The crisp air on Tomas' face was like a bucket of water. The late afternoon sun was giving the street an eerie orange glow but the world became a little bit sharper and Tomas became aware of the hand on his arm, steering him towards their car. Frowning, Tomas looked at Marcus, wondering why the older man felt the need to lead him like a child.

Marcus noted the look, but ignored it in lieu of opening the door on the passenger side. Tomas paused, taking in a deep breath of fresh air before he slipped inside the car. When Marcus settled into the driver seat and pointed towards the still unfastened safety belt, Tomas huffed.

"I'm not an invalid, you know."

Maybe that wasn't the smartest thing to say. Marcus raised an eyebrow, giving him a once over look that clearly showed his doubt.

"Really, I wouldn't know. What with you looking ready to faint again."

"I never fainted," Tomas bristled, then put on his safety belt, trying to ignore his slightly shaking hands. Marcus snorted.

"Right. You just took a quick nap on a stuffed bear."

Tomas looked at him, confused because he didn't remember the bear. Really, he didn't remember much beyond the fact that the exorcism was over, that Erica survived and the demon was thankfully gone. He had a hazy recollection of Marcus calling him a bloody fool and then leaving to get Mouse... Tomas grit his teeth and rubbed at his eyes. No, that wasn't right. Marcus didn't leave him, not this time... that was the demon inside Tomas' head. And wasn't that just great that he couldn't seem to be able to distinguish reality from vision?

"Yeah, you look just peachy," Marcus rolled his eyes. "Is there a reason you refused to let that doc take a look at you? It's not like we can pop into a hospital for a free check-up."

"Because I'm fine!" Tomas snapped, feeling heat creep back into his cheeks and, with a huff, rubbed at his eyes. Why did they feel like they were cooking inside his skull? Tomas rolled down the window and hoped the air would help cool him down a bit.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that. Worked so well with the demon, did it?" Marcus bit back and Tomas looked at him, taken aback by the anger in his voice.

"What are you talking about? I cast him out, didn't I?" Tomas said, trying to control his own rising anger. He might've made mistakes, but Erica was alive and, right now, that was the only thing that mattered. Marcus, obviously, had a different opinion.

"You let that thing taunt you... you were out for over an hour, trapped with that thing. Don't tell me everything went according to plan... I was watching you, Tomas. You... you were losing."

The last sentence came out on a quiver and Tomas gulped. Marcus was right, this time he almost lost, because he let the demon get too close. But he couldn't admit that out loud... couldn't bear to see the disappointment on Marcus' face. So, he shook his head and lied.

"I was fine. I had it under control."

"Bollocks!" Marcus snapped, looking at Tomas with disbelief and anger. "That bastard knew you were off from the moment you stepped into the room. You knew you weren't up for it and you still let that thing inside your head!"

"And what the hell was I supposed to do, Marcus? Ask it nicely to leave, because I felt a bit tired? To take a break? Or should I have just kept on with the ritual and repetition?" Tomas said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He shook his head, tired from the need to explain himself. "We didn't have time for that."

Tomas suddenly wished Mouse was there, running interference. He wouldn't need to explain himself to her... after all, this was how they worked all those months. They were either looking for contacts or interrogating integrated people... sometimes Tomas got a chance to actually save a soul. Mouse never asked him to go slow, quite the contrary. Time was of the essence. Tomas got used to the speed, to being always in motion, to always feeling strung out with energy from a successful hunt, while at the same time feeling dead tired on his feet. But now Mouse was gone on a mission of her own, Marcus was back and Tomas was confused, because it seemed like old times, but it was far from that. He had changed... the way he dealt with demons was different from the way Marcus wanted to deal with them and they were clashing nonstop. Something had to give, but at this moment it felt that the only thing giving up was Tomas' body.

"I thought Mouse would have taught you some self-preservation," Marcus spoke out of the blue. "Looks like I was wrong."

Hearing that was like getting hit in the stomach and Tomas felt all the anger and frustration from the last several months surge up. He turned in his seat to face Marcus, bristling.

"You have no right to talk about Mouse, or about those last six months, Marcus," he spoke, his voice low and dangerous, one hand grasping the dashboard, the other curled around the seatbelt. "You left. You left when I needed you the most!"

Marcus swallowed, looking away. Yes, he left and maybe he should have stayed, but Tomas needed to understand that he couldn't. Not then.

"I was of no help to you, Tomas," Marcus said and his voice shook slightly. "I was compromised. Would have just dragged you down with me."

Tomas let out a harsh chuckle and shook his head.

"Compromised..." he muttered, smiling, but there was no mirth in his eyes, only sadness. "Do you even know what that is, Marcus? Because I do. Mouse knows it too. You were so afraid of being compromised, but in fact, it was Mouse and me who let the demons inside our minds. We let them in, let them scratch and stain our souls, all the time thinking we were the righteous ones."

