A/N: I apparently suck at meeting deadlines that aren't school related. My apologies. I'm going to keep trying to put out a chapter every week, but more as a motivational goal thing instead of setting an actual upload day. But this is [kind of?] a long chapter, so I hope that makes up for it!

As always, thank you so much for reading this story, and a special thanks to those of you who've left reviews! Y'all are awesome. Hugs all around :]

Chapter 4: How Close Am I to Losing

Jack brought me coffee, which was one point in his favor. And he had the good sense not to look annoyed when I sat down on the floor with it and pulled Bard's head into my lap. Two points.

I'd dozed for an hour or two, never quite slipping into sleep past the images of Hemlock waiting for me in the dark. My brain had fired up and set my gears turning as soon as I'd rested enough to be functional. Bard hadn't slept at all, either. Flopping around and intermittently pacing the hallway from the kitchen to the bedroom was about all he could do. Even with the wrapped ice I'd set out for him to lay his muzzle on, the discomfort drove him to distraction.

After scouring the bedroom and the kitchen, I'd eventually found a phonebook in the top drawer of the desk in the living room. I'd grabbed a blanket from the top shelf in my closet and plopped myself down on the floor with Bard. We'd stayed in the bedroom at first, but migrated out to the living area after Jack knocked on the door and let himself in with a key I didn't know he had. He apparently hadn't been lying when he told me he'd be able to hear me moving around from his apartment downstairs.

July was with him. Didn't stop him from exaggerating the up-and-down sweep he gave me and saying, rather disappointedly, "Ah. You're dressed."

I gave him a tired smile. "I try not to walk around naked at all hours."

He returned the smile, more gentle than goading for once, and handed me a steaming cup. It smelled absolutely wonderful, rich and—hopefully—heavily caffeinated. "Still take your coffee the same way?"

"I do." I tried not to react when our fingers brushed as I took the mug from his hand, but, really, my brain could only handle so many things at once. "Creature of habit."

The imaginary line between the dining area and the living room demarcated a boundary between us, though we weren't more than five feet apart as I leaned against a wall and slid to the floor next to Bard, and Jack took a chair from the table and sat down. When I glanced around for July, I found him standing at the window on the other side of the living room, hands pressed to the glass as if he were reaching for the dark city on the other side.

"What's he looking for?" I asked quietly.

"Lots of things, probably." Jack let out a long breath that wasn't quite a sigh. "Our masked friend, or maybe Annika."

I flinched at the name, startling myself as well as Bard and Jack. It was a reaction I had no control over, like kicking after getting tapped on the knee by a reflex hammer. While I forced myself to breathe past the spontaneous tension in my shoulders, I cursed myself for letting it happen. Exactly how many years had I had to deal with this?

"Sorry," Jack said, eyeing me apprehensively. He shifted his weight, almost leaning forward as if he were debating reaching out to me. Giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze or something. But he didn't. "Hemlock," he corrected.

I nodded once, quickly.

Amazed I hadn't spilled it, I took a careful sip of coffee before temporarily setting the cup aside and juggling the phonebook and Bard's icepack into positions I could manage. I propped the oversized book open on my knee with one hand, and held up the ice with the other. Most of it had melted.

I cleared my throat to make sure my voice would work. "Hey. Could you…?"

As if this were the opening he'd been waiting for, Jack leaned forward and reached out to touch the condensation-covered bag with one finger. The pulse of blue that momentarily engulfed him played tricks on my eyes, blurring him around the edges as if I were looking at him through a heat wave. It only took a second for the bag of water to freeze into a solid chunk.

"Thanks." I wrapped it back up in the small towel it'd been in before, which was just thick enough to ease the raw sting of the cold as I placed it against Bard's muzzle. He gave a grateful whine and closed his eyes. "You have to smoke for that?"

"Eventually," Jack said. "Something that small, I can put it off for a few hours."

"You can if you need to. I'll open a window."

