Another mosquito buzzes close to her ear, and she flicks it away grumpily. The light netting does little to prevent the plague of insects. Her bed for tonight is a hard metal cot with a hessian sack stitched to the frame. Years of wear have caused it to sag in the middle, and it's hard to get comfortable.

Her shoulders and lower back ache, both from the bed and the weight of her camping gear. The trek has been long, their destination as remote as can be.

What she wouldn't give to be lying beside Wheeler right now, tucked in the crook of his arm, her fingers threaded lightly through his as they stare up at the ceiling, their bodies cooling from another episode of indulgent masochism.

What she wouldn't give to feel his hands on her.

Gi snores softly beside her, and she knows Ingrid is still awake due to the violent tossing and turning going on nearby, and the annoyed grunts of frustration. There are others too, passed out in various spots nearby, and looking equally as uncomfortable.

The camp light flickers beside her.

Raising her hand, Linka inspects the underside of her wrist, and the broken skin; still evident from their last rendezvous.

He kissed her there when he was finished with her, his lips pressing gently against all the marks left upon her body, soothing the pain and making her stomach flop with desire.

She wanted him badly; wanted him to ruin her completely.

But they'd fallen asleep together instead… and then she'd left without a word.

Linka runs her finger over the puckered indentation, wishing she was elsewhere.

Her body lies here, but her heart is ten thousand miles away, with him.

They're three weeks into the latest mission, deep within the Ituri rainforest and shacking up with the locals. Linka is already ill, suffering from a touch of heat stroke and gastro-intestinal upset due to the lack of fresh, clean water.

There's a bucket on hand when the need to vomit arises. She sits away from the others, miserable, hunched over and clutching her stomach. Gi brings her water, and she manages to keep it down for ten minutes, but then the retching starts again.

There's nothing left but bile.

She pines for Wheeler more than ever right during times like this. He'd be the first to rub her back or bring her a wet washcloth, or crack jokes about taking this regurgitation weight loss fad just a little too seriously.

She misses him; particularly his care and concern, and his humour and levity when situations such as this arise.

Laughter is in short supply these days.

The tribe are cut off from civilisation and a functioning network is non-existent, so Linka bides her time, soldiering through the sickness and the humidity.

She counts down the days until they're free.

"I still don't understand the need for all this paperwork," Kabir bemoans, throwing another log on the fire before heading back to his chair.

"We are funded generously by private enterprise," Kwame explains with a hint of annoyance. "We need to be held accountable, just the same as any other organisation —"

"We should have complete authority on how we spend the money —"

"Why?" Kwame prods, and Linka can already see his hackles rising. "Why should they trust us with that responsibility?"

"Because we have these," Kabir retorts, gesturing to the fire ring on his finger. "I think we bring the most bargaining power to the table. They should be accepting OUR demands. Not the other way around —"

"There needs to be transparency. Spending half an hour entering data into a computer at the end of each day really is not that time consuming —"

Kabir shrugs. He leans back in his camping chair, glaring at the campfire. "I'd run things differently if I was in charge —"

"Well, you're not in charge," Kwame mutters. There's a dangerous tone to his voice, and Linka glances up from the pages of her book in surprise.

Kwame's face betrays nothing, but Linka knows Kwame is pissed.

"I am just saying…" Kabir grumbles. He sits awkwardly for a while, avoiding Kwame's narrowed eyes levelled upon him.

Linka knows that look well.

Kwame is a man of few words, but his presence imbues a quiet sense of authority. You can see Kwame's mind ticking over, processing all manner of thoughts.

Linka returns to her book, ignoring the awkward silence that has descended.

The others are in bed, exhausted after the events on today's call sheet.

They've completed their work in Congo and are now camped on the outskirts of Haiti, with a dedicated military presence surrounding them. It's too dangerous to stay in town, with trigger-happy rebels roaming the streets and kidnappings commonplace.

The stars are hidden tonight beneath a low bank of cloud, and the odd sharp crack of a gunshot can be heard from town.

