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Chapter Text

Lauren’s feet pounded across the pavement as she pursued her target. The young man she was chasing had chosen the worst possible time to steal a lady’s bag, blanching with horror as Lauren’s entire patrol unit had rounded the corner on the brisk winter’s day.

A cover of heavy white clouds hung overhead as she flew onto a side street, closing in rapidly on her opponent. She dimly heard other voices shouting behind her as she called out to the man, “Stop! APD!”

Without heeding her call, the man glanced desperately behind him at his pursuer. In a matter of a few more seconds, Lauren had half-tackled him, wrenching his arms behind his back as he heaved in ragged breaths. The woman’s purse hit the ground, spilling some of the contents. The urge to fight quickly left the young man as resignation settled in, and he sagged against her in defeat as she secured his hands in cuffs.

“Well done, Officer Sinclair,” William called as he jogged toward them with a grim expression as he took in the beleaguered expression of the sandy-haired man in Lauren’s grasp. The culprit was shorter than Lauren, and stood as though stricken by disbelief.

Lauren simply nodded toward Will, already going through the rote words explaining the captive’s rights as she jostled him lightly to urge him back toward the direction from which they had arrived.

“Sergeant Ladell, since you weren’t supposed to be out here anyway,” Will ground out, “why don’t you and Officer Sinclair escort this gentleman to the precinct.” He gestured toward the general direction of their headquarters as the rest of the patrol unit caught up with them. “And then you can sit back down at your desk where you’re supposed to be. You just left the hospital for heaven’s sake.”

Kym groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “The paperwork is the real threat to my health, you fiend.” She lunged forward to loop an arm through Lauren’s as she held onto the prisoner. Kym dragged them down the sidewalk as Will shook his head with an exasperated sigh.

“Very well, let’s back to it, officers,” he commanded. “Officer Jefferson, would you mind collecting the lady’s things?” he asked, pointing toward the bag and its various sundry items scattered across the ground.

Outpacing them already, Kym chuckled as they paced down the side of the busy street. A small gaggle of onlookers had gathered, and they gawked at the small spectacle as Lauren held the perpetrator firmly with one hand with Kym on the opposite side of the man. Once the citizens scattered, Kym continued the stream of conversation she had been sharing with Lauren prior to their sudden excitement.

“So, as I was saying, Randall was practically groveling at her feet, Lauren. It was incredible!” she gushed, releasing the captive to throw her hands up in the air as though in amazement. “If they had known I was watching from the hallway, I’d probably be dead by now,” she continued.

“Kym, you need to take it easy. You’ve barely been out of the hospital a day,” Lauren chastised her, but her tone was clearly distracted as she stared straight ahead.

“Not you too!” Kym cried. With a sigh, she turned to eye the perpetrator with an incredulous expression, and he drew back in bewilderment at the intensity of her gaze. “I’m not a child, you know,” she informed them both.

“Sure,” Lauren answered absently as she strode purposefully back to the precinct.

Kym scoffed at her lack of response. Gripping the prisoner’s arm more firmly to get his attention, she asked, “You don’t think I look sick enough to still be stuck in a hospital bed, do you?”

He jerked his head in what could have been considered a response. “N-no, you look–”

With a nod of appreciation, Kym cut him off and continued in the former vein of conversation. “I mean, I know he and Lila aren’t being as private about their relationship now, but it was still a sight to behold.”

“Mhmm,” Lauren intoned without really hearing Kym’s words, adjusting her grip on their silently astounded captive as they meandered around a small group of passersby.

Kym rolled her eyes and threw one arm around the thief’s shoulders. “Can you believe this girl, ignoring me like this?” she asked him with a look of surprise painted onto her features.

“Well, I–” he tried to respond, but his words trailed off when he noted that Kym did not appear to be waiting for an actual response.

Kym dropped away from him, halting abruptly on the sidewalk. It took four or five steps from Lauren before she realized that her companion was no longer at her side.

“What are you doing?” Lauren asked, the crease furrowing her brow barely visible above her mask. “We have to get him back to the precinct,” she admonished, nudging the quiescent man’s arm lightly.

“I’m standing right here until you tell me what’s wrong with you,” Kym said firmly, crossing her arms. “You’ve hardly responded to a word I’ve said.”

Lauren heaved a sigh and turned to her, unconsciously spinning her detainee alongside her in a wide arc. He cast her a look of reproach, but remained silent.

“I’m sorry, Kym, I’ll admit that I’m distracted,” Lauren answered with a small shrug of her shoulders.

Kym slowly resumed walking. “About?” she asked, drawing out the word as she caught up with her friend.

Lauren’s eyes flickered toward their captive, and Kym acknowledged silently that Lauren would have to speak carefully.

“We can speak about it later,” Lauren hedged, nodding at the prisoner.

Kym sighed, deflating as she reached Lauren’s side once more. With a nod, she let Lauren know that she understood that the topic at hand was not one that should be discussed in public. “You could at least give me a hint,” she tried anyway.

“My friend seems…worried,” Lauren answered cryptically, staring forward as her thoughts swirled aimlessly in her head. Kym had all but told her that she knew Lauren’s Lune counterpart was still alive, and Lauren hoped that her friend would pick up on her hint.

The conversation she and Kieran had shared at the precinct would not leave her mind. His desire to break their deal, his generally avoidant behavior, and his utter failure to avoid the lies that he typically skirted around seemingly without effort– all of it hinted toward some greater problem.

Kym correctly surmised that Lauren was speaking of her mysterious partner. “How so?” she prodded insistently, pulling her jacket tighter as a chilled breeze worked its way through her uniform.

Sighing once more, Lauren reluctantly continued. “Just acting differently. Trying to…” she trailed off, searching for the right word. “Withdraw,” she finished after a moment. Though Lauren was loath to bring Kym further into their dealings, voicing a hint of her concern was unlikely to bring harm.

The sandy-haired man next to them cleared his throat. “Uh, ladies, maybe this isn’t really the best time to–” he started in a low voice, but was interrupted by Kym.

“Hey, buddy,” she began, and bent forward to peer at the dour-faced man being marched toward the precinct. “What’s your name?” she called loudly, ignoring the attention she was receiving from a young couple standing outside a cafe they were passing.

The man looked at Kym with obvious confusion, then glanced toward Lauren’s face in silent bewilderment, finding no answer in her impassive stare. “Clarence,” he muttered, answering her question to his own surprise.

“Alright, Clarence, why don’t you just mind your own business, hmm? My friend here and I are trying to have a conversation,” she chided. Clarence merely blinked at her, baffled further by Lauren’s enigmatically small smile.

Unbothered, Kym continued, “Has something happened lately? Do you think his boss is involved?” She had gleaned that Lauren’s partner was Phantom Scythe affiliated, though she did not have knowledge of his actual role.

Lauren bit her lip. “I’m not sure. He said that wasn’t the case, but something must have happened.”

Her memory flashed to the recent night in the cave when Kieran had spoken more of his past than he ever had before. She could still feel the gnarled skin on his shoulder from the scar of his self-inflicted wound. “Part of me wonders if he thinks we’re–” Lauren abruptly cut off, clearing her throat roughly as she recalled her surroundings. The less information she gave out, the better.

“If you’re…?” Kym prompted after a long pause, nudging Lauren with her elbow as they came within sight of the precinct ahead of them.

If he thinks we’re getting too close, Lauren thought, but refused to say. Instead, she nodded toward their headquarters. “Never mind. Let’s get our new friend Clarence checked in,” she said wryly.

“Oh, can I do the honors?” Kym cried, jumping in front of them and spinning around to face the pair as she walked backwards.

“No!” Clarence nearly shouted, wriggling in Lauren’s grip.

“Sure,” Lauren answered at the same time.

Lauren raised her eyebrows at the young man, snickering at the look of alarm on his face at the thought of being left with Kym. She clapped him on the back as she pushed him lightly toward Kym’s eagerly outstretched hand.

“Be quiet, Clarence. You’re here for a reason, remember?” Lauren called as Kym dragged him through the over-sized doors into the APD’s 11th precinct.

Clarence spared a panicked glance over his shoulder as Kym began singing and slung him down the corridor in time with her haphazard song.

Lauren merely gave him a wink and made her way toward the patrol room, thoughts blessedly torn away from her unhappy musings regarding her partner’s odd behavior.

Please consider listening to Irreplaceable by Chad Lawson during the rest of this chapter.

Kieran fumbled for the key to his apartment with a sigh after arriving home from the archives. He could only wonder how long the Phantom Scythe would leave him there with no other tasks, and the lack of an additional assignment was beginning to hang over his thoughts like a noxious fog.

Who would he have to kill next?

His hand hesitated as he reached for the doorknob, feeling inexplicably wary. Some sixth sense of danger lurked at the edge of his awareness as he wavered there. Collecting himself, Kieran unlocked the door and opened it smoothly, surreptitiously loosening a knife in his sleeve at the same time.

Seeing his guest standing in the middle of his kitchen drinking a glass of water, he shut the door behind him before turning to face her.

“Bella. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asked neutrally.

Smiling over the rim of the glass, Bella took another long sip before answering. “You don’t seem happy to see me, Kieran.”

Kieran hung his bag and coat over the hook by the door, tossing his keys down onto the small table beneath them. “On the contrary, I am always delighted to see an old friend.”

Bella pushed off the table with her hip, setting the glass down on the wooden surface with a dull clunk. “Don’t worry, I won’t linger.”

Kieran merely flicked the lights on and made his way calmly across the room, not offering anything by way of conversation. One of the floorboards creaked underfoot, the only sound in the silent apartment.

Bella let out a small, irritated huff at his reticence. “I’m here as a…a last warning, we’ll call it.”

At this, Kieran hesitated as a frown furrowed his brow, his action of pulling out a chair at the table halted midway. “From whom, exactly?”

Bella let out a rich laugh, bringing one hand to her hip. Despite the apparent amusement on her features, Kieran could see a tightening around her eyes that betrayed her unease.

“This is a warning from yours truly,” she explained. “A courtesy, if you will. My last of any such attempt,” she reiterated, her smile dropping slowly from her face.

Sitting down to feign calmness, Kieran tapped a finger absently on the smooth surface of the table. “Regarding?”

“You’re being watched, Purple Hyacinth,” Bella said flatly, crossing her arms.

Kieran scoffed lightly, leaning back in his chair. “What else is new? I’m not foolish enough to think I’m not caged here under invisible lock and key, Bella.”

“No, you misunderstand,” Bella countered, raising a brow. “You, and the people you spend your time with. The Seventh is searching for your— weakness.” She said the final word after a moment’s hesitation, a smirk playing about her lips.

A flash of golden eyes flooded his mind, and Kieran could not prevent the icy fear that settled on his chest. He met Bella’s gaze steadily, hiding his trepidation. “The search will be nothing but wasted time, I’m afraid. You know I would never saddle myself with such a weakness.” A matching smirk grew across his face.

Bella’s eyes narrowed, and she placed a palm down onto the cold surface of the table as she leaned in, close to Kieran’s unyielding position. Her position cast a shadow over his face as she drew nearer.

“I’ve seen you with your little red-haired pet. If you want to keep her pretty head connected to her body, I would suggest a bit more discretion.” Her voice was low and deadly as she warned him.

Kieran met her stare, unmoving until Bella straightened. Her heels clacked purposefully across the floor as she strode for the door without another word.

“You are playing a dangerous game, my old friend,” she called over her shoulder as she reached for the doorknob. “I would hate to be the one to have to end it for you.”

Kieran let her leave without turning, staring at the violent crimson lipstick stain on the half-empty glass in front of him.

This…this was not good.

Tightening her coat against the bitter chill, Lauren stared unseeing at the sidewalk pavement in front of her as she walked. Having stayed late to complete her paperwork, the streets were quiet this time of night as Lauren made her way home.

Some veiled sense of trepidation rose in her chest, and she spun towards a side alley just as Kieran emerged from the shadows with a tip of his hat.

“Evening, detective,” he drawled with a smirk at the visible flash of alarm that had welled up on Lauren’s features before she recognized her new companion.

The smirk faded as he lamented with a pang of distress that she was not more vigilant when they were surrounded by enemies in this city. His fear for her after his conversation with Bella had increased exponentially. Being with her at this very moment was a fool’s errand, but he intended to focus his efforts on breaking their partnership more successfully this time once he escorted her home.

Lauren grumbled under her breath, resuming her pace. “What are you doing here?”

Dispelling his unsettling thoughts, Kieran ran a hand through his hair to disperse the snowflakes gathering there. “I wanted to check in on your investigation.” And I don’t like the idea of you being out alone late at night with such a target on your back, he thought inwardly.

Lauren resumed walking, stuffing her hands in her pockets. Her heavy sigh fueled the rush of blood to her chest from the cold. “I’m not sure. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something I’m missing at the Theatre.”

Kieran fell into step next to her, glancing toward her as her frame was racked with a shiver. Without thought, he found himself reaching to pull her closer before he suddenly recollected his wits and clenched his fist instead. “Will you go back to look further?”

Unaware of Kieran’s inner struggle, Lauren nodded grimly without looking at him. “March and I are going tomorrow, I think.”

“Very well. I’ll keep looking into our other friend,” Kieran replied, avoiding mentioning Redcliff’s name lest someone overhear them. The streets seemed deserted, but Kieran had felt a small prickling on the back of his neck for the last few blocks, as though they were being watched.

The streetlights passing overhead cast them in sporadic halos of orange before their absence plunged them into relative darkness again. A silence settled over the pair as they snow muffled the ambient noise of the city around them, but it was not an uncomfortable quiet. They had the benefit of having spent enough time together that idle conversation was not required to maintain the ease of the interaction.

Her boots slid slightly across the minute icy gravel scattered across the sidewalk as Lauren’s eyes flickered up toward him. “You didn’t really answer my question. What exactly are you doing here so late?” she asked hesitantly.

A muscle twitched in Kieran’s jaw. “Can’t I take the opportunity to accompany an officer home on such a cold night?” he asked, but Lauren immediately perceived that his question was a way to avoid words that would ring as a lie in her ears.

Her gaze sharpened as she looked at him, “Kieran, if you’re about to spout more nonsense about–”

“Shh, shh!” Kieran said suddenly in a low tone, gripping her arm. He nudged her to turn onto the next street, quickening the pace once they had fully rounded the corner.

Lauren clamped her mouth shut as he looped his arm through hers as though they were simply typical passersby strolling the sidewalk. He tugged her down another side street, and then across diagonally onto another, until they neared a small grocery market with a deep alcove designed for receiving deliveries.

Kieran pulled her into the space, pressing himself against the inside of the darkened corner and then nudged Lauren until she was hidden furthest away from the entrance. He watched the smattering of thick snowflakes dancing in the warm glow from the street lights outside of their makeshift hideaway, watching the shadows for anyone approaching.

Pulse quickening when he saw a hint of movement, Kieran pressed himself further in the shadows, pulling Lauren to his chest to better hide them both. Her lips parted to speak, and he gently placed his fingertips against them to urge her to silence.

Warm, came the oddly-timed stray thought as Lauren watched Kieran’s hand disappear back down to hold her waist lightly. She could smell the spicy scent of his cologne as she fought to quiet her breathing. Her train of thought was immediately derailed by a voice breaking their silence.

“Where did he go?” a ragged male voice muttered close-by. Still not visible from their vantage point, the man huffed a sigh. “Great,” he grumbled sarcastically as the muffled sound of his footsteps faded back toward the street.

Lauren and Kieran did not dare to move for several moments, and even then it was only for Lauren to tentatively step back out of Kieran’s impromptu embrace. They remained silent in the delivery bay until Kieran decided it had been long enough to check on their pursuer.

Once they were both satisfied that no more watching eyes lingered near them, Lauren let out a shaky breath and slowly resumed walking toward her house as Kieran hovered nearby, trailing just behind her.

This time, the silence was of quite a different nature. Both of them seemed robbed of speech, and their minds both raced with trying to discern the nature of the threat they had just faced. As Lauren’s eyes glanced toward Kieran once again, drifting down the street behind her back, she would not deny that part of the silence was due to the discomfited sensation brought on by the inadvertently intimate position they had found themselves in.

It was hardly the first time either of them had been in such a situation, but something about the last few days made the touch seem more weighted.

At last they caught sight of the wrought iron fence heralding the edge of the Sinclair estate. Kieran’s steps slowed, and Lauren turned to him with a quizzical crease of her brow at his expression.

Kieran’s hands toyed with a button midway down his coat, and he directed his gaze toward it as though collecting his thoughts before he faced her. His knuckles were red from the cold, and Lauren felt an inexplicable desire to warm his hands somehow.

“What was that?” Lauren asked, shaking her mind from the strange thought. “Who’s looking for you?”

Kieran sighed, leaning up against the frozen iron fence. “Take your pick. It could be any number of people.”

“Do you think–” she began, but was quickly interrupted.

“Lauren,” Kieran said abruptly, as though if he did not speak now, he would lose the nerve. He met her eyes with a look of forced finality. “Surely you see. Surely you see that we have to end this.”

Lauren drew back, eyes flashing indignantly as she answered immediately, “Kieran, don’t start this again.”

He straightened from the fence, brushing the snow from the tail of his coat. He opened his mouth to continue the argument, but seeing her there, a halo of snowflakes on her hair as the fury in her expression practically bloomed before his eyes, he could only hear her voice in his head.

“I’m not afraid of who you are and what it entails. I’m not afraid of you,” she had said to him.

Lauren froze as she watched a myriad of emotions flicker across his face, and to her surprise, he failed to school his features back to the inscrutable composure that typically marked his signature look. Instead, Kieran ran a hand down his face with a small groan, leaving his hand there for a long moment.

“Tell me what prompted this, Kieran,” Lauren said firmly, taking a step toward him.

“Noth–” he started, but dropped his hand with a grimace.

“You know you’re only saying this because you’re afraid,” she persisted, drawing even closer to him as he stood motionless in the frozen air. “You’re afraid, and it’s making you–”

“And what if I am, Lauren?” Kieran answered sharply, now taking a half step in her direction as well.

Lauren had the sudden impression that fear was an emotion that Kieran no longer seemed accustomed to feeling, yet it was filling his countenance now. “Of what? Of them finding us out, of–”

“Of losing you!” His voice carried over the snow-muffled earth around them as they stood toe-to-toe, her face inches from his.

Her glare was exchanged for a look of astonishment as he flattened his lips into a grim line, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I’m afraid of losing you.”

His head jerked in a semblance of a small, helpless shrug. “They’re watching me more than ever before, looking for my– my weaknesses.”

Lauren swallowed, mouth suddenly dry at the turn the conversation had taken. Her chest tightened. “Is that what I am, then? A weakness to be exploited?” Her anger slowly rose as a way to help her shove away the implications of his words.

“This is what they do, Lauren. And if they watch me with any kind of focus, they’ll see immediately that…” he trailed off, searching her eyes before making a split-second decision. “That my– my feelings for you would be the quickest way to bend me to their will.” He shook his head. “You can’t imagine what they will do to you. But…I can. Because I’ve seen them do it before.”

Lauren’s eyes were wide, anger evaporated as she slowly processed the words. Kieran reached up to brush a strand of snow-dampened hair away from her cheek, tucking it softly behind her ear.

“Promise me you’ll think about it. If you still want to remain partners, so be it. But I could not at least attempt once more to help you see reason,” he went on, settling back on his heels to set some distance between them. “There is only one way the Phantom Scythe can truly create a monster like me, and it is to rip everything they have ever loved away from them before their very eyes. I’d prefer to avoid that particular fate this time.”

His expression lightened slightly with these last words, and he stood silently as Lauren picked up the scattered remains of coherent thought. This time? she wondered.

“I suppose we’ll have to work harder, then,” Lauren said at length. “Because I’m not going anywhere, Kieran White.”

A silence weighted with finality settled over them for a moment, until at last Kieran could only huff out a soft laugh at her determination. “So be it,” he repeated with a clearly reluctant smile he adopted to hide the relief welling out of his chest.

Lauren’s lips twitched in a small smile and she spun around to enter the manor. She had only made it a few steps when she paused and looked over her shoulder at him, features wry but with an undertone of seriousness as she said, “I do not want to have this conversation a third time, Kieran.”

He barely resisted the urge to wince. “Understood, darling.”

Chapter Text

Please consider listening to Giorni Dispari as performed by Jacob's Piano during the rest of this chapter.

Several days passed by as Lauren and Kieran wrestled with the new dynamic of their partnership. It felt distinctly uneven, throwing them off kilter as they danced around each other, avoiding the obvious topic at hand in favor of focusing on their investigation. 

Seated at the desk in her study, Lauren steepled her fingers and rested her head against them as she braced her elbows on the worn wooden surface. As much as she tried to direct her thoughts elsewhere, they continuously spiraled back to her conversation with Will earlier in the day. 

~~~~~

Will tugged lightly on her sleeve as they entered the precinct to collect their belongings and leave for the evening, the warm air a blessed relief from the bitter chill outside. “Lauren?” he asked. “Could I speak with you for a moment?”

She hesitated, glancing around them at the others of their unit, but no one paid them any mind. “Of course,” she answered after a moment.

Will nodded toward a back corridor, seldom used at this time of day. Trailing after him, she frowned as she tried to predict what the conversation would entail. 

Will searched her eyes for a moment before saying in a low voice, “It seemed as though you were quite shaken by what we found behind Ms. Greene’s dressing room. Is there something we need to know?” At Lauren’s almost imperceptible wince, Will placed a hand on her arm and reminded her gently, “We’re here to help now, Lauren. You’re not alone in this.”

She contemplated his words for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell him about her parents’ old driver. “I think she might have been communicating with someone I’ve met during my dealings with the Phantom Scythe.” She shook her head. “I’m not able to track him down, though, so it’s likely meaningless.”

Will dropped his hand, studying her once again. She felt that his eyes were too keen for her liking. “Is that all?” he asked. 

She forced a smile. “That’s all. I’m feeling worn thin from tracing down all of Greene’s contacts.” She shifted on her feet. “I should go. I’m supposed to meet Kieran when I finish up here,” she lied, striving to end the conversation quickly. 

Will immediately perceived the strained expression she attempted to conceal. “And that’s another thing. Are you two…alright?”

She snickered. “Why, Will, are you fishing for relationship gossip?” she deflected. “How unlike you.”

Will rolled his eyes with a sigh. “I can’t help being more…” He searched for the right word. “Attuned to your habits now, Lauren. I missed so much before, and I don’t want to have that feeling again if there’s something I could do to help.”

A pang shot through her chest at the distress she had caused her oldest friend. “Will,” she began, suddenly wanting to spill the inner twist of jumbled emotions regarding Kieran to him. It was a foolish thought, though, and would only lead to more trouble. “Let’s just leave it at the fact that it’s been a bit…tumultuous lately. But it’s nothing to worry about.”

Will smiled kindly at her. “I’m sure it will work out. It’s obvious that he’s very enamored with you.”

She bit back the flinch at the truth in his words. Pasting another smile on her face, she patted him warmly on the chest with her hand as she passed by him. “Yes, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” she muttered under her breath.

~~~~~

Lauren let out a small grumble and pushed her heavy chair away from the desk in her study. Padding across the plush carpet, shoes abandoned under the desk, she paced to the window and stood with her arms folded across her chest. She stared out at the moonlit vista before her for a long moment until her eyes glazed to the point at which she was focusing more on the reflection in the glass in front of her instead of the view. 

Was it a problem, though? she thought for the hundredth time. Her mind ran over the dozens of detractors instinctively. He was, in actual fact, a wanted murderer, and while she felt no danger from him directly, this hardly made stomaching that notion easy. His upbringing under the Scythe had left him scarred in more ways than one, and she wasn’t sure she could ever be the one to heal him. He would have to choose that for himself, and she had doubts that he would, based on what she had glimpsed thus far of the depths of his tormented remorse. 

And then there was the fact that Lauren knew she was likely the first person to show Kieran any kind of warmth during the last several years of his life, and that his affection could well be nothing more than misplaced gratitude. If she allowed herself to think of him as more than her friend and partner, would he eventually decide that he wanted nothing more than friendship from her? 

The other obvious complication was exactly what Kieran had already been attempting to tell her. Aligning herself with him in any way was dangerous, and to entertain a notion of a more tender nature would likely serve to push them further into distraction. Could they both remain professional enough to put their mission first? There was also the miserable realization that both of them making it out of this endeavor alive and free from imprisonment was extremely unlikely. It could be an even more cruel outcome if they drew closer to each other.

Lauren leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the cool glass of the window pane. Why did none of those things seem to matter, though?

She was drawn to him for a hundred reasons, the depth of their partnership only increasing the more they worked together. She had rarely felt a common bond with someone like this, the ease of their relationship something difficult to obtain for someone who could hear every last little lie from those around her. Lauren had never fancied herself the nurturing type, but something in her stirred with the desire to fill him with the same warmth he gave her. He believed in her like few others had, and his sincerity had surprised her at every turn.

She could not afford to spend any more time thinking about this, Lauren admonished herself, returning to her desk to shuffle the papers regarding her investigation into Greene and Sandman’s associates. There were more important issues on the line.

Across the city, Kieran lay awake watching the moonlight slowly creep across the ceiling of his bedroom as the hours wore on. The sheets were twisted around him from the persistence of his unrest as he cursed himself for the thousandth time for revealing his feelings to the object of his affections. 

He knew that Lauren could never reciprocate those same sentiments, but at the time, it was as though the words were dredged from his chest against his will out of sheer desperation for her to understand. Their circumstances could not continue as they currently were. Kieran turned his pillow over, seeking to press the cooler side against his cheek as he struggled with what to do. 

If she wouldn’t let him push her away, then he was going to hold on even more tightly in a hopeless effort to protect her. It was hardly rational, and Kieran knew this, but without her agreement to put distance between them, he felt it was the only option left that would allow him to sleep at night. He laughed grimly to himself, as apparently even that was a lie considering the fact that it was now nearing two o’clock in the morning as he tossed and turned with thoughts of her filling his mind. 

He watched the minute hand on the clock at his bedside, dimly lit with the half moon’s light. Eventually, Kieran heaved a sigh and untangled the sheets to rise. The floorboards shifted slightly under his bare feet as he made his way to the kitchen and prepared a cup of tea in the silence. 

Once finished, he retrieved a heavy metal key and unlocked the door that led to a room full of countless drawings and boxes of files. Kieran ignored everything else and strode purposefully to his desk, setting his cup of tea down near the back corner as he flicked on the small lamp. The pale yellow glow lit the space, and he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the new level of light. 

He selected a pencil, pressing the eraser to his lips for a moment as he pondered what to draw next. Sliding a piece of paper into place with a quiet rasp, Kieran let out a self-deprecating breath of a laugh as his hand began sketching of its own volition. He knew precisely what the result would be before he even had the chance to consciously decide what to draw. 

Slowly, with much more care than he typically instilled in his drawings, the shape of Lauren’s profile appeared on the page. He paused from time to time to sip his tea as he studied the lines until at last his work was complete. 

In the scene before him, Lauren’s head was tilted back as she laughed freely. It was a vision from the cave only a short time ago as they had recalled the more chaotic parts of their partnership. By the time Kieran finished the sketch, it appeared nearly alive, and he could hear her laughter in his mind as though she was there before him.

With a weary sigh, Kieran let his pencil clatter to the desk and drained the last of his cooling tea, leaning back in his chair. After studying her features for several seconds, for reasons unknown to him, Kieran folded the sheet in half and brought it with him rather than tacking it to his wall as he usually would have. 

The exercise had given him a semblance of the peace he craved, and as Kieran laid back down in his bed, sleep came for him swiftly. 

The following morning, Kieran’s senses were overwhelmed by fragments of dreams. His mind lingered on flashes of red and gold, the achingly brief sensation of the touch of gentle fingertips against his skin, the claustrophobic heat of fear in his chest, and then a dizzying wave of impossible longing. 

He went about his mundane morning routine automatically, his thoughts still elsewhere by the time he slid on his coat and picked up his bag and keys. With a hitch in his steps, he paused and then retreated back toward his bedroom to retrieve the drawing of Lauren from the night before. 

He slipped the drawing into the inside pocket of his coat, as though bringing it along would help to infuse him during Lauren’s absence with the sense of humanity she so easily instilled in whatever was left of his soul.

The presence of the sketch hovered on the fringes of his mind throughout the day as he meandered about his tasks in the archives halfheartedly. Lauren had not answered him directly, and her opinion of his confession remained an enigma. She had not withdrawn, but she had not acknowledged it in any other way either.

Shortly after lunchtime, Kieran was pushing the file cart down the hallway when his heart suddenly lurched in his chest upon seeing the subject of his distraction approaching from the opposite direction. 

She was alone, her ponytail appearing windblown from the leg of patrol she had already completed. Lauren’s eyes flickered to his and then behind him, as though checking for any other observers in the hallway. Seeing none, she met his gaze with a small smile instantly appearing on her lips.

They slowed as they approached each other, Kieran’s chest tightening despite himself. He wanted to ask her to meet under some pretense, but could not think of a fair excuse. 

To his surprise, Lauren brought up the notion first. “Could you meet me tonight?” she asked in a low voice, a smile still lingering on her lips, although it appeared as if she was trying and failing to suppress it. “I still haven’t had the chance to give you the full update on what we found about Greene’s murder.”

Kieran’s knuckles tightened on the cart handle as he nodded shortly. “Of course. The usual time and place?” 

Lauren nodded back, hesitating there for a second as though she had more she wanted to say. Before she could do so, a noise from around the corner prompted her to murmur a goodbye and continue down the hallway lest they be seen together by the wrong pair of eyes. 

The night arrived with a sudden chill as the clouds cleared away, leaving the sky blanketed in whatever soft starlight remained after the city lights shone through the darkness. The sounds of the river beneath the bridge served to dampen the sound of their voices as the remainder of the metropolis began to quiet as the hour grew later.

Lauren clenched her fists in the pockets of her russet brown coat in an effort to warm her fingers. Her breath fogged before her as she finished updating Kieran on her progress. “We’re so close with what we found at the Theatre. I just have two more people to interview, Martin and Jolley, before I should have the information I need.”

Kieran’s laugh was immediate. “Jolley? How festive,” he remarked.

Lauren rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to be familiar with either of them, would you?” She glanced down as she shifted on her feet, trying to avoid the remaining slush from the snow earlier in the week. The dirty material was beginning to refreeze as the temperature dropped. 

“I’m afraid not.” Kieran ran a hand over his hair, disrupting some of the strands from the tie. He drifted closer to her but turned to rest against the barrier of the side of the bridge. 

“Figures,” Lauren responded with a hint of a grumble in her tone. “You all are bafflingly talented at secrecy.”

“We have to be,” Kieran answered grimly. “The ones that aren’t typically don’t last very long.”

Lauren’s eyes flickered to his, brow furrowing as she realized the callousness of her words in light of the dire situation in which they found themselves. “I’m sorry,” she said simply.

Kieran busied his hands by fastening a button on his coat. “There’s no need to apologize.” One of his shoes scraped against the ground, scuffing over the thin layer of slushed snow there. 

Glancing at her, his expression shifted, and his lips tilted up at the corners slightly. “I’m proud of you, detective. It sounds like you’ll be getting the answers you need.”

As their eyes met, a sudden quiet befell them, and Lauren found herself unable to look away from him. The gentle tapping of the river against the bridge was the only sound that occupied the moment. Lauren felt a fluttering sensation in her stomach as she considered the softness of his smile towards her. 

Kieran broke first, glancing toward his chest and then back to Lauren’s face, searching her eyes. Lauren could see him weighing some silent decision, and then he reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper, folded in half. 

“Here,” Kieran said, offering her the paper. 

The street light illuminated the sheet with a warm glow, and she took it with a flicker of confusion. She slowly unfolded it to see a drawing of her, laughing at some unknown jest. The detail was exquisite. 

Lauren felt a heated flush rising in her cheeks, avoiding his gaze by studying the picture in her hands for a long moment. 

“Why?” she finally asked, raising her eyes to his.

Kieran shifted on his feet, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. “You may have seen evidence of this while at my apartment, but I draw from time to time.” He said the words almost off-handedly, as though trying to downplay the significance. “These drawings– they’re moments. Moments that I want to keep.” 

Kieran stood with lips slightly parted, signaling that he was not yet finished speaking. Lauren reached to the frigid railing of the bridge, resting one gloved hand there as she waited for Kieran to find the words he was trying to say. 

“They’re what help me to– to hold on to the last vestiges of my humanity,” he continued in a rush, making a cloud of condensation appear in front of his lips. “I take moments, and I put them to paper, so that I can remember these times of life, of joy,” he paused, studying her gaze almost fiercely, imploring her to understand. “Of peace. Moments that remind me that…humanity can be beautiful.”

Kieran took a half step forward, casting a pale shadow across her face as his figure blocked the light from the street lamp. “This is what you do for me, Lauren.”

Lauren stood still, steadfastly meeting his eyes as the words sank in, but before she could think of a reply, Kieran took a step backward and leaned against the railing of the bridge again, averting his gaze. The distance between them yawned as a chasm of uncertainty.

