The silence was awkward. They had so much to say to one another, but neither seemed to know where to start.

"How's your daughter?"

"Symptom free."

"I'm glad," Jamie smiled. They raised the bottles in a quick toast. "You were right, you know. I probably would have done the same thing in your shoes. I would have done whatever I had to do."

She leaned forward on the sofa, elbows on her thighs.

"So…how've you been?"

"Not good," he answered honestly. "We were on top of the world." His face fell as though the memory was too painful tolerate. "In the blink of an eye, it was all just…gone." His voice became strained, scarcely audible. "Including you."

"My new favorite hobby, well, occupation really, is bar stool warmer extraordinaire." He took a long swig. "And picking bar fights. I've become quite good at both, as you can imagine."

Jamie shook her head and smiled warmly, taking his hands in hers. "You? Never would've guessed." God, she had missed him.

Sitting opposite her, he unconsciously mirrored her posture. "That's where I was when you called." He hesitated a moment, then continued. "I suppose it could be said that you saved me yet again. Your turn. How have you been?"

"It was weird. I was awake off and on, but never totally awake. I have just fleeting images. I vaguely remember being in the water, and a chunk of…um, airplane in my leg," her hand reflexively came to rest on the gash in her pant leg. "Then when I finally did fully awaken, I was so disoriented. I didn't know where I was, or even when, and I had no idea what happened to you and Jackson and Abe. I didn't know if you guys were alive or dead. And I was completely at the mercy of this stranger I couldn't communicate with. Soooo vulnerable." She finished off the last drops of her beer. "Thank God he turned out to be a really decent guy."

"Small miracles," Mitch agreed.

"I had to draw a picture of a phone. But bless his heart, he had one. I was so scared dialing…if you didn't answer…"

"I almost didn't," he confessed, "Wasn't really in the mood for 'no caller ID'. I was planning to torment whoever it was. So, hey, you win the prize."

At her puzzled expression, he continued with a wink, "First person to ever leave me nearly speechless. For a brief shining moment, you desnarked the great Mitch Morgan."

"I noticed that. But it was fine. I heard everything I needed to hear in that moment," she said as she moved to stand between his knees, her eyes not leaving his. "Maybe we kinda saved each other."

She leaned in and their lips met. The kisses, tentative at first, quickly deepened as they became more bold in their explorations. Jamie pulled away ever so slightly. "Where, um…where is your cabin?"

"Well, being that it's also Abe's cabin, I'd suggest yours."

"I have a cabin?"

Mitch, uninterested in discussing cabins at that exact moment, was growing exasperated. "There are only three. Besides the crew ones, of course."

"Wait, what? Jackson's not rooming with Abe?"

"He'd rather bunk with Chloe," Mitch answered cheekily. "I don't know, maybe she doesn't snore as much. Is, uh, is this conversation really what you want to be doing right now?"

Jamie grinned. "Right." She took his hand and followed him down one deck to the cabins.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They lay quietly in the bed, her head on his chest. Mitch pondered the new direction his life had taken; finally he had hope for the future. Yet he still hadn't told her what he needed to tell her. Why was the L word so hard to say? He had spent many years suppressing his emotions, but the feisty redhead had a way of getting his guard lowered. He knew it was just a matter of time.

"Six months ago tonight I was in Brentwood on what someone derisively termed a 'cat stakeout'," he mused. "Feels like a lifetime ago."

Jamie laughed aloud. "It does. Anyway it wasn't derisive until it became a cat pursuit. You were so goofy."

"I'm goofy? Who's the one who called kitty cops?" Mitch responded playfully.

"I didn't say goofy was bad. It was actually pretty endearing." Jamie chuckled again, softly caressing his chest. "It's funny, as it turns out, 'I found the cats' was a pickup line."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Surprisingly well," she admitted.

"I'm smooth like that."

For the first time in a long time, Mitch slept well. So well, in fact, that if Jamie hadn't been lying between him and the phone, he would have pulverized it when the alarm sounded.

She startled awake and grabbed the offensive device. "3:55 am. God, Mitch, why do you have an alarm set for 3:55 am?!"

"It's my watch," he mumbled as he silenced it. "I have to relieve Abe in five minutes."

He gave her a quick peck as he sat up on the edge of the bed. "Go back to sleep."

She murmured something unintelligible and faded back to dreamland.

Mitch quickly dressed, went about a couple of brief pit stops, then made his way up on deck. He zipped his heavy coat and pulled the hood over his hair.

"Good morning, Mitch," Abe greeted. "It's been a thankfully slow night. Absolutely nothing to see."

"Good. Let's hope it stays that way." Mitch sat in the empty chair next to his friend. The dim deck lights made did nothing to illuminate the ocean surrounding them, but the rotating side floodlights were available should they be needed.

"How is Jamie, really?"

"She's good."

Abe nodded. "She's stronger than she thinks. Did you tell her about the gag orders?"

