She had nearly dropped the book in shock. Her hands were shaking. She was overcome with a cold sensation spreading through her body. She had to physically catch her breath for a moment.

She didn't know what to make of it. There were odd things recorded, like her favorite songs to sing, a list of her favorite foods, and different comments about her tendencies. There were several other things written about her, the newest being that her favorite flowers were lobelias. It was a collection of her entire personality gathered into several lines of writing. It would've felt stalkerish, had she not known who this journal belonged to.

At first, she convinced herself it was Deacon taking notes on her. After all, he had several other things written down in this journal - like the crew's names, their duties, and a little bit about them individually. He took notes on their ship and what needed to be repaired, as well as a personal list of things he needed to obtain. Notes on their mission - where they needed to go next, and what still required further planning. This was just a section about her . It was nothing more. It couldn't have been.

While flipping the pages, she took a look at the back of the book. That was when she came across it. The world around her had taken a pause.

Reyna.

Her name, written several times in Deacon's cursive.

Under that were notes on her history. Particularly, her dismissal for insubordination and past misdemeanors. The rest of the page was filled with questions, unfinished thoughts and scribbled theories. It was amusing to read someone speculating about her, but utterly terrifying at the same time. Where did he get this information? How long had he known?

This page did not look like the others. The writing in here was rushed and almost sloppy, like he'd written it in a hurry. Had he been desperate to write this all down? Her body trembled and the writing became a blur in her vision.

A voice scared the living daylights out of her.

"Reading again?"

She whipped around. The door to the cabin was open and a figure stood in the doorway. Deacon shut the door behind him and took a step further into the room, engulfing them both in darkness. He approached her with such silence that it added to the tension in the air.

Not a single world managed to come out of her mouth. The Emissary stood in front of her and took a glance at what was in her hand. He clearly hadn't been expecting to find her with his journal, but he was playing off his surprise rather well.

"You know," He began, plucking the book out from her gloved hands. "If I wanted to sift through someone else's things, I'd wait until they were off the ship. Then I wouldn't get caught."

"How…" Her voice was unsteady. She was still quivering. "..How do you know my name?"

There was a heavy pause. "You told me."

She had no memory of this. "When?"

He lowered his head and studied something on the floor. The coldness was gradually turning into heat - she was getting angry. It wasn't good if he couldn't look her in the eye.

"We were in Don Rodrigo's mansion when you had a concussion. You seemed to have trouble remembering things, so I asked if you knew who you were. And that's what you told me."

Tears began to well up in her eyes. She didn't want to cry. It was disgusting to sob in a mask; she couldn't wipe the moisture away without taking it off. Her hands balled into fists instead, the anger fluctuating between herself and Deacon.

"That doesn't explain the rest of what I saw," She spat. She couldn't stop the venom from dripping in her words.

Deacon turned to drop his cane on the bed and unclasp his cape from his shoulders. Dea grew more furious as the seconds ticked by where he didn't say anything. Did this mean nothing to him? Had he no idea what impact this would leave on her? He faced her and held his hands together like they were exchanging something formal.

"...I searched for your files with your name. That was everything I found."

"-You did what?" She raised her voice. Her eyes narrowed and her throat was hot. She moved towards him until they were inches apart. She pointed a finger angrily in his masked face. "How…how could you!?"

"Anyone with the clearance could access what I saw. Why is this a problem?"

"A problem !? It's more than that! I made it clear I didn't want you to know my identity. Why the hell would you go and look for my * file *!?"

He took a large breath and exhaled slowly. His eyes tore away from hers to gaze back at the journal. There was guilt and obvious regret in his voice.

"I didn't look for anything more-"

She turned on her heel and angrily paced around the cabin. She wanted to rub her temples, but couldn't reach them under her zendale. She couldn't think of a single way to soothe herself right now. She was angry, scared, and humiliated. Her trust for Deacon had been shattered. Her whole world was crumbling apart. She tried so hard to hide all of this… he wasn't supposed to know !

"Dea?" His voice sounded from across the room. She spun around and stomped over to him, forcefully jabbing a finger into his chest. It was a nearly identical situation to the day they'd met.

"How would YOU feel if I dug around and found records about you!? Things you never wanted anyone else to know?"

He motioned her hand away, pressing closer to look her earnestly in the eyes. "Listen-"

" Cállate la boca ! You think you have any right to speak to me? You went behind my back to do this. I was in the hospital at the time, wasn't I? So I couldn't do a damn thing about it!?"

