in a deep, measured breath. Hoping her emotion wouldn't betray her voice.

"None of us could have known, Stef. Like you said, Theodore is unlike anything either of us has faced before. Even if we had known, there wasn't much that we could do about it, was it? One way or another we had to go there and face that thing. You can't escape what is inevitable," reasoned Kenna, dropping her hands to his shoulders with the same comforting manner. "You can't escape fate."

He remained silent, probably mulling her words over. Stefano then withdrew his head from her and met her gaze. His eye anchored on her hazel ones.

"Was it fate that brought you to meet me, then?"

The question caught her off guard. "Perhaps," she shrugged, deciding not to muse on the idea too deep. "Or a long ass fall down the rabbit hole, take your pick."

Stefano's eyebrow arched high at her words. "Should I be pleased that the concussion didn't take away your sarcasm or vice versa?"

Kenna burst into laughter before playfully shoved him on the chest. "Can it you… you… what's the Italian word for asshole?"

"Mi amor?"

"Oh, shut up, you ass."

Kenna was still too encompassed by her own laughter that she failed to notice when Stefano raised his hand up to her face. He gently caressed her sooty cheek with the back of his gloved hand, down her jaw. She jerked out of her bubble, as if she had tripped down a flight of stairs and swallowed thickly. The shadow of his smile still ever present, though the look that he gave her could have melted miles of Arctic ice.

He straightened his posture and he was close now, if he raised his head any higher they would be kissing.

Before the moment extended to the point she would regret later, Kenna withdrew her hands from him and wriggled free from his embrace. Stefano didn't bother to hide the disappointment in his visage and sighed.

She cleared her throat, almost sounding forced. "Right, I suppose I'd better update my sister about our recent development. We can talk later."

"Alright," Stefano nodded, taking a sip from his glass and stretched out his long legs. "You know where to find me."

Actually, she didn't. But knowing just how frequent they stumbled across each other's paths lately, Kenna doubted finding him would be much of a problem.

Kenna grabbed her communicator, refusing to meet his eye and made a bee-line toward the door. She was more than ready to be rid of this distraction, but at the same time heard her heart made a quiet protest.

This was just fucking conflicting.

Kenna felt her pace slowing down, the hallway was only a step away. She heard the stool shifted and scraped the floor and Kenna closed her eye shut.

"You should get some rest, Stef. Though your eye is fine now, it couldn't hurt, could it? Our fight is far from over and for the sake of our cause, please consider it." The woman paused, trying to let the statement sink in and cocked her head to the side, giving him a full view of her profile. "If not for the cause, then for me."

Kenna didn't even bother to turn around and see his reaction as she walked away. She thought fate really was a strange thing.

It had only stopped raining for a few moments by the time Kenna appeared outside the backyard patio, barefoot and wrapped in a thick woolen blanket that felt more than adequate to keep her warm.

Kenna gingerly tiptoed her way towards the wicker chair situated under the well-trimmed Oak tree, making sure she didn't step on a puddle along the way given the ground was still sodden, droplets of water cascading down the vines into the wall-mounted fountain, the shrubberies, and orange trees all drenched with rain. She pulled the plastic slipcover from the chair and plopped herself with ease, pulling her knees up to her chest, rested her chin on the bend between them with a sigh. The wind playing with her hair.

If Kenna wasn't mistaken, it should be midnight by now though she couldn't see the moon, the stars or any celestial indication that would confirm it. Only vast and endless pitch-black skies as a reminder of the bogus world she was in. At least the air was nice, the chilly gust of wind with a taste of rain in them, and the stillness of the estate was a nice trade after all the uproar and destruction she had witnessed early on.

And the patio was beyond picturesque to begin with, so much like the rest of the garden. Kenna imagined how it would have looked like in the real world, in the afternoon amidst of summer. How lovely it would be. No wonder Stefano had insisted on building the estate inside Union.