Eventually, Kabir bids them goodnight. He stands haltingly, gathering his chair and empty cans of beer and returning to the makeshift barracks with his tail planted firmly between his legs.

Linka flicks another page restlessly as Kwame gathers his own chair and dumps it beside her with a resigned sigh.

"I really don't like that man," Kwame says quietly, and Linka looks up, startled.

Always professional to a fault, it's rare for Kwame to express anything negative about a fellow team member.

"He's the answer to a question no one asked," Linka grumbles under her breath.

Kwame leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his head lowered. His shoulders are quaking, and it takes Linka a moment to realise he's stifling laughter… and failing abysmally.

"Shush," she hisses, glancing around nervously, just in case Kabir hears them. There's an armed guard standing watch nearby, but all else seems quiet.

She shoves him, and Kwame shoves her back playfully.

Sinking back into his chair, Kwame is grinning madly. He rubs his face and takes a deep breath.

"Oh, my," he chuckles. "That is a good one."

"Thank you."

"You have lost weight," he observes, looking her over with an intimidating level of scrutiny.

She shrugs. "I am still struggling to keep food down."

"Is it getting any better?"

"The nurse gave me some medication. It is helping."

"Good."

"When do you think we will be finished?" Linka asks, trying to keep her tone casual.

"I am hoping by Thursday."

Linka nods, flicking another page. "I may need to take a couple more days for myself."

"Shouldn't be a problem."

"Spasiba."

There's a wry smile on Kwame's face as he turns slightly in his chair to face her. That steady, unflinching gaze falls upon her again, and she flushes pink, burrowing deeper into her book.

"So…" he says, his tone light and airy. "Who is he?"

She glances up again, startled. "Who is who?"

"You have been taking a lot of leave," he says, smiling gently. "Just an observation —"

"I have had some family commitments," she says breathlessly, sitting up straighter in her chair. "I did not realise it was an issue?"

"There is no issue," he assures her. "No issue at all. I am glad that you are finally taking time for yourself. I am just… curious."

"I have been home… going home," she rambles, despite Kwame appearing unconvinced. "I have… just, you know… spending time with family. There have been a few celebrations. I have been catching up with Mishka, mostly —"

"Your brother rung me five weeks ago," Kwame explains. "Before we left. He asked me about your birthday. He wanted to organise a dinner. We got to talking and he mentioned he hadn't seen you for around six months."

Linka's mouth snaps shut. She closes her book, clutching it against her chest, lost for words… and knowing she's been found out.

He chuckles again, extending an arm behind her back and pulling her in for a one-armed hug. "It is none of my business… but your silence speaks volumes, my dear friend."

"How did you know I was seeing someone?"

"Just a hunch," he says warmly. "There was no other plausible explanation. Plus, you have been quite distracted lately."

"Oh god," she starts, horrified. "I am so sorry —"

"I was just wondering who he is and when we are going to meet him?"

She blinks, staring ahead at the fire crackling and popping in front of them. "I don't know," she says faintly. "I am still working things out for myself. I don't think I am ready to share him, yet."

"Understandable." He looks pleased for her, nonetheless. "As I said, it is none of my business, anyway."

"I don't mind talking about it," she admits. In all honesty, it's relief she feels, getting some of the details out in the open. Besides, Kwame is always subjective to a fault. He won't judge her, or tease her, or demand absolute clarity about her personal affairs. "I have been seeing someone."

Kwame looks delighted. "Are you happy?"

"Yes."

"He is good to you?"

"Ninety-five percent of the time." Linka's lip quirks, knowing that part of the appeal is the remaining five percent, after the lights go out and all semblance of pretence is cast aside. She sighs, plucking the spine of her book with her nails. "He is very good to me… although I would not call it a normal relationship."

"Long distance is always difficult," Kwame surmises, and Linka bites her lip at his complete lack of understanding of her situation.

"Something like that." She sighs, glancing in the direction of the barracks, where her teammate lies fast asleep. "I have not told Gi yet. I am surprised you have picked up on it before she did. "

"Subtlety is not Gi's strongest suit," Kwame chuckles. "You would have to hit her over the head with a sledgehammer... and most days, even that may not work."