Another pause. She knew she was right with the way Deacon squared his shoulders. She turned her attention to the window and gazed helplessly at the moon. They had such a good day together…she'd been thinking of trusting him more, to reveal more of herself…would it have been pointless?

"...I'm sorry." She glanced over her shoulder to find him staring fixedly at the wall. "I know you wanted to hide everything, but I didn't understand why until I saw it."

A sob involuntarily left her throat. She quickly covered her masked face and turned away. She couldn't succumb to her emotions. She was stronger than that. He couldn't see any weakness in her. It would ruin everything she had built for herself. She stiffened her jaw to stop the tears and lifted her head.

"I don't get it." He continued. She could hear his footsteps falling in her direction. "How do you have so many offenses? The Armada should have never hired you." She tensed up after that comment. "What exactly happened?"

"Why should I tell you? So you can know everything about me?" Her voice cracked. There was little care in her eyes as she addressed him. "It's not fair that you can do all this research on me whenever you please, while I barely get to know you in return…And I've wanted to. At least, I thought I did."

"I…" His words were failing him. "I didn't realize."

"There. You know everything now. I was insubordinate and got into a lot of trouble. Is that what you wanted to learn?"

"No." He was clearly struggling. "I just don't understand. You've never shown me or the crew any trouble. Disobedience is the last thing on my mind when I think of you."

Her eyes softened. She was so close to losing her composure…it was taking all her will to hold herself together. She didn't want anything more about herself slipping just because she was vulnerable again. She'd had enough of it. Deacon didn't deserve the privilege - he'd done all this without her permission to start with.

"Maybe it's better if you never know," She managed after a minute. "And…maybe it's for the best if I don't get to know you, either."

"Don't say that. I'm fine if-"

"-That's the thing. I don't think I want to anymore." Her hands fell to her sides. "Why would I want to learn more about a man who is just going to hurt me? I was starting to trust you, Deacon. And then I find this…and the worst part is, I know you would've never shown it to me."

The silence stretched on painfully. He didn't know what to say. He had no practice in handling these situations. He'd never been in the wrong…he wasn't close to nor cared about the people he gathered intel on. There wasn't any reason to worry about what anyone else thought of him. He rarely ever did.

But Dea was different. She was his equal. And when he had the opportunity to betray her trust, he took it despite knowing how wrong it was to do. How could he justify his actions? He wouldn't even try. He had more dignity than that.

He realized he was holding his breath. After a second, he told her, "I don't hate you. I never did."

Her eyes lowered. She murmured. "..Is that something else I told you?"

He nodded solemnly. His tone softened. "We may have had our differences, but I've learned to live with our situation. I'm…sorry for showing you such annoyance before. I wasn't used to having a partner, and I certainly took your help for granted when I shouldn't have. We work together, and I don't want that jeopardized-"

"-That's all we'll ever be - work partners. And when we're done with our mission, we'll go our separate ways. You won't have to deal with me for very long."

Her tone was emotionless. She came to terms with how this changed their relationship and was willing to let go, no matter how hard it was. A part of her still wanted to fall to the floor and weep the night away, but she wasn't going to do that.

He bowed his head before replying, "..If that's what you want."

She sighed and moved to sit on her mattress, peeling off her boots and removing her gloves. She could feel the effects of the wine lingering and hoped it would help her sleep tonight. If she were anywhere else, she'd be crying herself to exhaustion. But she had to endure the pain - despite how she felt about it.

Not another word was uttered between them as they prepared to sleep. When the cabin was completely quiet, Deacon's blue eyes were trained on the ceiling above. His chest felt agonizingly tight and a wave of sadness was gradually washing over him. He cursed at himself for leaving his journal wide open and not securing it before Dea returned. He regretted everything he had done. He could've easily lived without knowing about her history.

You idiot.

When the spymaster got up the next morning, he pulled back his privacy sheet in exhaustion. He hadn't slept well…constantly plagued by his self-loathing and remorse. 'I'll never escape this cycle' , he thought depressingly. He groggily rubbed his eyes under his bauta before lifting his head and noticing that Dea's bed was empty.

…Huh.

She never woke before him. He checked outside the window and confirmed it was morning when the sun had barely risen over the horizon. He wasted no time lifting himself to his feet and changing into his uniform, finding his routine was a little more rushed than usual. He felt uncertain - wondering if Dea had found her way off of the ship and back to Valencia. He wouldn't blame her if she left…but he'd appreciate a notice.