He shrugged and sat back in his chair, fingers curling around his own cup of coffee. "What are you looking for?" he asked, gesturing at the phonebook.

"A veterinarian for Bard." I thumbed through the yellow pages and scowled at the gibberish-looking markings. "Some of it's in English, but… I don't know. I think I'm going cross-eyed."

When he held his hand out for the phonebook, I passed it over to him, his arm sinking a few inches under its awkward weight. I stroked Bard's ears and watched as Jack navigated the pages much more confidently than I had.

"Hmm."

I stiffened. "What?"

"None of these say they have emergency hours." He shook his head and made a tutting sound with his tongue. "No equine vets, either."

"Ha."

He glanced up just long enough to shoot me a teasing grin. "There's one in Shinjuku that says they speak English, but you need an appointment. And they don't open till ten."

I pulled out my phone and glanced at the time on the screen. "Five more hours."

Bard whined, though I wasn't sure if it was at the prospect of waiting, or at the very idea of a vet visit that was bound to be all kinds of not-fun.

"Is he all right?"

Apparently feeling the need to answer the question himself, Bard lifted his head enough to open his mouth and let out a low, groaning "Wah-ooo." Nooo. I couldn't help wincing for him; I'd chipped a tooth before and knew how much it hurt, how the simple exposure to air could sting down to the quick. Breaking several teeth at once wasn't something I even wanted to contemplate. Just thinking about all the damage he'd taken had my hackles rising, and there were only two blips on my radar worth directing my anger at: Hemlock and BK-201.

A huff of hot air gusted against my knee when Bard heaved a final groan and dropped his head back onto the ice pack in my lap.

"I'm slightly concerned that I understood that," Jack said, shaking his head. "I'll call. Maybe I can leave a message. Oh, and look. A map."

He was trying much too hard to contain his laughter when he turned the phonebook around and held it up to show me a neatly drawn map of Shinjuku, complete with lines delineating streets and the meaningless characters I couldn't understand.

I snorted a laugh despite myself. "Jack, if you set me loose with that map, you'd probably never see me again. I'd end up in the middle of the ocean somewhere."

"Ah, it's just kanji. Mostly." He flipped the book around and set it on the table, somehow managing to grin and frown at the same time as he scrutinized it. "If you hang around long enough, I'll teach you."

Surprise had me raising my eyebrows. What? "I don't… know how long I'll be in Japan," I hedged, going for a casual tone. I couldn't read him from where I was sitting. "As long as this Hemlock thing takes…"

He probably saw right through me, if the conspiratorial, I-know-I'm-just-riffing-you look he shot me was anything to go by.

I shook my head, letting the moment pass. "You got stuff to do today?"

"The usual secret agent shenanigans."

"Ah."

"I can get you pointed in the right direction."

"That's all right. I don't want to be blamed for the destruction of the Motherland because I dragged MI-6's top agent to the vet," I said with a wry grin.

"Hah. You're hardly a distraction."

"And yet—" I spread my arms and looked around my apartment as if surprised to find myself there. "—here you are."

"Yes." His voice dropped to a contemplative hum. "Here I am."

I cleared my throat and looked down at Bard so I wouldn't have to hold Jack's icy blue gaze. "I'll call Li." I looked at my phone again. "In a few hours."

"The exchange student?"

"Yeah. He knows his way around. And I kind of told him you were my boss… and that I'd introduce you."

"Ah. Well, while we're on that subject…" He canted his head to one side as he leaned back in his chair, its wooden joints creaking. "As MI-6's unofficial poisons consultant, I might actually need you to do some consulting."

"For what?"

"A friend."

I stared at him. "Friend?"

His mouth twitched, pulling to one side. "Sounds funny when I say it, doesn't it?"

I was a little startled to notice movement in my peripheral vision, but it was only July half-turning away from the window to peer at us. He stayed silent while I grappled with my own sudden loss for words.