“Please understand that I have no expectations of you. I am far beyond redemption or forgiveness. I only wanted you to know what I meant that night, and I will not bring up the subject again, so–”

Lauren surprised him by letting out a small huff of what appeared to be irritation as she folded the drawing clumsily with her gloved hands and attempted to place it in her own coat pocket. “For heaven’s sake,” she muttered as the paper snagged on the edge of the pocket. 

Facing him once more as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, Lauren gripped the metal barrier next to her with white-knuckled force as a frustrated expression took over her features. “Why’d you have to do this?” she said in a low voice. “Why’d you have to–”

Kieran swallowed nervously and pushed off the side of the bridge, holding his hands out placatingly. “I’m sorry, Lauren, I never should have even felt this way, much less told you about it–”

“No, not that, you idiot,” Lauren shot back, covering her eyes with one hand as she tilted her head to the sky. “In the beginning, I was so ready to hate you forever,” she started, lowering her hand to meet his worried gaze. “And here you are, making me care about you.” She gave a small shake of her head. “You’ve been accomplishing that more each day, in fact, and now…”

Kieran’s baffled expression only deepened when Lauren stepped forward and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest. Frozen at first, Kieran then regained his senses and hesitantly returned the embrace, holding her against him gently. 

Lauren’s small smirk was hidden from him as she felt his heart pounding against her ear. “This is a dreadful idea,” she said. 

Lungs feeling devoid of air, Kieran simply answered, “Yes.”

“Practically doomed for failure,” she continued, still unmoving in his grip.

“Yes,” he answered again. 

“We would have to be extremely careful,” Lauren added.

Kieran’s arms tightened around her almost imperceptibly before he replied softly in resignation, “I know.”

One second passed, and then another, as Lauren remained still and silent. At last, she pulled back just enough to see his crestfallen features. 

“So,” she said as a slow smile crept across her face, “it’s basically identical to our first deal, right?”

Kieran could only blink at her, speechless.

Lauren gave a small shrug of her shoulder as though dismissive of the difficulties they would face. “I’m game if you are,” she remarked, repositioning her arms around his neck as she looked up at him almost slyly from under her lashes.  

Kieran closed his eyes with a ghost of a laugh, shaking his head at her. He slid his hands forward to her waist, fingers fanning out to hold her more firmly. “Lauren, I’m not–” he paused, struggling for the right words. “Are you sure? Do you really realize what you’re asking me?”

Lauren let out an exasperated sigh, but did not loosen her grip on him. “Yes, I’m sure, Kieran. Dancing around this isn’t going to make it any easier,” she answered, voice growing softer as Kieran’s expression slowly lost a shade of its trepidation.

“Do we have a deal, then, partner?” she prompted.

With a wry smile, Kieran tightened his grip on her slightly. “It’s a deal,” he answered after a moment.

Her smile appeared instantly, and she tugged at him to bring his head down, resting her forehead against his. She felt a warmth fill her chest as they lingered there together. 

Her eyes fluttered open for a moment as she grinned. “Although I would prefer to avoid the blood oath this time, if that’s alright with you, subordinate.”

Kieran tilted his head back with a laugh. “What, darling, are you still not sure about us?” he teased.

Lauren drew one hand down in front of her and pursed her lips as she slipped a glove off and pretended to study her palm. “I think we have enough scars, don’t you?” 

With a smile, Kieran captured her hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “We certainly do, love.”

He took her by the arm and led her on an ambling path across the bridge, with only the glinting of starlight off the river to bid them goodnight as the moon slowly drifted above the horizon.

Chapter Text

Lauren meandered through the waist-high aisles of the market, trying to scout out ingredients for scones on her lunch break. She stared at the produce, deciding which fruit to add for flavor, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. 

She turned toward the direction of the touch, finding the space empty. The tie of her uniform flying around with her, she spun to the opposite side to see Kieran’s smirking face. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Kieran offered jauntily, rising up onto his toes briefly. He was in his archivist’s attire, complete with glasses, holding two shopping baskets. 

Lauren’s gaze flickered around, assessing for anyone taking note of them. The market seemed busy enough for their encounter to be unobtrusive, but she could not help the flicker of unease that passed through her. 

Kieran smacked her in the chest with one of the baskets. “Calm down, detective. It’s fine.”

Lauren huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes, turning back to eye the produce critically. 

Kieran fell in beside her, and she bumped into his side playfully. With a smile, Kieran leaned toward her just enough for their clothes to brush against each other. 

Lauren’s answering smile warmed them both despite the chill of the market. “You don’t usually venture out during the day,” she commented. 

“I fancied a stroll,” Kieran answered as he watched her finally select a small basket of blueberries. 

When Lauren merely side-eyed him, he laughed lightly. “Okay, you caught me,” he confessed. “Kym told me where you were.”

It was Lauren’s turn to smirk. “Miss me, did you?”

“Of course,” Kieran responded immediately, as though it should have been obvious. 

Lauren was a bit taken aback at his honesty, but her surprise melted into a pleased hum in her chest. She ambled slowly down the aisle, grabbing a lemon as well while she was there. 

“I’m going to interview Jolley after patrol tonight,” she informed him. “We know we’re looking for Blair, but we can’t find any trace of him. I’m hoping to find a pseudonym or some other means by which to track him down."

“Good! The file I’m working on is coming along as well,” he said in a quieter tone, though not so hushed as to be conspicuous as he trailed after her. The light glinted off her crimson hair in a pleasing way, and he found himself distracted by the sight. Shaking his thoughts away from her, he asked, “Who’s going with you? I thought William had the later patrol tonight.”

“He does,” Lauren confirmed, grabbing some baking powder and placing it in the basket hanging from her arm. “I’m going by myself. It shouldn’t be too involved; I won’t be asking anything directly aggressive.”

Kieran halted behind her, a brow furrowing. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, love. You never know what might happen. Surely another patrol officer can accompany you,” he insisted.

Lauren waved a hand, dismissing his concern. “No, it’s fine. He’s the more straightforward of the two interviews, and I’ll be speaking to him at his office with a building full of witnesses.”

Kieran reluctantly followed after her as they rounded a corner and entered an aisle with much higher shelves, blocking the view from most of the other customers. He tugged lightly on her sleeve, beckoning her to look at him. 

She did so, and he slowly entwined his fingers with hers. “Please be careful,” he urged in a low voice. 

Seeing that they were out of view from the other patrons, Lauren smiled and cupped his face with her free hand, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Relax. It will be fine.”

Even with so simple a touch, Kieran’s heart leapt in his chest. Their relationship had not had the chance to become more physical than these few subtle touches, as a desire to take things slowly for caution’s sake had ruled their days thus far. 

“If you’re trying to distract me, I’m sorry to admit that it’s working,” he muttered, releasing her hand and nudging her to resume walking down the aisle of the market. 

“Don’t worry. Hermann already cornered me to tell me that under absolutely no circumstances was I to do anything other than question him, unless I wanted to be sitting on the wrong side of the interview table at the precinct,” Lauren griped, expression souring. 

Kieran chuckled. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but for once, I agree with the captain.”

Shaking her head, Lauren gestured toward his empty basket. “You should probably buy something,” she remarked wryly. “Else your little game of appearing unattached might be forfeit.”

Kieran rolled his eyes and grabbed the nearest thing on the shelf as they rounded the corner, returning to the produce section in which they had begun speaking. It was a mango, and Kieran put it in his basket without looking at it.

Lauren raised an eyebrow. “Really? One mango? That’s all you’re going to buy?”

Kieran rolled his eyes and picked up a freshly baked loaf of bread wrapped in light colored paper. “Here. Are you happy now, dearest?”

“Quite,” she quipped, trekking on toward the clerk. “As long as you share that bread with me. It smells heavenly.”

“What are you doing here, archivist?” Lauren hissed a few hours later. She pushed up the mask covering her eyes to make her glare even more apparent. 

“Oh, you know, I was in the area,” Kieran quipped offhandedly with a grin. “What else would I be doing with my Friday night, if not spending it with you?” He checked the location of his most accessible knives under his black coat, having left his sword at home as usual to avoid appearing conspicuous. 

Lauren shook her head, eyes darting to the office building she had been about to enter to interview Gregor Jolley. “I’m here as a member of the APD right now, Kieran. You can’t be here! Hermann is circling me like a vulture, and the last thing we need is for him to start associating you with me.”

The golden sunset against the clear blue-grey sky blazed across Kieran’s face, making the mischievous glint in his eyes even brighter. “Aw, and here I thought it would be a Jolley good time together.”

Lauren shook her head at him with an expression of pained disgust at the terrible pun.  

“I don’t understand why they sent you to do this by yourself, that’s all,” Kieran commented, drawing closer to her. “I’ll stay out of sight if that’s what you would prefer.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, “but you need to wait a few minutes before you follow me in. We don’t need to be seen entering together.” With another sigh, she replaced her APD mask before pulling open the door to the nondescript office.

Kieran smiled to himself and adjusted the dark red tie at his neck, straightening it as he examined the signage on the outside of the building. There was a list of six or seven names, presumably those with offices inside. 

When enough time had elapsed, Kieran swung the door open and entered the building, whistling a cheerful tune. There was a modest lobby upon entry, with scattered chairs from last decade’s style, end tables with books no one would ever touch, and silk plants that had no chance of fooling anyone with regards to their attempts to appear real. It had the faint scent of stale cinnamon potpourri. 

A young brunette sat behind a richly-made but worn desk, stationed near the back of the lobby near a long hallway with a staircase visible at the end of it. She glanced up at his entrance, doing a small double-take at his appearance. 

“How can I help you, sir?” she asked in her best professional tone, nervously pushing her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear. 

Forgive me, Lauren, Kieran laughed inwardly as he decided on the first plan to implement in his attempt to get information.

Striding forward with all of his usual show of confidence, Kieran made a point of glancing at the nameplate on the desk. “Good evening, Charlotte. That’s a lovely brooch you have,” he commented, gesturing at the pale pink stones arranged in the shape of a rose on the lapel of her olive green suit. 

Flustered by the unexpected greeting, Charlotte touched the brooch as though trying to recall which one it was. “Oh! Thank you, Mr…?” she trailed off, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“Lawrence,” Kieran answered, extending his hand toward her as he approached the desk. “Call me Lawrence.” Instead of shaking her hand, Kieran took it lightly in his and brushed the barest hint of a kiss on her knuckles before releasing her. “Charmed to meet you, Charlotte.” 

The move was a calculated risk, and it would have earned him a slap had he tried it on someone like Lauren. However, judging by the blush blooming on Charlotte’s cheeks, he appeared to have pulled off with this particular target.

“Uh– you as well, Lawrence,” Charlotte answered, taken aback. Her hand grazed a cup of writing utensils on the desk as she withdrew it, and the small clattering sound it made seemed to bring her back to her senses. “What may I help you with?” she said quickly as she steadied the cup with one hand.

He slid one hand into his pants pocket casually, pulling his coat open on that side. “I’m here for a meeting, but I’m afraid I’m a bit early,” he said, his words adopting the hint of a sheepish tone as he smiled crookedly at her. 

“I see,” Charlotte answered, busying her hands by shuffling some of the loose papers on her desk into a neat pile on the side. The action exposed a large desk calendar with small, precise handwriting covering most of the dates. “I don’t think I have you on Mr. Jolley’s schedule. You must be meeting one of the other businessmen.”

“Jolley,” Kieran replied as though intrigued, skirting around her implied question. “What a wonderful name. I’m rather jealous. I take it you manage Mr. Jolley’s affairs here?”

“I do,” Charlotte affirmed. “These are his offices on the first floor.”

Kieran glanced down the hallway, the natural light entering through the windows to highlight the doors to various rooms on the right side of the corridor. He could hear muffled voices, most likely from one of the last rooms based on the volume. Lauren and our dear friend, Mr. Jolley, I presume, he thought. 

“And how do you find the work, Charlotte? Is it enjoyable?” Kieran asked, leaning in toward her, now with both hands in his pockets. 

Charlotte craned her neck up slightly to look at him. “I suppose it’s as enjoyable as any such job,” she answered tactfully. “Who did you say you were meeting with, again? I could walk you to the proper offices if needed.”

He smiled amiably. “I didn’t, and that’s quite alright. I wouldn’t want you to trouble yourself, darling.” Kieran had to bite back a flinch at the term of endearment, feeling positively sleazy for using it on anyone other than Lauren. “I’m meeting with Mr. Fletcher,” he said as he directed his gaze around the room, referencing one of the names on the placard on the outside of the building.

Charlotte frowned slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry, Lawrence, but Mr. Fletcher’s not in today,” she explained regretfully. 

Recovering smoothly, Kieran replied, “He told me he would be out of the office, but Mr. Fletcher was gracious enough to work with my rather inflexible schedule in order to fit me in this evening after hours. As I mentioned, I’m a bit early.” His smile returned as he met her eyes for a split second longer than would have been considered purely proper. “I find that I can’t say I have reason to complain, however.”

The blush returned to Charlotte’s cheeks, and she glanced down at her lap for a moment with a nervous smile. “And what do you do, Lawrence, that your schedule puts you so out of sorts?”

Kieran slid the cup of utensils toward her slightly to perch on the edge of her over-sized desk. “I’m afraid that’s a bit…private, dear,” he said with a regretful wince. He leaned slightly toward her though and cast his voice lower. “But I feel like you can keep a secret, can’t you, Charlotte?”

At her wide-eyed nod, Kieran continued, “Let’s just say I’m a… consultant. Best not to mention that I was here.” 

Not allowing time for a response, Kieran glanced down at the calendar on Charlotte’s desk. “Speaking of interesting names, I’m dying to know who would willingly choose to go by the name Mr. Porkwind,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, gesturing down at one of the dates on the calendar. He used the odd name as an excuse to scan the contents of the schedule, hoping to find some valuable information. 

A giggle burst out of Charlotte’s lips, and she covered her mouth with one hand. “Yes, that is a particularly interesting one, isn’t it?” With another short laugh, she skimmed her fingers over the last week of the month before settling on Thursday. “And here, he has a meeting with Mr. Cornfoot. I’m especially fond of that one.”

Kieran laughed amiably, shifting slightly on the edge of the desk. “Unfortunate souls. I must ask, do their appearances match their names? I find that often to be the case. Take your name, for example– it’s quite beautiful.” Kieran cringed inwardly, feeling like a rake for toying with this poor woman, but if he could get more information on Blair without endangering Lauren, he would do it all over again. 

Charlotte grew flustered at this unexpected compliment and hurriedly directed her gaze back toward the calendar. “Let’s see, who else do we have…”

Kieran pointed at another name, from the previous week. “Ach, Bartleby Bartin,” he lamented. “I think I would go by my middle name.”

Charlotte laughed. “He does, actually! Blair,” she clarified. “The poor man.”

Kieran’s ears rang with the information. Could it be the same Blair that Lauren was after? He chuckled again, continuing the farce. “Bartleby Blair Bartin? Good heavens, his parents must have loathed him.”

Covering her mouth once more, Charlotte tried and failed to stifle a laugh. 

His laugh shifting into a sigh, Kieran retrieved his watch from his coat pocket. “Ah, I’m very disappointed to say that my time is up, dear.” He stood from the desk, brushing off an imaginary piece of lint from his pants. 

Charlotte’s face fell before she reclaimed her former professional politeness. “What a shame. Would you like for me to show you to Mr. Fletcher’s office?”

Kieran smiled warmly. “That’s quite alright, Charlotte. You’ve been most helpful,” he told her with a wink as he strode down the hallway toward the large room containing the stairs. 

He made a point to make his steps audible as he climbed the stairway, glancing back to see that the position of her desk meant that Charlotte could not see down the corridor without rising from her desk to look purposefully. 

Kieran crept stealthily back down, hearing that the voices coming from the nearby office were becoming more heated. He tucked himself into an alcove a short distance away, waiting for Lauren to emerge.

His patience was rewarded as the door swung roughly open and a portly man with a balding head pushed his way out of the office. “Enough!” he nearly shouted. “As I already told you, I have a previous engagement.”

“Sir! I’m not finished asking you questions!” Lauren’s voice became louder as she tumbled through the opening, her navy jacket swinging out behind her.

“Well, I’m finished answering them,” Jolley shot back as he stormed down the hallway and through a door behind the stairway. Kieran remained unnoticed in his hiding spot as Jolley slammed the door behind him. 

Lauren wandered into the room, stopping just in front of the stairs with her hands on her hips. She let out a sound of frustration and stared at the door through which Mr. Jolley had disappeared.

“You can come out, now,” she grumbled. “I know you’re skulking back there.”

Kieran let out a quiet laugh, not wanting to draw attention from the secretary in the lobby. “I take it that your discussion was unproductive?” He kept his voice low, and the thick carpet helped to muffle the sound. 

Ignoring his question, Lauren continued to glare at the door. “Kieran?” she asked. 

“Yes…?” Kieran answered hesitantly. 

“I’m going to do something very stupid,” Lauren declared, unmoving. 

Sighing heavily, Kieran stepped up beside her after glancing down the corridor to see that they were still unwatched. “You’re going after him, aren’t you?” The words were more of a statement than a question. “I thought we weren’t vigilantes anymore, darling.”

“I thought so, too,” Lauren answered, striding toward the door. 

“And you wonder why I came with you,” Kieran muttered darkly as he followed her behind the stairway. “I came prepared, at least.” He pulled a black mask from his pocket to shield his face, loosening his tie. Glancing at her conspicuous uniform, he urged, “At least take off your uniform jacket.”

“And do what with it? I can’t exactly leave it here, Kieran,” Lauren retorted. “It’s fine. I’m just following up on the questioning for Ms. Greene’s death in my capacity as an investigator.”

“You’re a cop following a known Phantom Scythe member after he summarily dismissed you,” Kieran countered, but he was ignored completely by his stubborn partner. 

Pushing open the door quietly, Lauren was surprised to see the landscape change to one of utilitarian concrete walls and bare bulbs providing light from above. She shot a confused glance at Kieran, who merely shrugged in return. 

She did her best to keep her footsteps across the concrete floors as silent as Kieran’s effortlessly ghost-like ones as they made their way down the empty passageway. Turns ahead of them constantly prevented their view from reaching far, and only an occasional locked door broke the monotony of the solid grey walls. 

“Mr. Jolley wasn’t so jolly, then?” Kieran murmured in her ear as they made their way through the warren-like halls. 

The eye-roll may have been covered by her APD mask, but Kieran knew it was there all the same.

“Obviously not. Were you just lurking out there the whole time?” she asked.

“Nope. I was flirting with the receptionist,” he quipped cheekily. 

At this, Lauren turned toward him without slowing her pace. “Wait, what?” 

Kieran grinned, a fringe of dark hair falling in front of his eyes as he did so. “Aw, don’t be jealous, love. You’re the only one for me.” He fought to keep his voice low. “I just took the opportunity to try to get some information for you.”

“Right,” Lauren deadpanned, trying the handle on yet another locked metal door. “And that’s the method you chose?” she hissed. 

Kieran merely grinned. “Well, you know what they say– ‘If you can’t threaten, sweet talk.’”

“Really. That’s what they say,” Lauren said in an obviously unconvinced tone. 

“Hmm. Anyway, while you were in there beating your head against the wall, I think I might have found another name for your mysterious Blair,” Kieran divulged.

Lauren stopped short. “You did? Then what in heaven’s name are we doing right now?”

Kieran raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Would it really have stopped you from seeking more information?”

He could imagine her eye twitching behind the mask as she huffed and stared forward, ponytail swinging. “So what’s this name you conjured out of that poor, unsuspecting secretary?”

“Quite horrendous, actually. Bartleby ‘Blair’ Bartin,” he replied. “It might get you somewhere in your search, at least.”

Further conversation was cut off as they heard the sound of a slamming door some distance ahead of them. Having worked together so many times in similar situations meant that Lauren and Kieran’s movements now fell into a predictable rhythm, making overt communication less required for their coordinated efforts. 

They approached a door that differed from the rest, painted a navy blue and appearing more well-used than the others they had encountered thus far. Wordlessly, Kieran and Lauren hovered on either side of the door, making eye contact before Lauren pushed the door open and stepped back outside the opening. 

A room of four men including Jolley were seated at a small table in front of a small fire. A cot was pushed up against the far corner of the room, and a bookshelf with various scattered tomes adorned the other wall. 

All four men stared blankly at the open door before erupting into motion. 

“Who’s there?” Jolley called angrily. 

Lauren glanced at Kieran, and he looked to the ceiling in resignation, retreating one step further away from the doorway. 

“APD again, Mr. Jolley. I just had a few more questions, and then you’re free to be on your way,” Lauren said boldly, entering the room. She avoided the urge to draw her weapon as the men eyed her warily.

“You again,” Jolley spat. “What was your name again? I’m going to report you to your superiors.”

Lauren smirked. “No, you’re not. I’ll ask you again–”

Her words were cut off, however, as Jolley glared down at his companions and pointed toward her sharply. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get rid of her!”

Lauren’s stomach fell, and she cursed herself for her stupidity once again as she drew her firearm and dove back out the doorway. How was I supposed to know this was going to be some secret hideout?

“You shouldn’t have come alone, girl,” Jolley called as the men advanced. 

As the first two men tumbled out the door at the same time, Kieran smirked above his mask as he grabbed one of them. “She didn’t,” he commented cheerfully as he deftly relieved the man of his consciousness. “Time to go, love.”

Lauren smashed her elbow into the second man’s face and wrenched the handgun out of his grasp. With a short nod, she took off down the corridor, pressing forward instead of the direction from which they had arrived. Surely the exit could not be too much farther.

She felt Kieran close behind as they rounded another corner, searching frantically for an exit as they heard pounding footsteps behind them. 

At last, they caught sight of a door at the end of a particularly long stretch of the concrete corridor. There was a narrow pane of glass at the top of the door showing the darkened sky outside, and they realized they had found their escape route. 

Kieran hovered behind her as Lauren fumbled with the handle, but the door jammed as she attempted to open it. They were cornered at the dead end, trapped like rats with no other means of escape. 

Sweat dripped down from her hairline, and her gaze darted back over Kieran’s shoulder to see two of the men barreling down the hallway toward them. 

She saw the gun an instant before the shot went off, and she instinctively shoved Kieran out of the way to return fire. She felt the vague impression of a hammer hitting her side and her head slamming into the edge of the door frame behind her from the force. It was only after she watched her bullet catch their pursuer in the leg that she realized the sensation overtaking her was pain. 

Her head spun mercilessly, but she was dimly aware of Kieran throwing a knife at the remaining assailant before forcing the door open. He threw an arm around her waist and pulled her out into the bitter night. 

Kieran dragged her haphazardly down a narrow alley. “Come on, love. Stay with me now,” he murmured, urging her to keep running. 

Lauren managed to hold onto consciousness just until they had made it enough distance away for Kieran to feel safe enough to tug her into an empty building. “Where are you hit?” he demanded, heart pounding in his chest. His eyes raked over her in alarm as his mouth went dry with fear.

Lauren pressed a trembling hand to her side, vision hazing at the edges as her fingers came away warm with blood. “H-here. But my head, I think–I think I might pass–”

His eyes darted to her head, searching for the source of injury as he fought to keep his composure. Before he had the chance to discover the nature of the wound, he saw her start to sag on her feet.

Lunging forward, Kieran managed to catch her just as she slipped into merciful ebony nothingness.

Chapter Text

Please consider listening to Low Mist Var. 2 (Day 1) by Ludovico Einaudi during this chapter.

The night was filled with the distant hum of city life as Kieran guided Lauren down to the ground. He tugged his mask down, fighting to take a clear breath as he ripped back her jacket to view the bullet wound. 

Blood had saturated the white shirt underneath, warm and sticky beneath his palm as he applied pressure. He knew that she was going to need more medical care than he could give, that a bit of pressure on the wound would never be sufficient, but the panic threatening to disrupt his composure needed an outlet. 

Lauren groaned under his touch, drifting at the hazy edges of consciousness. Kieran let out a sound of frustration as he considered their options. 

They were limited. They were much too far from her home, and the distance to his apartment was considerable as well. Taking her to a hospital would finally give Hermann the impetus to land Lauren in real trouble thanks to this act of direct insubordination. This was not to mention the fact that Kieran’s own involvement would be essentially impossible to deny at that point. 

Kieran lifted his hand to see blood still sluggishly seeping out of Lauren’s wound. He swallowed hard, fighting against the instinct to give in to terror about her condition. 

Calm. 

He had to stay calm.

He had to stay calm and think. 

Kieran took her uniform jacket and tied it around her waist, covering the wound, striving to still the trembling of his hands.

An idea suddenly blossomed in Kieran’s mind. Doc’s clinic. His doctor held a clinic only a few blocks from their current location. Even if he had already gone home for the day, it was at least a waypoint to get Lauren the help she needed. He could call the doctor from there. 

Kieran peered out of the nearby window and was relieved to see the surrounding area empty. He pulled up his mask, knowing he would have to stick carefully to back alleyways to get her to the clinic unseen. 

With a sudden flash of determination, Kieran spun around and strode toward Lauren. Picking her up under her back and knees, he slipped out the door and back into the Ardhalis night. 

Lauren’s eyelids fluttered with the motion, and she stirred in his arms. Glancing down at her without slowing, Kieran saw alarm flicker across her features.

“Shh, you’re alright. It’s just me,” he murmured, receiving only a weak acknowledgement before Lauren slipped out of consciousness again. 

Kieran rounded one corner but then jerked back rapidly, waiting for an elderly couple to finish their ambling crossing of the area. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered regretfully as the motion jostled Lauren and she let out a small sound of pain. He fought to steady his heart rate, taking several deep breaths before continuing on his way. 

By the time he made it to the clinic, his arms were burning with the effort of holding her as steadily as possible. The frigid night was not enough to stop the sweat from beading on his forehead as he shoved away all contemplation on Lauren’s overall condition. 

The lights were off in the main part of the clinic, but one of the back offices was still illuminated. Kieran crept around the building, searching for the employee entrance he had used in the past. Blessedly, he had encountered no passersby in the area. 

Kieran shifted Lauren into a slightly more upright position as he fumbled for the doorknob, grateful to find it unlocked. He awkwardly twisted the knob and used one foot to push the door open, tugging down his mask as he entered the warmth of the unlit room. 

“Doc?” he called out into the silence, glancing around the darkened break room and kitchenette. Lauren’s arm dangled off the side limply, her face buried in his chest. Kieran could feel fluttery movements from her every so often as she hovered in and out of consciousness, but she had yet to return to true awareness. 

“Doc?” Kieran called more urgently, searching the room with his eyes for a phone. 

“Be there in a second!” came an answering voice from somewhere deeper inside the building.

Kieran halted abruptly at the unexpected voice that most certainly did not belong to the doctor he had been planning to bring Lauren to. 

“...Rosy?” Kieran asked tentatively. Should he leave? Where else could he take her? The last thing he wanted was to involve yet another variable into their already precarious position. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” the voice came again. 

Kieran shifted Lauren in his arms, still frozen near the entrance with indecision. With a groan of frustration, Kieran held his position. He didn’t have a choice. They would have to stay.

“Of course it’s you,” the owner of the voice said wryly as he rounded the corner. “You know I hate that nickname.” Tall, with silver eyes and hair, he wore a white doctor’s coat over his grey cotton shirt. A stethoscope peeked out over the brim of one of the large pockets near his hip.

“I don’t have time for this, Dylan. Where’s your boss?” Kieran demanded, still unmoving. Their history was quite extensive; he had known Dylan nearly since the beginning of his time with the Phantom Scythe. They had formed a bond as they went through much of their training together before Dylan was shuffled toward the medical team funded by the Scythe, but their parting had been less than purely amicable.

“All this time since I’ve seen you, and that’s all you have to say to me?” Dylan paused, flipping on the lights to better see his visitor. “He took the day off,” he answered absently, staring at Kieran’s unconscious companion. Only the back of her head was visible, but the uniform and gun at her hip made one thing all too clear. “Is that a cop?”

Kieran ignored his question. “Are you alone?” He did not want any more witnesses to his and Lauren’s presence there. 

Dylan gaped at him. “White, did you seriously bring a cop here?”

“Is anyone else in the building right now?” Kieran practically shouted, glaring at Dylan. 

“No!” Dylan answered, straightening in alarm at Kieran’s urgency. 

Upon hearing the answer, Kieran finally pushed forward to take Lauren to an examination room. Dylan spun and led him there, flipping on the lights as he traversed a long hallway down to the largest of the procedure rooms.

“In here,” Dylan gestured toward the exam table along the far wall. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

Kieran skirted around the hospital bed near the center of the room along the left wall. “That’s not for you to worry about, Rosy. Just help me, and keep quiet about everything you see here.” He had the hope that he could still trust Dylan, but Lauren wasn’t something he was eager to take a risk on.

“Easy, easy, I know how to keep my head attached, okay? What are her…” Dylan’s speech halted mid-sentence as Kieran laid Lauren onto the table. Her crimson hair slid away from her face, revealing her pale features for the first time. He covered the sharp intake of air that resulted from his surprise with a cough.

“What are her injuries?” Dylan tried again, unsteadily redirecting his attention onto her as a patient instead the staggering realization that this was his childhood friend.

Kieran was untying the jacket around her waist, revealing the pooled blood there that matched the large stain on Kieran’s shirt. “Gunshot wound, left side, but she also hit her head. I think that will be fine– she’s been in and out of consciousness, and there’s not much we can do about that right now. I just need you to get the bullet out.”

After a brief examination, Dylan strode over to the sink to wash his hands. “What, too scared to dig it out yourself?” he grinned, speaking loudly over the sound of the running water before he shut it off. 

Kieran remained silent as Dylan dried his hands, battling against the torrent of panic in his chest at this entire situation. Every second that Dylan spent not assessing Lauren felt like torture as Kieran waited helplessly next to her. 

He caught Dylan casting a curious gaze toward him, no doubt taking notice of his unusually discomposed manner. Kieran’s agitated fidgeting was obvious to both of them, but he did not have the self-control to halt the motions. 

Clearing his throat, Kieran gritted his teeth before replying, “Just find out if it hit anything vital before she bleeds out, Rosy.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with misery. "Please,” he added belatedly, earning a startled glance from Dylan. 

Unnerved, Kieran shifted impatiently until Lauren let out a small sound and turned her head toward the wall, eyes wrenched shut. Kieran could not control the impulse to reach out to her, but he settled for brushing her hair away from her forehead as Dylan returned with a syringe roughly half full of some colorless solution.  

“You know I hate that name,” he grumbled under his breath as he took a moment to push the drug into Lauren’s vein, relaxing her almost immediately. She melted down onto the table, her meager struggles ending with the oblivion brought on by the anesthetic. 

“Fine, then, Dr. Yew or whatever it is you’re calling yourself now,” Kieran groused, sliding Lauren into a better position on the table.

Ignoring him, Dylan waited until she was settled before peeling up Lauren’s saturated shirt to view the wound. His hands hovered there for a few seconds before Dylan shook himself slightly, realizing his mistake as he reached for gloves before examining her side. Making up some gauze soaked in diluted iodine, he carefully scrubbed around the wound, which resumed producing small rivulets of blood with the action. 

Kieran frowned slightly at Dylan's forgetfulness and the way he seemed ill-at-ease overall. A glance down at his soiled shirt distracted him, at the uncomfortable feeling of blood having soaked through onto his skin. Returning his attention to Lauren, he rested a hand on her leg as he watched Dylan work. The edge of Kieran’s fear ebbed away with the relief of doing something about her injuries, even though he did not know the extent of them yet. At first, seeing Dylan instead of his typical doctor had alarmed him greatly, but if anyone else had to be brought in on the secret that he was involved with Lauren, he would have chosen him. 

Feeling utterly useless, Kieran retrieved Lauren’s firearm and set it aside with her jacket. As he watched Dylan begin to work, he noted that Dylan’s typically steady hands were trembling, and a slight tightening around the eyes betrayed his tension. Kieran felt a slow trickle of unease begin its course down his spine. 

“What’s wrong?” Kieran demanded, striving to keep his tone even as some sixth sense set off warning bells in his head. 

Hunched over the wound, Dylan did a small double-take toward him. “Ah– nothing, it looks like the bullet managed to miss anything terribly important. I just need to remove it and stop the bleeding.” Turning, Dylan gestured toward a movable lamp across the room. “Hey, bring me that light, would you?”

Kieran fetched the light, but still felt as though Dylan’s actions were not what he was accustomed to the other times he had encountered him since Dylan had become a doctor. Kieran recalled the fact that he had initially forgotten gloves as well as the light, not to mention the shaking of his hands, and the silence ruling over the room. The erratic behavior was not typical for the usually fastidious and precise “Dr. Yew,” as he had come to be known. The air should also have been filled with the exchange of various barbs of conversation, and some instinct told Kieran that the problem did not lie within himself.

“Then what’s wrong?” Kieran repeated, eyes narrowing. The smell of blood and antiseptic filled the air, turning his stomach. 

Dylan forced a chuckle as he collected various instruments to explore the wound more thoroughly. “You sound like we’re back in our early ‘training’ days. Always trying to mother me.” There was a hint of fond nostalgia in his smile that softened the words as he glanced at Kieran.

Kieran rolled his eyes and picked up a small wastebasket to receive the dirtied gauze Dylan held out in his direction to be disposed of. “What can I say? You needed it. No wonder they shipped you over to medical after the first three years.”