He climbed onto the deck. When he approached the captain's wheel, he sighed in relief. Dea was sailing their vessel confidently. There was a soldier by her side assisting with the navigation, which was usually * her * job when he was behind the wheel. He climbed the stairs and greeted them both. His soldier saluted him while Dea nodded in his direction.

"What are you doing?" He asked. She cast a quick glance at him.

"Practicing my sailing."

He clicked his tongue. "Seeing as we're not stranded on an island, I'd say you're doing a good job." She didn't even react to his comment and kept her stare straight. It made him slightly lose his confidence. "..Are you okay?"

"I'm working." She hastily replied. "Why don't you check on the crew? I didn't have the chance to talk to them this morning."

"Alright."

A pang of rejection hit him as he walked away. 'Checking on the crew' was busy work. They employed capable people. No one ever goofed off or needed assistance. That was a benefit to working in the Armada…he never had to worry about trivial things. He had no quarrel with working alongside rookies, but he preferred the more experienced officers to work for him. They never caused any issue.

He looked over his shoulder to watch Dea sailing the ship. She was entirely focused on the task at hand. He apologized to her last night, but it clearly wasn't enough.

The communicator on his wrist alerted him of a message. He curiously checked the notification, only to feel conflicted when he read what had been sent to him.

"...Dea, you should have a break. I'll take over for you in the meantime."

She grew defensive when he approached her with this suggestion. He was fiddling with his gloves behind his back - hoping that they wouldn't argue and she would cave in to his request. He needed her away from the wheel right now, if he was to follow orders.

"No, I have this."

"I insist. It gets boring after a bit." He stretched his hand out. She hesitated before letting him take it. He smiled under his mask.

"Thank you. I have some tea prepared in the cabin if you'd like? It's peppermint."

She quirked her eyebrow at the mention of her favorite flavor. He must've done that intentionally. She was more than happy to take a break, but didn't want to give him the satisfaction. "...As long as it isn't poisoned."

"It's not. There's some fresh bread in our pantry if you're hungry."

She thought about it before leaving. She obtained the slice of bread and applied some fresh butter to it. Sailing overseas may not be ideal, but…the Armada stocked themselves on high quality items every now and then. She'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it. She sat herself at the table and sipped from the tea. It tasted amazing and the bread hit the spot. She took this time to simply think.

…She was still angry at Deacon, and equally hurt from his actions. It was hard to be around him with these feelings, so she chose to get up early and find a distraction. She needed some practice with sailing. The act itself was a delight. She embraced the cold ocean air that dried her tears. She felt calm, like she was back at home watching the sun rise over the mountains. That was until Deacon joined her, and their distance was short-lived.

Her grip on the cup tightened.

She was humiliated that her history had been accessed - by him , no less. The last person she wanted to find out about everything. It felt like he had personally driven a knife through her heart, and she struggled to articulate why she felt this way. Was it because she didn't have a choice ? Would she have ever told him on her own? She had a feeling she wouldn't, but now she would never have the option.

…She worried that he thought of her differently. That this news would completely tarnish her reputation in his eyes. But it was like he refused to believe this information, and that was the only thing Dea was holding onto. That he could look past what was written on her records and to the person she actually was.

Hope bloomed in her heart, but she was uncertain of what to do about it.

It was still painful. She wished for this to subside so they could work together until all their prisoners were captured. Then she could leave and never have to face this Armada Elite again.

The thought made her feel empty. The time would inevitably come, and frankly, no matter what she said…she wasn't looking forward to it. It felt like there was so much unsaid between them. He was still a mystery she wished to solve…but was it worth it if he refused to share anything about himself?

She finished the rest of her tea with troubled thoughts.

"Deacon? Why are we stopped?"

It took a few minutes to register that the ship had stopped moving. She made the realization when she looked out of the window and was greeted with the sight of buildings instead of open waters. When she climbed the stairs, The Executioner had been docked at Valencia City. The crew was currently tying her to its post. Deacon was casually leaning on the captain's wheel, turning his head in her direction when Dea made her appearance.

"Someone would like to see you, and requested for us to come here." He replied.

Her confusion was immense, but ultimately temporary. At that moment, a figure boarded their vessel holding a mask to her face and clutching the ends of her dress to allow free movement of her feet. When she was onboard, she wasted no time climbing to the quarter deck and embracing Deacon. She pulled away to present a small gift, which she placed in his hand.