Linka rolls her eyes. "I might consider the sledgehammer option if she tries to set me up with any more of Lee's friends."

"I am happy for you." He reaches for her hand and clutches it warmly, staring at the fire. "There is something else. I wanted you to know first —"

This doesn't sound good.

"What?"

"I am giving my notice at the end of the month."

Linka blinks at him, startled, and he gives her an apologetic smile in return.

"You are leaving?" she manages to blurt out.

"I will finish out the year... but, yes."

"Congratulations, Kwame," she breathes. "I know you would have not made the decision lightly."

"Life is too short for regret, my friend. It is time to live properly." He squeezes her hand gently. "I have not told the others. If you could keep it to yourself for now?"

"Of course," she says faintly.

Kwame stands and stretches, yawning. His hand descends upon her shoulder, squeezing gently. "I have a feeling I am not the only person here with one foot out the door, so to speak."

"I have been thinking about it…" she murmurs, "about leaving."

"What is stopping you?"

"I guess I am waiting for… what is the word? Confirmation? I want to be sure this is a long-term prospect before I start making decisions."

"What makes you think this is not long term?"

"It is not exactly romance and companionship," she sighs. "We do not seem to be following a typical relationship pattern."

"How so?"

Linka shrugs, and Kwame doesn't prod. He looks confused… and a little worried.

"Forgive me for asking…" Kwame hesitates, seeming to consider his words carefully. Protective to a fault, the 'big brother' mentality has always been present between them. He gathers his jacket off the backrest and folds it over his arm. "Have you slept with him?"

"No," she replies, before frowning. "Well, kind of. Technically yes, we have… but no."

"Yes, but no?"

"It is complicated."

"I always thought it was one or the other," Kwame mutters, scratching his head. He gives Linka a reassuring smile. "But you have always had a sensible head on your shoulders, my friend. You will work things out for yourself."

"I hope so," Linka sighs. "Things are… different with him, you know? Amazing… but different. Being with him… it is not the way I imagined it would be. I think for him, too… he would say the same."

"Are you safe?" Kwame asks worriedly.

"Yes," she smiles. "I am safe with him, yes. But it is not a conventional relationship. I am still coming to terms with the things we are doing behind closed doors," she sighs, running a hand through her hair. "As I said… it is complicated."

"Do you want to be with this man?"

"Yes," she whispers.

"Do you love him?"

"Yes."

"Then what is the problem? What is so complicated?"

"It is Wheeler," she admits finally, clutching the book tightly against her chest and staring determinedly at the ground "I have been seeing Wheeler."

Kwame halts. His face is a mask of genuine shock, and Linka assumes he didn't see that one coming.

He sinks back down into the chair beside her again, aghast.

"You are serious?"

"Yes."

He rubs a hand over his face, looking completely stunned. "We talk every week. He has never mentioned anything… I mean, I had a suspicion he was seeing someone, but —"

"How did you know?"

"The man has been annoyingly chirpy, lately," he mutters, and she hides a smile. "Oh, it all makes sense —"

"I was helping him with renovations," she admits, glad to finally be offloading the truth to someone. "It was all quite innocent… until it wasn't anymore. We got carried away and things just happened… and sometimes, I am still trying to come to terms with all the changes."

"Goodness," he murmurs, thoroughly nonplussed, but he's grinning all the same. "What is complicated about Wheeler? The two of you have been tip-toeing around one another for years?"

"You don't want to know the details, Kwame. You would never speak to either of us again."

"But the two of you are dating, yes?"

"I don't know," she whispers.

Kwame tuts quietly. He crouches down beside her, clutching the armrest of her chair for support. "You two always were a lost cause."

"I know when I am here, I don't want to be," she says plainly. "I am finding it harder to be away from him…"

"But?"

She gives him a sad smile. "I am not sure if we are simply getting something out of our system, or if it is something more, you know?"

"Do you want it to be more?"

"Yes," she sighs. "I like being with him very much."

"What does Wheeler want?"