"Not yet."

"It's not going to get any easier with time, my friend." Abe stood and stretched. "I'm going to go try to get a few more hours of sleep. Good luck." He patted Mitch on the shoulder before walking away.

"Thanks," Mitch replied. "Good night, Abe."

Five minutes later, Mitch made a horrifying realization.

"Damn it! I forgot the coffee!" It sat waiting in the galley, he supposed. He had started it brewing then walked away without it.

Disgusted with himself, he sat staring into the black ocean. He would have to find another way to stay awake. Should have gone to sleep earlier, pal. No, no I'll take that trade off any day. He gave a small laugh and immediately felt the chill in his face. The air was bitterly cold during the night, despite the clear sky and lack of snow flurries. The water was tranquil, giving away no signs of the countless perils lurking beneath the surface. What threat would present itself today? Giant squid? Great whites? Or maybe cute little homicidal dolphins?

"And to think I used to like animals," he muttered to himself.

"You will again," the voice startled him. Jamie set two cups of steaming coffee down on the table nestled between the deck chairs. "As soon as we get the cure home and distributed."

She sat down. "Black, two sugars, right?"

"Perfect. Thank you."

"I thought you could use some company."

Lacking a suitable coat, she wrapped a blanket around herself. If Mitch minded her borrowing his socks, he said nothing. In fact, he seemed pleased to see her join him.

"I could," he said.

"Ok, you know I'm dying to know what it is that no one wants to tell me," she blurted suddenly. "Why am I no longer a fugitive?"

"Ah, that…" He sighed.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Parts of it you'll like," he conceded. "Other parts, not so much."

He took a sip of coffee, absorbing the heat it gave.

"When we got back, we were all extensively debriefed by the NSA. They questioned us for days, comparing the stories. Eventually, they cut a deal with Reiden totally indemnifying them of any wrongdoing if they produced another chunk of the mother cell."

"Wow, I am so not liking where this is heading."

"The deal also included full immunity from prosecution for us. But in order to get it, we had to sign non-disclosure agreements." He paused to give her a moment to absorb it all.

"A complete gag. Everything we went through? None of it ever happened. So there we are," he continued bitterly, "fully aware that Reiden caused all of this destruction, 70 million murders and counting, including yours, and we can't say a damn thing. They turned the whole damn world upside down. Meanwhile, their PR people are making them out to be superheroes."

He paused again, clearly troubled. "I am not ok with that."

"Oh my God, they just slither out of every net! How do they keep getting away with everything?!" Jamie's frustration surged.

He put his hand on her forearm. "But here's the thing: you were granted full immunity as well, as a sort of goodwill gesture."

Confused, Jamie replied, "but I never signed anything."

"Precisely. You have immunity and no gag. Pretty good spot for a journalist to be, I would think."

Hope flickered across her features, then fizzled out. "God, I'm still in the same spot I was in six months ago, Mitch. I have absolutely no proof. No smoking gun, or even the bloody knife. I'd still sound like the same nobody that got fired from the Telegraph. They treated me like I was crazy. My editor, even my supposed boyfriend at the time, nobody had my back. I couldn't get anyone to listen."

Mitch gave her a half-smile. "You got me to listen."

"Yeah, well, you've got, like, 50 I.Q. points over him."

He feigned indignation. She shrugged, palms up. "60?"

He chuckled, and she reached over and touched his cheek. "And you always have my back. But I still have no proof."

"What about the files you hacked from Reiden Paris? Gotta be something in there."

"I'm sure there's lots in there. I never had a chance to go through it all," she lamented. "But the flash drive was in my backpack, along with Leo Butler's documents and Evan Lee Hartley's bible. It's all gone."

"Jamie," he started as he stood, "can you keep an eye out for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure, wh….?"

"I'll be right back."

As promised, he returned in short order, carrying his bag. Settling into his chair, he reached into the bag and retrieved three items. Jamie couldn't believe her eyes. Before her were the exact three things she thought were gone forever, carefully wrapped in plastic just as she'd left them: the flash drive, the bible and a manilla folder.

"How—how did you get these?"

"We couldn't find you, but Abe found your backpack," Mitch explained. "Most things were destroyed by the water damage, but you had these in plastic. And, just in case another disaster strikes, there are multiple copies of each stashed back in D.C. You have no idea how close I came to saying 'to hell with it, lock me up, I'm gonna sing like a canary.' Even talked to a couple of reporters, scouting, but none were good enough."

"I didn't want anything to happen to them, like fingerprints, or spills. A freakin' plane crash never crossed my mind," she explained. "I can't believe you saved this stuff! Oh my God, do you know what this means?"

Mitch nodded as he took another sip of coffee. "It means you can stop in and tell those idiots at the Telegraph to screw themselves on your way to pick up your Pulitzer."

"With my super-hot date on my arm, of course."

"Of course."