The woman shifted in her seat and frowned at his name. One of the reasons Kenna was out here because she was still waiting for Juli's response to their recent encounter with the Harbinger and sleep hadn't exactly been a welcoming distraction. She'd tossed and turned and cursed each time the ache in her head reappeared, and an hour later, here she was with a blanket around her shoulders.

But mainly it was because of the devil himself. After their little exchanges in the kitchen involving her touching him, him nearly kissing her— again , her worrying sickly for him, him caressing her cheek, somehow Kenna found it almost impossible not to get caught in this emotional tug-of-war. And now basked in her own solitary, she found herself wondering just where Stefano was while initially being grateful for his absence.

This was really, really confusing indeed.

Though it wasn't exactly her fault to feel like this, was it? For one, the man sure did had an arsenal of colorful words. Although if only the circumstance was any different, if Stefano had been any other man, it would have been probably a whole lot easier fending them off without thinking of why and how in the hell she could give herself so easily to them.

Damn him.

If he kept pushing like this, she was afraid if one day she'd push back and now was the worst timing for some pastime, some idle flirtation that would only spark a whirlwind romance with one of the most dangerous men alive. She'd only agreed for an alliance because they happened to share the same goal, it was simply crazily foolish on her part to entertain something further than that.

But feelings can creep up to anyone at any time just like that, it is only human. It is beyond anyone's control.

What would happen if she went out of control?

Kenna was instantly pulled out of her contemplation when she heard the patio door creaked open. She turned her head, finding Stefano stepping outside from the glass door with his usual grin plastered on his face.

He had ditched his usual indigo jacket with a fancy maroon silk dressing gown, looking real spruce and dapper like he usually was, his gloves were off and Kenna had to pretend not to notice how bare his hands looked like without them and the noticeably Hypertrophic burn scar on the half-side of his left hand. His right hand had a similar but smaller mark.

When he felt her stare, Stefano instantly buried his hands deep in his pockets.

"Ciao, cara," he greeted, making his way towards her at a brisk pace. "I didn't expect to find you here."

Kenna lifted a half-shrug. "They say open air helps you think clearly. And the weather is nice."

"It certainly does. Though I'm curious, I am positive I'd forgotten to unlock the patio door, how did you obtain the key?"

"I didn't. I had to pick lock my way out here since you were nowhere to be found," Kenna answered casually as if she just admitted that she had finished the remaining chocolate fudge in the fridge.

Stefano paused, looking actively horrified. "I'm not sure whether I should commend you for such 'useful' skill or not," he remarked, making air quotes.

"Oh, it's very, very useful. You'd be surprised to know just how many doors I've cracked open before."

"No doubt," Stefano drawled, looking half amused, voicing dripping with a sneer. Kenna felt her chest rumbled as she laughed.

"You really are an ass, aren't you?"

"Only for you, Kenna. Only for you." Stefano merely gave a cheeky wink in a manner that if she had her boots on, she would not have hesitated to throw one on at face.

Or at her own face for being so damn easy to get affected by his charm. Whichever worked.

Stefano did not move. After a brief moment, he then proceeded to claim the chair next to her, discarding the slipcover almost as graceful, plopped himself down and crossed his legs. They were only small spaces between their chairs that Kenna could take a whiff of aftershave and expensive toiletries from him and for the first time after their fight with Harbinger, he looked as fit as a fiddle.

Kenna shifted her gaze forward to the garden. "I see you took on my advice," she commented, couldn't bear with the silence.

"I did," Stefano replied solemnly. He was looking at her. "For you, I would."

Right, the question didn't mean to go like that, Kenna both inwardly cursed and groaned.

She stirred in her chair and had to pretend she didn't hear his previous statement. "I also saw Guardian and Obscura in the foyer earlier. I take it they are okay?"

"Sì. They got phased out to the Business District from the device, but they are alright," he exhaled heavily at that, the way a father concerning for his children. "Though Guardian seems more than eager to tear Theodore's limbs once she meets him."

Kenna snorted. "Don't we all?"

Stefano smirked. "Touché." He gestured toward the blanket. "What about you? What are you doing out here, Kenna?"