"Tomas-"

"No, Marcus," Tomas shook his head. "You were gone and Mouse was there to pick up the pieces. She did what she thought was the best for the mission, what was best for us. You were right in one thing. I needed a training you couldn't give. Don't complain about the results."

There was nothing else to be said, nothing that wouldn't cut too deep, and Tomas had enough presence of a mind to realize that. Marcus didn't answer. He started the engine and the car pulled away from the curb. They rode in silence, the air inside the car heavy and uncomfortable, feeling like a wet blanket to Tomas. So, he leaned against the door, head right next to the open window and watched the passing streets and people with half lidded eyes, running the words he spoke over and over in his head, wondering if maybe he did it again, maybe he managed to push Marcus away for good. The continuing silence from the driver's seat wasn't encouraging and Tomas sighed. Well, if Marcus changed his mind about staying, it was best to find out right now... before Tomas forgot how it felt to be abandoned, once again.

Marcus was throwing covert glances at Tomas, several times opening his mouth to say something, to explain how he felt about the whole Tomas-letting-demons-in thing, but each time he looked at Tomas, all he saw was the frown on the younger man's face, the half-closed eyes and the slightly shaking hands. So, instead he gripped the wheel tighter and focused on the road, trying to ignore the pang of guilt he felt about losing his temper at the wrong moment. Tomas' words left a bitter taste on his own tongue. He indeed left him in the hands of Mouse, so what right did he have to complain? But Marcus knew his outburst wasn't as much a criticism as worry, and perhaps that was even harder to explain to the strong-headed young priest.

With a huff of breath and a slight shake of head, Marcus spotted a small 7-eleven on their way, with an empty parking space. Without much thought, he pulled over and parked the car.

Tomas turned his head in confusion.

"This isn't a motel."

"No, but I thought we might get something to eat before we crash. Do you want to come inside or get something for later?" Marcus asked, voice neutral, as if their earlier conversation never happened. Tomas' face scrunched up in a grimace and he shook his head.

"Grab something for later, please."

Marcus nodded, expecting that answer. Still, at least Tomas was talking to him.

"Any preference?"

Tomas just shrugged, not really caring for food right now.

"Whatever's good."

Marcus rolled his eyes and was tempted to bring him the spiciest thing the shop had to offer, but he was sure Tomas would eat it without blinking an eye and repay him next time in kind. At least that was how their last take out ended. With a shrug, he left Tomas in the car and went shopping. Marcus paused at the isle with the medicine section, but the offer was huge and puzzling and he wasn't sure Tomas would even take anything except some Tylenol, which they already had. Instead he headed for the isle with the alcohol, grabbing a bottle of gin. He felt he would need it if he was to be stuck with a grumpy Tomas for a bit longer.

Five minutes later and twenty bucks lighter, Marcus put the bag of shopping in the back of the truck and sat behind the wheel. Tomas was leaning with his head back on the seat, eyes closed. He popped them open when he heard the car door slam closed, but didn't otherwise react and Marcus bit back the urge to reach out and check his temp. He doubted Tomas would appreciate it after their little row.

"You alright?" he asked after a moment, as he turned the car towards the address of the motel Bethany gave him. Tomas left his eyes closed and gave a grunt of consent, which was obviously all Marcus was going to get right now.

By the time they arrived at the motel, the sun had settled and it was dark. Thankfully, Bethany was right. The moment Marcus uttered her name, the clerk at the desk gave him a wide grin and handed him a key.

"Bethany called ahead, told us to expect you. The room is yours for two days, if you need longer, just let us know."

No questions were asked and the clerk didn't even want any money. Marcus sent a silent prayer towards Bethany and went to fetch Tomas, who was half asleep in the car.

"We got a room for a couple nights, compliments of Bethany. Come on, sleepyhead. Think you can manage?"

Tomas gave Marcus a half-assed glare and got out of the car, ignoring the offered hand. He slowly leaned over and took his backpack from the truck, then without words headed inside the lobby. Marcus shrugged, then grabbed his own pack and the bag of food and quickly caught up with Tomas, who paused, unsure where to go.

Marcus was of half a mind to just let him fumble and wait until Tomas had the decency to speak, but he felt too tired himself to play that game. Taking the lead, he walked down a hall, instinctively taking in all the exits. He wasn't that happy about the fact they needed to go through the lobby and didn't have their own exit, but when he opened the door to their room, some of his irritation went away.

It wasn't one of the dumps they were lately used to frequenting. This one actually looked recently renovated, with a thick carpet, crisp white sheets and even a flat screen TV. The thing that made Marcus the happiest though was the coffee maker and the microwave.

While Marcus set the bag with the groceries on the small table in the corner of the room, Tomas stumbled towards the bed by the wall and sat down heavily, leaning over and resting his head on his hands.