"I just…" I shook my head, noticed my cup of coffee sitting on the floor, and grabbed it, taking a long drink to buy time. When I was done, I cleared my throat and tried not to read into Jack's vaguely amused expression. "You've been calling me an old friend, which… is unexpected, but understandable. And appreciated!" I added quickly. "But I was under the impression friendships weren't the most, um…"

"Rational?"

"Yeah. Not the most rational things to cultivate, I guess."

"They aren't," he said after a moment's consideration. "But people are starting to grow on me." I jumped when he suddenly pointed at me. "You're fault."

I couldn't help laughing under my breath. "How is that my fault?"

"I don't know, but it started about the time you showed up. The scientist in me says the two must be connected."

"Uh huh…"

"Right. And this friend might be a local police officer."

My inner alarm bells threatened to go off. "A police officer?"

"Or the section-chief of Foreign Affairs."

Alarm bells. Everywhere. I tilted my head back against the wall and dug the heels of my hands into my eyes. "I can't do a consult for a section-chief!"

"Sure you can. The two of you will get along great. Or you'll hate each other."

"Why would we hate each other?"

"She's kind of… How do I put this gently? Stiff. No sense of humor."

I stared at him.

"I know, I know. How on earth will you deflect if she's immune to sarcasm?"

"How does she put up with you without a sense of humor?" I countered.

"Hell if I know."

I clapped my hands over my face again and scrubbed at my eyes until I saw stars. "I can't even keep track of how many laws I'm breaking right now," I muttered into my hands. "If I do a job for the police, it'll be like I'm poking the bear."

"Just don't shoot anything in front of her and you'll be fine."

I gave him a look I hoped communicated the depths of my displeasure, but he remained unperturbed. "When do you need this consult done…?"

"Not sure yet, but I know where to find you." For the first time since he'd let himself in, his expression darkened. "Provided you don't go gallivanting off to the wall again. Without me."

I looked down at my lap, annoyed with myself when all I could do was fix my hands with a guilty stare.

"Especially now that you're on BK-201's radar. I know your experience with him is limited, but he's not the type to forget a target who's managed to land a hit."

"To be fair, he attacked me first," I said. "And I gave him the antidote, anyway, so maybe he'll let bygones be bygones."

Jack peered at me over the rim of his coffee mug as he took a swig, eyes narrowed enough that I understood the silent question, even if I didn't understand why it was an issue.

You really think that's the end of it?

I heaved a sigh. "If he's a Contractor, what would he stand to gain from coming after me? I don't think I was his target—I think we just happened to cross paths trying to get away from the wall, and we both reacted defensively and did some damage to each other. We both got away. Alive. So it's done. That's the end of it."

"If he were governed by any sort of code I could understand, I might agree with you."

"What does that mean?"

"He doesn't make rational decisions."

"But he's a Contractor."

"Yes," Jack said, inexplicably grinning, "and I made sure to tell him so. Alas."

"Hold on." I eyeballed him, intensely aware of the cold pit forming in my stomach as my brain made all the necessary connections. "That knife wound… Shit, Jack! He's the one who stabbed you?"

He sat up in genuine surprise, as if I'd just spouted off a long list of chemical equations without prompting. "How did you…?"

I gently lifted Bard's head off my lap and stood before Jack could finish his question. I hurried down the hallway to my bedroom and grabbed my messenger bag from the armchair where I'd tossed it. I hefted its unfamiliar heaviness over my shoulder and strode back to the kitchen. Bard and July looked on with subdued interest as I set the bag down on the table in front of Jack and pulled out BK-201's knives.

Double-bladed and perfectly balanced, they brought the image of a tuning fork to mind as I took a hilt in each hand and held them up. They were heavier than they looked, but felt secure in my grip, as if the strange blades had become natural extensions of my arms.

I waited for Jack to say something, but when I looked away from the knives to gauge his expression, he had his eyes closed and the bridge of his nose pinched between a thumb and forefinger.