" Buon compleanno! "

"Oh," He was surprised at the sight. He withheld from opening it and instead bowed to her. "..Thank you. I had nearly forgotten."

Dea gaped at the sight. She rushed over to meet with them both, turning to the tall woman in amazement. She couldn't believe who she was seeing. "Queen?"

"Dea!" The woman happily turned to her and cupped the side of her masked face with her free hand. "I have a gift for you as well."

She searched her dress' pocket and offered a new mask. It was identical to her old one, except this one was made with something stronger than the previous plaster. The material was more reliable and didn't bend under her fingers. There was a new addition to it…the left side was a collection of golden-and-gray artificial feathers. The form of it even felt more feminine-fitting, like some minor adjustments had been made to its previous design.

Her fingers smoothed over it several times. She nearly choked. "Thank you…"

"I'm just happy to get that horrid thing off of your face." She trailed her finger along the crack, clearly unhappy with the sight. "I made sure my husband put extra care into your new mask."

"Right." She looked around with uncertainty before dipping her head. "I'll change into this."

"When you're done, return right back to me. We have a full day ahead of us!"

"..What?"

Queen gave Dea no chance of questioning her, politely patting her back as she left for the stairs. She was staring at the mask held in her hands the entire way…admiring it and loving it. She had been expecting a standard replacement and not an improvement. Not many Armada soldiers were granted the privilege. She felt exceptionally lucky as she changed into it and eyed herself in their mirror. She felt better.

When she returned above, Queen and Deacon had been chatting to pass the time. They ceased their conversation the moment she came into view. Queen jumped from her seat and approached her. Even though a mask hid her features, it was clear she was beaming from behind it. Dea wondered why she was in such a good mood and what could possibly be awaiting them.

…She mentioned having a ' special day' together. Has the time come so soon? She wasn't prepared for anything, especially not now -

"Don't be so tense, bella . What's going to happen is nothing but fun." Her gloved hand rested on her shoulder in assurance. Dea found herself suddenly relaxed. "Are you ready?"

"Well…yes, but-"

"-Deacon, make sure you return this afternoon. I'll tell you when we're ready."

The Emissary nodded, but didn't move. It was clear he was not coming with them…which both relieved and worried her.

Dea didn't have a chance to say goodbye, as she was already being nudged off the ship and brought to Queen's side as they strolled into Valencia City.

Dea wanted to ask where they were going, but it was better not to question the Armada's Queen. It was universally recognized that those who did faced extreme consequences. So she was content with letting her lead the way, more familiar with Valencia than she was. She gazed around at the houses and canals, constantly in awe at the sights and luxury that the people lived in.

She looked up at the sign of the building they were approaching. It was a spa. A nervous feeling settled in her stomach when they walked in and greeted the clerk. Apparently, Queen had booked them both for a spa day, including a manicure, pedicure, and massage session. She hadn't been treated to anything like this in a long time. She was speechless when the Elite motioned for her to follow along.

They were getting their pedicure done first. Dea was asked to take off her boots and socks, then led into the most comfortable chair she ever sat in and dipped her feet into water. Queen rested in the one beside her, holding her mask and perching her other arm comfortably. Dea felt numb when they began to work on her feet, wanting to squirm in her seat under such attention.

"...You don't have to do all of this," She insisted weakly. "I'm fine with a simple manicure, really."

"No, I won't allow it." Queen countered. "We're getting the royal package. I wanted to have a girl's day out together."

"I-" She flinched when they started to scrub her sole, only to lean back in pleasure. "..I have to ask…what brought on all of this?"

She didn't respond right away, watching the women work for a minute or two. "I usually get my beauty done with the royal court, but they're into too much gossip at the moment. I know you've been in need of a break…so why not now?"

She exhaled in surprise. It was so thoughtful and generous; she didn't know how to receive it exactly. But she was thankful, nonetheless.

"I thought about booking us for a hair treatment, but I didn't want to take up your day. If you like how this goes, we can return later and get that done."

She was overwhelmed by the kindness, and decided not to speak while they enjoyed their treatment. She settled on a french pedicure with a flower design. The ending result was gorgeous and she couldn't stop looking at her nails. When they were finished, they chose what they wanted for their manicure next. As for Dea, she stuck to her usual light blue color, but allowed a glitter application when Queen insisted she add some 'extra flair'.