I was trying to distract myself from you, she wanted to answer. And Kenna was somewhat glad out of all of his powers, mind-reading was not one of them.

"Nothing. Just making plans, determining our odds while waiting for Juli's feedback," Kenna pulled the blanket tighter to herself, her face contemplative. "Basically just thinking. You know, like that old man in an armchair in Rembrandt's painting."

"You know, speaking of art, you still have never told me how you know so much about it," Stefano suddenly turned the topics at hand and Kenna was surprised. Though it wasn't like she was going to evade it.

Kenna planted her chin in her hands. "No, I never."

He turned to face her, waiting. "Care to share?" Stefano prompted, clearly curious. "No, do share. I am a pretty good listener, anyway."

"Geez, Dr. Phil, I didn't know you're so curious about it," said Kenna, somewhat curt, her doe eyes narrowed.

"Of course, I'm curious. As Nietzsche mentioned in the Gay Science 'the great majority lacks an intellectual conscience' and that's a fact. I have met countless of people in my life and very few understood me or vice versa," Stefano shared his reason. "And I never have expected that I would actually meet someone— especially in Union— who is a connoisseur of art as myself. You intrigue me."

A sheepish smile slowly rose from her lips. "You sure do have a way with words, don't you, Valentini?"

He grinned playfully. "I'm just stating an honest fact, mia cara. That's all."

Kenna pondered this for a while, chewing the inside of her cheek. She sighed through her nose.

"A word of warning, if you expect some epic tale about how a girl finds her way to love art from this, you'd be sorely disappointed. Like, really."

Stefano chuckled throatily and nodded at her words.

She supposed it couldn't hurt. "Honestly, I hadn't know shit about art until that day. There was a field trip from our school and our teacher happened to take us to the National Art Museum in Krimson City that I didn't even know exists. I had never been more in awe until that day, you know? Like a kid in front of the candy store and I was gaping over paintings. Then my friend handed me this leaflet with an image of two people kissing, dripping with gold and I fell in love even more with art just like that. I didn't know it was Klimt's The Kiss until I was with Mobius."

And Kenna could still recall the feeling, the wonder, the fascination from how each painting could create different sensation and emotion within her. It was a wonderful feeling. Kenna remembered thinking just how in the world she could have lived the entire fifteen years of her life without having a single clue about art.

Kenna saw as a shock reached Stefano's face. "Mobius? You actually learned something from those uncultured swine?"

She tried to restrain from rolling her eyes but failed. "Yeah, believe it or not, I actually learned a lot of things while in Mobius. They have this endless archives of knowledge and it helped. But besides that, they sheltered, fed, educated and trained Juli and me into the agents we are today— well, was for me, at least. Which, I have to admit, it was probably the noblest thing Mobius has ever done to someone."

Stefano was quiet for a moment. "How old were you two when you joined Mobius?"

"Juli was sixteen, and I would be seventeen," Kenna frowned and counted with her fingers. "Or was it she was seventeen and I was eighteen? I can't remember. It was a long time ago, Stef."

"How come they recruited you when you were young? Did you two run away from home or something?"

"And how come I didn't know we were playing twenty questions today?" Kenna countered with arms crossed over her chest, drawing a line in the sand.

"I couldn't help it. I apologize if I seemed to pry." Stefano held his hands up, admitting mistake. "To play fair, I would let you ask me a question in return. Anything you would like to know, I will tell you."

Kenna stared at him suspiciously. "Anything?"

"Anything," he said again, almost purring, a teasing grin curled his lips.

"Anything... Hmm," she rubbed her chin in deep concentration. What would she like to know more about him? Thus far, Stefano was like an open book to her. He never hesitated to tell his story but there was a matter she'd been meaning to ask ever since their second encounter. And curiosity starting to become a heavy load.

"Well, there's this one thing I'm quite curious about," she admitted, her voice layered with thick uncertainty.

"By all means. For you, darling, I will indulge whatever your curiosity is." He looked rather mischievous saying that.