"You took BK-201's knives," he said, voice flat enough that I didn't think it was a question.

"Yes," I said anyway.

He shook his head without looking up, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "I lose track of you for one night and this is what happens. I don't know if I should be impressed or absolutely mortified."

"He was unconscious…"

"That makes it a little better, I suppose," he said. But his voice didn't sound like that made it any better.

"Look. If he stabbed you… And if you killed the Contractor he was trying to…" To what? Rescue? I pursed my lips and shook my head. "That changes things."

"Yes. You understand now?" Jack sighed and let his hand fall away. When he met my gaze, his eyes looked much more tired than they had just a few minutes ago. "He will have already made the connection between you and me. And as BK-201 and I are not on the friendliest of terms, I'm afraid you've got a lovely little target painted on your back. If he wanted a way to get back at me, he's certainly got it."

"The perils of having friends." I didn't bother hiding the sardonic edge in my tone as I set the knives down on the table. I hoped it was enough to mask the curl of fear I felt seeping into my bones.

"Yes," Jack said, his voice haggard. "I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to worry over someone." Slowly, a frown pulled at his mouth, tightening his expression.

I thought maybe I should pat him on the shoulder, give him a hug, do something, but I really didn't know how to deal with his new Contractor feelings, or even if hugging him would just make it worse. If he was worried, he might think the rational thing to do was get a grip on me and keep it.

"We haven't even talked about Hemlock yet," he said, as if noticing that whole mess of potential worries for the first time. We'd certainly danced around the topic long enough—a mercy he'd probably consciously orchestrated after my reaction to Hemlock's name.

"Short version?" I asked, knowing full well he wasn't going to insist on the unabridged version unless I volunteered it. Instead of returning to the floor to sit with Bard, I pulled out the chair next to Jack's and sat facing him, much like I had that first night when I'd stitched him up. "I went in armed, looking for Contractors who might've known where she was. Found a couple, and this woman, Lyme, led Bard and me to an old warehouse. There were six Contractors inside—five of them just sat on crates and stared the whole time. I told you about Kane."

Jack nodded, his mouth pulled into a thin line.

"He's close to her. Somehow. He knew who I was and basically told me I was wasting my time, because Hemlock wouldn't be making an appearance. So… I shot Lyme."

He closed his eyes for a second, giving a minute shake of his head that smacked vaguely of disapproval. "And she died."

"Well, yes, but I had a plan. I poisoned her, and I thought she might run off to Hemlock to get an antidote. And if she did that, I could have followed. But Kane's little twin killed her. Didn't even give her a chance to run. So I tried to shoot him, figuring that he'd definitely go running to Hemlock. But I missed, and that's when he threw Hemlock's vial. Bard caught it, and then Kane told us to run, that he'd give us a head start. So I frickin' ran."

"Good."

"No. I don't think he would have attacked me, even if I hadn't run."

"But that's not a theory you should test when all you've got on your team is a wolfhound."

Off behind me, Bard rumbled a low, warning growl.

"None of them ever got close enough to touch me. And when I tried to provoke Lyme into attacking—" Jack pinched the bridge of his nose again. "—Kane stopped her. He said she had to follow some orders or something and leave me alone."

"This whole loose cannon thing… It works for you?"

"There's more."

He cracked an eye at me. "You're joking."

"No. I think she's having me followed."

For some unfathomable reason, relief diffused the tension around Jack's eyes. "That's to be expected," he said.

I stared at him in consternation. "What?"

"How do you think I found you last night?"

"July, but—" I straightened against the back of my chair, my spine going rigid. "You have him watching me all the time?"

"Not all the time," Jack said, his tone placating to match the calmness in his eyes. "Just when I want to make sure you haven't wandered off. To the wall, for instance."

"And Hemlock is keeping tabs on me, too?"