Soon, they were in a room waiting for their massage. Thankfully, it wasn't anything too wild - a simple aromatherapy for Dea and a hot stone massage for Queen. Both of their masseuses were incredibly skilled and thorough. She had never been this relaxed in her life. They were given a minute or two to recover - and Dea found it an ideal time to speak again.

"Queen?" A noise emerged from the figure across from her, showing she was listening. "...You've shown a lot of interest in me lately. But these extra things, they're not necessary, are they?"

"What are you asking?"

"What exactly do you see in me..?"

She lifted her head and Dea copied the gesture. "I suppose I see some of myself in you. We have the same name, don't we? When I first went into the Armada…it was to prove myself, much like you. I was determined, but I didn't have the obstacles you had. And I didn't want to see you not get to pursue your ambitions."

"That doesn't justify the spa day," Dea brought up shyly.

"You're a nice girl. I want to make sure you feel safe and welcome in the Armada. Every woman needs a beauty treatment every now and then."

She held her tongue on how extravagant their visit was. She was thankful she hadn't been booked for a facial…she desperately needed one, but the mask was a respected part of presentation here. Not once had they been asked to remove them. She looked into a nearby mirror and smiled at the new sight.

Queen took them out to a local gelato shop in town. She got herself a petite cup of the hazelnut-flavored dessert while Dea had a scoop of dark chocolate in a waffle cone. They sat at a table outside to enjoy the warm weather. They removed their gloves to admire their manicures and eat without hassle. Queen kept a hold of her mask while bringing small spoonfuls to her lips. Something occurred to Dea as she sat there, causing her to look around suspiciously. The older woman noticed her stiff posture.

"Something the matter?"

"How do you know Deacon hasn't followed us?"

"He has better things to do than tail two women around. I still asked him not to. He has that terrible habit of tracking people…"

She waited a minute before unclipping her zendale and removing her mask. She set it down along with her hat and sighed in pleasure when a breeze passed through her hair. It had been ages since she removed it in public. As her eyes met with Queen's, she felt…comfortable.

She took a bite of her gelato and sat up in delight. "This is delicious!"

"They have my favorite flavors here," She picked up a spoonful and 'mmm 'ed. "It's the best I've had."

Dea indulged a bit more in the ice cream and took a look around. A group near them burst into laughter while a couple at another table took a picture together. She'd been separated from the public for so long that the sight almost felt foreign. She looked at the clear sky above them and sighed pleasantly to herself.

Queen leaned forward and sweetly placed her hand over her own. "I know you've been through a lot lately, hun. If you need to vent about anything, I'm here for you."

Her eyes lowered as she looked away. Queen made her feel safe. The whole reason they met was because she was concerned with what happened to her. She went out of her way to provide Dea with an opportunity that she would forever be grateful for. The way she spoke always sounded considerate - comfort laced in every word. She wanted to protect her female colleagues. That was something she'd never seen in Monquista, beyond Queen Eleanor. The army was a male-dominated field there, as unfortunate as it was. She was relieved to meet a woman with high status in the Armada.

She wished her own mother had cared about her like Queen did. Her fists clenched as she thought about her discharge. Her family had been disappointed despite what she went through. To have her mom look her in the eyes and tell her that she was a 'coward' for fleeing to Valencia…

She held her breath to steady herself. "Deacon and I got into an argument last night. I've been a little fussed about it."

She sat up attentively. "What ever did you two argue about?"

Dea hesitated to disclose their quarrel, but she could use an outside opinion. She was desperately seeking advice on how to handle this whole thing. "I wasn't in the right mind when I had that concussion, and told Deacon my name. He used it to take a look at my file, then found ...well, you know."

Queen sighed. She understood how dire this was and what it meant for her. "I'm sure he doesn't think of you any differently, bella ."

"I don't think he does. But I've been angry with him for doing that behind my back. I was told my identity would be kept safe and we wouldn't know anything about each other, but it's too late now."

The other woman seemed to be deep in thought. From her posture, Dea felt like she was frowning behind her mask. "...You know, when Kane and I started our relationship, I did something similar. I wanted so badly to know about him, since he didn't really tell me about himself. So I went against his wishes to learn something about his past, and he was furious with me when he found out."

Her green eyes widened at this information. She kept silent so Queen could continue this small story. Her brown eyes met with hers and a soft exhale shortly left her lips.