She tore her gaze away.

"How did it happen?" Her tongue was incapable to elaborate the question.

Stefano's eye narrowed. "How did what happen?"

Kenna chewed on her lip nervously, hesitating, not quite sure how to bring this up without offending him. "Your eye. You said you had lost your eye on a battlefield," she sighed. "How did it happen?"

That specific question somehow triggered something within Stefano, a strange set of emotions crossing his features.

"Ah, starting with the easy question, are we? I see," he said, his voice somber. A look of guilt instantly crossed Kenna's face.

"Forget it. No, I'm sorry, that was rude of me to—"

"No, it is fine. I suppose all men have stories and this is mine..." Stefano gestured dryly to his singed eye and hands. "So let it be known. And I pretty much said you can ask me anything."

"No, it's alright. I don't want to sound like I'm prying or something, Stef," responded Kenna, obvious regretting asking him in the question. If anything, she wouldn't want to intrude into his personal history if Stefano felt half-hearted to share it.

"My dear, Kenna, you are anything but prying. And I wouldn't mind recounting the story to you."

Kenna's brows lowered and analyzed his intonation. She tried to find any sign of aggravation on his face, wondering if his words were an exquisite façade to tell her to ' back off' but that appeared not be the case. If anything there was only an open invitation, as if he wanted to share this personal story with her.

So she nodded quietly, slowly, her eyes heedful and kind. Stefano somehow steeled himself before taking a deep breath.

"As I have mentioned before, I used to be a war photographer. An aspiring one, that is. I had just turned nineteen when I first discovered Tony Vaccaro's war photos and I was enraptured. I just knew right then I wanted to photograph the war like he did. So I did. Despite my grandfather's protest, I followed my dreams and traveled to Afghanistan as soon after I graduated from college. Everything was exactly as I hoped for and I thought maybe I could prove him wrong," Stefano breathed a wry chuckle. "Well, I was wrong."

Kenna refrained herself from commenting and patiently wait for him to continue.

"I had just arrived in Iraq with the U.S. Army from eastern Afghanistan. One minute, I was taking photographs of the surroundings like I usually did before turning to this soldier in front of me," Stefano remarked, all of his focus was on his words as he began to slip into his memory lane, looking solemn.

"Suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand grenade landed directly at his feet. And by the time I realized what happened, it was already too late. The soldier exploded to his demise just at the moment I caught him through the lens. Everything simply blew up in my face, knocking me backward. There were screamings everywhere and shootings, and even then I knew that we were surrounded. The last thing I remember was apologizing to my grandfather in my head."

A profound sadness veiled her eyes, furrowed her brows. She couldn't imagine how it must have felt for Stefano, forever etched by her the horrors of war. It tugged her heart. Kenna had heard so many stories about soldiers coming home from war not just with physical issues, but with mental health issues as well.

Kenna didn't understand this back when she was younger, but now she did. Imagine being shot at, bombed, or in Stefano's case, to watch a person get blown to bits right in front of his eyes? Somehow, Kenna starting to regret referring him crazy all this time knowing now what the man had gone through. It just wasn't fair.

"What happened next?" Kenna probed kindly, her voice a mere above whisper.

"I woke up in a hospital in Baghdad. The first thing I noticed was the bandage that was wrapped around the right side of my face and hands and the acute throb in my eye. Then the doctors came and announced that I've been in a comatose for two weeks. I had lost my right eye and it was beyond anyone's ability to retrieve it. I didn't take the news kindly."

"I don't blame you. I mean, who would?" she replied understandingly.

He stared at Kenna, unfocused, as if his mind was in another place. "It was… a terrible feeling, Kenna. Almost claustrophobic, as if you were in a whirlpool and being pulled down, drowning. Then sometimes later, a letter came from Firenze. It was from my aunt. She informed me that my grandfather had a heart attack and was currently hospitalized."

Kenna's mouth dropped. Stefano's eye slid away from her, his expression showed hurt. A deep, poignant hurt that she saw his face blatantly fell. This was another side of Stefano that she had never expected to see.

