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Amaranthe's eyes opened slowly as she registered the fact her partner had left her side, and she stirred, confused for a moment about where she was. About why she still felt warm and comfortable, and the bed was plush and the air smelled faintly of orchids.
And then she remembered, as she so often had to remember, that this was life now. That they had a home now, and belonged somewhere. They'd only gotten back from Kendor the day before, and she hadn't readjusted. It took some time to calibrate coming back to a home they'd only barely started to make into one before getting sent out again.
Evidently, Sicarius also had not decided to put any effort into the idea of sleeping in.
"I thought," she called from the warm, comfortable bed, without getting up, "that you were going to stay and rest with me this morning."
"Checking the perimeter," came from near the doorway. Not the bedroom doorway, the apartment doorway; he'd left the door open. "Be right back."
Amaranthe sighed. Some things never changed.
It was a week and a half before Tikaya had another assignment for them, and what a week and a half it was. The perimeter checks didn't stop, but Amaranthe turned them more companionable by going out on runs at the same time that Sicarius scoped their entire building. Having an apartment also meant they had neighbors, and the neighbors …
Well.
They were growing on the neighbors. Amaranthe had decided Sicarius' reputation was something of an issue, as those self-same neighbors seemed mightily uncomfortable with their presence at first -- even if they had badges that designated them as members of the Turgonian intelligence service. Considering the other five families in the building were all Turgonian in origin and hadn't been on the "wrong side" of the revolution, so to speak (or on any side), they had no reason to be afraid of that.
Just a reason to be afraid of Sicarius, who was still very much being himself. That wasn't a problem on its surface; Amaranthe wouldn't have been pleased by him being anyone else. He'd gone through a lot of changes already. She wouldn't want him to be a completely different person.
But to the neighbors who recognized his name -- and to be fair, his name's origin left a lot to be desired -- he was still terrifying, and Amaranthe had set out to change the perception people had of them. Of him.
"The child isn't afraid of you," she'd pointed out when a young boy was having trouble carrying a series of boxes up the stairs. "Go help him."
"His parents are," was the mild response, not showing any sign of being bothered by this. At least he didn't seem pleased about it.
"But we," Amaranthe said excitedly, "are proving that you're more than your reputation says you are, so it would go a long way if you helped him bring all his packages home! The parents will thank you, and they'll know you're nice --"
"Or that I was making an attempt on their son's life."
"No, I think they'll be able to tell otherwise."
"Next, you will tell me to smile." He was almost smiling at that, too, just quirked around the edge of one side of his mouth -- but that was just for her, and she knew it.
"I'd never."
He didn't smile, but he did help the kid, who was a little nervous but not terrified. And when someone else's stove wasn't working, Amaranthe volunteered to go help fix it; she successfully did so plus cleaned up their entire kitchen. Then the people with the ground-level unit had a number of nice things stolen off their porch, and Sicarius apprehended the wannabe felons within twenty minutes of the event happening -- appearing at the door only moments after the couple had even noticed, with a pair of teens in tow (one collar in each hand) set to apologize.
By the time that week was up, they had done all sorts of things to help the neighbors, and people from down the street started coming to them instead of the enforcers if they had a problem. Not that thefts were likely to happen very often with Sicarius living there.
"They sent us cookies!" Amaranthe squealed, opening the box that had been left on their doorstep. Fresh, home-made cookies from the people whose cat had gone missing. Sicarius had easily tracked and located the cat, though it took several hours for him to return with it. Amaranthe had been worried something had gone wrong. No, the cat had just found a particularly nice perch that Sicarius had joined it in to watch the goings-on in the park below before separating cat from branch and returning it home.
And it had netted them delicious, chocolatey cookies, still warm.
"They must know we are about to leave," Sicarius said, and did not take a cookie.
"They do, I told everyone, but it's also just to thank us for the cat, which is funny, because I was busy reading mission briefs and wasn't even helping. Tracking is your thing, anyway."
"You pet the cat, made it feel safer after its terrifying adventure."
Amaranthe couldn't tell if that was sarcasm. "Terrifying trip to a city park?"
"It was a long way. The cat was frightened."
"Mm, it still seemed kind of frightened when it came back. Might have been how you were holding it. You should be more gentle next time you rescue a missing pet." There was going to be a next time and they both knew it; they had become the neighborhood helpers. It was a role that suited them, and they both knew that, too. "Have a cookie."
"No."
"They're delicious!"
"No, thank you," Sicarius tried politeness.
"Sicarius. One cookie."
He raised up a hand, looked like he was going to laugh, and then took the cookie from her hand -- to take off the tiniest piece, put that in his mouth, and as soon as she opened hers to say something, put the rest of it between her teeth instead.
"Mmf," said Amaranthe.
"One piece of cookie," Sicarius, triumphant, went to review the mission parameters for the next morning's departure again.
Some things really did never change.