"I didn't have bad intentions. I was just so frustrated that he didn't share a lot of himself with me. I only wanted to understand him better. To know where he came from. It seemed harmless, but in doing so, I ruined his trust. I worried I would never get it back…but we were able to reconcile."

"...So, you think Deacon regrets what he did?"

"I'm positive. He might've just wanted to know more about you."

"That's the problem." Dea groaned, momentarily slumping in her seat. "I know nothing of who he is or what his past is like."

"I think he gets that from his father," Queen muttered sadly.

Dea perked up. "You know his dad?"

She tilted her head. "...Yes, I'm married to him."

A long pause lingered at the table. The cogs were slowly turning in her head. She eventually pieced two-and-two together and gasped at this news. "Kane is his father !?"

"Oh, dear." Queen tapped her fingers on the table. "I guess he has kept a lot to himself, hasn't he?"

She let out a frustrated noise and moved her attention to her gelato. There were several questions running through her head. Why didn't Deacon tell her? She never really asked him about it, but still! They worked for Kane! He couldn't have mentioned that their boss, the Supreme Commander of all the Armada, also happened to be his father? Her eyes narrowed as she continued to dwell on it. Queen tsked at the expression.

"If you want to know about him, you really should be asking more questions."

'Maybe I will' , she thought determinedly, already knowing the first thing she'll address him about.

"-It is his birthday today. Have you gotten him anything..?"

It dawned on Dea that Queen had given Deacon a present before they left. She was so shocked to have seen her that she didn't register what she said at the time. She must've wished him a happy birthday. She remembered him looking surprised at the gesture – like he hadn't been expecting anything. Her heart began to hurt thinking of how she'd treated him since this morning.

Their confrontation last night couldn't have been more poorly-timed.

She nearly dropped her waffle cone. Her lips fell into a frown. "...No. I didn't. What should I get him?"

"Hmm. This can be a great opportunity for the two of you to make up."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. "He never mentioned his birthday to me. I don't even know what he'd like."

"That can be our next thing to do - finding a present for him. The fun part is looking until you spot the right thing."

Dea was happy with this suggestion and eagerly agreed to it. They finished their gelato before setting out to a nearby local mall. There, they spent a couple hours window shopping in search of the right gift. Dea was in a constant struggle to find something she thought Deacon would like. He had plenty of books, carried very little with him, and didn't have the extra room to keep any knick-knacks. He was the hardest person she ever had to shop for. She sought Queen's advice on the matter, who suggested a more practical gift. With that in mind, Dea found something she thought was perfect.

"Before we part, I have a couple of questions for you."

She was holding a small bag that contained Deacon's present, carrying it with her back to the docks. They had a mile or two to go until they'd reach her ship. Most of their conversation had been about her mission with Deacon and what interesting gossip Queen learned back in Valencia.

"Go ahead," She tipped her head in permission.

"How exactly do you feel about Deacon after all this time?"

"...He's quiet and hard to read. I feel like I annoy him more than anything, but…he told me that's not the case. I still think my company isn't the best thing in the Spiral."

Queen waved her concern off. "He's always in a bad mood."

She nodded, only a tad reassured.

"He's not that bad when you get to know him," Her lips moved without her consent. "He always seems to know what he's doing. He's pretty smart, and I've never seen a man handle the stormgates that well. He's impressive with a gun, too."

A memory came to mind that she hadn't talked about. She laughed. "We were in Cool Ranch some time ago and he played the piano. It was one of those ridiculous ragtime beats, but he played it perfectly. I sat there watching him, and I…I think that was the first time I realized he was attractive."

Shit! Why did she say that? Queen's shoulders hunched as an obvious smile grew on her concealed face.

"Go on," She purred.

Dea suddenly felt like she revealed something she wasn't supposed to. She gulped and fidgeted with the handle of the shopping bag. It felt like she was confessing something she hadn't realized herself. A fact she'd been denying and putting down for awhile now…

"I thought he was going to be like the others. I know you told me I shouldn't worry, but…I was scared of what would happen if I didn't guard myself. And I really wish I hadn't, because I just got on his nerves."

She winced at the memories of their first weeks together. How much she teased him and the way she talked…the regret instantly filled her chest.

Queen hummed. "You were a victim of something terrible. You needn't be ashamed of protecting yourself."

