A/N: Great thanks for the feedback, guys! Do leave a review; it really does hearten. Also, this series has quite a way to go before it ends, just so you know.

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(adam and eve)

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There was a park only four streets from my apartment. It was a hedged, defiantly green little corner in a world that had been eaten by asphalt streets and the monochrome ugliness of progress. The path through the tamed wilderness was a winding thing, more trampled grass than the sparse pale pebbles that rasped like broken glass when you walked on it. Once, there were benches lining the path in a steady rhythm like Hansel's trail of white breadcrumbs under the lace of dark branches overhead; now, the rotting wood were gashes marking time in a dying park.

"It's like another world within a city," Dominic remarked. "Mini Eden."

His arm was light around my waist, intimate and causal all at once. I made a deprecating gesture to our surroundings, a tease in my tone. " Eden, really? No wonder Adam and Eve left."

Dominic grinned, boyish in his levity. "I see an Eve right here."

"Ha ha, very clever."

We walked for a little while longer, the grey buildings a mocking backdrop to the straggled branches of the oaks before us, and soon found a dry place to sit. I brought my knees to my chin but allowed Dominic to pull me back against him.

"So what's wrong?" he said, after a moment's peace.

I made a sound of irritation. "Isn't it possible that I find you or Eric without something being wrong?"

"Yes, quite possible," he agreed. "But what's wrong?"

I said nothing, only leant back and closed my eyes. He felt as solid as V had been, as steady. Disquiet brushed past my mind on ghost-moth wings.

"Is it your column?" he tried.

I shook my head, feeling him move against my back. "No, it's nothing."

"Is it the paper itself?"

"No, really…"

"Is it—"

"Dominic! It's nothing. Don't worry."

Dominic's diplomatic silence lasted nearly a minute this time, a mildly impressive act of self-control. I counted the seconds as we watched the sky shift in sullenly like the tips of a foamy sea, the breezes smelling crisply of rain as they rustled the grass by our hands.

"How has your mail been this week?" he said at last, bluntly tactful as only a policeman mentored by Eric Finch could be. "They say there've been letter-bomb threats going around."

"Have I got any threatening letters, you mean," I said tartly, before I could stop myself. I wondered how long it'd be before he and Eric realized I knew there were contracts in the street out for my life. I'd probably known before them; I'd no illusions when I started writing.

I found Dominic's hand and squeezed it.

"I just needed to see you, honestly."

"That'll be a first," he muttered against my neck, and it took a beat before the significance sank in.

I twisted around to look at him in the eyes, heart sinking. His brown eyes were steady, a hint of weariness that Eric carried in his shoulders; there was no accusation in them.

"You've been busy, that's all," the sweet man excused for me, and for a moment his lips quirked in an ironical, self-mocking twist. I bit my tongue before an apology could stutter off, abashed and horrified; bitterness did not suit Dominic and god help me if I was the one who put it in him.

I put a hand on his cheek, elbow twisting awkwardly, and the weight of guilt grew heavier in my stomach when he leaned into it. There was a spot of stubble on the side of his jaw where he'd missed a spot, and his dark hair had been ruffled wild by the wind; the stark collar of his shirt had been loosened from its first few buttons and like this, so close, I could catch a whiff of stale coffee and day-old aftershave. His face was open; so readable to me that I could trace his thoughts in the lines of his eyes; my fingers itched to follow his worries across his forehead, to brush my thumb over his temple. Dominic looked young and grim and, my heart clenched— and there was longing in his stare because he was intense too, in his own way, even if it was the more ordinary sort, even if it was quieter…

I should kiss him, right now. There was nothing to feel guilty about.

Dominic's eyes darkened briefly when I leaned back and twisted round, settling myself against him again. But he said nothing. He had never pushed me into initiating, and that made it worse, somehow.

"You're here," I said softly, as if in answer.

He tipped my head back gently and I opened my mouth willingly when he captured it with his lips. He tasted real.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said when he pulled back. I grasped at the finality in his tone gratefully. His arms circled my waist again, holding me as if I would escape, and we watched the dusk fall on the city's treetop silhouette like dying fire settling on damp kindling.

That night, I set the Chardonnay in the cupboard and stared at it for the longest time. I dreamt of nothing.