He shrugged. Not the reaction I was looking for, and the incredulous glare I aimed at him must have gotten my point across, because he winced and leaned away.

"Ah, July?"

"Mm."

"Any other Dolls or specters hanging around the building?" Jack asked, his voice indicating he didn't expect much.

July shook his head, then swiped a lock of his gold-spun hair out of his eyes.

"What if it's not a Doll or a specter?" I crossed my arms. "She might have an actual person following me."

Jack frowned, skeptical. "It's possible, but a specter would be the rational choice. You're human, so you wouldn't notice a blue ghost following you around. You'd be far more likely to notice a person."

"Rational," I repeated, testing the way the word played on my tongue. "You're an expert, I suppose."

He smiled, but didn't otherwise acknowledge my half-hearted barb. "Anyway, didn't you say there were other Contractors in the warehouse?" he asked. "Maybe they weren't Contractors. Maybe they were Dolls."

Silent as I regarded July's silhouette against the neon-lit window, I contemplated the possibility that Jack was right. The small group of people I'd assumed were Contractors sat quietly throughout my confrontation with Kane. They'd never reacted to anything—that I'd noticed—which was consistent with July's behavior. Composed, imperturbable. Calm to the point that I wondered if he was actually aware of his surroundings. I supposed he had to be—maybe even hyperaware, if I considered the fact that his specter was scouring the city and taking in vast amounts of information I doubted I'd be able to interpret as efficiently as he did.

"So if it is a specter," I began, "how do I shake it?"

Jack lifted one shoulder in a helpless shrug. "You can't. Unless you know what their medium is. And if she has more than one Doll at her disposal, you're looking at multiple mediums, and multiple specters."

"So she could have them watching us right now."

His eyes narrowed as he glanced around the room, searching for the blue ghosts invisible to my human eyes. "No specters here at the moment…"

"No one is watching."

We looked at July. He'd turned slightly to face us, straight-backed and motionless with his gray eyes fixed on nothing on particular.

"I'll be right back." I propelled myself out of the chair and walked back down the hallway to my bedroom. The adjoining bathroom was dark, and I didn't bother turning the light on while I splashed cold water on my face. Its sting on my skin was enough to help me clear my head—or at least help me process the fact that any number of eyes might have been watching me at any given moment. I scowled at my dark reflection in the mirror and turned to leave. As an after thought, I went back to grab my small, handheld mirror before returning to the living room.

"C'mere, July."

He turned away from the window and crossed the room, in no particular hurry.

"Here." I held the mirror out to him. "Can you send your specter out with that?"

He nodded and took the mirror in his hands, flattening the palm of one in the center of the glass. When I sat down on the floor with Bard, July followed and sat down across from me. My curiosity flared when he reached out and gave one of Bard's bear-sized paws an experimental pat. He withdrew his hand a second later, when Bard's tongue flicked across the backs of his knuckles.

I glanced at Jack. The downward pull of his eyebrows indicated I wasn't the only one perplexed by the interaction. But I was more willing to accept it as something a kid would do and move on.

I resumed rubbing circles along Bard's skull and felt the warmth of his breath against my leg when he sighed. "So what happens when you and July aren't around to play watchdogs and look for specters?" I asked Jack.

He picked up his coffee mug and took a drink, still eyeballing July. "Can the actual watchdog see specters?"

I looked down at Bard for an answer. He only grunted. No.

Jack gave a thoughtful hum and set his mug down on the table before crossing his arms. A self-satisfied grin split his face as he said, "The obvious solution is to never leave my sight, hm?" and I tried not to let my expression give away my surprise at how seamlessly the Jack I saw now melded with the Jack I remembered.

Maybe worrying is good for him.

In the years spanning the gap between his abrupt departure from Cambridge and now, I'd imagined him differently. We'd been in touch, of course, though our communications hadn't been more substantial than letters and emails and the odd phone call. The one time we met face to face in our six-year estrangement had been at a funeral, and hadn't lasted more than a couple minutes. Just long enough for him to offer his condolences and a hug before he had to be off to the airport.