"But I was so rude to him..! I didn't know what he was going through at the time. I even said he wasn't fit to be an Elite. I regret that so much…I think it was the one comment I made that seriously upset him."

"It sounds like you need to communicate better. Apologize for the things you've said when you were cautious. He'll understand, cara."

She frowned, her eyes glued to the floor. Something cold spread in her heart just imagining Deacon knowing the full truth. Who she was and how she came here. What material exactly laid behind the redacted parts of her file. Information he would never know unless she directly told him…

"What would he think of me?" She whispered. "That I was weak? Some sort of coward?"

"He isn't like that." Queen slowed her steps. "I think you'd be surprised how kind he really is. He's helped me in a few rough spots before."

"He didn't even tell me it was his Birthday. Did he think I wouldn't care or something?" That thought hurt her. Maybe she deserved it, with how she'd been acting lately. "He apologized to me last night, but I didn't forgive him. Do you think I should?"

"If you want to move past this, then you should consider it." The ship was coming into view and they knew their time together was running short. "I don't think he ever meant to hurt you. Sometimes we think our truths are better hidden, but opening yourself up to other people isn't always a vulnerability, Dea."

"That's pretty wise," She remarked.

"I just want to see the two of you happy," She replied sadly. They were standing in front of The Executioner now. "Thank you for such a fun day. I hope you don't mind if I tag you along next time?"

"I don't think I would." She grinned under her mask. "I wish I had met you sooner." She could have used Queen in her life a long time ago.

"We met at the right time. Now go give him his gift."

She was about to leave until she stopped herself. "By the way…how old is Deacon?"

Queen giggled. "I can't reveal all of his secrets, dear. Ciao."

She gave a graceful wave of the hand before leaving. Dea watched her go sadly before she climbed aboard her sanctuary. She greeted her crew and kept an eye out for her co-captain. It was about time they moved past this so things could go back to normal. They had no reason to needlessly bicker in the meantime.

She searched until she found Deacon where she kind of expected him to be - in the back of the ship with a cigarette in his mouth. When she appeared out of nowhere, he jumped up and extinguished it. She was grateful for the action, but felt guilty for imposing it.

"Hi," She greeted. He nodded to her, discarding the stick elsewhere.

"Have a good time with Queen?" He asked.

"The best, actually." She looked down for a moment, fidgeting with her sleeves. "…I didn't know it was your Birthday. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why would you care?"

She winced. She recalled a date she'd recently seen. He'd written her birthday in his journal, among the other notes he had about her. He took the time to do it so he could remember the day…she felt even worse from this, which obliged her to hand him the bag.

"I got this for you while we were out." She felt that was underwhelming and added, " Feliz cumpleaños."

He gave her a look before taking it and reaching for what was inside. He surfaced a box. He opened it and found two objects inside. They were exquisitely decorated halves of a gear. It was the most costly purchase she'd made in Valencia, but it somehow suited him, what with his job in the Armada and love for reading. They were obsessed with clockwork, she noticed.

"Bookends," He said, weighing them in his hands. She scrambled with a need to explain her gift.

"I noticed you kept your books on the shelf in the cabin, but they kept falling off when the waves were bad. I don't want any of them getting water damaged, so…I thought you could use these. To keep them together." Her face was hot with a blush as she worked herself up. "I-If you don't like it, it's fine, I can return it-"

"No, I've been needing a pair, actually" He admired the details. It looked like something his father would've crafted - had he ever the courage to ask him. "Thank you, Dea."

"Oh." Her heart was beating intensely at his approval. She smiled, relieved that her gift hadn't been a failure. "...I'm glad. And, uh…how old are you?"

He snorted and shoved the bookends back in the bag. He sat back down and she got annoyed at his avoidance. "-Since you know so much about me, it's only fair that I get to ask you some things. Don't you think?"

"Fine," He breathed, allowing her to sit beside him. It was a little close since their knees were touching, but neither of them minded. "Take a guess."

"40."

He was immediately insulted. "Davvero? Fourty?"

"Mentally, I think so." She responded proudly. He rolled his eyes and looked away, shaking his head. She was back to toying with him - so maybe that was a good sign.

"I'm thirty years old."

She was pleased. He waited a few seconds before asking, "-Shall I guess yours?"

"Of course. Nothing bad ever comes from guessing a woman's age." She jabbed him in the side. He snickered. "I'm as old as you, more or less. Still pretty young in the eyes of my superiors, I guess."

"Hmm."