"The doctors wouldn't discharge me back to Italy, not while I was still recovering. No matter how I tried, how much I begged them for it, they wouldn't let me. Five days later, he passed away. And I never got the chance to see him and say I'm sorry," his voice broke as he spoke, his lips trembling. Looking even glummer than ever.

"Stefano—" Kenna paused, casting him an almost rueful look. It would be a lie if she said the very thought didn't shatter her heart.

What would she do now? Hold him in her arms? Tell him she understood? Because she didn't understand. Her life hadn't exactly been all sunshines and rainbows as well, but Stefano's life was rough. She couldn't imagine if she had been in his shoes, witnessing all the horrors and griefs, even losing an eye in the process.

Kenna supposed tragedy does not discriminate. Not even for the devil. Fuck, now she was feeling sympathetic for him.

With a frown, she reached out subconsciously and covered Stefano's hand, the scar a reminder of his tragic story and gave it an attentive squeeze. It wasn't surprising to find his skin incredibly smooth despite his flaw. Smoother than the blanket even.

"I'm sorry, Stef," croaked Kenna, not knowing what else to say to him. "I'm so sorry."

He nodded feebly and squeezed back, clutching her hand as if he could disintegrate if he let go. Kenna wasn't intending on letting go, nonetheless, though, for a moment, she briefly wondered if he was going to pull her into his arms like he did in the kitchen.

Stefano leveled his stare with her once again. Gone was the sorrow as rage had taken over— black rage, unmistakable and combustible. The look of a man who willed to murder. "I've always thought that losing my grandfather was hundred times more painful than losing an eye, but it seems Theodore is keen on reminding me how it felt. He has made sure of that."

Kenna's face reflexively hardened at Theodore's name, mirroring Stefano's own scathing glare. "We'll get him."

A weak smile tugged at Stefano's lips, his expression immediately softened. "I know."

"Motherfucker started all of this and we'll bring hell back to his door. No trial, no jury, straight to execution."

"I know," he said again, lacing their fingers together. It didn't seem he was going to let go for a very long time "With you by my side, I have the utmost confidence in it, my dear." Kenna could practically hear the smirk in his voice she could only roll her eyes, chuckling lightly.

At least someone's mood was significantly improving.

"I think it's more like a two-way street, don't you think? I mean, if you hadn't intervened back there, I would have turned into a meat roast by now— twice." Kenna responded. "So, thanks."

"We saved each other," he declared. "If you hadn't destroyed the fuel tanks with such exemplary heroism, I wouldn't even be alive by now, Kenna. So, thank you ."

Kenna snorted, ignoring the fact that her cheeks went pink. "Heroism is a bit far-fetched."

"You are a heroine in my book, dear. There's no need to doubt that."

A fleeting comical smile graced her lips. "Should I be putting on a costume from now on, then?"

"Why, if that's the case, I have no qualms that you'd look marvelous in it."

Men, she thought. At least he had the decency to be subtle about it. Not that she was complaining, though.

Kenna looked at the entwined hands one more time, skin to skin, his thumb drawing soothing circles on her skin whilst humming to the prelude to Tristan and Isolde. There was no barrier to restrict them this time and she wasn't sure how to feel about that. The gesture was borderline intimate and weighed heavily on her mind and heart. Yet she still hadn't made an attempt to let go.

So much for pushing him out of her mind, indeed.

"Hey, uhh... thanks for sharing that story with me, and all the other stories you've told me before. I appreciate it, Stef," Kenna murmured kindly, offering him a gentle smile though she was still too timid to meet his stare.

"I trust you, Kenna. I really do, and I just want you to know that." Stefano uttered and gazed at their hands, his voice was every bit thoughtful. "And thank you for putting your trust to confide in me regarding your past. It's nice to know you don't view me as just a mere stranger anymore."

"A stranger is a little understated." Kenna recalled how terrified she had been of him. It didn't quite make sense seeing here they were, holding hands and all civilized.