I must have been looking at him strangely, because I snapped out of my thoughts to see his pale blue eyes glinting over a sage smile like he knew what I was thinking.

"May I take your stunned silence for agreement?"

I snorted. Okay, so he definitely wasn't a telepath.

"As interesting as playing your shadow sounds, I'm going to have to pass."

He feigned a look of disappointment, as if my answer were unexpected.

I huffed out a long breath and let my voice go quiet, because I was certain he wasn't going to like what I was about to say. "I just want to track her down and finish this."

As if a gear had been switched, the worry lines came back, netting across Jack's forehead as his expression turned serious again. "I would prefer to be with you for that. Especially after your last foray into the world of Contractors went so badly."

"It didn't go that badly," I argued, defensive despite the fact I knew he was more right than I cared to admit. If not for Bard, I might not have made it back to Shinjuku with all my senses still intact. And who knew what might have happened with BK-201 if he hadn't intervened and I hadn't gotten off a lucky shot.

I wasn't sure I wanted to think about the end, when the masked Contractor pinned me to the floor, his hand pressed to my skull and my gun between his eyes. A standoff that had ended with something like a truce. Or, knowing what I knew now, maybe a promise to finish it another time. I'd screened that detail from Jack, and I sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up now.

"We obviously have different understandings of the word bad," he said, rubbing his temples as if our talk had given him a headache.

"I'll be more careful. But she must have told Kane and the others about her price and—"

"No no no no no," Jack said quickly, his hand raised to stop me as if I'd just turned down a closed road and he was the traffic cop sending me back. "We don't know what her price is."

"I think I do. I just… need to be sure."

"So your plan is to… what?" He raised his eyebrows when I shrugged, reluctant to answer. A note of incredulity had crept into his voice when he finished, "Use yourself as bait? Draw her out and test your theory? What happens if you're wrong?"

"When you say it like that…"

"I've been fishing before, Charlie, and it never ends well for the bait. You're either skewered on a hook, or you're skewered on a hook in the stomach of some fish. Not. Pleasant."

"Look. I know you're not crazy about it"—He snorted at the understatement—"but it's not like I'm helpless. I have a few tricks up my sleeve. And poison. And guns."

"Which are illegal, by the way," he pointed out. "And if you're caught with them, you're screwed six ways from Sunday."

"You have one."

"I have permission."

"Well, aren't you special?" I taunted around a wry grin. He responded with a broad smile that said yes, yes he was. I rolled my eyes and laughed.

His sense of humor really hadn't changed much, and I was starting to wonder why, for the longest time, I'd believed that it had. The abruptness of his departure—and his parting sentiments—had colored my perception, I knew. I'd thought of him as something stoic, emotionless, and completely rational—seeing July, I recognized that I'd thought of Jack as a Doll. Just kind of… void. Of feeling, of personality. Of everything. Although, I was beginning to see that that perception wasn't quite right, even when it came to Dolls. Something was in there—in both Jack and July. And while I had no past model to compare July against in his current form, I had plenty to compare Jack to.

He was almost the same, except for a fundamental shift I still struggled to understand. I thought it might come down to methodology, to some kind of personal philosophy that had shifted from something human to something utterly and unshakably logical.

The flat shape of him, silhouetted against the orange sunset so perfectly framed in our bedroom window. Miles away. "Love should not exist in a rational world, Charlie. It makes us all so stupidly vulnerable."

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the memory to dissolve.

"You all right?"

"Yeah." I scrubbed my hands over my face and hoped it was enough to mask the lie. "Lack of sleep is catching up to me, I guess."

"Go back to bed," he suggested. "I'll go with you. I don't think July'll mind staying with Bard."

My fingers pressed against my cheekbones as I peered at him over my hand. His tone only slightly hinted at humor, and there wasn't much more of it in his face. His eyes had softened, and nothing about the gentle, barely-there smile he wore was particularly suggestive.