“Well, we can’t all be cold-blooded killers, can we?” Dylan shot back, still focused on Lauren. “Some of us have to save lives.” The words had the air of having been said before, the banter nothing new.

“You know, you’re probably the only person in this world who could say those words to me and not cause offense,” Kieran remarked dryly. He stared at Lauren as her chest rose and fell with a deep breath.

Dylan glanced at him, a ghost of a smile hovering on his lips. “It helps to be the one who watched you try to do anything but what they wanted for those three years. I do not envy your scars, White.” 

Kieran understood the implication that Dylan was not speaking of Kieran’s physical scars. “At least I don’t spend all my days saving the bad guys," he finished the token response to the original banter. 

“There!” Dylan muttered under his breath, the bullet grasped firmly with the narrow hemostats. He dropped the bullet into the metal dish proffered by Kieran, resulting in the high-pitched clinking of metal-on-metal. 

Kieran’s eyes flickered toward Lauren’s pale face, noting the sweat beaded on her brow. “Is she–”

“Make yourself useful. Get her pulse rate for me,” Dylan directed, gathering supplies to flush the wound to ensure no further fragments of debris remained. 

Kieran stepped over and dutifully pressed his fingers on Lauren’s neck, glancing at the clock above on the wall to take her heart rate. “She’s fine,” he reported, pushing down his obvious relief. The less Dylan knew about their relationship, the better. 

After flushing the wound, Dylan began suturing, and once again silence reigned supreme. 

Something isn’t right, Kieran thought. He could not pinpoint what exactly was filling him with dread, but he felt a rapidly swelling regret that he had brought Lauren here. He knew there had been little choice, but this did not stop the unease seeping through his veins.

“Dylan,” Kieran began, and Dylan’s face shot up at the word.

“Uh oh. Am I in trouble, Mother? You’re using my actual name,” he laughed, hands hovering over Lauren as he paused before passing the next suture.

Kieran ignored the levity in Dylan’s tone. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said in a firm voice. “I’ve known you long enough to tell when you’re hiding something.”

Dylan stiffened for only a second before forcing himself to relax. "Nothing is wrong, White. I’m just wondering how on earth my old friend has gotten roped into a situation in which he has to drag an APD officer here on a Friday night to see me instead of taking her to a hospital.”

Still standing at Lauren’s head, Kieran narrowed his eyes at Dylan. “You know what ‘wondering’ gets you in the Phantom Scythe, Rosy.” He directed his gaze back down toward Lauren, brow furrowed.

“Yes, yes, I’m aware,” Dylan answered with mock fatigue. He tied off the final suture and set the instruments to the side, removing a glove to feel Lauren’s pulse himself. Using the hand that was still gloved, he cleaned up the remaining blood from around the freshly sutured wound.

“All finished,” Dylan declared after they changed her shirt to a clean one from the clinic instead of the blood-soaked white shirt from her uniform. “The anesthetic I gave her will probably take an hour or so to wear off. I also gave her an injection for pain, but you’re going to want to get her home to get something else on board by morning,” Dylan explained, retrieving the instruments to scrub them in the sink. 

Tearing his eyes away from Lauren, Kieran eyed Dylan’s back keenly as he scrubbed vigorously at the clattering metal instruments under the running water. 

He and Dylan had only kept loosely in touch as their paths abruptly diverged; the opposing nature of their assignments created obvious friction, and physical space had separated them for a time. Their less-than-felicitous parting had not helped matters. Could he trust him? Could he trust him with Lauren?

Trust was a slippery thing for a member of the Phantom Scythe. Everyone who survived long enough did so because they were well-equipped to prioritize their own self-interest. Small acts of subversion to help others were not that uncommon, but to directly defy orders ended with death, one way or another. This was a hard-won lesson that Kieran had learned all too well. 

Dylan finished cleaning the instruments and set them out on a towel next to the sink, patting them dry. His hands were red from the heat of the water, and he wiped them dry with a second towel as he turned back toward Kieran. 

“I still have paperwork to do before I go, so I’ll be around for a few more minutes.” Dylan tossed the damp towel toward Kieran, who caught it with an unamused stare as Dylan passed by. 

Kieran heard Dylan stop in the doorway and call to him.

“Kieran?” he said carefully, and Kieran noted the unusual use of his given name with irony. “She’ll be alright,” Dylan continued earnestly. 

Kieran spun toward him, bracing one hand next to Lauren’s prone form, a flicker of surprise at Dylan’s serious tone. The doctor must have read much more into Kieran’s attachment to Lauren than intended.

Dylan grinned at the look on Kieran’s face. “I’ve never seen you this worried, White. You look like a schoolboy with his first crush,” he teased as he turned for the door again.

He disappeared around the corner of the door frame just in time for the towel to go sailing past his head harmlessly.

With an irritated huff, Kieran turned and simply watched Lauren’s steady breathing. After a moment, however, he decided to move her over to the bed until she woke up, fearing she would be even more uncomfortable lying on the cold table.

Once she was settled onto the bed, he folded her bloody shirt and set it aside with her jacket and handgun. He returned to her side, and the legs of the chair made a scraping sound as he dragged it across the floor to sit. 

What a fool he was. He should have not taken no for an answer and simply removed himself from her life. While a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Lauren had acted independently from him tonight, he could not shake the feeling that he had somehow still led her to this point. Her path was fraught with danger from all sides, and his association with her put a giant glowing target on her back. 

Lauren stirred slightly, and Kieran half stood and placed a hand on her arm, but she quickly lapsed back into stillness. As he slowly took his seat once more, he felt a drop in his stomach at the fact that even if she survived this whole affair, there could be no future for them. The odds of him both surviving and remaining undiscovered as the Purple Hyacinth were slim to none. Besides, a pairing between Lady Lauren Sinclair and a poor street artist turned professional killer was laughable, to say the least. 

He watched her breathing, feeling his heart sink with every rise and fall of her chest. 

He was beyond irredeemable, and sooner or later, she would see that as well.

Chapter Text

Please consider listening to The Path of Fossils (Day 3) by Ludovico Einaudi during this chapter.

The first thought Lauren could form was recognition of burning pain on her left side. It was as though her mind and body were both laden with lead, and her thoughts swirled in muddied streams as she fought for consciousness. She could smell the harsh scent of antiseptics along with the metallic tang of fresh blood. 

Lauren was dimly aware of the sensation of someone holding her hand, and when she at last became awake enough to open her eyes, she saw Kieran sitting in a chair next to her, staring blankly at nothing. She must have made some small motion, however, because his eyes suddenly flew to hers and his face softened into an expression of profound relief. 

“Hello again, love,” he murmured quietly, giving her hand a small squeeze. His tie had been loosened, and his hair was disheveled as though he had run his hands through it excessively. Her blood stained the front of his white shirt.

Inhaling as deeply as the pain in her side would allow, Lauren closed her eyes for another moment and cleared her throat. 

“Where are we?” she asked in a gravelly voice, eyes still shut against the harsh overhead lights. It was utterly silent in the room except for the movements they made.

“Somewhere…hidden,” Kieran answered cryptically, until her gaze found his and she raised an eyebrow at his reticence. Sighing, he elaborated, “A clinic. After you were shot, I couldn’t take you to a hospital with all of the people watching us both, especially since you decided to go against direct orders and chase down a criminal yourself instead of calling for backup.” By the end, his words had dropped into a tone of admonishment. 

Her eyes roved around her viewpoint as far as they would without requiring her to move her head. It was a nondescript room, with the usual assortment of medical equipment in addition to the bed she was currently laying on in the center of the room. A metal tray of various instruments rested on a stand near her head. She could see what looked like a hallway outside the door, but it stretched on beyond sight, leaving her only a limited view of the solid wall across from the opening. 

“Why is my head so… fuzzy?” she asked, almost more to herself than to Kieran. 

“Ah,” Kieran started, releasing her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You have a concussion, but the doctor also gave you some anesthetics to get the bullet out of you. It’s probably the medications. The bullet didn’t hit anything vital,” he added, attempting to make the comment sound offhand as though his terror had not nearly consumed him before he learned that particular bit of information. 

Lauren nodded absently as her mind slowly cleared from the bleary influence of the sedatives. “How have I made it my entire life without getting shot, and here I am with another bullet wound when my first has barely healed?” 

Huffing out a humorless laugh, Kieran took her hand again. “I would say I told you so, but I’m sure you’re already aware.”

“Well, I would very much like to never be shot again,” Lauren ground out with a grimace. 

“Agreed,” Kieran answered grimly. “You ruined yet another of my good shirts,” he teased, gesturing to his bloodstained front. He settled back in his chair, rolling his shoulders to loosen them from having sat in a hunched position for so long. 

“Who knows so far?” she asked, ignoring his comment.

“Just the doctor,” he replied. “You’ve only been out for about an hour and a half.”

“Same doctor as before?” she asked shortly, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. 

“Uh, no, actually,” Kieran answered, running a hand through his hair. “I thought he would be here, but it’s his…protege, I suppose you could say, instead.”

Lauren eyed him keenly, and her mind took a second to process hearing the shade of hesitation from Kieran. “Can we trust him?”

Kieran was silent for a moment, considering the question yet again. “Yes,” he replied at length. At the very least, he didn’t want to worry her. “He was dragged into the Scythe at about the same time I was, so I’ve known him for a long time.”

Lauren grunted in acknowledgement and made to sit up, wincing as the pain in her side intensified. 

“And just where are you going, detective?” Kieran asked, standing to brace an arm around her shoulders as she stubbornly made her way to a seated position and swung her legs over the side of the mattress. 

Her feet were bare, and her toes barely touched the cold tile floor from her position. “We have to go before they realize I’m not where I’m supposed to be.” Lauren’s thoughts were coming with increased clarity, and the stabbing sensation in her side dulled as her position stabilized on the edge of the bed. “I need to call Will.”

Kieran shook his head, knowing better than to attempt to battle her stubbornness. “You’re going to need some shoes on, darling,” he said wryly, standing to retrieve her belongings. 

Lauren glanced down at herself. Her pants were her own, but she was wearing a clean white shirt from some unknown source. It had the generic scent of unfamiliar laundry soap; she supposed it must have been a spare one kept at the clinic. 

Glancing up, she stared vacantly at the top of Kieran’s head as he put her shoes on for her as though she were a young child. “I can do that,” she muttered, to which Kieran did not even deign to offer a word in response as he simply finished tying her second shoe. 

Kieran rose and braced his hands on the bed on either side of her hips. He leaned over her slightly, fixing her with a stern look. “You,” he said firmly, “are going to do whatever is in your power to rest, even if I have to come over to your house and spoon feed you myself. Monday will be here all too soon, when you’ll have to muddle through work on your own.”

Lauren glared at him, his face mere inches away from hers. A flicker of nearly anguished emotion passed across Kieran’s features, and he brought one hand up to place his fingertips lightly against her jaw. Searching her eyes for a moment, he leaned in to place a soft kiss on her lips, thus breaching new territory in their relationship. 

Their first kiss was not a desperate one fueled by adrenaline, nor one of a passionate outburst that could not be contained, but rather a gentle push, filled with timid sweetness. The touch was so foreign to both of them at first that it was almost jarring, but after a moment’s hesitation, Lauren leaned in to return the kiss. She could feel how much he cared for her, and she was flooded with tender affection for him. 

His fingertips trailed along her jawline to the back of her neck, filled with a yearning to be closer to her. The softness of her skin was irresistible, and relief at her safety poured out from him. 

The sound of a door opening in the distance reluctantly broke their reverie. Kieran gently helped Lauren stand carefully to her feet, a smile still hovering on her lips from the kiss. 

As she straightened, Lauren was pleasantly surprised by how well she was capable of movement, despite the expected discomfort. 

“White?” a voice called from down the long hallway outside the door, the speaker still out of sight. “I’m finished for the night.” 

Lauren felt an odd sense of foreboding that she could not explain at the sound.

Footsteps grew nearer, tapping down the tile. “I suppose I can trust you to take care of our patient when she wakes…” The words trailed off when the speaker entered the room to see his patient unexpectedly already awake. 

A torrent of ice flooded Lauren’s veins as she looked over her shoulder to see him, an ocean of pure shock bringing her heart to a shuddering stop in her throat. 

Dylan.  

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his face had lost its boyish roundness, but it was undoubtedly him. Not a single detail of those silver eyes had changed.

After her moment of frozen disbelief, Lauren whipped around to fully face him, hand coming down heavily onto the metal tray next to the bed. The action caused the tray to tip, and instruments went flying with a shrieking cacophony of metal as Lauren staggered backwards into Kieran’s chest. 

Baffled, Kieran wrapped an arm around the front of her waist and pulled her to himself to steady her. Her hand reached blindly for his free one, and she gripped it with sudden and voracious force as though it was the only thing keeping her upright. 

The ringing of the instruments still settling from their fall onto the floor below slowly dissipated, leaving the room in complete silence for one heartbeat, and then another.

“Hello, Ren,” Dylan finally said in a low voice, breaking the quiet with a flinch of a smile. 

Lauren gaped at him, still held firmly in Kieran’s grasp as her entire frame trembled violently. 

“Dylan?” Lauren finally whispered, hand growing more clammy in Kieran’s by the second. She watched as Dylan’s eyes flickered to their clasped hands, and then back to her face. 

He gave her a helpless shrug, unable to conjure any words to say to her as she peered at him with her broken expression. 

“How…? How are you here? What– where have you been?” Lauren stammered out, voice shaking. When Dylan gave her no answer, she said despairingly, “They thought you were dead.”

No one in the room missed the fact that Lauren had said “they” with regards to his death, as though she had not held the same opinion. 

Silence reigned for a long moment, during which Kieran’s thoughts scrambled to keep up with what was unfolding before him. Despite his heartbeat thudding in his chest, he pasted a neutral expression on his face, choosing not to interfere until more was made clear.

Still standing in the doorway, Dylan slid his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ren.”

At this, Lauren’s expression slowly hardened as she straightened in Kieran’s hold. “You’re sorry?” she said in disbelief. “You’ve been gone for ten years and all you have to say to me is ‘I’m sorry’?”

Dylan’s mouth flattened into a grim line, but he remained silent. 

Lauren pushed off of Kieran, suppressing a wince at the blossom of pain in her side as she strode heavily across the room toward him. She stopped a short distance away, her frame still shaking with sickening adrenaline. 

“They had a funeral,” she said in an accusatory tone. 

Dylan’s expression crumpled, but he remained unmoving. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“A funeral with an empty casket,” Lauren responded, voice growing in heated volume. “You were my best friend, and you were gone. You were gone as everyone tried to crawl back from the aftermath of the bombing, when there was no one to help me look for you. When–” Lauren’s voice hitched, and she took another half step forward. “When my parents died, and my heart was in so much pain that it hurt to breathe– you were gone.” She shook her head as she forced down the sob threatening to steal her voice. “And you’re sorry?”

Lauren advanced further, and the air between them seemed charged with a storm of electricity. “I’ve nearly ruined my life for you,” she said, ignoring the way Dylan’s eyes flickered behind her toward Kieran. “And you’re sorry?” she repeated, fading into a whisper. 

With these last words, she closed the gap between them and buried her face in his chest, clutching his cotton shirt in her hands as she felt burning tears fill her eyes. As the initial surprise faded, Dylan slowly slid his hands out of his pockets and brought them carefully around her. This seemed to be the tipping point, and Lauren let out a single muffled sob into his chest. Dylan tightened his grasp in response and buried his face in her neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated in a murmur against her skin as she shook in his arms. “I’m so sorry.” He knew that the words were not enough, but he had nothing else to give. 

They lingered there as Lauren’s disbelief gradually lost out to the feel of Dylan’s heart beating under her fist. He’s really here. He survived. 

Lauren’s hands slowly unclasped the grey fabric of his shirt as her shuddering breaths stilled. And she had been right to search for him. 

Arms loosening around her, Dylan raised his head as Lauren gently pulled back enough to look up at him. 

“You got so tall,” she muttered with a frown, almost to herself. 

The words produced a surprised chuckle from Dylan as he rested his hands near her waist, avoiding her injury. “Maybe you got shorter, Ren.”

Lauren’s eyelids closed at the sound of the nickname from his lips. “I missed you,” she whispered.

He visibly flinched at the simple words. After a breath of hesitation, he brought his thumb up and swiped away a lingering tear on her cheek. “I missed you, too.” Despite their time apart, the familiarity between them lingered in their movements like a once-forgotten memory. 

“Where have you been? I don’t understand,” she said softly, the faintest hint of desperation in her tone. 

Dylan retreated a half step, pushing his hands back into his pockets to break the contact between them. 

“It’s…better that you know as little as possible,” he responded. He jerked his head toward Kieran, who was leaning against the countertop on the other side of the room with his arms crossed, silently watching them with an inscrutable expression. 

“If him being here with you is any indication, I’d say you’re in enough trouble as it is,” he continued, softening the edge of the words with a small smile. 

A jolt of recollection went through Lauren, and she turned her head to glance at Kieran. He had the calm, calculated expression of a spy on his face, but Lauren could see through the facade to the unsettled tension below. 

She suddenly felt… nervous? How was she going to explain all of this to Kieran?

Dragging her eyes away, she returned her focus to Dylan. “I’ve been looking for you for ten years. You have to give me some kind of explanation, Dylan.”

Dylan sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his hair and shifting on his feet. “I never made it back to the train station that day. They…kept me. For a long time.” 

Again, Dylan’s eyes flickered toward Kieran, and Lauren got the sense once again that her best source of information regarding her friend might lie with her partner across the room. 

“It’s a miracle I managed to stay alive. Running away or telling anyone…those were never options, Ren. The Phantom Scythe is not a lenient master.” 

Lauren started to take a step forward, but a sharp reminder of her wound took her breath. The adrenaline was ebbing away, leaving her bereft and painful once again. 

Dylan saw her discomfort at once, and took her lightly by the elbow. “Steady,” he said quietly, a twist of concern flitting across his features. “You need to go home and rest.” His fingers slid away from her elbow as he seemed to win some internal struggle for self-control. 

Across the room, Kieran finally stirred. “I’m never one to interrupt a touching moment, but he’s right, Lauren. We need to go.” He pushed off the counter and skirted around the bed toward her, grabbing the remainder of her belongings as he passed by them. 

“But— I have so many questions, I can’t just—” she began, but both men were shaking their heads at her. 

Kieran trailed his fingertips along her lower back to murmur in her ear, “If anyone figures out you’re not home safely asleep in your bed, we’re both going to be—”

Lauren let out a huff of frustration and buried her face in her hands. “I know,” she mumbled into them. 

“We’ll speak more later, Ren,” Dylan said, but drew back when Lauren’s face immediately shot up toward him. With a grimace, he repeated the words truthfully, this time reluctantly deciding to talk to her about at least a few of the details. “We’ll speak more later,” he repeated more softly. 

Some of the tension eased out of Lauren’s shoulders at this. Kieran tugged gently on her sleeve and handed her the stained jacket and handgun. The distraction seemed to break Lauren out of her standstill, and she took them wordlessly. With a lingering look over her shoulder toward Dylan, she allowed Kieran to escort her carefully out the door. 

The hour was late, and they had to walk a fair distance to find a cab. Kieran supported her as they walked, her arm gripping his elbow as they made their way through the quiet darkness of the city. 

The silence between them was deafening as they both reeled with the revelations of the evening. Kieran considered the night’s events, from the wretched misery of seeing her so gravely injured to the staggering realization that somehow Dylan had to be at the heart of why Lauren had agreed to work with him in the first place. 

He could not shake the memory of Lauren’s reaction to discovering her ghost. Her skin had taken on an ashen pallor, and he thought she would collapse there in his arms once again with the force of her shock. 

After she rushed toward Dylan, Kieran had retreated immediately. His mind had flitted through a hundred analyses of the situation, instantly regretting his decision to bring her there in the first place. He should have just taken her to the hospital, he thought wildly, before reminding himself that he had no other choice at the time. 

He had leaned against the counter, struggling to stop himself from reaching out to her as he tried to push down the twisted jumble of black emotions at seeing her in another man’s arms. The surprise and apprehension collided with a thread of irrational jealousy, flaring in his chest despite all of the other more reasonable responses. There was clearly a depth of history between them he could only guess at. 

At last, Kieran was brought back to the presence when he spotted a cab approaching ahead of them. Taking care to cover his bloody shirt with his coat, he reached out his hand to signal to the driver and paused on the sidewalk. “Are you sure you’re alright to go home on your own?” he asked her. 

Lauren simply nodded, her expression numb. 

“Lauren,” Kieran began carefully, “you can’t tell anyone about him. You understand that, right?”

Her widened eyes met his for a long moment, as though it took a few seconds for the words to register. “I know,” she answered quietly. 

They hovered on the spot, both too jolted from the events to cobble together a coherent goodbye. 

With only a gentle squeeze of his elbow as she let go, Lauren climbed into the cab, struggling to hide her injured state. Kieran stood by with his hands in his pockets, aching with the effort of releasing her as the cab slowly ambled away down the empty street.

This was going to be…complicated, he thought regretfully.

Chapter Text

Lauren limped over to the phone in her bedroom, the warmth finally bringing feeling back to her frozen nose and fingers. Flicking on the lamp, she paused before the phone, peeling up her shirt to see that her bandage had managed to hold so far with no strikethrough of blood. 

That’s encouraging at least, she thought dourly. It really was unbelievable that she was injured again so soon. Her side ached fiercely, and her eyelids felt as though they were filled with sand from both the tears and the lateness of the hour.

Weary to her bones, she sagged down onto the edge of the bed. She knew this phone call could wait, but she wanted to get the information to Will as quickly as possible so that he could choose how to move forward. With a sigh, she dialed Will’s apartment. The phone rang several times before a gravelly voice croaked out a greeting.

“Hello?” Will asked, tone clearly influenced by the fog of sleep.

Lauren’s knuckles turned white on the handpiece, and her tongue suddenly seemed glued to the roof of her mouth. She and Will had spent hours and hours together with Dylan as children. Something about hearing her friend’s voice combined with the new knowledge that Dylan was alive brought back a wave of agonizing nostalgia that nearly overwhelmed her. 

She could hear Will clear his throat. “Who’s this?” he asked, slightly more composed than the first time he spoke.

“It’s me,” Lauren finally managed to get out past the lump in her throat. “It’s Lauren.”

“Lauren?” Will asked. “It’s two o’clock in the morning. What’s wrong?”

Everything, she wanted to say. Will, I’m so confused.  

“What’s wrong?” Will repeated, voice growing more firm at her peculiar attitude. Lauren could hear muffled sounds as though he were getting out of bed. 

“I had a bit of an…incident. I’m fine, and I swear to you it was unintentional,” she blurted out at last.

Will was silent for a brief moment. “Are you hurt?”

Lauren clenched her jaw, pressing one hand down onto her thigh to help support the weight of her torso where it tugged against the sutures. “Yes, but I’ll be fine. I was interviewing Jolley, and–”

“How were you hurt?” Will interjected urgently. 

“I– I was shot,” Lauren answered reluctantly, knowing that of all people, Will should probably know the truth to help her cover for her injury. “But it’s fine!” she continued rapidly. “It was in my side, and I’ve already been tended to. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m back home.”

“Lauren–” 

“That’s not why I’m calling. I have a possible lead on Blair,” Lauren said, trying to keep her voice steady. 

“Oh!” Will answered, his concern for her momentarily derailed by the unexpected information. “You said you interviewed Jolley? What happened? How did you get shot?”

“Yes, well, I wasn’t getting very far with him, and he decided to storm out before I had finished interviewing him. I…” Lauren hesitated, knowing she was about to earn Will’s ire. “I followed him, and–”

“Alone? Lauren! I know for a fact that Captain Hermann gave you explicit orders. And what’s more, you know better! You should have called for backup first!” Will argued, voice growing more heated as his concern for her escalated.

“I know, I know,” Lauren capitulated. “Lesson learned, once again. But after I spoke with him again briefly, he sent some of his men after me and I was shot. I– I saw a doctor, and he patched me up. It wasn’t too bad.” Lauren’s mouth could hardly form the words of the story, so great was her desire to confess everything to Will. 

Will only had time to sigh heavily before Lauren continued. 

“It might turn out to have been a useless venture, but I have one more name for you to look into as quickly as possible. Bartleby ‘Blair’ Bartin.” Lauren switched the handpiece to her opposite hand. “That could be why we haven’t been able to find him yet.”

“I’ll look into it first thing in the morning, but,” he hesitated, “are you sure you’re alright?”

Lauren squeezed her eyes shut against the hot liquid pooling there. Her next breath came in an almost imperceptible gasp.

“I’m fine,” she lied. 

“Lauren,” Will chided, voice soft. “I can tell that something else has happened. What can I do?”

What can I do? he had asked. Lauren had always loved that about him; he didn’t want to know only to satisfy his curiosity – he wanted to know so that he could figure out what he could do to help fix the problem. 

Her heart began pounding in her ears as she debated telling him about Dylan. Lauren needed someone on her side, she needed another voice to make sense of the turmoil in her mind right now. And Will…he was one of her closest, oldest friends. 

Which is why she had to keep him safe. 

Lauren swallowed, fist bunched in the blanket covering the bed next to her. “There’s nothing you can do, Will,” she said in resignation. “I— I can’t talk about it right now.”

When Will remained in silent thoughtfulness, apparently considering her words, Lauren continued, “Let me know if I can do anything else for the investigation. I can be there if you find Blair.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Will admonished. “You had better not budge this weekend, and you’re on desk duty next week at the very least. I don’t want to give Hermann another reason to corner you, but the least we can do is hold you back from patrol so that you can rest.” 

Lauren balked immediately. “What? You can’t! What are we going to tell the others?” 

“Anything! You’re still having headaches from the car accident, or you’ve been ill this weekend. Just trust me,” he countered. 

The heaviness of the sigh from Lauren’s lips reminded her of her wound, and she grumbled out an indecipherable sound of acknowledgment. 

“Get some rest. I’ll see you Monday,” Will told her.

“Alright. ‘Night, Will,” Lauren answered quietly. 

As the call ended, the absence of sound left a ringing in the air that threatened to take over Lauren’s troubled mind. After a long pause, she finally replaced the receiver and stood stiffly to change into her nightgown. 

After a restless period of lying awake in her bed, the stubborn tug of sleep insisted upon by her battered body pulled her into a dreamless slumber. 

Please consider listening to Low Light by Peter Broderick during this chapter.

The autumn leaves crunched under Kieran’s boots as he tread through the forest, not bothering to silence his footsteps. There was no need, as she would never expect him to be a threat to her. The scent of decaying foliage surrounded him like a herald of death, trailing in his wake wherever he roamed. 

He checked the position of a knife in his sleeve and ran a hand back through his hair, pushing the wayward strands out of his eyes. Glancing at the setting sun, he watched its golden light filter its way through the trees in a stuttering pattern. She would likely already be there, waiting for him to arrive, completely unaware of the fate set to befall her. 

Abruptly, Kieran appeared at the edge of a small clearing and perceived Lauren hovering at the opposite side. A blanket of red-brown leaves carpeted the area, interrupted sporadically with dying sprigs of various grasses. She stood tall and straight, with her face upturned to bask in the sunlight, and a handful of late-blooming wild daisies she had found were dangling from one hand, lightly stirring in the breeze.

Though it did not seem unusual to him at the time, Kieran would recall later that her attire did not fully fit the occasion. The image would be seared into his brain, seeing her willowy frame draped in a deep burgundy long-sleeved dress. Sensible boots were barely visible above the sparse foliage in front of her, and her hair was pulled back in an understatedly elegant chignon. 

He approached boldly at first, but stumbled a step as a sudden overlay of crimson blood appeared to blossom across her chest as he eyed her. Shaking his head slightly, the image disappeared, and he continued his advance.

“It’s about time,” she called softly, a smile curving her lips. Her voice sounded further away than it should have, and it rang with an odd dissonance in Kieran’s mind. “You’re late,” she continued.

“Do forgive me,” Kieran answered glibly, his mind dampened by numbness to the real reason he had called her out to meet him so deeply in the forest. 

When he reached her side, she slid her arms around his neck, loosely crossing her wrists behind him as she drew near in an embrace. The daisies drooped in her grasp, tickling the back of his neck.

A sensation of warm blood seeping from her chest onto his shirt suddenly filled Kieran, but when his gaze flickered down, there was nothing there. Covering his momentary confusion with an answering smile, Kieran slipped his arms around her waist.

“Are you sure you deserve forgiveness?” she teased lightly, a wide ray of sunlight flashing across her golden eyes as she tilted her head. 

No, Kieran thought, but leaned in to press a soft kiss on her lips. As he did so, he fleetingly tasted the metallic tang of blood before it disappeared, finding it to have been another figment of his muddled psyche.

Without breaking the kiss, Kieran drew one hand back as though possessed and slid the knife from its position into his waiting palm. The familiar handle of the blade felt warm in his grasp, but not as warm as the blood that quickly pooled around the entry wound as he pushed the knife between her ribs toward her heart. 

He held the blade there and leaned away slightly. He watched as her features twisted into bewilderment, her mouth forming a small “o” as she gaped at him. She let out a quiet sound of pain before sagging down into his arms limply. 

Kieran withdrew the knife slowly, feeling every second of the smooth sensation of flesh being parted further by the sharp blade. As soon as the knife had been completely removed, it was as though a fog lifted from his mind, and he stirred from his indifference with the horrifying realization of what he had done.

The knife dropped with a muted thud into soft earth hidden under autumn leaves, and Kieran sank to his knees with Lauren still held against him by one arm. She crumpled, lifeless, her warmth yet to have been stolen by the pallid chill of death despite the stilling of her heart. 

Why? Why had he done that? Kieran thought with nauseating terror. A cry of anguish forced its way out of his chest, and he laid her down on the bed of leaves to press a hand uselessly against a wound that no longer bled. Scattered daisies lay around them, petals beginning to curl slightly as the life remaining in them slowly trickled away.

Without warning or preamble, Kieran found himself opening his eyes as his throat strained with a silent cry of anguish behind closed lips. He shot up out of his bed with the distinctive feeling of awakening from a dream. Heart hammering against his ribcage, he clutched at the shirt over his chest with one hand as his thoughts tried to sort themselves. 

It had only been a dream, he thought with a sigh of relief – until he saw the small bunch of dried daisies hanging from a ribbon on the wall across from him. It had been…real?