Marcus ruffled through the content of the bag in silence, until he found the bottle of ginger ale and some crackers. Opening the crackers, he put one in his mouth, chewing it loudly, while watching as Tomas winced at the sound. The young priest looked about done in and Marcus felt exhausted just from looking at him.

While Marcus was still fuming over what happened at the house and what Tomas told him in the car, he knew part of that was his own fault. He let Tomas down and even though the man didn't openly hold any grudge against him, it was clear that the trust between them had been damaged. If Marcus wanted things to work, they needed to clear the air.

Grabbing the crackers and the ginger ale, Marcus made his way over to the other bed and sat down opposite Tomas.

"Crackers?" he asked and pushed the pack towards Tomas, who looked up, bleary eyed.

"Huh?" he frowned, staring at the opened packet with some confusion. Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"You need some food. This was the plainest thing they had."

"I'm not hungry," Tomas finally muttered, straightening a bit and letting his hands fall back down to his knees. He looked around as if just realizing they were in the motel room.

"I wasn't asking," Marcus growled and pushed the packet at him until Tomas relented and took out one cracker, nibbling at it without interest. Marcus opened the bottle of ginger ale and held it out to Tomas as if it was some kind of peace offering. Tomas pointedly ignored it, along with the rest of the crackers. Marcus sighed and shook his head.

"What am I gonna do with you?"

It was a rhetorical question, but in the state of mind he was in, Tomas took it personally. His whole body tensed and he looked up at Marcus with a hint of panic.

"Don't."

"Don't what, Tomas?" Marcus asked with a frown.

"Don't go," Tomas said in a small voice. Marcus closed his eyes for a second, then reached out, putting his hand on Tomas' knee.

"I'm not going anywhere Tomas. I promise," Marcus said softly, squeezing the knee in reassurance, though he knew he would have to prove himself until Tomas finally believed him. How could he explain that everything was different now that God himself spoke to him and led him back to Tomas?

"But you already left. Why?" It was like talking to a child. Marcus knew it was probably just the fever messing with Tomas' head, but he decided to answer anyway.

"I thought you were better off without me, safer," Marcus sighed. "Should have known you and Mouse were trouble magnets," he added with a grin.

"You don't know the half of it," Tomas admitted with seriousness that made Marcus want to call up Mouse and request a written report on the last six months. He felt a sudden pang of understanding for Bennett's frustration in their dealings. But Bennett was currently another painful subject he didn't want to breach.

"Why did you come back?" came another question, and the answer to this one seemed a bit trickier. Marcus bit at his lower lip then made sure Tomas was looking at him as he answered.

"God brought me back to you, Tomas. I'm not leaving." He added for good measure.

"Are you sure it was God?" Tomas asked, much in the same way as Marcus questioned the origin of his visions when they first met.

"As sure as I can be," Marcus admitted with a slight incline of his head. How could a man be sure of anything these days, much less the presence of God? But if there was one thing Marcus would bet his life on, it was this. He told Tomas so. There was a moment of silence and Marcus could see Tomas thinking about his next question. By the way his forehead scrunched up and the way he grasped at the edge of the bed, Marcus knew this would be the question that mattered the most.

"Would you have returned if it wasn't for the mission?" Tomas finally asked and Marcus felt his chest tighten and throat close up

"Oh Tomas..." Marcus reached out and cupped Tomas' face in both hands, locking his gaze.

I wouldn't have left if it wasn't for the mission. I didn't want to endanger you, to hold you back. I was blinded by guilt and fear... so I ran."

Tomas seemed to take in the answer. He swallowed, looking down at his hands. Marcus released the hold on his face, instead letting his hands rest on Tomas knees.

"I thought you run only when someone's chasing you," Tomas spoke after a moment.

Marcus snorted, then sniffled and shook his head. Tomas looked up at the sound, frowning when he saw Marcus' eyes glistening with unshed tears, and a small apologetic smirk on his face.

"I thought I'd give it a try..." Marcus admitted.

"And... how did it work out for you?"

Marcus shrugged.

"For a while, it did. Then I realized it really wasn't for me. Think I'd rather stick to going on adventures with a stubborn priest." Marcus put his hand on Tomas' neck in comfort, to make sure he understood. Tomas looked at him with half lidded eyes and their eyes locked for a minute, Tomas' eyes piercing, as if trying to look deep into his soul. Marcus hoped he found what he was looking for. He cleared his throat and stood up, his hand gently running over the top of Tomas' hair.

"Your fever's up. Sure you don't want to eat something?"

Tomas shook his head then winced when the motion made him dizzy. Marcus handed him the bottle of ginger ale and this time Tomas took a sip, hoping it would help settle his stomach. His eyes were half closed, so he didn't see the look of concern in Marcus eyes, but he could hear the weariness in his voice.

"Why don't you go wash up a bit, and then lie down? I think we can both use some sleep."

Tomas couldn't agree more.