Still, I couldn't help being a little wary. "You think sleeping together is a good idea?"

"Sleeping, yes." This time, there was obvious humor in the way he emphasized the word, as if amused I thought of it as anything other than innocent. And in that peculiar way he had of reassuring me, he sighed, veering away from the topic completely, and patted the phonebook still splayed open on the table. "I'll call the vet in a few hours when you call Li."

"…Okay."

Bard, apparently paying more attention than I'd thought, sat up halfway and pivoted on his haunches, shuffling to the side so he could rest his head on July's knee. The boy only blinked at the large, furry head that suddenly took up most of his lap, completely covering his hand and the mirror.

I felt a smile pulling at my mouth as I held the bag of ice out to him. Jack stood up and took it instead, refroze it, and passed it to July. When he offered me a hand, I took it, trying not to focus on how small my hand felt in his, and let him pull me to my feet.

The fingers of my other hand brushed the top of July's hat as I turned towards the hallway. "You know, if you feel like talking, Bard's a good listener."

"Mm." His head bobbed once in a small nod.

Jack followed me down the hallway to the bedroom; I turned around when his footsteps stopped at the door.

"Are you a vampire? Do I have to invite you in?" I asked. I tried to hide it, but he must've been able to read the uneasiness in my posture, my face, my voice. Or maybe he was just drawing on past experience. It could have been anything.

"You can relax, Charlie," he said, his voice almost unbearably gentle.

I stopped letting myself think—the pull towards the past was much too strong; I could feel my mind slipping back, cutting through the years as my memory rose in a swell of feeling.

I'm tired. That was the excuse I gave myself. I was tired, and I needed to sleep. I needed to close my eyes and stop seeing Hemlock and Kane and BK-201 dancing on the backs of my eyelids. And Jack was good for that. Time hadn't eroded my trust in him, even if it should have. Even if I wasn't quite sure who he was anymore, I knew what we weren't.

He was safe.

"I'll set my alarm for nine," I said, busying myself with punching buttons on my phone. "That'll be a few hours, at least. Better than nothing."

I sat down on the edge of the bed and set my phone on the nightstand. Jack shucked off his coat and his shoes, and sat down on the opposite side of the bed.

"Sorry I'm making this awkward," I said.

"Ha." He looked at me sidelong over his shoulder. "No funny business with your hands, all right?"

I stretched out and punched the back of his arm. "Jerk."

He laughed and twisted around to capture me. It was less a tackle than a controlled descent onto the pillows. Lying on top of the covers, I curled up against him and tucked my head under his chin. The fit was familiar—natural in the way our bodies remembered how to puzzle together. If I closed my eyes and just breathed, taking in the wintry scent of him, I could feel the tethers slipping from my mind. I drifted, like a ship with no anchor, out of time, out of Japan.

I slept. I knew, because I dreamt. The bedroom window was open, a cool breeze carried in the sounds of the River Cam, the voices of students and tourists out on the water, far off church bells chiming to mark the time.

When I opened my eyes, awakened by my vibrating phone, I quickly shut it off. The window was closed, the shades down, and there was no breeze. I lay still for a while longer, my forehead pressed against the warmth of Jack's chest. His heartbeat thumped against my skin five times for every sleep-deepened breath. Every few seconds, I felt him exhale into my hair.

"Hey," I whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," his voice answered in the dark. "I'm right here."

I smiled and inhaled deeply, meaning to build up my resolve to roll over. But I didn't. Whether it was sleep or something else, neither of us was quite ready to pull away.

A/N: SO MUCH NOVEMBER.

I'm sorry, ya'll. I promise this really is a Hei/OC story. For real. But November's not around for the last half of this thing… because of reasons… and the next chapter is all Li! Finally. And he "meets" Jack.

Handshake of doom is imminent.

About Today—The National