As he awakened more fully, a familiar ache of grief overwhelmed his senses, and he wondered for what had to have been the hundredth time how he would possibly get through the day. How could he live with what he had done? He had banished something precious from this world, and he knew that nothing would ever be able to make it right.

~~~

Kieran’s eyes fluttered open in truth, and he sat up slowly in bed. An irrepressible urge caused him to cast his gaze onto the wall across from him, and he exhaled deeply as he noted the absence of the incriminating bundle of dried flowers. 

The dream finally truly over, Kieran pulled the covers back and began to swing his legs off the side of the bed, but he halted as a wave of nausea shivered through him. The sickening weight of the nightmare still clung to him, and he was reeling from the bizarre indifference that had covered him for so much of the dream. It was an echo of how he had lived for years as part of the Phantom Scythe, only to awaken to the horror of what he had done as he had grown closer to Lauren. 

Kieran swallowed hard. The brief part in which he had “awoken” only to find that Lauren was truly gone continued to fill him with a sense of dread even now, the burden of having to live without her somehow even worse than the feeling of her life ebbing away as she collapsed against him. 

Clenching his jaw, Kieran turned his face toward the window, seeing the faintest hint of dawn approaching. He rose and began to prepare for the day, desperate to shake the revolting ilk of guilt coursing through him. 

She was fine, he told himself as he prepared a cup of tea. She was fine. 

He blamed the nightmare on their encounter with Dylan, the event having dredged up a torrent of unease within him. His partnership with Lauren was already precariously hovering on the fringes of mortal danger at all times, and any new variables made Kieran uncharacteristically anxious. 

Standing by at the window, Kieran sipped his tea absently as he stared out at the slowly rising sun. He grimaced as the steaming drink burned the tip of his tongue, and he set his cup smoothly on the kitchen table to cool for a moment. 

He had so many questions, and yet he felt a bizarre reluctance to discover the answers. Crossing his arms, he realized that it was fear preventing him from calling Lauren right that instant to meet and discuss everything that had happened. No matter how much he longed to hear her voice after such a harrowing dream, he dreaded learning how this new development might change the nature of their relationship. 

Leaning against the window frame, Kieran could feel the winter chill radiating off the glass. Would she even continue their partnership? This feeling of profound insecurity was novel, and quite frankly, unenjoyable. 

With a sudden determination, he straightened and snatched up his teacup, barely avoiding sloshing the liquid over the brim of the cup as he strode toward his study. He was interrupted by the shrill ringing of the telephone, and he hovered on the spot as he tried to decide what to do.

There were only two potential sources of the phone call; it was either Lauren, or it was someone from the Phantom Scythe. If the latter, they would find an alternate way to get in touch with him if needed, and if the former…he shook his head. He was not ready to face that conversation. 

Ignoring the phone, he continued toward his study to work on compiling the file on Redcliff. Throughout the course of the day, he ignored the phone two more times, a burning shame crawling up his neck as the tone rang piercingly through the air unanswered. 

Kieran fully understood that it was utterly unfair of him to be avoiding her this way. It couldn’t go on forever; he knew that Lauren must have been burning with questions as well. He also admitted reluctantly that he would never be capable of successfully distancing himself from her at this point, no matter how much his instincts continued to scream at him to keep her as far from him as possible for her own sake. 

Shuffling another row of papers into the manila folder containing the investigation into Redcliff, Kieran moved onto the next batch of scribbled notes and reports to sort them into a reasonable order. His mind continued to meander aimlessly, flitting from memory to memory of Dylan before the boys’ paths diverged.

—

“Listen,” Kieran muttered to the smaller boy under his breath as he lent Dylan a hand to rise from the frigid stone floor. “If you don’t get your act together, they will kill you. And they won’t lose a moment’s sleep over it.” His mind skittered away from the image of the one they had already taken from him, away from the sight of his younger sister Sarah’s lifeless body draped over the cold ground. 

Dylan’s eyes narrowed, wet with the sheen of unshed tears as he glared through the metal bars toward the retreating masked figure. As the door shut behind the man with a resounding clanging of metal, the pair were left alone once more in ringing silence. 

“I won’t do it. I won’t do this.” Dylan’s voice trembled despite his forced bravado as held a hand to his cheek where the Apostle had struck him. Dropping his hand, he brushed himself off, the ragged clothes having done little to shield him from the scraping of the rough flooring after falling. “I don’t want to hurt people.”

Kieran pushed down his own echoing fears, crossing his arms over his chest to hide his own trepidation. “Neither do I, but you at least need to stay quiet. They’re just training us to fight between the other jobs they have for us; it’s not like we actually have to kill anyone right now.”

Dylan shook his head, biting back a hiss as he glanced down at his blistered shoulder. The angry red “X” stood out in livid contrast against his skin. “How are you alright with this?” he asked in disbelief.

Shifting uncomfortably on his bare feet, Kieran hesitated briefly before answering, “I’m not. But they’ve already shown me how ruthless they are.” He crossed and uncrossed his arms once again. “What else can we do? Let them kill us?”

Dylan shrugged uneasily. “Well,” he started, “I haven’t really figured that part out yet.”

Kieran stared at him for a long moment, until both of them huffed out a soft laugh. 

Despite the unthinkable circumstances they found themselves in, at least they weren’t alone, Kieran thought. 

—

Kieran straightened the latest stack of documents by tapping them against the surface of the desk with a sharp clacking sound. 

He had liked Dylan immediately. The relative purity of his heart made the younger boy’s time under the Scythe’s rule even more brutal, but it also gave him an understated strength for which Kieran had admired him. It reminded him of the unsoiled spirit of his little sister Sarah before they had taken her from him. 

Alongside Kieran’s tendency to have filled the role of a protector for each member of their ill-fated group of prisoners, his friendship with his cell-mate Dylan had become something deeper. It was similar to how he imagined growing up with Sarah would have been, had he not ended up holed away in the rat-infested warrens of the Phantom Scythe. 

Kieran could not help but let out a chuckle under his breath. He would say he had seen Dylan as a brother, but Dylan always referred to him as “Mother” as soon as Kieran would speak with a certain tone. 

Staring blankly out the window, Kieran felt a wave of conflicting emotions rising within him. After all, this relationship had led him to his current position as the Purple Hyacinth, but he also now understood that it had led to his partnership with Lauren as well. 

If only he hadn’t befriended the boy…perhaps everything would be different now. 

Chapter Text

Please consider listening to Waiting for the Rain by Kathryn Kaye during this chapter.

Sunday morning dawned slowly, with pale winter sunlight filtering its way through a thin layer of hazy clouds. Lauren leaned against the desk in her study, looking absently through the windows as her thoughts raced. 

The day before had proven to be a tumultuous and winding series of events. Will had called her to let her know they had apprehended Blair, but he had been injured in the process. Will had been as flushed with anger as Lauren had been pallid with exertion when she showed up at the hospital to question their captive, doing her best to hide her discomfort. 

And yet, her interrogation of Blair had allowed them to obtain the information they needed, alerting them to the location of the Devil’s Den. Of course, she had been further devastated when Belladonna Davenport had summarily dispatched him almost immediately after they obtained this bit of information. Her simmering anger at Bella mingled thickly with her trepidation about the raid on Devil’s Den– the raid that should have concluded sometime in the last hour. 

Lauren carefully closed her robe more tightly around her torso and tilted her face toward the silent phone on the desk. She was frustrated that she had yet to hear from Kieran, despite calling him several times the day before, and neither had she been contacted by Will regarding the outcome of the raid. 

As though summoned by the glower of her thoughts, the phone’s ringing suddenly screeched through the air. Startled, Lauren reached eagerly for the handpiece, ignoring the flare of pain in her abdomen from her inadvertently rapid movements. 

“Hello?” she answered quickly, swiping at her eyes to help clear the grit from her sleepless night. 

“Lauren? It’s Will. They’ve finished,” the Lieutenant’s voice crackled over the phone. 

Suppressing a pang of disappointment that the caller was not Kieran, Lauren tightened her grip on the phone. “And?” she prompted after a moment’s pause. 

“Your uncle is fine. They located the arsenal, but the place had been deserted otherwise. It looked like they all abandoned the premises, leaving everything behind.” Will sighed heavily and continued, “Which means…”

“Someone tipped them off,” Lauren finished for him.

“Someone tipped them off,” Will repeated in confirmation. 

Lauren groaned, shifting on her feet. She toyed with the tie on her robe as she considered the information. “Will, what are we going to do about this? Obviously we have a mole.”

Will cleared his throat, frustrated. “I…I don’t know. I simply don’t understand who it could be.”

“It would almost have to be one of the higher-ups. No one else knew about this initiative.”

“Lauren, do you think…Hermann? Or even March?” Will offered tentatively, as though forming the complete sentences would have made the possibility too real. 

Frowning, Lauren shook her head, despite knowing that Will could not see her. “No, no. They can’t be,” she protested, ignoring the small sliver of doubt that tried to worm its way into her thoughts.

“I suppose you’re right,” Will replied with a weary sigh. “Very well, then. You should be resting. Is there any chance I could convince you not to come into the precinct tomorrow?”

“Not a chance,” Lauren denied immediately. “See you tomorrow, Will.”

Replacing the receiver, Lauren looked downward and gently pressed a hand to her bandage, grateful to see that she had not bled through the dressing. She was excruciatingly sore, but it was nothing that she could not endure. 

Gathering her courage, Lauren stepped back out of her study and made her way through the silent house back toward her bedroom to dress for the day. She had time to don a loose-fitting navy blouse and khaki-colored pants before she noticed a file sitting on her vanity near the window to the balcony. 

A crease appeared on her forehead as she strode over to examine it. As she flipped open the cover, she found a note in what she knew to be Kieran’s handwriting.

This is the information I’ve been able to compile regarding our mutual friend. A bit rushed, but it should be sufficient. 

Skimming the contents of the material gathered on Redcliff, Lauren had just enough time to be impressed at the thoroughness of the report before her annoyance took precedence. He had blatantly avoided her. 

With a huff, Lauren stuck the folder in a drawer, determining that she would speak with Uncle Tristan when he returned home later in the afternoon and then call Dakan.

Lauren suddenly felt her chest tighten with a stifling pressure as the weight of the past two days’ events seemed to catch up to her all at once. She began to feel overheated, and she lurched to the window, staring out at the increasingly overcast sky hovering above the empty gardens. 

Overcome with the need to escape somehow, Lauren snatched up her coat and strode as quickly as her wound would allow back into the hallway and then out of the house. 

Upon pushing open the narrow side door that led outside, Lauren inhaled a deep lungful of icy winter air. Small gravel crunched beneath her boots as she meandered through the dormant hedges. She found her usual wooden bench at the far end of the garden, tucked behind a row of taller shrubs that hid her from view. 

The seat chilled her further as she settled down, leaning back against the bench as she took in her surroundings blankly. A large tree with naked branches towered just behind her, the bench nearly resting against the rugged bark. The azalea and rose bushes lining the inner aspect of the shrubs before her lay bare, their foliage slumbering within exposed branches until warmer weather would coax the burst of flowers and leaves out of hiding. 

A shiver rippled through Lauren’s frame, but she merely bit her lip and folded her hands together, tugging down the sleeves of her coat to cover them slightly more effectively. Everything around her seemed lifeless, bereft of purpose as the plants slept through the winter months. 

Lauren felt as empty as the branches around her. She was haunted, agonizing over Blair’s death, the partially-thwarted efforts at the Devil’s Den to capture any Phantoms, Kieran’s avoidance of her, and last but not least, her bewildering mix of emotions about finding Dylan. 

After spending so many years keenly focused on a single goal, Lauren had always believed she would feel vindicated if she ever managed to discover Dylan, but instead she merely felt hollow. She had no idea where to go from here; clearly Dylan had no intention of “escaping” his fate. Why had he never let her know he was alive? What had he been doing all this time?

What was she doing? Her purpose had been to find out what happened to her childhood friend, but with that goal accomplished, Lauren found herself utterly at a loss. As she considered her efforts thus far, it was clear that it had become more than just a quest to discover what had happened to Dylan. The more she had learned throughout this investigation, the more she thirsted for answers. She wanted to bring down the Phantom Scythe, but Kieran had also shown her that neither side was innocent.

And what was Kieran’s role in all of this? Lauren clenched her jaw, frustration rising to suppress the ache in her heart at Kieran’s outright evasion of any form of contact with her. Not only was she dying to get more answers, but, if she was being honest with herself, it was more that she needed someone there who could understand. She wanted her partner.

Several minutes passed, until Lauren was chilled to the bone. As she stared at her clasped hands, she caught sight of tiny flakes of snow beginning to flutter down from the sky. Sighing heavily, she rose and winced slightly. The pain in her side had been subdued to a dull ache while she rested, but the action stirred up the sharp pangs once again. 

She ambled toward the house, angry at herself for wanting to try to call Kieran again. If he wanted to speak to her, he would have by now. 

As a heavy sadness pulled at her, however, Lauren decided that one more try couldn’t hurt.

Monday morning arrived in all of its infamous weariness. Sunlight streamed into the room as Lauren glared down at the report in front of her. She steadfastly ignored the flurry of activity around her as the patrol officers prepared for the day. 

Kym sat atop her desk nearby, uniform disheveled as she swung her feet so that they tapped against the wooden side with each movement. “Hey, Will!” she called, getting the Lieutenant’s attention as he worked silently at his desk. 

Instead of replying, he merely raised a dubious eyebrow in her direction, waiting for her to continue.

Kym’s grin grew with the anticipation of her words. “What did the ocean say to the shore?”

Will’s unamused stare would have bored a hole through Kym’s forehead if given enough time.

“Nothing, it just waved!” Kym answered cheerily, moving her hand in an undulating motion to mimic waves in the ocean. 

Merely sighing, Will raised his pen once more as he returned his attention to his paperwork.

A glass of water wet with condensation rested near her, and Kym took a large sip. “Okay, okay, one more!” Kym insisted. “Why do leopards not play hide and seek?”

“Kym, honestly, we don’t have time for–” Will tried, but was immediately interrupted. 

“Come on, guess!” Kym urged, bracing her hands on the edge of the desk next to her hips.

“Because they’re too busy doing their jobs,” Will guessed, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible. “And stop that, you’re going to spill it all over your reports,” he admonished as Kym leaned back with exasperation, causing the glass of water to teeter precariously. “And need I remind you, that would mean you would have to do them again.”

“Wil-lame , seriously,” Kym complained, shaking her head. “Leopards won’t play hide and seek because they’re always spotted , of course!”

When Will merely rolled his eyes, Kym shifted her focus to Lauren. 

“You like my jokes, don’t you, Laur?” the sergeant asked expectantly, caramel eyes twinkling. 

Lauren’s expression did not differ greatly from William’s, and Kym gave a loud sigh, throwing her hands in the air. “Why does no one appreciate me?”

Her pen scratching across the surface of the paper mindlessly, Lauren worked on her report, ignoring Kym to the best of her ability. 

Kym hopped off the desk, taking her glass of water and sipping it carefully as she paced behind Lauren. “You, too? What did I ever do to you?” Kym asked. She leaned forward and pressed the icy glass against Lauren’s cheek with a mischievous grin. 

Lauren gave a small cry of surprise and dismay at the sudden chill. “Hey! What was that for?” she complained heatedly, shooting a look of vexation toward her friend. She swiped at her face, wiping off the moisture from the condensation. 

Kym drew back with mock surprise. “Well, then! Someone’s irritable,” she chided. 

Lauren stared up at Kym, lips pressed into a thin line as she screamed internally, You would be irritable too if you’d been shot, then sewn up by your best friend who’s been missing for ten years, and now you were relegated to desk duty while your secret “boyfriend’ (a term that is increasingly less ironic) avoided you with the all skill of a trained assassin.

That was what Lauren wanted to say. Instead, she forced out an apology. “I’m sorry, Kym. I haven’t slept much.”

Kym quirked an eyebrow, perceiving that there was more to Lauren’s reticence than a mere lack of sleep. Glancing around the room, she knew that her interrogation would have to wait until there were fewer people surrounding them. 

“Fine, then. You’re forgiven. Your only punishment is that you have to let me tell you one more joke.” Kym set her water glass down and pushed a cup of utensils to the side so that she could perch on the edge of Lauren’s desk. “Why are elevator jokes the best?”

Lauren leaned back, taking a deep breath as an indulgent smile began to tug at the corner of her lips despite herself. “I don’t know, Kym. Why?”

“Because they work on a number of levels!” Kym cried, briefly drawing the gazes of several of the patrol officers. 

Will glanced up at the clock. “Thank goodness,” he muttered under his breath. Standing, he called the officers to attention. “Time to head out, everyone.”

“Except you,” he reminded Lauren unnecessarily, sensing her inner fuming. 

“I’m assuming you’ll fill me in on why you’re staying behind later, then?” Kym asked Lauren in a low voice, a flicker of concern creasing her brow. 

Lauren nodded shortly, not wanting to draw any attention to their conversation. 

After the officers had filtered out of the room, Lauren was left with only Lila and two or three other officers not scheduled for the morning patrol. The clock ticked on for what seemed like hours before Lauren glanced up and realized it had only been about fifteen minutes. 

Kieran should be in the archives, she thought with sudden resolve. Surely he would not be able to evade her so easily here in the precinct. 

Rising, Lauren hid a grimace at the tug on her sutures and made her way across the room. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said lightly in response to Lila’s curious gaze. 

Her eyes flashed up and down the hallway before she surreptitiously punched in the code on the door to the archives and swung it open. 

Kieran was replacing a large binder onto one of the front shelving units when she entered, and he turned to look at the door with a carefully bland expression before realizing it was her. His features flickered through relief with a hint of excitement before transitioning to barely stifled apprehension. 

“Oh, good. I thought you must have fallen off a rooftop this weekend when you wouldn’t answer my calls,” she deadpanned, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Kieran cleared his throat, choosing not to answer her unasked inquiry. “I heard about what happened with Blair. I barely had time to be proud of you before learning that the hospital was on lockdown due to said killer’s murder by a nurse gone rogue.”

Lauren leveled him with a flat stare, knowing that he was blatantly putting her off. Shaking her head, she pulled out the chair at Kieran’s usual desk and took a seat. “It was Belladonna. Of course it’d be her, finishing the Messenger’s job.” With a small groan, she tilted her head back and stared at the plaster ceiling. 

Bathed in sunlight, Kieran leaned against the shelves rather than drawing nearer to her. “Blair’s hours were counted from the moment the Messenger set foot in his home. Someone must’ve figured out that he was suspected.”

Lauren raised her head, appearing backlit by the windows behind her. “But how?! How could they know so quickly? Do you think it was because…”

Cocking his head to the side, Kieran quickly caught on to her line of thinking. “Of your little tête-à-tête with Jolley? Probably not. From what you told me of your conversation, your line of questioning would have appeared essentially unrelated. He didn’t let you get far enough to implicate anyone.”

Lauren dropped her gaze to the wooden surface of the desk, thoughts swirling. “I dropped off your file with Dakan last night, by the way.”

Kieran merely nodded in acknowledgement, crossing his arms as he studied her form wordlessly. 

“You could have given it to me in person, you know,” she said bluntly, raising her eyes to his once more. 

She saw a muscle at his temple twitch as he clenched and unclenched his teeth, but no other change came across his features. 

“It was good work,” Lauren continued, determined to draw something out of him; a bit of flattery would never hurt. “And in record time.” 

Kieran uncrossed his arms and came closer, bracing his hands on the desk to lean down toward her. “And despite your recklessness – I am sure I don’t need to tell you how foolish it was to go to the hospital to see Blair in your condition – you discovered the Phantom Scythe’s secret hideout entirely on your own. You should be proud of yourself.”

Thawing slightly, a hint of a smile appeared on Lauren’s face. The sunbeams lit his features, and she searched his eyes for a long moment. “Kieran?” she began tentatively. “We still need to talk about— about what happened.”

A shadow crossed Kieran’s expression, and he straightened, the small action putting distance between them that seemed to gape like an open wound. 

“If you’re not going to talk to me about it, then I’ll go ask him,” Lauren announced firmly, rising from Kieran’s chair.

At this, Kieran whipped back toward her. “No, you won’t. Lauren, you cannot go back there.”

“Watch me,” she shot back, boots tapping loudly across the wooden floor as she strode toward the door. 

Kieran caught her by the wrist, and her head snapped toward him. Her eyes flashed as they darted to his grip on her. 

“Lauren, please,” Kieran murmured, sliding his fingers away from her. “You already have a giant target on your back. This is foolish. Just– just give me some time to figure something else out.”

Regret passed over her features for an instant. “I’m sorry,” she answered quietly as she turned and slipped out the door. 

Please consider listening to Afterglow by Dirk Maassen during the rest of this chapter.

The last fading rays of the sun cast long shadows across the pavement as Kieran waited outside the precinct at the end of the workday. With a heavy sigh, he tucked his glasses away in his shirt pocket and ran a hand through his hair, disrupting its former tidiness. 

He suspected Lauren must be finishing up her paperwork, because he had waited there for her for about fifteen minutes already. Kieran knew without a doubt that Lauren would be making a beeline for the clinic, and he was determined that it would be over his dead body that she went by herself. 

Swallowing, Kieran leaned against the rough brick of the building next to him. He knew he could prevent this entire endeavor with a few simple words. All he would have to do is tell her that he would give her the details she wanted himself. Of course, part of her would still want to see her friend, naturally, but the urgency and near desperate desire for answers could be satisfied to a large degree by his own knowledge of the situation. 

So why was he hesitating?

Kieran rubbed the scar on his shoulder absentmindedly. He could admit to himself that part of it was the fact that discussing Dylan would inevitably lead to a conversation he did not want to have: the means of their separation and how the two had ended up on such diverging paths despite both being mired deeply within the Phantom Scythe. He did not want to dredge up the conflicting emotions of shame, frustration, and hopelessness he had felt at the time as he faced an impossible choice. 

As he spied Lauren pushing open the oversized door down the street, Kieran was less willing to admit the fact that another part of his reluctance was an odd form of jealousy. Of course his newly acknowledged feelings for Lauren were clouding his mind as he considered their extensive history together, but it was more so regarding the fact that Dylan had someone from his former life who was willing to forfeit everything to find him. 

What would it have been to have had a love like that? 

Lauren stopped short when she caught sight of him, features flitting through irritation, resignation, and then fond exasperation as she shook her head at him and smiled despite herself. 

Kieran felt his heart lift immediately. Perhaps it would have felt a bit like this, he thought. 

“What? You thought I wouldn’t know exactly what you were planning tonight?” he asked with a cheeky grin as she resumed her approach. 

She had changed into street clothes, a camel-colored coat over her black shirt and pants. She tipped up her chin, staring forward instead of meeting his gaze as she slipped her arm through his. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh,” Kieran scoffed, pulling her closer with a sudden need to simply have her nearer to him. “I’m coming with you, obviously.”

Sighing heavily, Lauren knew that arguing with him would be futile. The street lamps in front of her blinked on as the light faded, and she used her free hand to draw her coat more tightly around her. 

“I don’t need you to babysit me,” she complained, still inadvertently avoiding eye contact, but secretly relieved at having him close once again. 

“Do you even know if he’ll be there tonight? What are you going to do, waltz in the front door? What if it’s a building full of Phantoms?” Kieran asked pointedly, grip instinctively tightening on her arm.

Lauren clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes in a weak dismissal of his words. She had considered all of the same questions, and to her chagrin, she had not come around to a solution for most of them prior to seeing Kieran waiting for her. 

Kieran wisely chose to change the subject. “How are you feeling?” he murmured, focusing on navigating the busy sidewalk before them. The smell of Italian food wafted out of a small restaurant as he nudged her over to avoid the outdoor seating area. 

She responded to his guidance unconsciously, and he felt her shrug next to him. “It’s not as bad as the last time I was shot?” she remarked, the words turning into a teasing question by the end of her sentence. 

Kieran’s laugh was nearly a snort. “Well, I suppose that’s something, then.”

They lapsed into silence as they made the trek toward the Scythe clinic, both consumed with their inner musings. When they finally reached the unassuming building across the city, Kieran motioned for Lauren to stay hidden in a side alley while he assessed the situation. 

The sun had fully set by now, leaving Kieran blanketed in darkness as the frozen night settled around them. As before, the clinic appeared dormant except for a small light emanating from a window on the back side of the building. He pushed the door open, noting that it was unlocked. Someone must still be inside.

Kieran chuckled grimly under his breath about the dramatic method of entry the last time he had arrived at the clinic, choosing stealth this time. He listened sharply for voices or any other sounds. When he determined that there was nothing except the quiet sounds of shuffling papers from an office down the hallway, he crept down the utilitarian pathway towards the warm glow of light coming from an open door.

Kieran caught sight of a silver-haired figure seated at a desk with his back to the door, scribbling in an open chart. His white coat lay draped across the back of his chair, the room overly warm, and a shining name tag reading “Dr. Yew” was visible pinned to the front of the coat. Before Kieran had a chance to say anything, Dylan peered over his shoulder casually. 

Upon seeing the identity of his visitor, Dylan’s features relaxed. His left hand, which had previously been hidden, slid a knife back into the top desk drawer. 

“What are you doing skulking around here?” Dylan asked with a grin, turning halfway toward Kieran. 

Kieran’s lips quirked up at the corners for an instant before his practiced neutral expression returned. “I think you know why I’m here, Rosy.”

Dylan’s shoulders rose in a sigh, and he set his pen down in the crease of the patient’s chart. Standing, he turned toward Kieran and leaned on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms. “You’re in love with her,” he remarked bluntly. It was not a question. 

Hiding his surprise at the abrupt introduction to the conversation, Kieran squirmed inwardly. Ultimately, he decided to ignore the statement completely. “You could have told me you recognized her.”

“You were already jumping out of your skin at every tiny move,” Dylan countered. “Besides, I didn’t think she’d wake up in time to see me.” He rolled his eyes, seemingly at himself. “It would have been better if she hadn’t.”

Kieran shifted on his feet. “I’m assuming you haven’t told anyone about what happened.”

“Of course not,” Dylan answered, giving his head a small shake. 

Still hovering at the doorway, Kieran closed his eyes briefly. His mask of composure slipped into one hinting at a plea. “I need to know that we can trust you. That she can trust you.”

Dylan shifted against the edge of the desk slightly. “Have I given you a reason not to trust me?”

“You’re part of the Scythe and you’re still alive,” Kieran answered flatly. “That alone is enough to make me at least ask.”

Shaking his head more fully now, Dylan uncrossed his arms to slide his hands into his pants pockets. “You know just how much I owe you, White. I’m not the reason for the distance here,” he said, gesturing between them. 

Kieran bit back a flinch at the reminder of their abrupt parting so long ago now. “She’s outside,” he said in resignation. “She wants to talk to you.”

Dylan’s eyebrows rose in surprise, hands coming out of his pockets as though to ready himself for some kind of action. “You let her come here?”

“I’m fairly certain no one can stop Lauren Sinclair from doing exactly what she wants to do, exactly when she wants to do it,” Kieran answered dryly. 

Chuckling despite himself, Dylan groaned in acknowledgement. “Fair enough. What have you told her about…?” he trailed off.

“Nothing,” Kieran said a bit too quickly. Regathering his calm, he reiterated, “I didn’t tell her anything about you. It’s up to you to decide how much you want her to know.” Kieran eyed him seriously for a moment, and Dylan waited for him to continue. “I would advise you to be cautious.”

“Obviously,” Dylan shot back. “I wish she had never found me at all.”

Kieran searched his features, sensing at once that the words were false. “She’s the girl, isn’t she? The friend you would talk about? You would never tell me her name.”

Dylan’s mouth twisted and he jerked his head in a semblance of a nod. 

The admission struck a pang in Kieran’s chest that was unexpected. Heaving another sigh, Kieran retreated back through the doorway. “I need to go before she barges in wondering what happened to me.”

“Wait!” Dylan called, reaching out to him before dropping his hand back to his side. “I’ve always wondered why you did it,” he said slowly. “You weren’t speaking to me afterwards, and I never had the guts to ask, but…” he trailed off for a moment, mouth slightly open to indicate he wasn’t finished speaking. “Why did you help me? Even after I…”

Kieran studied him and shrugged noncommittally. “If only one of us could make it out of this hell, I wanted it to be you, Rosy.” He turned without another word and pushed through the door, effectively ending the conversation. 

Upon reaching Lauren back in the alley, Kieran explained that they were in luck; Dylan was there and alone. 

“What took you so long?” Lauren asked immediately, folding her arms over her midsection. “Placing a gag order?” Normally such words would have been in jest, but there was a bite to them that Kieran knew was thanks to his recent avoidance of her. 

“I told him that it was up to him to decide what to tell you,” Kieran replied, surprising Lauren with his honesty. “Anyway, you’d better go ahead. I saw no sign of any watching eyes.”

Lauren turned and took a step forward before halting abruptly, worry suddenly marring her expression. She glanced toward Kieran, who could not help but drop his uncertain standoffishness and pull her toward him in a hug. She shook in his arms, nervous adrenaline flooding her veins. 

He wasn’t sure if it was more for her comfort or his as he gently cradled the back of her head, holding her against him. He savored her warmth, filled with an inexplicable longing to have her ever closer, to never let her leave his arms. At length he drew back, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of her head.

“Go on,” he urged. “He’s waiting on you.”

Lauren stepped back and began making her way to the clinic, but she paused halfway there, glancing back over her shoulder at him as though seeking reassurance. 

Kieran grinned and made a “shooing” motion with his hand until she smiled in return. She continued on until she had disappeared into the darkness, out of Kieran’s sight. 

His forced smile faded as he settled in to wait, and Kieran was struck with the thought that the night suddenly seemed to have grown much colder.

Chapter Text

Please consider listening to Waltz in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 64, No. 2 as played by Chad Lawson during this chapter.

Lauren fidgeted with one of the large buttons on her coat as she stood outside the door to the clinic. She could see her breath in front of her, but the thudding of her heart against her ribcage intervened before she had the chance to acknowledge the surrounding cold. 

Inhaling a deep breath, she pushed open the door, blinking as she left the darkness to enter the brightly lit break room. Dylan spun around from his position at one of the off-white countertops of the small kitchenette, and she saw him visibly swallow.

At least I’m not the only nervous one here, she thought as a strangled laugh climbed up her throat. 

“Hey,” she finally said after they each stood staring at each other, Lauren with the door still half open and Dylan still hovering against the barren countertop with his hand reaching halfway toward a coffee pot. 

With a small laugh, Dylan shook himself and turned to her. “Hey,” he answered as Lauren swiveled to shut the door behind her. The action took the harsh chill with it, leaving them bathed in the warmer air of the clinic. 

“Coffee? I mean, do you– do you drink coffee?” Dylan was struck by the fact that the girl he had once been so close to was now a woman he knew essentially nothing about. He didn’t know what she liked to drink or what her favorite restaurant was; he didn’t know what she was like at work or who she saw as her best friend. He realized with a pang of dismay that he did not know her at all.

Unaware of his thoughts, Lauren nodded and stepped toward the small round table tucked in the corner. She had not had the presence of mind to take in much about her surroundings the last time she was in this room, and now she noted that the table was off-white like the countertops and had matching wooden chairs. The room had the sterile appearance of a workspace common area, complete with occasional dents and scratches adorning the furniture and the tile floors. 

“Sure. Black, please,” she answered, unsure if he saw her nod. She pulled a chair out and slipped her coat off, draping it over the seatback. 

Before she had opened the door, Lauren had wanted nothing more than to immediately interrogate Dylan about every detail of the last ten years, desperate for answers. However, now that he was there in front of her pouring her a cup of coffee into a dark blue mug, she suddenly felt her mouth grow dry as all of her questions were driven from her mind. 

The drawer Dylan was attempting to open was stuck in place, and he pulled on it with a sharp jerk. The rattling of the silverware filled the air, and Dylan glanced over at her with a sheepish grin. Spoon finally retrieved, he added a dash of sugar into his own cup and gently set Lauren’s coffee in front of her. 

She stared at the velvety surface of the sloshing liquid rather than observing him as he took his seat. The scent of coffee wafted up from the cup, overshadowing the clinical smell of medical-grade cleaning products that otherwise dominated the building. 

The tension was thick in the air, the only sound that of a generic black and white clock ticking away the minutes on the wall above them. Lauren finally looked up to see Dylan soaking in her features like a man dying of thirst. 

Hastily striving to banish the strain of their encounter, Lauren gestured toward him. “You kept your promise, it would seem,” she commented. 

At his quizzical look, she elaborated, “Became a doctor, I mean.”

“Oh!” Dylan answered, a bit too loudly. “Yes. Not quite the way I had intended to go about it,” he muttered, carefully taking a small sip of the too-hot coffee to avoid her eye. “But I did make it here eventually.”

Lauren closed her hands around her cup, seeking to leach the warmth into her frozen fingers. For a long moment, she gathered her courage and simply studied him. As she had noticed upon first seeing him, much of his appearance was the same as the childhood friend she had known except for the natural changes brought about by maturity. As she looked more closely, however, there was a hardness to his features now, a sardonic twist of his mouth as he refused to meet her eyes. The smiling boy she once knew was hidden from her.

“And you– I see you managed to become a cop like you wanted,” Dylan remarked, breaking the silence with a small smile. 

A laugh driven by nothing but pure nerves escaped Lauren’s chest. “I did. Somewhat more traditionally than your path,” she answered, a hint of dryness creeping into her voice. 

“How is your wound holding up?” he asked suddenly, as though remembering the circumstances in which he had first seen her.

The question brought back Lauren’s awareness of the dull ache in her side. “It’s fine.” She took a sip of coffee before adding belatedly, “Thank you, by the way.”

Dylan paused, finally meeting her eyes fully. “...You’re welcome, Ren.”

The nickname seemed to thaw the air between them, and instead of noticing all of the differences she could see in her childhood friend, Lauren found herself now able to discern some of the similarities. She instinctively recognized the way he sat on the edge of his chair, as though he would need to spring up at any moment, and the way he folded his fingers together with his thumbs pointing up like a steeple. Now that she was searching for them, Lauren could see dozens of traces of the boy she once knew.

“How is William? Do you still see him?” Dylan asked curiously. “I catch a newspaper every now and then, but I spend most of my time hidden away in the Underworld.”

That explained some things, Lauren thought. She had wondered how he had remained undetected all this time. “Yes. He’s the lieutenant for my precinct, in fact. The eleventh,” she clarified. “We’re still quite close.” She smiled somewhat sentimentally. “He’s much the same as he was when we were children, just even more of a perfectionist.”

Dylan laughed genuinely at this, his head tilting back as he imagined their mutual friend as an adult. This opened a vein of conversation that flowed easily as Lauren shared about Will’s encounters with Kym, introducing Dylan to Kym’s chaotic and lively personality through various stories. She filled Dylan in on her uncle and Dakan as well, but generally the conversation stayed light until the last dregs of their coffee were gone. 

Their laughter and smiles slowly faded as they lapsed back into silence. Dylan leaned back in his chair, legs extended in front of him as he relaxed. Lauren, on the other hand, rested her elbows on the table, hunched forward over her empty coffee cup. 

When at last Lauren could stand it no longer, she finally grew serious. In response, Dylan’s own features immediately became guarded under the harsh bright light of the room.

“Dylan, please. I need to know something. What happened that day at the train station? All I found was your hat,” she explained softly. 

Dylan cleared his throat, resignation clear on his face as he straightened in his chair. “I had almost made it back to the train station when they took me away in a car.” He hesitated, meeting her eyes sympathetically. “Ren, the driver…”

Lauren simply nodded, knowing what he was about to say. “Sandman. I know.”

A grim silence reigned for a moment before Lauren pressed on. “But still, what about after that? How could you not let me know you were alive during all this time?”

Dylan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but Lauren could see that he was fighting to keep a neutral expression on his face. “Lauren, why are you working with the Purple Hyacinth?”

Lauren blinked at him, surprised by the turn in the conversation. “Well, I— because of—“ she couldn’t seem to finish, not wanting to admit the obvious truth in front of them.

Dylan gave her a knowing look. “I was afraid of that. That’s one reason I never reached out.” He shook his head, leaning forward and clasping his hands in his lap to stare down at them. “I assumed my father had died in the explosion, and I didn’t want you to come looking for me, Ren. The last thing I wanted was for you to get wrapped up in the same nightmare I was in. I wanted– I wanted you to move on and live a happy life. You would have become a target immediately if I’d reached out to you in any way.”

Lauren’s mouth flattened into a thin line as she shook her head in denial. She hated that there was no lie in his words, but she hated even more how he had pegged her perfectly. If she had known he was alive, she might have been even more relentless. 

Instead of acknowledging this truth, she pressed on, growing more heated. “How, Dylan? How could I possibly move on without any answers?” 

Dylan’s face grew hard and he stood, pacing around the room once. “Lauren,” he began, and she noticed that it was not Ren, but Lauren this time.  

“What are you doing with Kieran White?” Dylan asked again more firmly. 

Lauren clenched her jaw. “We…have a mutual goal.”

“And what is that?” Dylan shot back immediately. 

Lauren took a deep breath, steadying herself as she fought to push down her ire. “Taking down the Leader.”

Dylan’s eyes closed as he hung his head slightly before he covered his face with one hand. “And is that your aim even still?” he asked without raising his head.

Lauren toyed with the hem of her black shirt, truly considering the question. “Yes. We’ve come too far, and now…” she trailed off, considering how much closer they were to discovering real answers about the inner workings of the Phantom Scythe. 

She stood and approached him. Touching him for the first time that night, she gripped both his arms with her hands, urging him to listen to her. His bare skin was hot under her palms, and she pushed down the uncomfortably electric feeling that her uncalculated action produced. “Dyl, there’s so much I need to tell you. About my parents, about the Royals—”

Dylan shook his head, backing away from her until he bumped lightly against the edge of the countertop. “I…don’t think that’s a good idea. The less I know the better, honestly. Possessing information in the Phantom Scythe is dangerous — for both of us.” 