"We haven't really talked about it," she sighs, staring down at her hands again.

"Maybe it is time to have that conversation?"

"Maybe."

"I don't think you have much to worry about, Linka." He stands and stretches for a moment, supressing a tired yawn. "Are you happy, my friend?"

"Yes," she says, tipping her head back and gracing him with a dreamy smile. "Yes, I am."

His arms wrap around her from behind, and he hugs her tightly. "Then I am thrilled for you, my friend."

"Don't tell Gi," she sighs, burying her face in her hands as he releases her and wanders away. "I am not ready for the questions."

"Live your life, my friend," he calls over his shoulder as he heads toward the barracks. "Let the rest work itself out."

Wheeler picks up on the second ring.

"How're ya doin, toots," he says warmly, and she leans against the brickwork with a sigh, basking in the sound of his New York drawl.

"Tired, Yankee," she huffs. "Looking forward to some cuddles."

"Got plenty of those lined up."

"How are you? How is the house going?"

"It's done," he replies. "Everything's in. Bit of a blank canvas, though. Needs some colour."

"No more Fog Mist?"

He chuckles. "Nah. Gonna need to borrow you for the finer details."

"Some cushions and throw rugs?"

"Maybe some artwork and mirrors, too. Bedding and sheets."

"I can do that."

"I'll take ya shoppin' when you're in town again."

"I'd like that," she says, flushing warmly, feeling that little fire reigniting. "I cannot wait to see the changes…"

"When are you free?"

"I was supposed to be cleared for this weekend," she says softly, winding her finger around the telephone cord. "But our time away has just been extended."

"Aw, shit," he mutters. "I'm havin' a party next Friday night. Mentioned it to Kwame to pass on last time we spoke. He and Gi have been buggin' me about seein' the place."

"I don't think we will be able to make it," she sighs, disappointed beyond measure. "My leave has been rescinded, too. We are off the coast of Mexico now for at least another week or two."

"Ah, shit. Would have been great to see everyone…" he says. "Mainly you though. Obviously."

"I am stuck here for the foreseeable future," she laments. "I would rather be somewhere else."

"Like my humble little abode?"

"Perhaps," she says, smiling. "I am sure you could find something productive for me to do."

"You mean more paintin'?" he teases. "Or are you talkin' about our other nocturnal activities?"

"I am talking about whatever," she laughs, throwing Wheeler's own phrase back at him.

"Maybe I just like the pleasure of your company."

"We shall wait and see what happens the next time I am there, yes?"

"Fine by me," he remarks. "I'll warm up the cuffs."

"I… uh…" Leaning into the payphone, she eyes Gi nervously while her friend eats her lunch at a picnic table nearby. "I told Kwame."

"Told him what?"

"I told him about us."

"Ohhhh." He swears under his breath. "He plannin' on comin' after me with a shotgun?"

"I did not tell him any specific details."

"Probably for the best," Wheeler mutters. "Don't know how he'd react, knowin' his buddy likes stringin' women up naked from ceiling rafters."

"Women?" she sputters. "So you have done that before, I take it?"

"God, no. Only with you, babe."

"Well, why am I so lucky?"

He chuckles. "Because I lose my ever-lovin' mind around you. I always have."

She sighs, already swooning, lost in the warmth and timbre of his voice.

"I've missed you," she says softly, ignoring the lump in her throat.

"Missed you too, babe." He's quiet for a moment. The silence is loaded, and she waits for him to pull the proverbial trigger. "You didn't say goodbye."

"What do you mean?"

"Last time I saw you." He lets out a heavy breath. "Woke up that mornin' and you were gone."

"I thought it might be easier that way," she says, closing her eyes. A stray tear escapes, and she scrubs it away quickly.

"Was just a bit surprised," he remarks. "Things got real heavy that weekend. I was.. uh… I was kinda' hopin' we could debrief in the mornin', but you were already —"

"I didn't want to wake you… it would have made things more difficult."

He's quiet for a moment. "Difficult how?"

"I would have stayed," she whispers brokenly.