They sat like that for a bit, watching the ocean and the movement of the waves. Dea was the one who eventually broke the silence. She did so with a serious tone:

"I just want to know why you looked for my file. What were your intentions, espía? Be honest with me, please."

He hung his head. "I was curious. All my life I've been working completely by myself, and then one day, I'm assigned a partner whom I'm not allowed to know at all. I wanted an idea of who you are because I've never quite met anyone like you."

Whatever she was going to say failed to leave her lips. She was taken completely by surprise. He seemed to think about something before turning to her.

"What I found doesn't matter. Anyone can accuse their subordinates of whatever they want, whether it's justified or not. And it doesn't take much for something to land on a permanent record. I've seen plenty of cases where this happens. Whatever happened to you, Dea, I wholeheartedly believe was not your fault."

Her jaw fell open. How smart could one man be? All she implied was that she never wanted anyone to see her history. She was worried her records looked too professional; that no one would ever question their validity. She felt stupid to think so with Deacon - it was his job to read through documents, so it wasn't far-fetched that he would recognize something like this.

She swallowed, finding her throat dry. "..Thank you. That's…all I really hoped for."

"You don't have to tell me what they were. It changes nothing." He crossed his leg over the other and moved his eyes back to the ships sailing around them. "I just hope you can forgive me for overstepping your boundaries."

A smile grew to her cheeks. She thought of how to take advantage of this situation. "You know what? I'll forgive you if you can answer three questions"

"Shoot."

"-Why didn't you tell me Kane is your father?"

He blinked a couple of times. His tone sounded disappointed. "So Queen told you."

"Isn't she your mom..?"

"Not biologically, but she's the closest thing to one."

"...What happened to your mother, then?"

"Is that your second question?" He asked teasingly. She paused, thinking hard on it, before firmly telling him 'yes'. He sighed helplessly.

"I don't know. I was abandoned at birth, so I never met her."

She took a few seconds to think. "Maybe you can find her? You're an expert at tracking people, right? I bet you can locate her, see where she is and meet her-"

"-I don't really care. Kane was the one who raised me and it's always been that way. Apparently, my mother wanted nothing to do with me. She wasn't interested in having children."

She shrunk in on herself. "I'm sorry to hear, Deacon."

"Don't be." He drummed his fingers at her silence and prompted, "-Your last inquiry?"

"...Why exactly do you smoke?" She realized it was a personal question and backpedaled. "Sorry, you don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

His posture loosened at this subject, clearly not pleased with it. He had to take a breath in preparation before being able to answer. "..Because I'm constantly stressed, and it's the most convenient way to keep myself relaxed."

"It's your job, isn't it?" Her tone fell. She recalled their conversation in the hospital, remembering how touchy he had been with this.

"Yes, and when anything else doesn't go according to plan. Like losing my entire ship with the prisoners I'd been capturing on it for half a year." He tensed when he exhaled, clearly relieving the exhaustion he'd felt. "I've tried other ways, but this is the only thing that works for me."

"Are you happy with it?" The words left before she could think about them. She was about to retract her question until a thoughtful expression crossed his eyes.

"...Not really. I've been wanting to quit for a long time, but right when I do well without them, everything falls apart again and I need them."

"You can try chewing gum," She suggested. He muttered something about trying that before, so she made a second suggestion. "How about each time you get restless, you can pop a stick or two, then…I don't know…talk to me about what's bothering you? A distraction is good to get out of the habit."

He scoffed. "You really want to hear about my problems?"

"Why not? I know you've been through a lot, so I want to support you. We're partners, aren't we?"

He glanced at her from the side. His tone was knowing. "What if I'm boring?"

"I'll endure." She sighed dramatically. That got a chuckle out of him, earning a grin from Dea. "If it helps you, I'll be more than happy to do it."

He clasped his gloved hands together and tapped his knuckles. He appeared to be seriously debating this option, which elated her. She expected him to shrug it off or make a sarcastic comment, but she genuinely did mean it. If he could turn to her in his times of need, trust her a little more, then she was glad to listen to him rant. He's worked alone most of his life, so he never had anyone to turn to with his problems. She wanted to be his new exception.

"I'll try. But don't complain when you hear something you don't like."

"I'm sure listening to you venting about your favorite book isn't going to be that awful."

He was clearly amused. He quipped right back. "I have real problems, you know."

"-Like a bad ending and regressive character development?"

He laughed.