Lauren dropped her hands and swallowed. The urge to share everything with the one who had been her best friend was nearly overwhelming. Even though she heard the sense in his words, she still yearned to restore their relationship to the same closeness it had exhibited before everything fell apart. 

She suddenly realized that nearly everything Dylan had said that night had been a question. It was little wonder she hadn’t heard any lies yet. “How do you know Kieran?” she inquired, changing the subject.

Dylan let out a slightly nervous chuckle. “Everyone knows the Purple Hyacinth.”

Lauren recognized the answer for the evasion it was. “Funny, since no one outside the Phantom Scythe seems to have any clue who he is,” she commented. “It seems like more than passing knowledge, Dylan,” she continued doggedly.

He hopped up to sit on the edge of the counter, keeping his distance from her. “We were taken in at the same time.”

Lauren’s mind flashed with horror as she recalled the wealth of scars she had seen on Kieran’s flesh, and a fresh concern washed over her about Dylan. “What did they do to you?” she asked softly in trepidation as she looked up at him. 

Dylan flashed a smile that was more akin to a wince. “They trained me to fight for a while. Eventually I was transferred to the medical side of the operation.”

Lauren knew that obviously there was much more to the story that he was not telling. Dylan knew her too well to lie overtly, but that meant he also knew she could not hear lies of omission. There was also an odd tinge of what seemed to be akin to shame in his voice as he spoke. 

“Why aren’t you asking your ‘partner’ about all this?” Dylan ventured cautiously. He was well aware that she saw through his evasive partial answers. 

Lauren flinched. “He’s…disinclined to speak on the subject.”

Dylan nodded as equal parts relief and discomfort flitted across his features. “I see,” he said succinctly. 

He braced his arms against the surface of the counter and lifted himself down. Crossing the small room, he reached for their coffee cups. As he did so, his shirt sleeve rose so that Lauren saw the flash of a lurid scar on his upper arm at the shoulder. It appeared to be some type of “X.”

As Dylan washed their cups in the sink, his back facing her, Lauren considered the gnarled scar on Kieran’s shoulder in the same area. 

“I gave this one to myself,” Kieran had said that night in the cave. “I refused to wear the mark one of them put on me.”

Lauren had no way of knowing if Kieran’s scar had once matched Dylan’s, but she could not help but wonder. 

Before Lauren could broach the subject, a soft knock sounded at the door before it was edged open. Lauren had just enough time for her heart to leap into her throat at being discovered before catching sight of familiar blue eyes scanning the room automatically.

Kieran glanced at both of them in turn before he entered fully and shut the door behind him with a heavy click. 

With a nod toward Dylan, Kieran then focused on Lauren. “If we stay any longer, at least one of us is going to draw unwanted attention,” he said by way of explanation for his entrance.

Lauren’s eyes snapped to the clock, and she was taken aback to notice that it had already been over an hour and a half. What had Kieran been doing this whole time? She had just left him there to wait on her…  

Returning her gaze to Kieran’s features, Lauren felt a pang of guilt as she considered how cold it was outside that night. Of course, he showed no sign of discomfort, though he could not hide the color in his cheeks from the brisk weather. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” she said quickly, realizing she had waited too long to reply. She collected her coat from the back of her chair and slipped it on, avoiding eye contact with both men. 

“He is right. We can’t be seen together, Ren,” Dylan said heavily, leaning against the countertop. "Ever.”

Strands of crimson obscured her features, and Lauren pushed her hair back from her face as she gathered her courage. Before she could speak, however, Kieran broke back into the conversation.

“Why, could it be? Is the great Dr. Yew agreeing with lowly old me?” Kieran teased, but his grin faltered just short of reaching his eyes. 

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day, White,” Dylan answered wryly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Besides, I owe you at least one victory.” 

Kieran huffed out a laugh as he shook his head. “‘At least one,’ he says.”

Lauren frowned slightly. Dylan’s tone was meant to be lighthearted, but there was a weight there in his last words that perplexed her. It would likely have avoided her notice if not for the cryptic answers she had received from both Kieran and Dylan regarding the nature of their acquaintance. 

She pushed the information to the back of her mind to be examined later. Lauren wanted to tell them both that she was far from being finished dragging answers out of Dylan, but she knew neither of them would accept that as a response. 

“Fine,” she said curtly instead, buttoning her coat as she strode toward the door. She hovered near Kieran, close enough to feel his warmth, before looking back at Dylan. 

There was a moment in which neither of them were sure of what to do. Part of her wanted to embrace Dylan, as this could still be the last time she saw him. Dylan, too, appeared to be wavering on the spot, but they no longer had the buzz of shock and adrenaline to drive them past the personal boundaries imposed by their years of estrangement.

Swallowing hard, Lauren’s eyes flickered to Kieran’s instead as he watched her closely, expression once again inscrutable. Avoiding Dylan’s eyes, she reached behind him to open the door and walked outside without another word as Kieran silently followed her out into the darkness.

The pair made their way surreptitiously down the street without speaking, and the weight of the evening felt heavy around them both. The clouds had drifted away while Lauren was inside the clinic, releasing the moon from their hazy mantle to light the night sky above the street lights. 

After walking for a few minutes together through the quiet streets, Kieran heard Lauren’s stomach growl audibly, and could not help but chuckle at the sound. “I know you’re frustrated, but you don’t have to growl at me,” he teased, elbowing her lightly in the side. 

Lauren flushed, pressing a hand against her stomach. “Well, we never ate dinner, after all.”

The hushed tension broken, Kieran took her hand and softly intertwined their fingers. “We could remedy that, if you wished,” he remarked, striving but failing to keep the plea out of his voice. He simply wanted more time with her; the only thing more difficult than knowing he was putting her in danger every moment he stood next to her, was knowing that he left her utterly alone with that danger as soon as he stepped away. 

Lauren’s gaze flickered up toward him, and she jerked her head in a nod, not trusting herself to speak. Tightening her grip on his hand, they quickly agreed to head toward one of their typical haunts. 

The small cafe was a few blocks away from the APD’s 11th Precinct, tucked away on a neglected side street. It was usually busy enough to avoid notice but not over-crowded, and Lauren loved the secluded feel of the place with its adornments of muted reds and golden yellows.

Kieran opened the door for her, relaxing unconsciously as the warmth from inside washed over them both. They made their way through the maze of tables with scattered patrons toward the back of the establishment to their typical seats near the back corner. 

Removing her coat, Lauren slid the short arrangement of faux forget-me-nots across the table toward the wall, clearing the surface between them as she usually did. As Kieran took his seat, however, she hovered for a moment before excusing herself to disappear to the restroom on the opposite side of the cafe. 

By the time she returned, the waiter had arrived with hot tea for Kieran and a steaming cup of coffee for Lauren. 

Kieran gestured to her mug. “It’s still fairly early, and I assumed you’d prefer to stay up obsessing for half the night,” he explained wryly. 

Lauren lifted the cup to him in a mock toast before taking a careful sip. “You assumed correctly,” she answered with a weary laugh. “And what am I eating tonight, then, if you already ordered?”

Kieran turned his teacup on the saucer, bringing the handle to face him with a light scrape of ceramic on ceramic as he peered at it absently. “Your usual sandwich, unless you’d like me to tell them differently.” 

Lauren cringed slightly at the sound of the cup grating on the saucer, but shook her head. “No, that’s right,” she replied, vaguely comforted by the familiarity they had so quickly developed with one another.

While they waited on their meals to arrive, Lauren toyed with one of the petals on the silk forget-me-nots. Neither of them seemed keen on opening the conversation, so Lauren’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise when Kieran suddenly spoke up.

“He’s the reason I decided to call myself the Purple Hyacinth,” Kieran murmured, knowing that they were too far from any other patrons to be overhead. 

Her fingers froze on the edge of the petal, and Lauren felt a soft flush of blended emotions in her chest. “What?”

Lifting his gaze to hers, Kieran eyed her for a moment, but was prevented from speaking further as the waiter brought their plates. 

“Enjoy!” the young man said pleasantly as he spun back toward the kitchen to complete his next task.

Neither of them touched their food, however, until Kieran had spoken again. “He used to recite things before he went to sleep. He said it helped him clear his thoughts.”

Dropping his eyes to his plate, Kieran picked up his own sandwich and took a bite. Chewing for a moment, he tipped his head toward Lauren’s plate, urging her to eat. 

“Eat, or I’m not telling you anything else,” he said, and his tone was so serious that Lauren would have believed him had she not possessed her unique ability. 

She took a bite with a scowl and swallowed quickly. “Well?” she prompted as he hesitated further. 

Kieran sighed, tapping his fingertip on the table as he considered his words with care. “He would recite flower names and their meanings over and over. His words would get quieter and quieter until they were nothing but a mumble before he finally fell asleep.” A faraway look appeared in his eyes as he wandered further into the memory. “I listened to that every night for almost three years.”

As he fell silent, Kieran seemed to come back to the present and gave his attention to the food in front of him once again. 

Almost three years? She had been right when she suspected they had known once each other as more than a mere passing acquaintance. There was much she could infer about the brief words he had spoken. She continued staring at him for a long moment as a memory of her own resurfaced. 

“Hyacinths are much more interesting! They have multiple meanings, depending on the color.” Rays of sunlight cast wide beams across young Dylan’s face against the backdrop of the Allendale Train Station. “Do you know what the purple hyacinths mean?” Dylan asked eagerly.

Lauren frowned, reaching forward to take a sip of coffee as some excuse for motion. Dylan never had the chance to tell her the answer, but she had looked it up later. 

Regret. A plea for forgiveness. 

She wanted to say that she understood, that she wished she could take away his guilt. As Lauren stared at the trembling surface of her coffee, however, she knew her words would be useless when she couldn’t even free herself from those same chains. 

Instead, she answered, “That sounds like Dylan.”

Kieran let out a quiet huff of agreement, barely audible over the low hum of activity in the cafe. Lauren waited silently, hoping that he would go on, but Kieran spoke no more on the subject even as they finished their meals. 

The conversation quietly shifted to lighter topics as Kieran walked her home, another unspoken agreement between them. 

As they neared their destination, Kieran softly pressed his free hand on top of hers where it rested at his elbow. “I know my reluctance to talk about him must be maddening, especially knowing now that I’ve spent so much time with him in the past. But, thank you…” he said slowly, “for the patience you’re granting me for the moment.”

Tucked against a corner of the house, obscured from view, Lauren halted and turned to face him. She slid her arm out of his grasp and studied him carefully. 

Shaking her head, Lauren grasped both his hands in hers. They were cold from the brisk night air, but he seemed as unfazed as always. “You must know that everything in me wants to scream at you right now, right?” she said dryly. “But,” she continued in a softer tone, “then I see the pain play out on your face, and I can’t bring myself to say anything.”

Her unexpected sincerity was spilling out onto her features, and Kieran felt as though she had cut through him to the heart. “And once again, you manage to see right through me,” he muttered, eyes closing for a moment. He squeezed her hands and sighed heavily. 

Kieran tugged her toward him and pressed his forehead against hers. “Soon,” he whispered. “I- I promise.” His mind raced over what they could have spoken about, torn between wanting to avoid speaking of Dylan altogether and yet dying to know the contents of their conversation anyway. 

He slid his arms around her, obeying her silent urging for a tighter embrace as she slipped her arms around him beneath his coat. “You don’t have to go to him for all the answers now,” he murmured into her hair. “Please– if something happens to you, I–” he tried to say, but the rest of the words caught in his throat as fear nearly choked him.

Kieran drew back just enough to see the moonlight glinting off her eyes as she lifted her face toward him. Softly at first, he pressed a kiss to her lips. The bittersweetness filled them both, coaxing Lauren to deepen the kiss as she tried to assuage his worry. Kieran’s hand trailed up to cradle the back of her head, silently compelling her to remain there as he drew strength from her closeness. 

Heeding his unspoken request, Lauren buried her hands in the fabric of his shirt and held him even more tightly. She pressed herself flush against him, and the flood of emotions from the evening’s preceding events rushed over her as she brought her lips to his again in an almost desperate effort to make sense of it all. She had no idea what to think, what to feel, except that she wanted to wipe the look of fear off Kieran’s face for good. 

Their breaths clouded around them in the frozen air when they finally parted enough for Kieran to press his lips against her temple. He knew what she was doing, and he knew that no effort on her part could remove the daunting worry that hung over him even still. Her sweetness only made him yearn for her more, never able to slake his thirst for her as it fed the fever of unease even further. 

Kieran could not help but consider the possibility of betrayal– not from Lauren, but from Dylan. The depth of his own attachment to Lauren and the way he had been toyed with so many times during his time with Phantom Scythe meant that even Kieran’s past history with Dylan could not be wholeheartedly relied upon. He had once cherished the way his friend had clung to the light despite the utter darkness they found themselves in, but how could he trust this person he no longer truly knew?

The “what-if” questions haunted him with staggering precision, even as he held Lauren there in his arms. What if the wrong watching eyes had seen her and Dylan together?  

There was no guarantee that Dylan would not make the difficult choice to protect his own life from the Scythe if his hand was forced. He had never had the stomach for hard decisions, something that had become all too clear as he and Kieran found their separate paths. 

Dylan’s peaceful nature and innate ability to set others at ease gave him a unique role within an organization like the Phantom Scythe. However, he was a wavering dichotomy of possessing a strong sense of justice while still embodying the humming undercurrent of self-servingness. His desire to serve as a peacemaker meant he would avoid conflict even when it was necessary or even helpful, no matter the means by which he had to accomplish that feat. This very contradiction summed up the most admirable and the most frustrating parts of Kieran’s feelings about his old friend.

Kieran slowly drew back and released Lauren from his grasp. She leaned forward again, pressing one hand to his cheek as she left a lingering kiss on the other. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said quietly.

Kieran felt as though his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth, and so he only nodded at her. As he watched her continue on into the house, he was once again stricken with apprehension that their one-time friend might bring about their downfall in some way. Dylan was smart; the reason he was still alive was because he played the loyal dog, just as Kieran did. 

If the Phantom Scythe forced Dylan to choose between their safety or his own life, he could be skilled enough to delude them both to the very end. Kieran hoped he was not inadvertently forming Dylan into an enemy by association. Even if it was an unlikely outcome, the idea of him as their foe left him stricken with dread. He was more than capable of being their undoing. 

And nothing was more terrifying than an enemy you admired.

Chapter Text

The pale sunlight tumbled lazily across Lauren’s desk, warming the color of the wood to a burnished mahogany brown. Already dressed for work, Lauren lurched forward in her chair and tapped her pen fruitlessly against a blank piece of paper. 

She had decided that a letter was the best way to convince Kieran to allow her to have more contact with Dylan. As Lauren perched on the edge of the chair with the sun at her back, however, she found herself at a loss for words.  

She wanted to share her true feelings with Dylan, all of the pent up relief, anger, shame, and sadness with which she was nearly overcome. She wanted to tell him how she had once believed that finding him would rid her of the guilt that was so deeply ingrained in her. However, now that she knew he was alive, that guilt only dug its claws deeper into her chest as she wished in vain that she had tracked him down sooner. 

She wanted to write to him of her investigation with Kieran to see if he would join their efforts to take down the Scythe. She longed to share all that she had discovered thus far and resume their friendship as though they had never been parted so violently. 

As her pen scratched across the paper to write Dear Dylan, however, Lauren felt a hollow vulnerability in her chest that would not relent enough for her to write the words. Instead, she settled for hints about why she and Kieran were working together, and yet another request for him to share more about where he had been, as well as why he had never even tried to leave. Anger reared its ugly head to cover up her shame, and she fought to remove the edge of her vexation from the lines as she wrote. 

Perhaps even this truncated letter would allow Dylan the excuse to prepare a thoughtful response in writing.

Noting the time, Lauren signed the letter as “Ren” and sealed it in the envelope quickly, stuffing it in her pocket. Snatching up her jacket, she strode out into the hall and down the steps with a hurried “goodbye!” to Lucy before she raced out the door as quickly as her healing body would allow her. 

The brilliant winter sunshine was apparently a misdirection of an omen for how her morning would go, however. When she entered the precinct, blinking her eyes as they adjusted to the dim light indoors, she found Kym ready to pounce on her immediately. 

Looping her arm through Lauren’s, Kym practically dragged Lauren down the hall toward the patrol unit’s offices. 

“Well, well, well! Good morning, best friend!” Kym cried in her typical jubilant voice.

Lauren gritted her teeth against the pain in her side, forcing a smile. “Hi, Kym.”

“Will’s letting you off desk-duty for the morning. You’re going to be patrolling with me today! Isn’t that delightful?” Kym continued, gazing forward instead of toward Lauren as though avoiding her eyes. 

“The delightful-est,” Lauren droned, allowing Kym to propel her into the offices. 

“And Will’s coming, too, I guess,” Kym added as an afterthought. 

Sure enough, Will could not hide the grim expression on his face when they entered the room. Lauren knew that the only reason he would allow her to patrol so soon after her injury was because her temporary respite from giving them both more information on previous exploits was over. It was also possible that Hermann would be checking in that day, and Will would want to avoid any scrutiny forced upon her.

An hour later, the three officers were strolling along their patrol route under the unseasonably warm sunshine. Will had divided the unit up so that he could linger with Lauren and Kym at a slower pace more conducive to Lauren’s physical state, as well as give her the opportunity to talk with them away from any listening ears that might have lurked at the precinct. 

“Just as I reached the exit, one of them shot me in the side. I returned fire and managed to escape,” Lauren was explaining, leaving out Kieran’s involvement in her escapade and embellishing the way she had obtained the information on Blair’s full name. “I dragged myself to get patched up and then made it home and called you,” she finished with a nod toward Will. 

Kym skipped ahead of them and spun around to walk backwards, facing Lauren as she spoke. “You really know how to get yourself into trouble, don’t you?”

“I– I know it was foolish,” Lauren admitted, grateful that her APD mask obscured her expression.

“You can say that again–” Kym started to say but was quickly interrupted by Will grabbing her arm and jerking her to the side.

“Sergeant! Turn around and watch where you’re going!” he chided, stopping Kym just short of colliding with an elderly gentleman on the sidewalk. 

Quickly regaining her balance, Kym’s hands shot out to steady the startled man, gripping the sleeves of his dark herringbone suit. “Oh! Forgive me, sir. Are you alright?”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you, miss,” the diminutive man answered seriously. “I don’t smoke, and you shouldn’t either,” he continued, admonishing Kym with one finger.

Will and Lauren exchanged a look of confusion as Kym straightened, momentarily bewildered by the gentleman’s odd response. Did he think she asked for a light?

“A pretty young thing like you,” the man said, shaking his head sadly. “Smoking gives you wrinkles, you know.”

A laugh bubbled up out of Kym’s chest. “Hear that, guys?” she asked Will and Lauren. “He thinks I’m pretty.”

“Of course you are,” Lauren agreed with a grin as she elbowed Will lightly in the side. “Isn’t that right, Lieutenant?” 

Will merely grumbled an incoherent response, but Lauren did not miss the reddening of his ears. 

“I apologize, sir,” Kym reiterated, still smiling widely. “We’ll be going, now.”

“Oh, no, I can’t accompany you, my dear,” the gentleman responded, holding his hands up in denial. 

“No, no, that’s not what I–” Kym tried to explain over Lauren and Will’s growing snickers. 

“It’s alright, Kym, there are plenty of fish in the sea,” Lauren teased in a low voice, not wanting to offend the elderly man but still thoroughly amused by the situation. 

“I’m sure you’re very nice, but I meant that we ,” Kym said, pointing amongst the three of them, “will be going now.”

The gentleman patted Kym on the hand. “There, there, miss. We’re all searching for something. I understand completely.

Kym was very certain that the man did not understand at all, but before she could stammer out a protest, he turned and ambled along the opposite direction. 

Kym turned toward Lauren and Will with a baffled look on her face. “What…what just happened?” 

“You were rejected, I believe,” Lauren answered, still failing to conceal her laughter.

 “Okay, enough of this,” Will interjected, trying to stifle a smile. “Lauren is supposed to be finished patrolling by now.”

Lauren rolled her eyes, but the three of them fell into step once more. Their conversation resumed in a more light-hearted vein for several minutes, until Lauren caught sight of a pair of children chasing each other down the sidewalk. 

The boy and girl giggled with glee as he dodged out of her reach just in time, lightly brushing past Lauren as their game took them out of sight around a corner. 

“Will,” Lauren said suddenly, her gaze following the pair over her shoulder until they had disappeared from view. 

“Yes?” Will prompted when it seemed Lauren was not going to continue. 

Lauren’s eyes returned forward, and she unfastened one of her jacket buttons due to the growing warmth of the day. “Do you ever think about Dylan?”

Will slowed, brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

When Lauren merely turned to look at him as he trailed a step behind, he answered her. “I– of course I do.”

Kym nearly held out a hand to pause the conversation in her confusion before remembering that Will had told her in the infirmary that he, too, had known Lauren’s childhood friend. 

Lauren swallowed, cursing herself for bringing up the topic but unable to stop herself from continuing. “What if he was alive? What– what would you say to him if you could talk to him today?” she asked, boots scraping across the concrete as she pivoted toward him. 

Will scrutinized her expression, seeing a glint of desperation in her eyes that alarmed him. “I don’t know, I’d probably…” he trailed off, considering the question. “I’d probably tell him I missed him, maybe give him a hug. I’d tell him what a good friend he was to me.” Will shrugged, staring at the pavement in front of them. “I’d want him to know that many of my most cherished childhood memories are with the two of you. I’d want him to know…that he was important.”

Lauren fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. “You wouldn’t ask where he’s been, or why he hadn’t ever reached out before? You wouldn’t be angry?”

Will and Kym exchanged a troubled glance as he answered, “Well– I’m sure I’d get to some of that, but…he was just a child, Lauren. It’s not like he would have wanted to leave.”

They were in sight of the precinct now. Halting on the sidewalk, Lauren stood stricken for a moment. Her relief at finding Dylan had been muddied with anger since the moment she had seen him in the clinic. Part of her had known she was being too harsh with him, and a memory of Kieran flitted to her mind when he told her once that death was the only way out of the Scythe. 

Was she really angry at Dylan, or was she angry at herself for not finding him sooner? 

Kym dragged her out of her reverie, placing a hand gently on Lauren’s forearm. “Laur? Where is all this coming from? Has something happened?”

Forcing a smile, Lauren shook her head. “No, no, of course not.” She paused, scrambling for an explanation. “The closer we get to unraveling the Phantom Scythe, the more I can’t help but wonder…what it would be like.”

With a heavy sigh, Will shook his head. “Lauren, I wish I could convince you to let it go. It’s been ten years. You’ve done your duty, and then some,” he said solemnly.

Kym tugged on her arm until Lauren resumed walking toward the oversized doors of the APD, adding, “That’s..he’s what this has all really been about, right?”

Lauren glanced at her, surprised at how much Kym had gleaned from the handful of times they had discussed Dylan in the past. “It was at first,” she admitted in an odd tone. “But now…” 

But now what was she doing? Lauren thought as the heavy doors closed behind her and shut out the sunlight that had previously lit her path.

They were interrupted by the sound of Detective March calling from down the hall. “Officer Sinclair! There you are. The captain needs to speak with you.”

Lauren’s eyes shot to Will’s in a silent question, but he merely shrugged. 

“No idea,” he said, echoing her thoughts. 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Lauren muttered to Will and Kym, grimacing as she pushed herself to walk more quickly toward March. She had overexerted herself already today, and her side was throbbing sharply. 

Thirty minutes later, however, when Lauren burst into the archives holding her shiny new “detective” badge, all of her weariness was forgotten. 

“Kieran!” she called in excitement, scanning the room until she saw him alone near the window. 

He turned toward her in surprise, ignoring the way his stomach did a small flip when he caught sight of her wide smile. 

“Miss me already, Officer?” he grinned, sliding a file back into place. 

“Ah, ah,” she chided, half-sliding across the slick wooden floor toward him. Presenting the badge, she corrected him triumphantly. “That’s detective, now. Hermann decided that it was time for these ‘outstanding skills for investigation’ to be put back to work after all.”

Kieran examined the badge briefly before his eyes snapped up to Lauren’s golden ones. “Lauren! That’s fantastic!”

She could not prevent the small sound of glee from escaping her chest, and Kieran tugged her close in a solid hug. She squeezed him back, breathing in the comforting smell of his cologne over the scent of dusty files. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Kieran murmured into her hair. He pulled away to study her with a lingering smile still curving his lips. “You deserve this more than anyone.”

Lauren adjusted her arms slightly, linking her hands behind his back. “I’m still with the patrol unit until things die down, but that shouldn’t be for too much longer,” she explained. 

“Congratulations, darling,” Kieran said, savoring the softness of her embrace. “We need to celebrate!”

Lauren let out an easy laugh and then took his face in both hands and pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips. Before he even had a chance to react, she was spinning toward the door. 

“Fine,” she answered brightly. “I’ll let you take me out for dessert if you’ll agree to deliver a letter for me.” She glanced over her shoulder at him with a mischievous grin. 

Correctly assuming the letter was for Dylan, Kieran raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. “You’ll let me take you out, huh?” He shook his head in mock seriousness. “And only if I do another favor for you?”

“Listen, you don’t know how lucky you are, subordinate,” Lauren replied glibly, perching on the edge of his desk instead of continuing toward the exit. “I could be asking you to take me back in person.”

Kieran laughed in earnest at this, her cheerful mood too infectious to resurrect the seriousness of their current circumstances. “It is a fair compromise, I’ll give you that.” He moved to stand in front of her and lightly traced his fingertips down her jawline to tip her chin toward him. “You know something?” he murmured, “You should smile more, love. It’s a good look for you.” 

Lauren twined her hands up around his neck, boots knocking against the wooden side of the desk from where she sat. Kieran leaned in to give her a kiss, but averted his face at the last second with a teasing grin. 

“Hey! What was that?” Lauren asked indignantly, remembering her wound as the act of sitting up straight tugged on her sutures.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kieran answered. Lauren narrowed her eyes as he bent slightly to give her a kiss, and she found that her suspicion was warranted when he once again turned away at the last moment. 

Lauren slipped her arms away with a groan of irritation. “Quit teasing me,” she groused, moving to slide off the edge of his desk. 

Kieran caught her by the hand, causing her to turn toward him instinctively. He quickly pressed a swift kiss to her lips in truth this time and then released her, making his way toward the door.

“Hurry up! We have some celebrating to do,” he called over his shoulder. “And apparently I need to give myself time to figure out where on earth to deliver this letter for you.”

Realization dawned on Lauren’s features as she followed him. “I don’t suppose you know where he lives?”

“Nope,” Kieran replied jauntily. “But I have a general idea. I’ll figure it out.” Finding her progress too slow, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. “Let’s go, detective!”

The door closed behind them, leaving a ringing silence behind. Swirls of dust motes tumbled through the sunbeams pouring through the windows, as though they themselves were dancing along in merriment.

Several hours later, Kieran stood outside Dylan’s door as the dark Underworld around him quietly hummed with an undercurrent of activity. His coat collar was pulled up high, partially obscuring his features, and he hovered there for several seconds, contemplating his options. 

He could just leave the letter at the door, he thought to himself, but Kieran knew that would be the cowardly way out. With a heavy sigh, he knocked lightly on the battered wooden door.

A few seconds passed in silence until Kieran heard the lock clattering and the door opened a fraction. Seeing Kieran standing there, Dylan swung the door open more widely.

“What are you doing here?” Dylan asked, mouth slightly open with surprise. He was dressed in a simple cotton shirt and pants, more suitable for his presence at home compared to the more professional clothing Kieran had seen him wear at the clinic. 

“Hello to you, too,” Kieran answered, unmoving. 

Dylan shook himself slightly. “Sorry, White. I wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.” He glanced around outside. “Come in, before someone notices you.”

Kieran raised an eyebrow, casting his eyes around before stepping over the threshold. “Do we really need to be that cautious?”

Dylan stepped back, allowing Kieran to enter before closing the door behind him with one last look around. “I don’t want any attention drawn to me, and having the Purple Hyacinth visit me at home would qualify as noteworthy to some. I’m supposed to lay low, remember?”

“Paranoid, are we?” Kieran asked with a flicker of a grin. When Dylan merely leveled him with a flat glare, Kieran shrugged in acquiescence. “Very well, have it your way, Rosy.” 

Kieran cast his eyes around the modest apartment, noting that it was very clean and uncluttered. It opened into the kitchen with a round dining table with four chairs, tucked away in their proper places. The light emanating from the space was provided by a hanging fixture over the table, casting the space in a yellow glow. 

Kieran pulled Lauren’s letter from the inside pocket of his coat, holding it out to Dylan silently. 

Taking the envelope hesitantly, Dylan stared at it as it rested in both hands. “Ren,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Something about the nickname rankled Kieran. He decided it was likely because it reminded him of time Dylan and Lauren spent together in a way he could never have with her; they had the privilege of being together when they were both young and innocent, unscarred by the cruel ravages of the world. 

“Oh! Uh, have a seat,” Dylan said quickly, gesturing to the table. “Please,” he added belatedly as he skirted around Kieran toward the kitchen. “Will you take something to drink?”

“No, no,” Kieran declined, holding up one hand. “I can’t stay long.” However, he took a seat at the table anyway, surprising even himself with the action. Perhaps it was his amusement at Dylan’s seemingly nervous politeness. He left his coat on, however, indicating that the visit would not last for more than a few minutes.

“Right,” Dylan answered, wavering for a moment before taking the seat across from Kieran. He carefully set the letter on the gleaming surface of the pale wood table, unopened.

“Look–” 

“Kieran, I’m–”

They spoke simultaneously, both cutting off abruptly. 

“You first,” Kieran directed, naturally falling into the senior position in their relationship. 

Dylan absently adjusted the position of the envelope on the table, mouth set in a thin line. “I’m sorry.” When Kieran merely raised his eyebrows, waiting for Dylan to continue, he clarified, “For getting us caught. I know it was my fault. I froze, and I–”

Holding a hand up to stop him, Kieran shook his head in denial. “Don’t. Just don’t. We both knew it was risky to try to escape. We were lucky we even managed to take out Apostle X in the first place.”

“Lucky you managed to do it,” Dylan answered immediately, clenching his teeth to stifle a pained wince. “You were so angry that we got caught, and I deserved it. And yet even after that you still…” he trailed off. “They told me that you agreed to work for them in order to save me.”

Kieran met his eyes for a long moment, weighing his words. Being here with him now, Kieran realized just how much he had missed Dylan, the one who had once been like a brother to him. When they parted ways, Kieran had left behind a piece of his humanity, and now it was sitting across the table from him trying to apologize. 

Softening a fraction, Kieran answered, “We were both children, behaving like children. I should have been more understanding. And of course I couldn’t let them do that to you.” Kieran averted his gaze. “You know what they did to Sarah.”

Dylan hesitated, aware that the murder of Kieran’s younger sister was responsible for making him even more protective of those he cared about. “I– I know.”

After a moment’s pause, Dylan glanced up at Kieran, adding, “Your turn. What were you going to say?”

“Oh,”  Kieran answered, biting back a grimace. “Just that– that I know my partnership with Lauren must have come as quite a shock. I want you to know that I intend her no harm.”

Dylan’s lips twitched in something akin to a smile. “I believe that you don’t intend to harm her,” he conceded. 

Considering his words carefully, Kieran continued, “What do you intend to do about your newfound knowledge of her? You spent half your days in your cell muttering about missing your ‘friend.’ I can’t imagine it will be easy to ignore her from here.”

Noticing Kieran’s emphasis on “friend,” Dylan swallowed, choosing to take it as an echo of their old banter. “I told you, she was never anything more than a friend. And I don’t intend to do anything. I won’t approach her in any way that would jeopardize her life or reputation.”

Kieran grunted his assent, shifting in his seat. He did not believe for a second that Dylan harbored only platonic feelings for Lauren, not now that he had seen him stricken with such a blatantly lovesick expression when he watched Lauren leave after speaking with him at the clinic. However, this suspicion of his true affections did make it slightly easier to acknowledge that Dylan would likely do his best to keep her safe.

“I should go,” Kieran said, striving to keep the brusqueness out of his tone. Speaking with Dylan brought back a deluge of memories that was unavoidably disturbing. “Oh, if you want to reply, you can send it to my apartment,” he added as he stood. Spying a pen and pad of paper near the refrigerator, he crossed the room and scribbled down his address. “I promise I won’t read it,” he said with a wry smile. 

Dylan huffed out a laugh as he stood. “Thanks.” Following Kieran to the door, he opened it for him. 

Kieran adjusted his coat before stepping outside, still avoiding Dylan’s eye. 

“For everything,” Dylan added. “Thank you for everything.”

Once again, Kieran studied him for a second before nodding simply and stepping out into the darkness.

Though Kieran did not look back, Dylan thought he heard him say, “You’re welcome, Rosy,” as he disappeared down the street. 

When Dylan heard a knock at his door for the second time that night, he opened it easily, thinking that Kieran had returned for some reason. His heart plummeted to his gut when he was instead handed an envelope by a man he knew to be associated with Apostle IV’s Messenger. 

With a short nod, the courier went on his way as Dylan opened the envelope cautiously. Sure enough, it was a summons to appear before the Messenger in one hour’s time. His heart thudded in his chest; he had been left alone by the Phantom Scythe leadership for so long. As long as he stayed unnoticed, he was allowed to act as a Scythe doctor and live in relative peace. 

As long as he remained unnoticed…

Forty-five minutes later, Dylan stood outside the back room in the Grim Goblin and swallowed hard before pushing the door open. 

The Messenger in his characteristic bird mask was already seated at the table. Dylan came to stand behind the chair across from him, hovering nervously. Dim sounds of raucous laughter and speech pressed against the closed door behind him as Dylan stared at the Messenger, wreathed in the stark glow of a single bulb hanging above his head.

“Sit,” the Messenger commanded without moving.

“R-right,” Dylan answered, falling heavily down into the seat. The legs of the chair grated slightly against the hard wooden floor.

“It has been brought to my attention,” the Messenger began, “that you have been spending time with your dear old friend, Mr. White.”

Dylan’s throat seized up, praying they had not also seen Lauren. Being associated with Kieran was bad enough, but to have Lauren involved would be disastrous. 

When Dylan said nothing, the Messenger continued, “The Purple Hyacinth has been behaving a bit…erratically as of late.” He shifted back in his chair slightly, a long pause separating this introduction from his next words. “Our superiors desire more information. Information you are in a prime position to provide for us.”

“I see,” Dylan replied quietly, frozen in his seat as his mind raced with the implications. 

The Messenger cocked his head to the side, evidently unimpressed with the underwhelming response. “You might want to exercise some caution, Dr. Yew. You two have not spent much time together over the years until now. One might consider it quite suspicious,” he said carefully. His tone shifted to have a mocking lilt to it as he continued, “Especially considering your history together. You two were practically brothers at one point.”

“We– he was just–” Dylan scrambled for some kind of response, coming up with nothing in the panic of the moment.

“All I want to know is why the Purple Hyacinth suddenly decided to make contact with you again. It’s not that complicated, Doctor,” the Messenger chided. 

When Dylan continued to be at a loss for words, the Messenger made a calculated decision and steepled his gloved fingers in front of him. “You have a choice before you, Dr. Yew. You may either agree to keep us updated with the Purple Hyacinth’s movements, or you can ignore my request and we can both discover what fun the Apostle will have in store for you then.”

The motionless face of the mask seemed to stare through Dylan’s fear right into his soul. “You have one week, Doctor. You are dismissed.”

Dylan clambered to his feet, the chair rattling loudly as he did so. “Right, thank you, sir,” he said, having no idea why he was thanking the Messenger but unable to think of anything else to say by way of a goodbye.

“Oh, and Doctor?” the Messenger called as Dylan fled toward the door. “I do hope you’ll choose wisely. It would be a shame to waste a perfectly capable doctor on our side…if he were, in fact, on our side.”

His hand hovering on the doorknob, Dylan nodded once before rushing away from the oppressive presence of the Messenger he thought he had escaped long ago. 

A choice? How was that a choice? Dylan let out a grim laugh as he made it back outside into the frozen night, still shaking with poorly concealed adrenaline. He had the distinct feeling that no matter how he chose to act from here, he was falling into some kind of trap. 

He should have known. No one survived long in the Phantom Scythe unless they were willing to pay a heavy price. 

Chapter Text

Please consider listening to And She Was by Carlos Cipa during this chapter.

The light cast from the small lamp shuddered on the surface of the desk as Kieran brought his hand down heavily to cover what he had drawn. He breathed in heavily, feeling the chill in the air of his study as he rocked back in his chair and lifted his hand.

His action had smeared the pencil markings, but the image of his younger sister still mocked him, grinning up at him the way she had the day before she died. Sarah’s small, round face and delicate features were split by the wide smile, eyes nearly closed by the force of her joy. Dark hair that had matched his own flew in a flurry of silken strands dancing behind her. 

When he thought about it, Kieran could still feel the warmth of that day on his skin. He had shown her his latest painting, and the expression staring up at him had been the result. 

Clearing his throat roughly, Kieran straightened and started to crumple the page, but stopped himself at the last second, unable to bring himself to do it. Instead, he took the sheet and tucked it in the back of a box in the far corner of the room, removing it from sight.

With a wave of nausea, Kieran ran a hand down his face, striving to shake off the memories. Needing a distraction, he left the room to start a bath.

After a few minutes, curls of steam filled the bathroom, and Kieran slipped into the water with a heavy sigh. The heat of the bath stung at first, but his skin soon adjusted to the change in temperature.

Why had he drawn her?

Kieran almost never thought about his time before the Phantom Scythe– about Sarah. That Kieran was dead, and had been since the moment he watched the light fade from his sister’s eyes. Something in him had broken that day. 

He sank fully below the surface of the water, allowing it to muffle the desperate cacophony of memory hounding him as though it had been an audible onslaught. The dull, cloying silence was somehow worse, however, and he breached the surface once more after a few seconds.

This was Dylan’s fault, he thought wryly as he considered their conversation at Dylan’s home two nights before. As he began washing his hair, his thoughts trailed back to one of those far off days.