"Regardless, I'm glad your perspective of me has changed."

Kenna struggled to find words for a moment. "I guess we are beyond strangers now," she made an abrupt chuckle as if to cover her blush. "Hell, stop me if I'm being all maudlin, but I think you're even starting to become a friend."

Stefano didn't immediately respond to her remark right away. He was looking rather disappointed.

He opened his mouth as if wanting to say something when Kenna felt her communicator vibrated on her belt. She made a displeased groan and carefully withdrew her hand from his, silently sighing at the loss of his warmth.

"Hold that thought for a minute, would you?" Kenna said to him as she rose up, the said device in hand. Stefano said nothing. Not even nodding.

Kenna ignored his sudden brooding mood and turned all of her attention to the communicator. "Kidman."

"Kenna, it's me." It was Juli. "We've just finished analyzing the part of the counter device you sent us. And if you thought the device seemed familiar to you, then you aren't wrong."

Kenna quirked her eyebrows in confusion. "How's that?"

"A few years ago, Mobius developed a portable SFE device for the engineers and technicians to carry inside the STEM. The devices got recalled, however, when six of the agents reported a thermal runaway and short circuits during a test run. Some even got injured from it. The project was then discontinued due considered as a hazmat product."

"And?" Kenna asked, sensing there was more to this.

"And guess who got assigned to the project in the first place? "

Realization bloomed on Kenna's face. "O'Neal." She held her breath, willed herself to be calm. "Of course. Shit."

"Yes, Liam O'Neal was the head of the project team, but was forced to step away after the incident. So if Theodore can help Liam perfected the device and use it for his own means, he could basically do anything," Juli's voice buzzed through, tensed and low.

"They are obviously keeping up then. And not to mention Theodore has converted like nearly everyone into his little church club. All of his followers are probably armed with the thing now," Kenna sighed exasperatedly and caught Stefano was looking as frustrated as she was. "The next thing we know, he somehow manages to manually override the Emitter to his will."

Juli groaned on the other end of the line. "You sure do love to give me the headaches, don't you, sis?"

"Only when you whine about it," teased Kenna. "But on a serious note, yes, we need to do something about this— and fast. I need supplies, Jules, access and everything you've got on the Emitter's next location."

"We can provide you with that. The Administrator has given the green light for it."

"Hallelujah! About-goddamn-fucking-time!" She noticed as Stefano snorted funnily at this. "Oh, and explosives. If Theodore can tear shit up, I'm doing it too."

"Hmm…" Juli's voice crackled back. "I think I know someone who can provide you with that.

There was a long static silence before a different voice spoke into the communicator.

"Hey, Kidman. Betcha didn't expect to hear me, did you? "

A broad grin splitting her face. "Well, feed me nails and call me Rusty," Kenna began. "If it isn't Esmeralda Torres."

First thing first, this chapter wouldn't have been possible without the support of my twin grann-pal, partner in crime and fellow lisztomaniac (and now beta-reader), TheBaffledBeef, whose endless support and contribution would never stop make me cry because, oh my god, A, are you even human? She is literally the best thing ever and who knows that she also has the flair to write? Thank you again for everything, fam; the ideas, the fan arts and the friendship. You are a gem, Dali! I love you!

And of course, I would like to thank Madeline Axelle for her unconditional support and being the bestest friend a girl could ask for since the fifth grade! Love you, gal :*

As you've read, yes, the scars on Stefano's hands are my canon. I thought it's almost impossible if his hands remain fine given he was taking a photo during the soldier exploded. But that's just me, if you have any theories or something, you can always hit me up via PM! And as for KENNO, yes, their relationship is slowly but surely developing (with Kenna starting to open to him and he shares his war story, holding hands, nearly kissing, she worries sick for him and all) but like I said, this is a slow burn story, but we'll get there. I promise. Like they say, all good things take time, mate. Bear with me, yeah?

For the next chapter, we'll be going into Stefano's head. We'll see what happens as we roam there, then. Ciao!