~~~

“Why are you like this?” Dylan asked, glaring at him as he picked himself up off the ground and dusted himself off. It was just the two of them in an open concrete cell, lit brightly by the morning sunlight pouring in through two barred windows high on the wall. 

He shoved Dylan once more, but not hard enough to knock the smaller boy down this time. “Because you have to learn to protect yourself! I might not always be here to babysit you, Rosy,” he censured him. 

Dylan’s eyes blazed with anger. “It’s not your job to take care of me!”

“Yes, it–” he stopped short, heart leaping to his throat and choking the rest of the words before he could speak them. Clenching his teeth, he stomped away until he slid down the wall underneath one of the windows, sitting on the dirty floor with his eyes closed.

After a short pause, he heard a huff of a sigh and then felt Dylan slump down next to him. They both remained there unmoving for several moments as the frigid floor warmed beneath them. 

“They killed my little sister,” he whispered to Dylan at length, unmoving. 

“They…what?” Dylan’s mind raced, not expecting the revelation from his normally reticent friend. 

He cleared his throat and opened his eyes, staring at his hands draped over his tented bony knees. “Sarah. They killed her. I guess that’s why I’m…like this,” he elaborated. 

Dylan watched him from the corner of his eye, unsure of how to respond. “Oh,” he finally said quietly.

A dull chuckle rose from his throat as he leaned his head back against the wall once more. “You remind me of her.”

Dylan sat up straight at his, one hand coming down to brace himself as he turned toward Kieran. “I what? How could you say I remind you of a girl!”

He shook his head, a grin threatening to curve his lips. “I just mean the way you act. She was like you– a little rose who could never have hurt anybody.”

Dylan scowled, groaning in disagreement. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered to himself, settling back against the wall. “Roses have thorns, you know,” he told him more strongly.

He peered at Dylan through the clumped strands of hair hanging over his forehead. “Then you’d better start figuring out where they are, Rosy. Especially if you ever want to live to see your ‘friend’ again.” As he said the word “friend,” he drew quotes in the air with his fingers with a tinge of sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

Dylan stood, pacing a few steps away with his hands on his hips before rounding on Kieran. “Like I said before, she was not my girlfriend.”

He could not help but notice the past tense– “was.” It was as though both of them were already dead, nonexistent to anyone in the outside world. 

Shaking off the thought, he persisted in his line of teasing. “Sure, sure. You just spent every day with her and know everything about each other and she’s all you ever seem to think about.”

Dylan made a noise of disgust. “She was my best friend, not my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, for the time being, maybe,” Kieran goaded. 

Ignoring him, Dylan’s face soured, and he crouched down where he stood toward the center of the cell. Folding his arms over his knees, he propped his chin there. “She’s okay, right? She wasn’t anywhere near the station…” His face grew more worn with worry as he stared blankly in front of him. “What if they took her, too, and–”

“Don’t,” he commanded, holding out one hand for emphasis. “You can’t do that to yourself. Like you said, she wasn’t near the station. And you haven’t seen her since you got here, right?”

Dylan shook his head, visibly struggling for composure. “Right. She’s fine. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“She has to be better off than you are,” he taunted, trying to lighten the mood he had first darkened. 

“Yeah, she’d hate being stuck with someone like you,” Dylan retorted, but then shook his head. “I don’t know, though. She might actually be able to set you straight. Wouldn’t that be something?”

~~~

Wouldn’t that be something? Kieran thought with a twitch of a smile, still amazed by the irony of his partnership with Lauren. 

As he was rinsing the last of the shampoo from his hair, Kieran heard the distant sound of a knock at his front door. A flicker of trepidation worked through him, and he quickly grabbed a towel to dry himself off. Wrapping it around his waist, he flipped the kitchen lights on and tread barefoot across the apartment, leaving a trail of small droplets of bath water behind him. He glanced through the peephole to see the identity of his visitor. 

His fear vanished at first when he caught sight of flaming crimson hair and a wry set of golden eyes staring right at the viewpoint. However, a new dread took its place when he considered the possibility of someone else seeing her there. 

Wrenching the door open, he tugged her quickly inside. “What are you doing here? Get out of sight,” he chided.

Lauren stared at him in blatant surprise as she allowed herself to be pulled into the apartment, and it was only then that Kieran realized his state of undress. 

Glancing down at himself still dripping in only the white towel, Kieran dropped her hand immediately and took a half step backwards. “Uh– I–” 

When laughter bubbled up out of Lauren and she covered her mouth with one hand, Kieran flushed brilliantly and gritted his teeth.

“Aw, I didn’t know you could blush, Mr. White,” Lauren teased, still snickering at his distress. 

Rolling his eyes, Kieran left her there and strode toward his bedroom. “I’ll be right back, detective. Don’t touch any of my stuff,” he shot over his shoulder with a grin of his own. 

“I’ll try to restrain myself,” she called to him as she slid off her coat and hung it by the door. She absently brushed a bit of lint off her dark red silken shirt, adjusting the hem as she tread across the room. 

Kieran soon emerged from his bedroom, clad in black pants and a white shirt that he was still working on buttoning up. His still-damp hair was tied messily back in a loose bun, and he caught Lauren’s eye where she leaned against the back of his sofa. 

“You know they’re watching me,” he chided as he approached her and flicked on the lamp by the couch. “Why would you come here?”

Instead of answering, however, he suddenly found himself wrapped in her arms. He had not finished buttoning his shirt, and her cheek pressed against his chest as she held him tightly. She was still cold from the winter air outside, and it formed a stark contrast to the heat of his skin that lingered from the bath.  

Tentatively, he reciprocated the touch, throat seizing in worry as it so often did now where Lauren was concerned. He slowly spread his fingers out along the silken texture of her shirt, bringing her as close as possible. “What’s wrong, love?”

She took in a shaky breath and shook her head against him. “I know it was stupid,” she answered quietly. “I just needed to see you.”

His chest rose and fell in a sigh, and they tarried there for several moments as he waited on her to speak.

“Everything is a mess,” she muttered, pulling back slightly to look at him. 

Kieran let out a surprised laugh, searching her eyes. “Yes. Yes, it is.” 

It’s going to be okay, he wanted to say, but Kieran was too uncertain for the words to ring with truth in her ears. So instead, he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her temple and then rested his forehead against hers. 

“Since you’re here, want some coffee?” he asked, watching her eyelids flutter open when she pulled away from him. 

Nodding, Lauren slid out of his arms. “Sure,” she accepted as her boots clipped across the floor to reach the table and sit down. 

Kieran busied himself making the coffee as she waited at the table, thinking.

“I’m sure you’ve gleaned a fair amount already,” Lauren began suddenly, “but he was my best friend as a child.” She shook her head and stared at her clasped hands.  “I know that things are developing so quickly with the rest of our efforts with the Phantom Scythe, but I can barely focus on anything else tonight.”

Kieran glanced at her, remaining silent as though speaking would disrupt the air of fragile transparency that hummed between them.

“It was my fault he was taken.” She said the words matter-of-factly, with no hint of doubt in her voice. 

Kieran’s hands froze in their motions. It occurred to him all at once that Lauren’s breakdown when she had been hypnotized at the circus had to have been regarding Dylan.

“He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead!” she had kept saying, her tone tortured as she sobbed. She had fought his grasp at first, not understanding fully who he was due to the hypnosis and her hysteria, until at last something in her had recognized him as a friend and she had crumpled into his arms. His heart still ached at the utter despair he had witnessed that night. 

When she remained silent, he asked tentatively, “What do you mean?”

Lauren cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. “We had just left Allendale to go to a bakery when a car swerved near us. I fell and twisted my ankle.” She continued to stare steadfastly in front of her at nothing in particular. “I– I sent him back to the station to get his father to come pick me up. If I hadn’t–”

“Lauren–” he interrupted, coming up behind her to place a hand on her shoulder. 

“No, don’t, Kieran,” Lauren protested, wriggling in her seat to shake him off. “It’s my fault–”

“No, it’s not,” Kieran said firmly, gripping both her shoulders now. He leaned around to look her in the eye. “You had no way of knowing that anything would happen.”

“But I did!” Lauren exclaimed, twisting to face him. “I heard the lies at the station that morning, lies about when the train would depart, and about how the next few years would be the best Ardhalis had ever seen. If I’d only said something–”

“And what, you think they would have listened to a child about something as vague as that?” Kieran countered immediately, releasing one shoulder to come alongside her, still facing her stubborn features. “How could you possibly have predicted what those lies meant? You were a child,” he reiterated. 

Lauren shook her head, “Kieran, you don’t–”

A hurried rap at the door halted them both in their tracks.

“Who–” Lauren started, but Kieran slapped a hand over her mouth instantly. 

“You have to hide,” he breathed in her ear. “Now.”

He slowly released his hand from her lips and gestured toward his bedroom. Heart thudding in her chest, Lauren complied and disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind her and locking it with a dull clunk.

Kieran took a deep breath to collect himself, only to be rushed along by another, even more insistent, knock at the door. Another glimpse through the lens in the door showed him the very subject of their conversation. 

As Kieran opened the door, Dylan swept in immediately, clearly agitated. 

Kieran shut the door with a parting glance outside and turned toward Dylan, feigning calm to cover his incredulity as he finished buttoning his shirt.

Dylan spun around, coat flying behind him as he stopped to gather his bearings. He glanced at Kieran adjusting his clothing and felt a pang of discomfort that he had interrupted his evening at home. 

“I need to talk to you,” Dylan blurted out, removing his hat to sweep a hand through his silver hair. 

“Clearly,” Kieran deadpanned, reaching for Dylan’s hat. 

Dylan vacillated on the spot for a moment before handing the hat over for Kieran to place it on the small table near the door, followed by stowing his coat on the adjacent rack. 

His task finished, Kieran brushed lightly past Dylan back toward the kitchen, casting his gaze around to be sure there was no sign of Lauren’s presence. “Coffee?” he asked, moving to pour himself a cup. This was going to be a long night.

“Uh– sure,” Dylan answered, still hovering awkwardly in the entry of Kieran’s apartment. After another moment’s hesitation, he strode forward and stood behind a chair, placing his hands on the rim of the seat back. 

Agonizing inwardly as he had since his impromptu meeting with the Messenger, Dylan changed his mind for the hundredth time about what to tell Kieran. He had to say something now, having shown up at his apartment so abruptly. 

When Kieran set the cup of coffee in front of him, Dylan pulled the seat out and sat, gripping the handle of the mug to serve as something to do with his hands. “It’s about Lauren,” he began, raising his eyes to Kieran’s. 

“I assumed,” Kieran answered, taking a sip of his drink casually.

“She can’t– you can’t let her anywhere near me, alright?” Dylan said urgently after a second’s delay. 

“Alright, alright. Keep your voice down,” Kieran admonished, one hand out placating his guest. “I don’t want any neighbors wondering what I have going on in here,” he explained, striving to keep Lauren from overhearing everything that was said; he never knew what Dylan would bring up. 

Dylan straightened, his eyes skittering around as though he might find one of the neighbors in the room with them. “Right,” he answered with a short nod. 

Why had he come here? Dylan thought anxiously. He had believed Kieran would be the best person to contact for help, but the idea seemed laughable now that he was sitting before him. Kieran was already in deeply with whatever was going on with Lauren, and the more times he resisted Phantom orders, the more likely it was that everything would come crashing down around all of them. 

When Dylan continued to sit in his chair, knee fidgeting up and down unconsciously, Kieran raised his eyebrows. “What’s going on, Rosy?”

His voice much lower this time, Dylan came to a decision about how much to share. “I– I think I’m being watched. Someone must have seen you with me, or...I’m– I’m not sure.” 

Kieran set down his coffee. “And you came here to discuss this?” He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “Reckless fools, both of you.”

“A letter would have taken too long to reach you,” Dylan supplied, leg finally stilling as he took a careful sip of the steaming hot coffee. “And I couldn’t exactly show up at your workplace when I’m supposed to be dead.”

“How do you know where I–” Kieran started, but closed his mouth mid-sentence. “What makes you think you’re being watched? What does it matter if we’re seen together?”

Dylan took another sip of his drink, stalling. “It just does,” he hedged, his knee bouncing up and down in agitation. “The point is, you have to keep Lauren from pursuing any more contact with me. It’s not safe.” 

Kieran sighed and crossed his arms, displeasure taking over his features. “Should I be worried, then?” 

Dylan had the uncomfortable impression that Kieran was referring to whether he should be worried about his own trustworthiness. “You should always be worried. You never know what they’ll do to any of us,” he answered, ignoring Kieran’s intended implication. 

Only about a quarter of his coffee had been drunk, but Dylan stood briskly. “I should go. Just– just be careful.”

Kieran remained sitting at the table as Dylan strode to the door to leave, pausing to collect his hat and coat. It was darker near the doorway, the light having been provided by the kitchen light and single lamp, but as he retrieved his belongings, Dylan caught sight of someone else’s coat hanging there. 

Someone else that was most certainly not Kieran, judging by the feminine cut of the coat. He dropped his hand without retrieving his own and spun toward Kieran. 

Seeing the direction of his gaze, Kieran cursed himself and stood quickly. 

Dylan looked around the apartment, searching for any other signs of another presence. His eyes alighted upon the two closed doors in the apartment, and he could not help but wonder if Lauren was behind one of them. Especially remembering Kieran’s somewhat disheveled state upon greeting him at the door, he felt a squirm of unease twist through him. On top of everything else, he had not been able to stop himself from being plagued with curiosity about the real nature of his relationship with Lauren.

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Dylan asked, but the words did not sound like a question. 

“Dylan–”

“Where is she?” Dylan insisted, standing firmly in place. 

Kieran closed his eyes. Without fully understanding why, he beckoned to her to reveal herself. “Lauren?” he called. “Come out here, please.”

There was a heavy silence as they both waited to see what would happen. At last, the bedroom door slowly opened to reveal Lauren tentatively exiting the room. 

She moved into the kitchen, golden eyes looming in the pale light as she stared at Dylan. 

“Hi,” she finally said with a cautious smile. 

Dylan diverted his eyes to Kieran, raising an eyebrow as though to say, “Really?”

Kieran’s answer was to merely shrug with a small smirk. 

He had been wrong before; this was going to be a very long night.

Chapter Text

Spread out across the apartment, Kieran, Lauren, and Dylan stood motionless for several seconds after Lauren’s quiet greeting.

At last, Kieran broke the silence. “Well, now that it’s been made abundantly clear that you two are cut from the same cloth… is there anything else either of you would like to do to put us all in danger now that you both decided to show up here?” Kieran sighed heavily, gripping the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Were you injected with an excess dose of recklessness at birth?”

Dylan leveled him with an unimpressed stare. “Says the assassin who is apparently plotting the downfall of his overlords.”

A short laugh that Lauren blamed on nerves burst out of her before it was quickly smothered, but the grin she flashed at Kieran remained. “Should I be the one to tell him that our deal was your idea?”

Trying to squash the curiosity piqued by these words, Dylan raised his eyebrows. “So, you were the one to corrupt my poor childhood friend? No wonder you had to bring her to me to patch her up.”

Kieran released the chair, feigning indignation as he straightened. “I beg your pardon, Doctor, but the detective is the one who forged that particular path.” Growing a touch more serious, he fixed Lauren with an unsmiling look. “In fact, she had better be glad I was there to drag her to you.”

Lauren rolled her eyes and propped a hand on her hip. “Let’s not keep score, dear,” she replied glibly.

Dylan’s chest rose and fell with a sigh, smile slowly fading. “On that note, I really should go. The less I know about this,” he said, gesturing between the two of them, “the better.”

As he turned once more to collect his coat, Dylan was stopped by a sudden exclamation. “Wait!” Lauren called, fear flickering across her features as though she was afraid he would disappear at any moment like morning fog before the sun. 

She strode quickly across the room, and Dylan settled for draping his coat over his arm and hovering by the door. His pulse jumped at her countenance, hating the fact that his very existence had brought her so much strife. 

Behind her, he caught sight of Kieran donning a neutral expression and turning to tidy his already pristine kitchen. Dylan had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking Lauren what she was doing there with him. 

“I have to go, Lauren. The reason I came was to tell him that we’re being watched,” Dylan explained, but he knew it was a weak excuse to leave so quickly, designed only to get him out of the nerve-wracking conversation as speedily as possible. 

Lauren’s dark red shirt gleamed slightly despite the low light near the doorway, illuminated by the living room lamp far behind her, and she unconsciously fidgeted with the hem. “I know, I know, I just…” she tried as she came to a halt in front of him. “I wanted to tell you that I was sorry.”

Dylan blinked at her, frowning in confusion as the tone of the conversation shifted to something much more serious. “What? Why?”

Her lips parted for a moment before she found the words to say. “Everything. For sending you back to the station that day, for not finding you sooner…” she said in a low voice. 

Seeing the sincerity in her face laced Dylan’s chest with an ache that made it difficult to draw a full breath. “Don’t say that, Ren. You couldn’t have done anything differently.”

As the truth of his words sank in, he saw Lauren blink back the faintest prick of tears that had risen to her eyes. “Have you really been feeling guilty about this for all these years?” he asked softly. His fingers twitched in a desire to reach out to her, but he managed to maintain the painstakingly crafted distance between them. 

Lauren flinched visibly, and he suddenly understood how deeply she had blamed herself for everything that happened to him. Before he could comfort her further, however, she had already begun speaking once more.

“But I’m also sorry for being angry with you since we met again. I know– I know you didn’t want to stay away,” she said quietly, fingers now twisted together. 

At this, Dylan could not help but let out a small chuckle. “Please, Lauren. You’ve always had a ridiculous amount of rage in that tiny body. I’m surprised you weren’t more angry, to be honest,” he teased gently.

Lauren appeared taken aback, but at the lingering smile on his lips, she found herself reciprocating the expression despite herself. 

The steady rush of running water served as a steady backdrop to their conversation as Kieran worked on cleaning a few stray dishes behind them. As Dylan drank in every tiny expression that flitted across her face, he felt another stabbing pain of fear run through him. 

How was he going to get out of this? The chances of him being able to escape the trap laid out by the Phantom Scythe without turning in Kieran were low, and therefore he risked potentially implicating Lauren as well.

At war with himself, he pushed down his revulsion at the situation to answer her more fully. “There’s nothing to forgive, but even if there were, I would forgive you a hundred times over.” Nodding toward Kieran behind her, he added, “Just ask him if you have any doubts. I talked about you all the time. You were never to blame for any of this.”

Surprise lit Lauren’s features, and Dylan had the sense that she and Kieran had still not discussed much of their history. She cast a hurried glance over her shoulder, but said nothing.

The corners of Dylan’s mouth drifted upwards in a smile once again as he slid his coat on. He twisted his hat in his hands, and the motion caught her eye. 

“I see that one doesn’t need to be patched yet,” Lauren remarked as she gestured to the brimmed hat.

Dylan huffed out a laugh. “That poor old thing. I put it through a lot, didn’t I? I’m glad you were always there to fix it for me.”

Lauren’s lips parted as she hesitated for a moment. “It’s been through more than you know,” she answered with a shake of her head. “I- I still have it, actually.”

He searched her gaze, remembering that she said she found the hat at the train station the day of the explosion. “Keep it safe for me?” he asked with a small smile. 

When Lauren merely nodded, Dylan recalled the overwhelming flood of conflicting emotions when Kieran had first brought her to him. Suddenly he was not the solitary doctor, quietly keeping his head down as he worked his life away, but rather a young boy, seeing the most beautiful girl he knew with a daisy crown on her head shining in the sunlight.

“Ren,” he started softly, “you can’t imagine how it felt to see you the day he brought you into the clinic.” Lauren’s eyes widened slightly, and he shook his head as he continued, “I thought I would lose my mind those next few days.” 

Lauren swallowed, but was unable to find the words to speak. As they hovered there together, Dylan felt the same frisson of indecision that had enveloped them at the clinic over what personal boundaries could be breached. 

At last, however, he could restrain himself no more. He engulfed her in a brief hug, placing a fleeting kiss to the crown of her head before pulling away and setting his hat in place. 

“Goodnight, Ren,” he murmured as his fingers slid away from her. He disappeared out the door but paused just outside, taking a deep breath before pushing out into the darkness. 

Would these wretched feelings for her never die? Why had he said all of that? 

And why did “goodnight'' suddenly feel so much more intimate than “goodbye?”

Please consider listening to Emotions, as performed by Jacob’s Piano during the rest of this chapter. 

Lauren stared at the door as it closed in front of her, reeling from Dylan’s words. The weight of them settled on her chest as she realized that every word he had spoken had been the truth; he had genuinely never blamed her. 

One thing he had said, however, would not leave her mind. 

“Just ask him. I talked about you all the time.”

She spun toward Kieran, who was drying Dylan’s coffee cup, steadfastly staring down at it instead of looking her way. Had he approached her with the deal knowingly? Or had it truly been happenstance that she caught him that night?

Clearing her throat, she made her way back across the room toward Kieran. She considered the way he had immediately stepped back tonight when she wanted to speak with Dylan, and how he had done the same at every other encounter, including the first that night at the clinic. It implied a mixture of things to her; it showed his respect to allow her to make her own decisions and a cautiousness in his approach to new situations, but she also perceived that it was a sign of his insecurity. 

“You’re allowed to be curious, you know,” she told him as she came up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. 

Kieran huffed out a laugh and pressed one hand chilled from the water on top of hers where they were clasped over his stomach. “It’s not my place to interfere.”

She made a noncommittal sound in her throat by way of an answer, unsure of how to respond. As she considered her next question, Lauren’s heart began pounding in her chest once more. “He said…that he talked about me. With you.”

Kieran finally set the cup down and spun slowly around to hold her in a loose embrace. “He did.”

Eyeing him critically, the question burst from her lips before she could contain it. “Did you approach me intentionally?”

Kieran’s brows rose in surprise, as though he had never considered the notion. “Of course not,” he answered quickly. “He never told me your name.” 

Lauren relaxed in his arms, unsure of why it mattered so much to her how they ended up becoming partners. 

“Of course, a lot more of his stories make sense now,” Kieran chuckled. Releasing her, he turned toward the still-hot coffee behind him. “Still want that cup?”

After nodding in response to his question and reaching for the cup, she remarked dryly, “I shudder to think of what you know now.”

“For one, it sounds like you’re not as much of a painter as I am,” Kieran grinned, nudging her out of the way so he could sit at the table. 

Lauren tilted her head back with a groan. “Why?” she asked under her breath. “Why does that horrid memory keep coming back up? Tristan dragged that wretched thing out not too long ago. I can’t believe he kept it.”

Kieran straightened, following her with his eyes as she took her own seat. “Wait, you mean I could still manage to catch a glimpse of this masterpiece?”

“No,” Lauren said firmly, pointing at him with her index finger. “Absolutely not, under any circumstances, ever.”

Feigning despair, Kieran sighed heavily and sipped his coffee. “It was worth a try,” he concluded. 

Lauren’s smile reappeared, smaller this time. “He told me tonight he never blamed me, but,” she hesitated, not meeting Kieran’s eyes, “I have to ask all the same. Did he ever…?”

Kieran’s face fell, and he reached for her hand. Gently clasping her fingers, he said, “No. Not once.” She raised her head to give him a searching look, and he continued slowly, “You…you were the main idea keeping him going. He told me his father must have died in the explosion, but he was fixated on the hope that you had made it out alive.”

Lauren seemed to hang on every word, clinging to them like a lifeline. Kieran suddenly felt ashamed of his reticence. As he studied her almost desperate expression, he realized his own selfishness had starved her of what she sought most: answers about one she had loved so dearly. 

“As I told you before, he never said your name. He said it was for him to keep, and him alone,” Kieran reflected, struggling to release the self-imposed embargo he had placed on any mention of the past. “But, he still spoke of you often. For him, you were…bright. You were the sun in his corner of darkness.”

He gave her hands a small squeeze before releasing them. “Now, I suppose I can see why he felt that way,” he admitted with a flicker of a flirtatious smile. “To be honest, I was quite jealous at the time. If I’d known the full extent of it, I would have been unbearably envious.” 

He forced himself to push down a small tremor of fear. He wondered when Lauren would see the comparison between a guilt-drenched assassin and a quiet, life-saving doctor and make the obvious choice to let herself slip through his fingers forever. 

Unaware of his inner musings, Lauren huffed out a soft laugh and shook her head. Her hands retreated back to her side of the table, and she took another sip of steaming coffee as she considered the topic at hand further. Glancing up, she recalled something else. “Did he tell you I could hear lies?” It had always surprised her how quickly Kieran had believed in her ability.

Kieran drew back a fraction in surprise, his train of thought derailed. “He knew?” When Lauren merely nodded her head, he sat back and crossed his arms. “Huh. No, apparently he kept that one to himself, too.” 

Glancing at her midsection, he seemed to recollect something all at once. “Oh!” he said, “how’s your wound? Have you taken the sutures out yet?”

Lauren shook her head, grimacing at the reminder of the dreadfully itchy sutures still present in her side. “It’s fine. But no, I haven’t.”

“Let me,” he replied, standing to retrieve a delicate pair of scissors from his first aid kit. 

Standing awkwardly, Lauren leaned against the edge of the table, sliding their cups of coffee out of the way to avoid spilling them. As he approached, she lifted the hem of her shirt to visualize the wound. 

“It healed well,” Kieran commented, ignoring the fluttering sensation in his gut when his fingertips grazed her skin as he examined the incision. 

Lauren merely hummed in agreement, too distracted by the same feeling to respond in earnest. 

As he snipped the first suture, Kieran’s mind wandered. He was not fool enough to ignore the fact that there had to be much more behind Dylan’s motivations to visit than a vague “they must be watching me” warning. Dylan had been spooked by something or someone, and Kieran felt a familiar sense of trepidation begin worming its way through his chest at the potential implications. 

Continuing to work, his gaze flitted to hers for a moment. He cleared his throat as though to prepare for what he was going to say and then spoke in a low voice, “You should stay here tonight. If there were eyes on Dylan, and we know they’re already watching me, I don’t want them seeing you coming out of this apartment as well. It will be less risky in the morning.” 

Lauren swallowed as Kieran cut another stitch. “That makes sense,” she agreed slowly. She wondered if her heart was ever going to grow fatigued at how it had hammered against her ribcage all evening. She did her best to distract herself from the implications of his statement.

Watching the graceful movements of his hands as he worked, she noticed callouses in areas that did not quite fit with wielding a sword. She reflected on the handful of sketches she had seen in his apartment the first time she had visited, as well as the one he had handed her on the bridge the night of his confession. She wondered if he made enough of a habit of the practice to alter the contours of his fingers in such a way. 

As he snipped another stitch, Kieran’s eyes darted to hers. “What are you staring at, love?”

Shaking herself, Lauren buried a sheepish smile before it could become too prominent on her lips. “I was wondering about your sketches. Do you draw often?”

Kieran let out a small chuckle. “Your mind has wandered far from the evening’s events, I’ll say that.”

Lauren reached over his arm to brush a strand of hair back from where it had fallen over his eyes. Her fingertips ghosted across his forehead, causing Kieran’s motions to stutter for a moment before regaining focus. 

“You didn’t answer my question, subordinate,” she pointed out with a teasing glint in her eyes. 

“Often enough, I suppose,” Kieran answered, cutting the last tie and setting the scissors aside. 

Lauren dropped her shirt hem back into place but remained seated on the table, nearly at eye level with him. When she merely met his gaze without further comment, Kieran found himself wanting to fill the silence. He sensed her unspoken question and weighed the thought of showing her more of his work. 

For Kieran, showing anyone his drawings had become something that simply was not done. They were a secret hidden from the world for him alone to keep, save those who had known him long enough to already be aware of his habit. To share them with someone now, beyond the sketch or two that Lauren had already seen…it was a daunting thought. 

“Do you– do you want to see some more sketches?” he heard himself say despite these misgivings.

She seemed to sense the hushed intimacy of the offer, and found herself nodding silently. When he stood to retrieve a key to the door that always remained locked, she hopped lightly down from the table and brushed herself off. She did not follow, however, determined to give him the space he seemed to require. 

Through the small glimpse of the darkened room as Kieran cracked open the door, Lauren could see what appeared to be the vague shape of boxes in the floor and shadows of drawings tacked onto the walls. From the angle of her vantage point, she caught sight of a large framed drawing on the back wall of the room, the indistinct figure of a young girl just visible.

She heard the shuffling of papers before Kieran reappeared with a small stack of sketches. Kieran shut the door behind him, but hesitated before leaving it unlocked and sliding the key into his pocket with one hand. Clearing his throat, he stood at the edge of the table with her and set the small heap of loose papers there after a moment’s hesitation. 

Lauren instinctively understood that something about these drawings made Kieran uncharacteristically nervous, showing a vulnerability to him that she knew few others had witnessed. Before looking at the drawings themselves, she placed her fingers lightly on his jaw and tilted his face to hers to place a soft kiss there. 

He pressed his hand over hers where it lingered against his cheek, closing his eyes as he returned her kiss sweetly. Breaking away gently, he nudged her forehead with his, a small smile curving his lips as he opened his eyes to meet hers.

“Go on, then, darling,” he murmured, nodding toward the drawings. 

With an answering smile, Lauren drew back and selected the first one. It was one of Will and Kym, their expressions leaping off the page at her as perfect representations of their personalities. Her eyes lingered on each drawing as she worked her way through them, marveling at the simplicity that was so skillfully accomplished. 

As she began to set aside the paper that covered the final sketch, Kieran placed his hand on it to prevent her from moving it. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked in confusion, tearing her eyes away to meet his gaze. 

Kieran seemed to agonize over some decision before removing his hand to allow her to see the final drawing. 

Of the batch he had brought forth to show her, it was the only one he had colored, and Lauren’s breath caught in her chest as she took in the depiction of the two of them on the night they met. His sword was at her throat as they locked eyes intently, lips parted. In the corner of the page, he had written, “Why did I freeze?”

Lauren studied the drawing for a long moment, her eyes roving over every detail. The paper crinkled lightly in her hand where it bent in the air as she turned her gaze to Kieran’s inscrutable features. 

“Why…why did you?” she asked at last, voice soft. 

Her eyes seemed to pierce right through him in that moment, just as they had that first night. “I’m not sure,” he murmured. “You were mesmerizing, somehow.” The words slipped from his lips before they had registered as a full thought, and he drew back with his second blush of the evening as the tips of his ears reddened. 

Clearing his throat, he straightened and reached for their abandoned coffee cups to resume their previous positions before allowing her to say anything further. Before he had set his own drink down, however, Kieran spun toward her abruptly, nearly sloshing the liquid over the brim. 

His knuckles grew white on the handle of the mug. He could not forget the look of yearning on her face as he had spoken about Dylan, and his guilt multiplied the longer she was patient with him. He had already shown her nearly every other part of himself now, and it was not fair to her to harbor these secrets that no longer protected anyone. 

“I want to tell you everything,” he told her at last, a firm declaration hanging in the air between them. 

Lauren merely locked eyes with him for a moment before nodding wordlessly, sensing that Kieran was one sudden movement away from backing out of his moment of candor.

“Alright,” Kieran muttered as the night continued to unfold around them. “Where to begin?” he said with a slow smile. 

Lauren replied with an answering smile, “At the beginning, I suppose.”

Chapter Text

Please consider listening to Breathing Water by Cedric Vermue during this chapter.

Lauren and Kieran settled back into their chairs at the kitchen table, finding to their surprise that the coffee had not gone completely lukewarm in the time it had taken to peruse the drawings. 

In the warm glow of the kitchen light, Kieran slowly began his tale. Lauren listened quietly to how he and Dylan were first brought into the Phantom Scythe, her attention captivated in the worst of ways by every word. He wanted to spare her from some of the details, but one prodding comment from Lauren had him telling her the truth about how the cruel conditions they were kept in. The scars on Kieran’s back made more sense after hearing what he had endured…what they had endured.

“We had decided to try our hands at escaping,” he continued. “In the attempt, I–” Kieran stopped short and met her eyes with a thread of fear running through him. When Lauren merely cocked her head to the side in a questioning look, he forced the rest of the words out. “I killed the Tenth. We had almost made it out when they caught us again.”

The way he said the words pricked Lauren’s senses as she pushed down her surprise at the fact that he had killed one of the apostles himself. “What happened? How did they catch you?”

Kieran clenched his teeth, clearly not wanting to give her an answer. “If you ask Dylan, he blames himself for freezing at the worst moment. And I blamed him, too, at the time, but the reality is that we never stood a chance either way. They were on us too quickly for it to have made a difference.”

Lauren inferred that this incident must have brought about some of the weighted tension that hovered between Kieran and Dylan, but she opted to remain silent on the matter. 

By the time Kieran finished this first part of his tale, their coffee cups were empty and their joints had grown stiff from the hard chairs. Sensing her discomfort, Kieran rose and rounded the table, grabbing her hand to lead her to the sofa.

He sat near one end, and she curled up next to him, grateful for the comfort of just being close to him. The hour had grown late, and the night crowded around them to blanket them in a hazy sense of calm. 

Lauren hovered there expectantly until Kieran glimpsed her expression and pushed himself to continue. 

“I was angry at him at the time, but…” He jerked his head to the side, regret darkening his face. “But I was more angry at myself, I think. I had failed, again.”

“What do you mean?” Lauren murmured after a short pause took over the air. Kieran’s features were shadowed by the lamp glowing behind him, obscuring the details of his expression. 

“I mean that I watched them kill my younger sister right in front of me the day I was taken.”

The words were abrupt and unsettling, spoken with much more force than any of the previous ones. Lauren immediately felt chilled to the bone. Wordlessly, she slid her arm through his, interlacing her fingers with his as she leaned into him more closely. 

“Her–” Kieran hesitated, staring at their joined hands. “Her name was Sarah.” He spoke detachedly now, as though commenting on the weather. 

Lauren had the impression that Kieran’s confession cost him dearly, speaking words that were formerly unequivocally taboo. 

“I…didn’t know,” Lauren said, unsure of what else to say when he fell silent.

He cast a fleeting glance her way and forced a smile. “No. No, you couldn’t have.” He shifted slightly, discomfited by the conversation.

Sensing that his willingness to discuss that particular topic had met its limit, Lauren wisely changed the subject. “So, what happened after they caught you and Dylan again?”

Kieran leaned his head back atop the sofa, closing his eyes as he raised his face to the ceiling. 

He was exhausted. When had he last eaten? Four days ago? Five? The wounds on his back from the flogging he had received yesterday felt like lashes of fire lapping at his skin, robbing him of the ability to grow comfortable in any position against the barren stone floor. 

The darkness was impenetrable, not even a hint of moonlight touching the room through the barred window high above as heavy clouds covered the small glimpse of the sky. 

A scrabbling of tiny claws next to him grabbed his attention. A wave of revulsion came over him as he felt the vulnerability of blindness nearly suffocate him. The duration of the noise was brief, however, as the rat soon scurried away across the cell. The only other sound was that of breathing so quiet it was almost inaudible. He resisted the urge to check on Dylan, knowing that the crumpled heap just beyond the other set of bars had managed to escape into the only relief they had for now: sleep.

But sleep would not come for him. He had been awake since they brought him here, as best he could tell. He tilted his head to the side, considering this notion. His thoughts were so muddied by now, it was possible he had slept for a few minutes from time to time, but he had accomplished nothing resembling real rest as he kept himself ready for any further assault. 

Dylan grunted in his sleep as he shifted slightly, disturbed by some invisible specter. 

Even though he could not see Dylan through the oppressive darkness, he glared in that direction anyway and gritted his teeth. 

This was all his fault, he thought. How long had they been there, drowning under the Tenth’s iron will as he strived to break them and shape them into willing slaves? And despite all that time, all of his efforts to get Dylan to at least comply with the bare minimum requirements to learn how to survive, here they were. Stuck in a cell, bleeding and starving. All because Dylan had frozen in that alleyway and left him there to handle everything by himself. 

Swallowing, he remembered the sheer, desperate horror in his quaking hands as he had driven the makeshift blade into the Tenth’s chest. He had never been so terrified. Not even when he was taken, not even when they killed Sarah. Something about having a person’s life in his own hands and choosing to end it had triggered a primal fear in him unlike any other before. 

He shuddered, feeling nauseated at the memory, and the action cracked open some of the scabs on his back and sent a sharp spike of pain through him. He no longer had to fight the impulse to cry out, however. His bitter determination to starve his captors of any such response had become hardened and perfected over the last several days. 

The hours wore on, and the cloud-covered sun lent a dingy glow to the space as morning arrived. 

Suddenly, the sound of a heavy metal door being opened across from the entrance to his cell captured his attention, and his veins filled with the icy shock of fearful adrenaline. Bright torchlight accompanied them, adding to the illumination of the space with starkly contrasting shadows dancing across the walls as two hooded figures stood before his cell. 

They spoke in low voices to each other, ignoring Dylan altogether as he continued to lay silently on the floor in a fitful sleep. He wondered now if Dylan could have some sort of fever; nothing should have kept him unconscious once their captors had entered the room. 

Without moving, he sat with his arms draped over his knees and stared at them wordlessly, unable to hear most of what the masked figures were saying. Instead, he simply glared at them spitefully, waiting to see what their purpose was. 

Were they finally here to kill him? he wondered detachedly. It wasn’t the first time they’d come since he and Dylan had been recaptured. Perhaps they had finally made up their minds about what to do with them. 

He fought back a startled jolt when a knife was tossed into the cell to clatter against the hard stone a short distance in front of him. His eyes gazed at it unseeing for a long moment until it slid into focus. 

“We’ve been watching you,” the taller of the two figures said in a louder voice, clearly directing the words toward him this time. 

“We’ve come up with a little deal for you, boy,” the second added almost gleefully.

The first hooded figure gestured sharply for his companion to be silent, then continued, “You could be of great value to us.” His voice was the antithesis to his companion’s, instead being low and deadly serious. “If,” he said, slowly, “you make the right choice.”

Still seated on the ground, he merely continued to stare at the knife instead of responding to this introduction, listening to the quiet sounds of Dylan’s breathing nearby. 

“You have two choices,” the first man went on. “You can use this knife to end your life, or you can use it to work for us.” He motioned toward Dylan’s prone figure. “Choose the first option, and both of you will die. Choose the latter, and both of you get to live and be given power beyond measure.”

His only response at first was a softly huffed scoff. After a long silence, he finally raised his eyes to the masked figure. “He’d rather die than work for you,” he muttered in a ragged voice as he glanced toward Dylan, the dryness of his throat causing his words to rasp. 

The hooded figure nodded, bringing a hand up to his chin for a moment as if in thought. “Yes, that’s what we thought you might say.”

The second captor could not restrain a small chuckle. “That’s where the other part of our deal comes in.”

“Join us,” the first said, “and we’ll let your partner join the medical team like he’s always wanted.” His words held a note of amusement, as though Dylan’s dreams were a hilarious joke he had to smother his laughter toward. “He won’t be required to join the front lines of our cause.”

He stared up at the man, dumbfounded. He could be lying, a voice in his head said. But why? If they wanted his continued cooperation, they would have to keep their word. 

“Make your choice, boy. Each day you delay, you will both be flogged.”

He clenched his teeth and dropped his gaze back to the knife. Firelight from the torch glinted off the blade in a shimmering pattern, and Dylan made a small sound as he stirred slightly. 

What choice did he have? he thought helplessly. Slowly, he dragged himself forward and took the knife in one hand, standing. 

Staring into the mask’s featureless eyes, Kieran gathered all of the dregs of his strength and ripped the sleeve from his tattered tunic. His upper arm exposed, he took a deep breath, stilling the shaking of his hands before he dragged the edge of the blade through his flesh to tear away the brand they had put there.

He could see both figures straighten in surprise, with the subordinate figure throwing his hands out toward him before the first man stayed his motions. 

Throwing the bloodied knife back onto the floor, the metal clattered loudly as he took in one shuddering breath. Blood cascaded down his arm in streams, but he hardly noticed.

“I’ll do what you want me to. I will work for you,” he ground out. “But you will never make me become one of you.”

Silence reigned for what seemed like an eternity. 

At last, the first captor tipped his head toward Kieran and clapped his hands slowly. The sound rang through the vacant space like a death knell. “So be it,” he answered, fishing out a key from within his robe to unlock the cell door. 

Coming alongside him, the man placed one hand between his shoulder blades and pushed him forward, out of the cell.

He whipped his head back toward Dylan, ignoring the swimming sensation the motion lent him as his body responded to prolonged hunger and blood loss. “What about–”

“Don’t worry about your friend. My associate here will take good care of him,” his captor told him, nodding toward the other hooded figure. 

He was pushed through the heavy metal door, leaving a trail of scarlet in his wake. He caught a glimpse of Dylan as he woke and then made the briefest instant of eye contact with him before the door clanged shut with resounding finality.

Lauren’s fingers gently carding through his hair brought Kieran back to the present. He forced a flickering smile toward her, searching for the words to say.

He leaned toward her slightly, drawing strength from her presence next to him on the couch in the soft halo of light given off by the lamp. “They offered me a deal. Work for them, and they’d let Dylan join the medical crew.” He cleared his throat and one hand came up to feel the gnarled scar on his shoulder without thinking. “Refuse, and they would kill us both.”

Lauren’s eyes darted to where his hand was, and the memory of the branded “X” on Dylan’s own arm in that same spot. “Why…why did they make you choose? Why not Dylan?”

Kieran met her eyes in faint surprise. It was not a question he had ever considered. “They knew it would work,” he answered simply. 

Lauren considered this thoughtfully, wondering why the inverse was not also certain to be true. Would Dylan not have made the same choice in Kieran’s place?

She studied him speculatively and noted that he seemed completely bereft at this point, spent from visiting painful memories. “That’s enough for now, Kieran. We should get some rest,” she said gently. 

He placed a hand on her knee where she was half-turned toward him, one arm around his shoulders from where she had been running her fingers through his hair. After a second’s hesitation, she leaned in and brushed a kiss against his lips. 

His fingers came up and traced lightly along her jaw, softly coaxing her to remain there as he returned the kiss. He slipped an arm behind her, pulling her closer.

After enjoying the touch for a moment, Kieran pulled back and met her eyes. Thinking of the past with such focus had left him feeling on edge, but her presence there steadied him. Her forehead was cool when he pressed his lips to it, and he lingered for a fraction longer than he had intended before breaking the contact and rising slowly. 

Lauren watched him pad across the room and collect their coffee cups, moving to the sink to begin washing them. 

“It’s grown quite late. Go get some rest, love,” he called over his shoulder without truly looking at her. 

The running water dampened the sound, but it failed to hide the reluctance in his voice. Lauren frowned, unsure if space to himself was the best or the worst thing for Kieran right now. “Only if you come with me,” she countered, making up her mind quickly as she stood and crossed the room. 

The coffee cup slipped in Kieran’s fingers, clanking loudly against the side of the sink as he did a double take toward her. When she merely raised an eyebrow at him, one hand on her hip stubbornly, he chuckled and turned back to his task, shutting off the water. 

He took his time drying the final cup, focusing on the clean surface of white ceramic instead of facing Lauren’s determined features. When at last industriousness could be feigned no longer, he set the mug aside and turned to face her, leaning against the countertop with his arms crossed. 

“Sinclair, are you just trying to get me in–”

Lauren rolled her eyes, cutting him off. “Honestly, subordinate. We can share the bed for heaven’s sake, we are both adults, and–”

“And that’s the problem,” Kieran laughed, the grin hovering on his lips this time instead of sliding away with the weight of the evening. At her flat stare, he held his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll get you some clothes.”

Several minutes later, Lauren was lying on her side in Kieran’s shirt, in Kieran’s bed, wondering where on earth the courage that had previously filled her had fled to. 

Darkness overcame her vision for a few seconds as Kieran turned off the light, until her sight adjusted to the faint moonlight as he slid into bed next to her. 

The stillness of the night ruled, both of them unknowingly struggling against the same hesitation. They were overwhelmed by the feeling that the simple intimacy of sleeping next to each other brought with it a screaming vulnerability that neither of them were sure what to do with. 

Hearing the softness of her breathing and the dip of the mattress from her form, Kieran tentatively reached out until his hand found hers. She twined their fingers together and gave his hand a small squeeze. 

The adrenaline of their current arrangement slowly gave way to a bone-deep weariness, the chronicity of their struggles weighing on them like lead. There was a fatigue that stemmed not only from the preceding months’ physical and emotional strife, but also the culmination of years of toil, and it sapped the nervousness from their frames. The constant sensation of having their very lives balanced upon their next movement seemed to relent a fraction as they sank silently into the sheets.

Kieran’s eyes slid open, straining in the darkness to see her shadowed form lying on her side, facing him. He untangled his fingers from hers to rest his palm against her side as he rose up on one elbow. 

“Lauren?” he murmured softly, suddenly feeling inexplicably lonely despite her nearness.

Her eyelashes fluttered open in the low light, and she gave him a small hum of acknowledgement. 

“Can–” his whisper cut off as he second-guessed himself, his hand twitching against the fabric of his shirt where it rested against her skin. 

When he failed to continue, Lauren cleared her throat lightly. “What is it?” she asked gently, meeting his gaze as much as the dimness of the room would allow her to. His hair was loose from its bindings, much of it falling forward to obscure his face. 

“Can I hold you?” he asked finally, the words nearly a mere breath in the air between them. 

In response, she huffed out a soft laugh and shifted toward him, guiding his hand more toward her back to encircle herself in his yielding grasp. She draped her hand over him in return and tugged herself closer until her face was nearly buried in his chest. 

Kieran wished he could quell the racing of his heart, which he knew would be all too apparent to his partner where she rested against him. He tilted his chin up and smoothed back her hair where it tickled him slightly until it streamed behind her instead. 

For a moment, Kieran could imagine that it was years in the future, without the specter of the Phantom Scythe hanging over them, without fear of being found out ruling their lives, without fear of repercussions simply from being found together. 

He could imagine falling into bed at night, this exhaustion washed away by finding his home there in her arms. He could imagine feeling a cool band of gold encircling one of the fingers now resting against his back, marking her as someone who belonged there with him. He could imagine learning everything there was to know about her, and then still being able to discover something new as grey slowly encroached at their temples.

Kieran swallowed, startled by how deeply he had come to feel for this woman lying next to him. His heart sank as he remembered that any such future was nearly impossible for them; even if she shared the same dream, how could they both expect to survive this ill-fated mission of theirs? 

Lauren shifted slightly, making a small sound in the back of her throat as she drifted closer to sleep. She was merely shades of grey in the darkness, but he tilted his head to study her features intently. 

Unable to stop himself, Kieran pulled her even closer, his palm flattening against her upper back where he held her. 

Her lips quirked into a small smile, but her eyes remained closed as she murmured, “Goodnight, Kieran.”

Once again, Kieran was struck by the intimacy of their current position. Six months ago, he could not have fathomed anything that had happened to them thus far. 

As he closed his eyes, Kieran had the desperate hope that perhaps six months from now, he would be fortunate enough to experience the same sensation of undeserved gratitude at the fact that Lauren was still by his side despite it all.

“Goodnight, Lauren,” he answered softly, holding on to the fragile dream with all his strength.

Chapter Text

Please consider listening to Some Sand by Ibi during this chapter.

Lauren awoke in the predawn darkness filling Kieran’s room with Dylan on her mind. Her eyes stared vacantly toward the ceiling, open wide as though it would help her see through the inky black night. Despite all she had learned thus far, her discussion with Kieran had only generated more questions. 

Seeing Dylan the night before had shaken her; the surprise at his presence there and the furtive conversation he had shared with Kieran had sent her pulse racing. What had made Dylan so frightened?

She wanted more time with him, but every encounter they had was fraught with tension and the sensation that it could be their last meeting. She had missed him so deeply, yet he was doing everything in his power to stay hidden away from her. How was she supposed to let him go now? 

Maybe if they could finally rid the city of the Phantom Scythe, they could… they could, what? What would they be to each other now? 

As the faintest hint of light began to grace the horizon, Lauren was shaken from her reverie by a shift in the mattress next to her. She heard Kieran take in a deep breath as he awoke and sat up on one elbow with his back to her, facing the window. The movement caused a small gust of cool air to strike her skin, and she instinctively reached toward him as though to recapture some of the warmth. 

At her touch against his back, Kieran jolted slightly before recalling his surroundings. His shoulders sagged as he relaxed and turned over to face her. Neither of them spoke, as though obeying some unspoken rule of the hour, but despite the low light, she could see his features soften as he looked at her.

Wordlessly, Lauren slid over and buried her face in his chest, hands curling in front of her against him. Kieran settled back down onto his pillow and slipped his arm over her, holding her close as he had the night before. The haze of sleep seemed to heighten their senses as much as it dulled their restraint, allowing any nervousness to dissipate before it could form as they rested in each other’s company. 

As she settled into their new position, Lauren realized that some of her sensation of contentment arose from the fact that she finally felt safe when she was with Kieran. The feeling was a difficult one to come by these days, and she nearly laughed aloud when she considered that this man — arguably one of the most dangerous men in the entire city — had become her safe haven. 

Eventually, the sunlight began to drift into the room. Kieran drew lazy circles on Lauren’s back as they pushed back the tendrils of slumber, sated from the first night’s peace either of them had been able to enjoy in weeks. At last, he braced his hand on her arm and kissed her temple before rising. 

“I’ll make some coffee. Just stay here,” he murmured before leaving the room. 

A few minutes later, Lauren was sitting up in bed with a steaming mug of coffee in her hands as Kieran sat across from her in a wooden chair. Neither of them had spoken much yet, as though doing so would ruin the tenuous feeling humming between them since the night before.

At length, Lauren met Kieran’s eyes. At his questioning look, she said simply, “Thank you.”

Kieran understood that she was not referring to the coffee.  “You…you deserve to have answers, Lauren.” He averted his eyes to stare at the shivering surface of his own cup. “All of the ones I can give you, at least.”

Lauren pressed her lips together, considering for a long moment. Finally, she asked, “I won’t keep badgering you about this. I won’t. But…” she trailed off, only continuing when Kieran gave her a crooked smile of indulgence. “But, the two of you don’t seem to be on the best of terms. What happened after you were separated?”

Kieran hummed in understanding as he finished taking a sip, then sucked air through his teeth with a regretful grimace. “Remember how I told you that Dylan blamed himself for our recapture?” At Lauren’s silent nod, he continued, “I blamed him as well at the time. I was…unkind. Angry.” He shook his head. “Childish.” 

After pausing to take another careful sip, Kieran leaned over to place his cup on the bedside table. His eyes raked over Lauren sitting cross-legged in his bed, the sheets loosely over her lap as she watched him, wearing his shirt as the morning sun began to touch her mussed hair. His stomach did a flip at the sight, and he quickly resumed his story to distract himself.

“After they separated us, we didn’t see each other often after that. I ran into him from time to time, once after an assignment during training went poorly,” Kieran continued, feeling a reflexive guarding of his abdomen where a bullet wound had been one fateful day. “It was difficult at first. When we would see each other, there were always too many watching eyes to have real conversation beyond superficial banter, and so we were never able to really talk about what happened. And then…then it was just easier for both of us to stay detached.”

Lauren nodded thoughtfully, clutching her coffee without drinking it. She breathed in the smell of the drink, feeling inexplicably comforted by the way it mingled with the scent of Kieran’s apartment. Thoughts tumbled through her mind, and she struggled with putting them into words. So much about the inner workings of the Phantom Scythe made no sense to her. 

“Why are you and Dylan different? I thought everyone who was a part of the Scythe more or less wanted to be there. Why would they have taken you? Why wouldn’t they let you leave?” she finally asked, still staring down at her drink. 

Kieran contemplated the questions. “The Scythe has blackmailed plenty of people into joining their cause. And…strictly speaking, I do want to be there, in a way.” At her baffled look, he chuckled quietly. “I didn’t at first, obviously, but after everything…I decided that taking them down from the inside would be easier than trying to fight them externally. And,” he paused, speaking carefully, “as you know, I did anything they wanted me to in order to accomplish that goal.”

He cleared his throat roughly, avoiding her eyes. “Anyway, I don’t know why they took us. I would guess it had something to do with blackmail, but how they could have concocted some way to make our capture useful, I have no idea. I spent a hundred days’ worth of hours trying to understand that same question.” 

Kieran gestured toward her coffee, urging her to drink. When she obediently took a sip, he continued, “But, once they had us, they couldn’t let us go. They had decided that we knew too much. They also apparently thought we would be useful, so they left us alive and put us to work.” He met her eyes, imploring her to understand. “You must know– you must know that there was nothing he could have done to let you know he was alive. They knew he wasn’t committed to their cause… any contact with his old life and they would have killed him immediately.”

Lauren lowered her coffee cup from her lips, eyebrows raised in faint surprise at his sudden defense of Dylan. “I see that now,” she replied quietly. 

With a long sigh, Lauren leaned forward and set her coffee on the bedside table. “I should get ready to go,” she said reluctantly.

Kieran bit back his distaste for the idea, knowing that she was right. Dylan’s visit the previous night had demonstrated that the danger they consistently placed themselves in had grown even more apparent. He stood as she climbed from the bed, instinctively needing to stay close to her. 

As she made to move past him, he reached for her elbow, holding her lightly in place. “Lauren,” he began, and his look was so beseeching that Lauren shook off her distracted thoughts to study his features. 

“What is it?” she prompted when he did not speak further. 

“We’re so close I can taste it.” His voice was low and serious as he gave her a searching look. “Please– just be careful. We can’t afford to take any more unnecessary risks.” 

Lauren swallowed, bobbing her head in a quick nod as she fought to bury her embarrassment from the foolhardy endeavor that coming to his apartment had been. 

As his grip on her arm slowly loosened, however, the bereft feeling of walking away from him convinced her that she would likely have made the same mistake even if she had it to do over again. 

A few days later, warm air washed over Lauren as she entered the cafe, aiming to ground herself with some coffee before heading to the precinct. 

The cafe was bustling with activity, and the scent of freshly ground coffee filled the air so thickly Lauren could almost taste the drink she was preparing to order. 

At the back of the line of customers waiting to order at the counter, Lauren spied the back of a familiar blonde head. Will was hunched over slightly, peering unhappily at a small piece of paper in his hands. A tan overcoat covered most of his uniform.

Approaching surreptitiously, she clapped both hands onto his shoulders from behind, resulting in a startled jump from Will. 

“Hey!” he cried in surprise, whipping around to see Lauren grinning mischievously. Upon seeing her, he let out a sigh of exasperation. “Lauren.”

“Will,” she answered in the same serious tone. Glancing ahead, the line continued to be at a standstill, so Lauren gestured to the paper in his hands. “What’s got you so frustrated?” she asked, indicating his still gloomy expression. 

“Kym, of course,” he answered with an eye roll. 

Lauren noted with some amusement that Will used her friend’s first name. He had rarely done so before the last two to three months, and even now she was usually referred to as “Ladell” or “Sergeant” when she was in trouble.

“She sent me with some chicken scratch of a note about what she wanted me to order, and I have no idea what it says,” he elaborated, running a hand through his hair. “And I just know that if I come back with the wrong thing, she’ll taunt me for the rest of the day,” he ranted. 

Lauren snickered, resting her hand on Will’s wrist. “And if you get it right, she’ll just be mocking you for agreeing to go get it for her in the first place.”

A dawning look of realization appeared on Will’s face as he cast his gaze around the crowded room. “That’s right, why am I here?” he asked, seemingly baffled. “Why in heaven’s name was I the one she sent on a coffee run?”

“Probably because she wanted to see if you would do it,” Lauren answered dryly, pushing him lightly on the arm to get him to step forward in the shifting line. 

“Give it to me,” she commanded, holding out her hand for the note.

Will complied, features now resigned. 

Lauren skimmed the note with the briefest of glances before telling him, “She wants a latte with extra espresso.”

Will snatched the note back out of Lauren’s hands and scrutinized it closely. “How did you read that?”

“I didn’t. That’s just what she always orders,” she explained with a smirk. 

Shaking his head, Will crumpled the note and pushed it into his jacket pocket. “Like the woman needs any more energy. Honestly.”

As the line moved another position forward with the Will being next to order, his eyes flickered to Lauren again. “You seem particularly preoccupied lately,” he offered tentatively. “Is it just the cases we’re working on?”

Lauren raised her eyebrows in surprise, squirming internally. “Uh- sure. I mean, we’ve had some major developments, haven’t we?”

Will studied her carefully. Mindful of their surroundings, he lowered his voice. “You’ve seemed off since the night you were injured. I hope you know you can talk to me if you need to, Lauren.” When she remained silent, he added, “That’s all. I’ll leave you be.”

A swell of gratitude collided with a wave of the desire to confess everything to Will, and Lauren had to merely bob her head in a nod in response. Further conversation was cut off by Will taking his turn to order, hurriedly spilling out the words to the cashier. 

In an unspoken agreement, Will waited on Lauren to receive her drink order as well, and then they set off toward the precinct together in a comfortable silence. Clouds were gathering to cover the sky, but no threat of rain hung over them yet. 

As they approached the APD, Lauren slowed and tugged faintly on Will’s sleeve. Gaping at him for a moment, she burst out, “Can we talk, actually? After work?” The words were out of her mouth before she could take them back, and she felt a thrill of fear ripple through her. 

Still holding two drinks in his hands, Will’s features softened, and he smiled gently. “Of course. I’ll meet you after patrol.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, frozen on the spot as Will fumbled with the door to the APD. Breaking out of her daze, she lunged forward and opened the door for him, acknowledging the grateful tilt of his head with a nod of her own.

After passing through the opening, Will glanced back at her. “Don’t back out on me now, Lauren,” he teased, but she could sense the underlying seriousness of his words. 

“R-right,” she confirmed unsteadily, staring at his back as she followed him down the long hallway. 

What had she been thinking?

Lauren gritted her teeth as she and Will strode down the long gravel avenue that ran parallel to the river. Barren trees lined either side of the wide path, with wooden benches interspersed at regular intervals between the great trunks. A metal railing stood between the edge of the raised avenue and the river a few feet below, and the gentle lapping of the water against the barrier wall softly added to the hum of the city behind them. 

What had she been thinking? Lauren thought desolately again, and her fingers unconsciously pressed harder down onto Will’s arm where she had placed her hand in the crook of his elbow in response to the cold. 

“Easy there, I don’t want Kieran coming after me,” Will chuckled, gesturing toward the hand that was now tightly gripping his arm. “He could probably take me in a fight, if we’re being honest.”

Lauren stifled a somewhat strangled laugh. If he only knew, she thought, but out loud she replied, “Oh, he’ll get over it. It’s freezing out here.”

“Yes, well, you’re the one that suggested we come here,” Will answered, leading her toward a bench near the far end of the avenue, away from the majority of the scattered passersby.

“It seems to be our spot, though, doesn’t it?” Lauren asked with a laugh as they approached. “We’ve had all kinds of conversations on this bench.” She tried to quash her nervousness as she considered the weight of the topic at hand for this particular outing. 

“That we have,” Will confirmed, taking his seat on the far end of the bench as usual. Lauren sat down next to him, a few inches between them as they rested for a long interval without speaking. 

Lauren stared at the sullen grey sky, torn between the almost irresistible pull toward telling Will the truth about their childhood friend and the fact that this knowledge could serve no good purpose for him. Will was at peace with Dylan’s disappearance, and bringing it up now would only dredge up painful memories long buried. She knew that William had suffered greatly from the disintegration of his family over the years, and she feared that he would only see Dylan’s hidden existence as another abandonment. 

And yet, his words when she had asked him what he would say to Dylan if he were still alive continued to hammer out a drumbeat in her mind. What if knowing that Dylan had not truly left them brought joy, instead of pain?

“Lauren,” Will said into the empty air in front of them. “Is this about Dylan?”

Startled, Lauren’s gaze shot to his. Will merely turned his head to watch her with a guarded expression as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. A lock of blonde hair fell over his forehead, stirred lightly by the breeze. 

“It’s the only thing I can think of that would make sense for you to want to speak to me alone, and you’ve talked more about him in the last several days than you have in months,” Will explained when it seemed Lauren was still at a loss for words. 

“Will, I–” she began, but her breath caught in her throat. Her mouth went dry as her common sense warred against her desire to speak to someone about Dylan’s reappearance who could understand like no one else. 

She tried again, swallowing hard. “Will, I need your promise that you will not act on anything I tell you today, and that you won’t speak of any of it to anyone else.” She pierced him with a sharp gaze. “Don’t answer yet, because I want you to think about it for a moment. I need you to be sure it’s a promise you know you can keep.”

Will sat up straight, and a crease appeared between his brows as he considered her words seriously. “I promise,” he said after a heavy pause.

“The night I was s-shot, I saw a doctor,” she began haltingly, twisting her fingers together distractedly. “And I found something out.”

“About Dylan?” Will prompted, shaking his head in confusion. 

“Yes,” Lauren confirmed, scrambling for what to say next. An icy breeze stole through her jacket, and a chill trickled down her spine. 

Will shifted on the bench, half-turning toward her. “Did he– did he live? Through the explosion?”

Lauren clenched her jaw and gave him a short nod. 

“The doctor knew something about him, then?” Will continued, trying to coax out the rest of the story as his heart began to pound. 

Her mouth went dry. Lauren knew that Will would have been aware of Dylan’s childhood dream to become a doctor as well, and she hoped he would pick up on her implication. She gave him a significant look as she nodded once more, and it was then that Will suddenly understood. 

“The doctor… was Dylan?” Will let the words hang in the air as he met Lauren’s eyes, waiting for her confirmation or denial. 

Lauren squeezed her eyes shut and ran a hand over her face to hide her grimace, nodding yet again. 

Will stiffened beside her, mind racing at the implications. He gripped her forearms, pulling her hands away from her face. “He’s alive? And you saw him?”

Lauren peered up at him miserably, still unsure about whether her decision to tell him had been a terrible mistake or not. “Yes. He’s the one that got the bullet out.” She paused, contriving a way to leave Kieran out of the picture. “He said they took him before he made it back to the station that day, but he doesn’t know why. He- he couldn’t escape. He’s still being watched even now.”

Will released her and sank back against the bench, eyes wide. “He’s with the Phantom Scythe,” he said, voice sounding detached. 

“Well, he’s not on their side, at least. He hasn’t had a choice,” Lauren clarified, suddenly worrying that Will would misconstrue Dylan’s absence.

He met her gaze sympathetically. “Are you sure, Lauren?” he asked quietly. “It’s been a very long time.”

She considered the question for a moment before nodding her assent. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Will’s features softened into a smile as he took her word as truth, desperately wanting to trust her word. “I can’t believe this,” he said faintly. “After all this time…” As he trailed off, Will met her eyes once again as a realization hit him. “And you,” he ventured slowly, “you were the one to always believe in him.” He shook his head, closing his eyes in sorrow. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to help you more. If I had, maybe you wouldn’t have had to get caught up in– everything,” he finished, avoiding speaking about Lune out in the open, even if there were no other people visible nearby. 

Lauren stood, crossing her arms against the cold as she paced toward the railing that overlooked the river. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong, Will. It was a near-impossible task to begin with, and in the end, it was a complete accident that brought me to him.”

Twisting around to watch her drift away, Will then stood to join her. They both peered silently at the rippling surface of the water for several moments. 

“Can I see him? Have you seen him again?” Will asked, but his tone indicated that he predicted the answer.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Will,” Lauren answered softly. “I met him at the clinic again to get more information, but I can’t go back without drawing unwanted attention. He said that they’re watching him and that it wasn’t safe.” 

She shook her head and stifled a shiver as the brisk breeze swept her hair away from her face. “That’s one reason I tried not to tell you, but I felt like you deserved to know.”

“It’s…a lot to take in,” Will said at length, staring blankly ahead. 

“Yes,” Lauren agreed, turning to lean her back against the barrier to watch him. 

His hands gripped the freezing metal with almost white-knuckled force. “What about a message of some kind? Is there any way to communicate with him?”

Lauren swallowed nervously, thinking about the letter she had sent him. It was too dangerous to send Kieran back there right now, however. “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know if I figure something out."

“Right, right,” Will replied, struggling to maintain composure. “I just can’t believe it,” he murmured again. He pulled back the jacket of his uniform, placing one hand on his hip as he stared unseeing toward the water. 

“Does Kieran know?” he asked after a moment, eyes regaining their focus to meet Lauren’s gaze.

Lauren felt a flash of icy fear, quickly overtaken by confusion. “...What?” she forced out.

Will cocked his head to the side, curious about her startled reaction. “Does your boyfriend know about Dylan? Do you….expect this to change anything?”

Having had a moment to regroup, Lauren realized that of course Will would believe Kieran to have no knowledge of Dylan other than what she might have told him. The tension in her chest slowly dissipated, only to be replaced by a discomfited twist in her stomach instead. “What…do you mean?” she asked, redirecting her eyes away from Will’s.

“You know what I mean, Lauren. You and Dylan were…always very close. You’ve spent the last decade nearly devoting your life to finding him, and now you have. What do you think will happen from here?” Will asked keenly, studying the look of bewilderment that flickered across Lauren’s features. 

Lauren wrestled with her thoughts, trying to discern what the easiest answer would be to share with Will. Even in the midst of this struggle, however, a quiet doubt rose in her mind about what the truth of that answer would be.

“Kieran knows some of the history, but he’s not aware of the fact that Dylan is alive,” Lauren said as she settled on the easiest lie. When Will merely raised an eyebrow at her, awaiting the rest of her response, she swallowed, her eyes skittering away from his. “It can’t change anything.”

Will settled back on his heels, still observing her carefully. Can’t, or won’t? he thought, but did not voice the question. 

A heavy drop of icy rain landed on Lauren’s head, and she flinched as her gaze was jerked up to the overcast sky. The drop was merely a herald of those to come, and rain quickly began to tumble from the sky in earnest.

“Come on, let’s go,” Will said, grabbing her elbow to tug her toward the main area of the city to find shelter. 

The sudden downpour prevented any further conversation, a fact which was a shameful relief to Lauren. She still felt the faint tremor of adrenaline running through her veins at the confession, and Will would need time to process the news.

Unbeknownst to the pair of officers, another set of eyes watched them as they hastened away, hidden in the shadows beyond the end of the avenue. Dylan was too far away from them to hear the conversation, but it was not difficult to guess the subject matter based on their reactions.He feared that another player had been added to this game of risk they were perpetually playing.

Dylan felt a jolt of panic as Lauren split away from Will and seemed to be heading right toward him. As he began to scramble away, a crack of thunder overhead caused her features to shoot up toward the sky before falling back down just in time to see him disappear around the corner. 

I’m in trouble now, he thought grimly as he only made it halfway down the back alley street before feeling a hand grab his coat. 

Blinking back drops of rain from his eyes, Dylan halted in place. With a deep sigh of resignation, he gathered his courage. 

When he turned to face her, all he could see through the sheets of rain falling upon them was her fiery gaze piercing him to the core.

He was definitely in trouble now.

Chapter Text

Please consider listening to Nocturne in Paris by Tony Anderson during this chapter.

Rain pelted down on Lauren and Dylan as they stood locked in a standstill on the quiet side street. The rainwater already slicked his hair down, darkening the silver to a steely grey as she held his sleeve firmly in her grip. 

“You’re the one that’s telling us to be cautious and now here you are, gallivanting around? What in heaven’s name are you doing here?” she demanded, meeting his gaze fiercely. 

Dylan gulped, his silver eyes drinking in the sight of her almost desperately despite the dire circumstances. His chest ached with indecisive longing as he peered at her. “I’m sorry, I– I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Seriously, what are you doing here?” Lauren asked, drawing closer to him to better hear his words over the sound of the pounding rain. 

Dylan observed that her expression had shifted from anger to worry, and her posture softened accordingly as well. “I was– taking a walk. I don’t get out of the Underworld much,” he offered weakly, knowing that she would see the words for the evasion they were. I wanted to see you, even if it was from afar, were the words he wished he could tell her. “I’ve had a lot to think about lately.”

Lauren huffed out a softly incredulous laugh at this and glanced up. Tugging him toward a small overhang, they huddled there as they took shelter from the brunt of the weather. The rain had banished all other foot traffic, so they remained in relative obscurity there.

“What were you and Will talking about?” Dylan asked, already suspicious that he knew the answer. “He looked just like I imagined he would as an adult,” he added with a small smile.

Swiping water away from her eyes, Lauren bit her lip nervously as her gaze darted away.

At her silence, Dylan raised his eyes to heaven and then fixed her with a wry look. “You told him,” he said, and it was clearly not a question. 

“Look, it was only a matter of time, he was going to figure it out–” Lauren started, and Dylan could see heat rising to flush her cheeks.

“Calm down,” he laughed lightly. She still held his sleeve loosely, and he placed his hand atop hers for a moment. “We’ll have to hope he at least can keep a secret, then.”

Lauren hung her head briefly, regaining her composure before lifting her face to his once more. “He wanted to see you, or send you a message, but…I told him I didn’t think it would be possible right now.”

Dylan’s features twisted into one of pained regret as he slowly slid his hand away from her. “I suppose you’re right. Still…” he trailed off, considering what it would be like to speak to William again. 

“But,” Lauren interjected, eyeing him almost cautiously. “He did tell me recently that if he were to ever see you, he would want you to know…that you were important to him.” She shrugged, and Dylan had the impression that there was more she was not saying. “Among other things,” she finished vaguely. She squirmed with the memory of Will’s pointed questioning about her current relationship with Dylan. 

Casting his eyes around, Dylan noted that they were alone for the moment. He felt a sudden nauseating reminder of the choice he had yet to make, like the constant ticking of a clock counting down to this demise. 

He had to warn her somehow, he thought, but he knew it was useless. As he studied her features as the rain trickled in rivulets down her skin, he reconsidered his options for the hundredth time. 

Tomorrow, he would have to report to the Messenger. Tomorrow, he would have to make the decision upon which their very lives stood. 

In his gut, Dylan knew he had to turn Kieran in. He understood this as a fundamental truth if he had any chance of survival. Any lie would be found out, and – as Dylan was well aware – the Purple Hyacinth was much more valuable to the Scythe than Dr. Yew. 

The very idea of revealing to the Messenger that Kieran had been working with the “enemy” was still repulsive to him, but Dylan could see no other way if he wanted to live through this. Any lesser information would be considered insufficient to guarantee his safety. He hoped that they would be lenient with Kieran, perhaps using the knowledge as a way to leverage him back to their will rather than disposing of him. They might rough him up a bit, but surely they would not completely get rid of their prize assassin…right?

Dylan had considered telling Kieran to flee the city before he had to report back to the Messenger. However, he knew enough of Kieran’s character to understand that he would never be able to convince him to run. Dylan had thought about doing so himself, but had never possessed the courage. And what’s more, even if he were to accomplish that feat, it would be obvious to the Scythe that Dylan had tipped Kieran off, and it would all be for naught. 

Lauren’s voice interrupted his inner turmoil. “I wasn’t sure I would see you again,” she said softly. 

In order to hide under the small outcropping above them, they were close enough to each other that Dylan could feel her warmth, and it brought back every wave of yearning he had pushed down over the years. 

And, Dylan mused, this presented the rest of the dilemma.

If he exposed Kieran’s actions, it would be nearly impossible not to implicate Lauren. 

No matter how creative he was with fabricating the details of Kieran’s involvement with the APD, it would eventually come to light that he had been close with Lauren. Would her relationship with Tristan be enough to save her? Could he find a way to distance her from Kieran somehow?

“Ren,” he began carefully, ignoring the way the rain had already soaked him through his coat down to his skin. He tried to repress the resulting shiver. “I’m afraid for you.”

A crease appeared on her brow. “What do you mean?”

Dylan swallowed, dreading the way he anticipated this conversation going. If hurting her like this would save her life, however, he would do it a hundred times over. “It’s– it’s Kieran. He’s not– I don’t think you should be involved with him.”

At this, Lauren withdrew her hand and folded her arms over her chest, straightening. “What do you mean?” she asked, daring him to voice his concerns aloud. 

He could see her defensiveness rise up to cover her like a shield, but he could think of no other attempt to keep her safe. If she was no longer partnered with Kieran, maybe she would remain away from their scrutiny.

“Surely you see there’s no future with him, Lauren,”  Dylan forced out. He hated the way he knew his words would ring as truth in her ears, hated the fact that he was selfish enough to betray someone who had been as close to him as a brother. 

At this, Lauren grew indignant and pulled her jacket more closely around her. The fabric was completely saturated from rain, and the slick surface slid through her fingers more than once before she finally had it tightened. “What is that supposed to mean–”

“Men like him don’t get to have a quiet, peaceful life. He’s a murderer, Ren. You know everything he’s done.” He reached for her, gripping her by the elbows to implore her to heed his words. “How can you stay with him, knowing that?”

Lauren jerked back, stepping into the rain more fully. “And how can you say that, knowing what he’s done for you?” she replied hotly, squaring her feet stubbornly.

Dylan closed his eyes, understanding at once that Kieran must have told her everything. “Of course I’m grateful to him, Lauren. But that doesn’t mean that I want my– my best friend to be dragged down with him. You need to get as far away from him as possible,” he tried, but he could see that Lauren was nowhere near budging on the matter. His attempt to sway her was a futile endeavor. 

“We’re well aware of the danger we’re in, Dylan,” Lauren shot back. “We’re both in line for trouble. The chances of us both surviving unscathed are low, I know, but–”

Dylan waved for her to stop and stepped forward to join her in the rain. “Forgive me,” he apologized. “Forget I said anything.” He knew his smile must have appeared pained. “I’m simply worried about you.”

The tension in Lauren’s shoulders relaxed slightly as she considered him. He took a slow step forward, and she stood without moving other than to lift her chin to meet his eyes steadfastly. Dylan cupped her face with one hand for only a moment, regaining his self-control quickly as he reiterated, “I’m sorry. Truly.”

He saw her swallow behind clenched teeth as she struggled with some emotion, and at that moment, Dylan wished fervently that he could read her mind. 

“I should go,” he said brusquely, falling back a step to break the charged atmosphere between them. With a flickering glance at the rain, he gave her a wry grin. “We’ve been standing here in the rain like fools, and you’re clearly freezing.”

Lauren rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re the one who decided to go wandering around where you didn’t belong out here in the middle of the city.” Wayward strands of hair were plastered to her pale skin, and she wrapped her arms around herself in a meager effort to fight back the cold. 

Where I don’t belong… Dylan felt the words sink in and latch on, burning in his chest with regret at the miserable truth. He no longer belonged in her world. 

The scent of rain hung heavy in the air as silence reigned for a moment. Neither of them appeared to know how to end the conversation, the constant quandary of never knowing which encounter might be their last. The ambiguity of their relationship was torturous. 

“Goodbye, Ren,” Dylan finally said, and turned to leave without another glance behind. He strode forcefully down the sidewalk with his heart hammering in his chest, knowing that if he lingered another second, she would tear down every excuse he had made to himself. 

He could not afford to be swayed. No matter how much he loathed it, Dylan knew there was only one solution to his problem if he wanted to keep his quiet life untouched.

Brilliant sunshine poured through the window of the archives the following day as Lauren pushed through the door. The dismal weather of the previous day had given way to unflinching sunlight, and it warmed her as she strode into the room. The wooden floor creaked lightly beneath her feet as her eyes sought Kieran, finding him skimming a file in the shadowed far corner of the room. 

His features brightened to match the weather as he caught sight of her, a smile instantly appearing on his lips. Closing the file, he quickly tucked it into place on the shelf and turned to meet her.

“Not even going to pretend to hide your excitement to see me?” Lauren asked teasingly, drawing one hand up onto her hip. “What will people say about your devil-may-care reputation?”

“The devil can take them for all I care,” he laughed, pushing his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out to her; they were trying to keep some semblance of a low profile at the precinct, and the last thing they needed was someone walking in on them in the archives. “No one’s in here, anyway.”

“Fair enough,” she answered, unable to conceal her own matching smile. Despite the fact that the world around them had been dumped into pure chaos, Lauren felt a sense of contentment with Kieran that was unmatched. “Have you made any earth-shattering discoveries here in your dusty lair today?”

Kieran chuckled and leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed. “I think we’ve had quite enough of those for the moment,” he replied dryly.

Lauren nodded, her expression giving way to exhausted agreement. “Definitely. Nothing on my end yet – just more waiting.” 

Kieran’s eyes flickered toward the door, scanning the empty room before he pushed off the wall. With only a moment’s hesitation, he tugged her close into a tight hug. She let out a small yelp in surprise before the sound transformed into a laugh. 

“What are you doing?” she asked in surprise, wrapping her arms around him and resting her cheek against his chest. “We’re supposed to be subtle.” Despite her weak protest, Lauren soaked up the warmth and felt his voice rumble under her ear as he answered.

“Just missed you,” he answered quietly. 

Lauren huffed out a soft laugh by way of an answer, and they lingered there for a moment. Suddenly recalling her breach of confidence with Will, she cringed inwardly, growing perfectly still in Kieran’s grasp.

“Uhm, Kieran?” she ventured tentatively. “I have a confession to make.”

“You’re…leaving me for Hermann?” he answered with a teasing tilt to his lips, drawing back to meet her gaze. 

Lauren snorted. “What? No! You’re so ridiculous.”

“You’re…joining the circus,” he suggested instead, grinning fully now.

She shook her head in exasperation, but her expression quickly flattened. “No! I– I spoke with Will yesterday.”

“Oh,” Kieran answered, loosening his grip on her to search her eyes more carefully. “...About what?” he added when it seemed she could not bring herself to continue.

Lauren averted her gaze. “Well,” she began hesitatingly, “he had basically figured it out already...” She felt like a broken record, as though she were repeating her conversation with Dylan.

Kieran closed his eyes and sighed heavily, releasing her altogether to pinch the bridge of his nose with one hand. “Lauren–”

“I know, I know, ” she interjected. “But Kieran, of all people, Will– Will deserved to know.” She reached for his sleeves, tugging on them as she implored him to listen. “You don’t understand. The three of us were very close. Will’s brother abandoned him at the same time, and now…knowing what we do about Rafael, I felt like– like Will needed a victory of some kind.”

Kieran dragged a hand down his face. “This is spinning further out of control by the moment,” he mumbled with a soft, resigned laugh.

Lauren swallowed, bringing her hands back to her side as she shuffled her feet across the slick floor. “I told Will we can’t make any contact with him right now. I know this was foolish, but…” She furrowed her brow, considering what Will had said about Dylan before he even knew he was still alive. “Will is– he’s important to me.”

Kieran walked toward the front of the room, a wry smile just visible on his features. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

Lauren rolled her eyes as she began to trail after him, but she quickly began to appear more sheepish. “On that note, I also might have accidentally run into Dylan right after that.” Her words gathered in speed until the last few came out in a rush.

His progress halted, Kieran whipped around to face her, straightening with a look of dismay. “You what? Lauren, honestly, I–”

“It wasn’t me this time!” She held her hands out placatingly, pausing instead of approaching him further. “I thought I saw someone watching us when I spoke with Will. When we said goodbye, I went towards the area and saw Dylan as he was trying to leave. It’s not my fault,” she insisted stubbornly. 

Kieran’s laugh this time was incredulous as he shook his head. He continued toward the front of the room and perched on the side of the desk, facing the window as the sunlight poured through. 

As he stared blankly ahead, Kieran seemed to remember something and swiveled around with a quizzical expression. “But, what does that have to do with jealousy?”

Sidling up next to him to take in the view out the window, Lauren crossed her arms and frowned, thoughtful. “It was…strange. We talked about Will, but then he–” paused, meeting Kieran’s eyes with sudden silence.

Kieran cocked his head to the side in a questioning look. “He…?”

Lauren’s mouth twisted for a moment as she considered what to say. “He told me he was afraid for me. When I asked why…” As she trailed off, she stared fixedly at the swaying tree limbs of a bare sapling outside the window. 

 A look of understanding dawned on Kieran’s face. “Because of me,” he answered in resignation, the weight of his guilt settling like a rock in his stomach.

Her eyes flickered to his for an instant as her lips flattened into a thin line. “He basically demanded that I not be involved with you. I thought he was jealous at first.” 

Kieran now crossed his arms as well, mirroring her posture as he scoffed out a laugh. “That would make two of us,” he muttered.

Lauren spared him another roll of her eyes and stood, pacing across the creaking wooden floorboards. “But, it was odd,” she added with a frown of confusion. “He didn’t sound like himself.”

Kieran’s eyes followed her around the room. “What do you mean?”

Lauren threw her arms out in a gesture of irritated uncertainty, still pacing. “I don’t know, he seemed agitated, I guess. Forceful.”

Kieran froze on the spot, one hand gripping the edge of the desk with white-knuckled force as his expression slowly changed to a carefully neutral one. “Lauren,” he said calmly, “I need to know exactly what he said.”

She turned toward him without really looking at him, still lost in her own thoughts. “Kieran, I really don’t think–”

"Please, Lauren.” 

At the poorly concealed urgency in his tone, Lauren’s attention was drawn to Kieran’s calculated expression. “It- it wasn’t anything you haven’t said yourself, honestly. He said that—” she broke off, meeting his eyes with an uncomfortable grimace. 

When it was clear that he was still waiting for her answer, she steeled herself and continued, “He wanted me to reconsider, that there was no future with you. He said that he couldn’t believe I would even be with you, knowing what you’ve done.” 

She twisted her fingers together, fidgeting for a moment before she caught herself. “He was so hostile with it…it was unlike him.”

Kieran stood rapidly, features paling as though a bucket of cold water had just been dumped down his spine. 

Lauren strode toward him and took his hands, trying to force the tightly bound tension in his frame to relax a fraction. “Please, don’t worry about it. He was—”

“That idiot,” he said under his breath. “I have to go,” Kieran said abruptly, heading toward the door. 

“Wait, what? Kieran, what’s going on?” Lauren protested, rushing to keep up with him. 

Kieran spun quickly, gripping her shoulders as he bent slightly to make their faces on the same level. “Don’t you see?” he said with an almost disconcerting calmness. “He deliberately antagonized you, trying to separate you from me. Think, Lauren, why would he do that? Why would he suddenly be so involved in our relationship now? When he has openly protested against knowing anything more about it thus far?”

Lauren’s eyes darted between his, and her mouth grew dry as she began to understand. 

Kieran nodded, seeing her miserable realization. “He was spooked when he came to my apartment. The Scythe must have something on him, and somehow, I’m his ticket to safety. He was trying to get you away from me so that you wouldn’t be implicated.” 

Lauren shook her head despite herself. “You’re making a lot of assumptions right now, Kieran. Dylan wouldn’t— how can you possibly—”

Kieran released her and grabbed his coat from the hook by the door. “Just trust me on this one. I’ll be back when I can.”

“Kieran!” Lauren called sharply, trailing after him. 

He reached for the doorknob but his hand froze on the cold metal as her voice rang in his ears. His shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath before he turned around to face her. 

Kieran could see the expected flicker of anger rising to meet the fear he knew she carried, and he winced at his abruptness. “I’m sorry, love. We can’t afford to waste even a moment,” he told her in a low voice as he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’ll call you when I can.”

Lauren had only a second to search his eyes, but then she nodded, releasing him to practically flee out of the archives. Bewildered as she tried to piece together all she knew thus far, she was left alone with nothing but the motes of dust in the warm beams of sunlight to keep her company.

Chapter Text

Please consider listening to Low Mist var. 2, Day 6 by Ludovico Einaudi during this chapter.

Kieran’s heart pounded in his ears as he forced himself to keep a more measured pace on his way to question Dylan. The cheerful sunlight now mocked him as he made his way to the Underworld, determined to catch up with Dylan before he could make any foolish mistakes. 

He gritted his teeth as he strode on. It was one thing for his own life to be in danger; it was quite another for Dylan to risk Lauren’s life and freedom to save his own skin. 

Perhaps he was mistaken, perhaps Dylan truly was merely jealous. Kieran’s thoughts swirled, desperately trying to believe the words despite some sixth sense whispering darker musings in his mind. 

Kieran pulled the collar of his coat up higher as he wove through various passersby and entered the Underworld, leaving sunlight behind as stark buildings surrounded narrow alleyways. He would start with Dylan’s home, though he had no way of knowing where the man would be at this time of day. For all Kieran knew, Dylan could have already gone to the Scythe with whatever information they were wanting from him. 

As he wound his way through the murky streets, Kieran found himself pausing at a small alley, wreathed in shadows. Some furtive motion caught his eye, and he veered toward a dark figure lingering at the end of the alley. 

The shape of the form was familiar, and the shock of silver hair sticking out of the front of the man’s hood was too distinctive to be misidentified. Seeing Kieran coming toward him, the figure swerved further to the back of the alleyway in an attempt to evade his pursuer.

Unsurprisingly, Kieran quickly caught up to him and gripped his arm, tugging him around to face him. As Dylan’s features flickered from pained guilt to reflexive defensiveness, Kieran knew all his most grievous suspicions were confirmed.

“What have you done?” Kieran asked in a low voice, not releasing Dylan’s arm. His gut churned at the thought of Dylan declaring himself their enemy, every dreadful fear lacing his veins with adrenaline as his mind raced over the potential implications. The scent of musty air hung around them, stifling and stale.

“Let go of me,” Dylan said tonelessly, roughly jerking his arm away from Kieran’s grasp as he avoided his eyes. 

Kieran clenched his jaw, remaining silent against the background of the subdued hum of city life behind them. At last, he forced out the breath he had not realized remained captive in his lungs. “So,” he said, “the rose found his thorns after all.”

Dylan merely raised his eyes to Kieran’s, the hint of a glare crowning his features. 

“What did they promise you?” Kieran asked, unconsciously feeling for a knife in his sleeve as he fought to maintain composure. At some minute expression that crossed Dylan’s face, Kieran amended his inquiry. “Or rather, what did they threaten you with? What do they want to know?”

When Dylan shifted uncomfortably on his feet at this, Kieran knew he was on the right track. “Obviously, it’s something to do with me.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, Kieran forced himself to don a calm facade. “So, out with it. I should at least know what kind of trouble I’m in before you decide to betray me and your former best friend.” 

Kieran had placed the slightest emphasis on “former,” calculated to produce the bitterness he saw crease Dylan’s forehead. The more riled up he was, the more likely Kieran would get some answers. 

“She has nothing to do with this,” Dylan ground out, aware enough of his surroundings to keep his voice low. His shoe scraped across the uneven pavement as he turned to face Kieran more fully in the dim alley.

“And just how do you figure that, Rosy?” Kieran replied instantly. “You think they haven’t noticed her following me around? I'm constantly watched.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t trapped her in whatever game you’re playing, it wouldn’t be an issue,” Dylan answered. His mouth hung open for a moment as he searched for his next words, features crumpling slightly.  He shook his head, struggling to stay committed to his plan now that he was face to face with Kieran himself.  “I– I truly can’t believe you had the audacity to endanger her the way you have.”

Kieran had to physically swallow against the torrent of guilt that tried to scramble up his throat. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked with quiet intensity, lowering his face slightly towards Dylan’s. “You think I haven’t tried a dozen times to convince her to quit this complete fiasco we’re stuck in? It was her choice to stay despite it all.”

Dylan seemed taken aback at Kieran’s confession, remaining silent for one heartbeat, and then another as Kieran had his own unexpected realization. The sheer panic that clawed its way through Kieran’s chest had uncovered the truth that he had been denying for weeks now about how he truly felt about his partner. 

“You’re right that I didn’t care at first. She was a tool to be used and nothing more,” Kieran admitted quietly. Shaking his head, he continued, “But, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, she’s much more to me now. You said it before, but I am in love with her, and I will stop at nothing to protect her, Dylan. Even to my last breath.” Kieran’s confession had shifted into more of an impassioned plea by the end.

With a bitter smile, Dylan answered simply, “You will be the cause of her last breath.”

Kieran clenched his jaw before answering. “I won’t have a chance to be if you decide to implicate either of us in any way to the Scythe. You can’t honestly believe that Lauren won’t be caught up in this as well if you tell them about what I’ve been doing. Now who’s the one putting her in danger?”

Dylan shook his head in denial. “It won’t be like that,” he insisted. “And even if they do take notice of her, her uncle can take care of that.”

Kieran sat back on his heels, ice-cold misery trickling its way through his chest. “You really are planning to go through with whatever your plan is, then.”

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Dylan’s expression soured as he realized that he had shown his hand. “They just want to know what you’ve been up to. I’m sure it won’t amount to anything anyway.”

He and Kieran both knew the words were a lie. Dylan would either have to report mundane minutiae that would be insufficient to grant him freedom, or he would have to confess Kieran’s disloyalty to some degree. He could agree to keep spying on Kieran in an effort to stall them, but Dylan knew it would only be a matter of time before they forced his hand. 

“Dylan, don’t do this,” Kieran said firmly. He debated telling Dylan enough about what exactly he and Lauren had been doing in order to convince him, but Dylan could not be trusted with even more evidence to condemn them. 

Meeting his eyes for a long moment, Dylan finally broke his gaze and stared at the ground. “I don’t have a choice. You know how they are.”

Kieran moved forward and gripped Dylan’s arms with both hands. “Yes, I do know, which is why I can’t let you do this!” He fought to keep his voice quiet despite the urgency in his tone. 

 “What, are you going to kill me first?” Dylan retorted venomously, lurching backwards a step to break Kieran’s grasp. 

A flicker of hurt passed over Kieran’s features before a hollow emptiness took its place. “No,” he answered softly. “You know that’s not who I am.”

“Well, it’s who you’ve been, at the very least,” Dylan shot back, but now Kieran could see past the hostile facade to someone who was battling his inner self. 

“This isn’t about me, and you know it,” Kieran replied, still standing motionless in the same shadowed place. “Forget about me and think about Lauren. You know what they’ll do to her.”

For a moment, it appeared that Dylan had another ready retort to combat this line of reasoning, but all at once, it seemed as though the fight fled from him. He sagged slightly, then buried his face in his hands with a miserable groan. 

“What am I supposed to do, Kieran?” he said hopelessly, the words muffled by his hands. 

Kieran sighed, his anger dissipating as he recognized a kindred soul who was mired in machinations beyond his control. 

More slowly this time, Kieran stepped forward and braced both hands on Dylan’s shoulders, leaning in to lower his voice. “You’re going to ask me for help, and we’re going to come up with a way out of this.”

Dylan shook his head, keeping his features covered with his hands. He was too ashamed to look Kieran in the eye. “I’m- I’m sorry. I can’t believe I would even think about telling them anything, I–” 

Kieran’s grip on Dylan’s shoulders tightened slightly. “I know what it’s like to feel trapped. But you don’t have to do this. You’re better than this, and you know it.”

Dylan heaved a shuddering breath and straightened, running his fingers briskly through his hair as Kieran relaxed back on his heels. “Right,” he said, nodding as though to convince himself rather than Kieran. “Right.”

Kieran cracked a small smile, a tinge of relief threading its way through the fear. “First things first, I’m going to need you to tell me everything.”

Unbeknownst to the pair, a set of watching eyes observed them from a high window, taking great interest in their mannerisms. He was too far away to hear their conversation, but the intensity of their interaction was unmistakable. 

The Messenger will definitely want to hear about this, he thought as he sank back behind the curtains once more.

At the pre-appointed time, Dylan hovered outside the aged wooden door that stood between him and the Messenger. His heart pounded in his ears, leaving a hollow feeling in his chest that filled with fear the longer he tried to stall before entering. 

It wasn’t too late, he thought. I could still give the Messenger what he wanted.

Gathering the scraps of courage that remained, Dylan tried to push away the insidiously tempting thoughts. He cleared his throat and pushed through the heavy door into the darkened room, the scent of stale air filling his senses. 

With one deeply hooded guard posted next to him, the Messenger sat with his elbows on the sparsely adorned table, gloved hands clasped in the air before him. As it had been previously, the space was lit by only a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, and it cast deep shadows around them both. 

The Messenger gestured to the chair across the table from him before returning his hands to their clasped position. He waited silently as Dylan took his seat, the only sound being the creak of the derelict chair as it accepted his weight begrudgingly. 

“So,” the Messenger began at last, pausing for a long moment before continuing. “Have you more information to share regarding our mutual friend, the Purple Hyacinth?”

Dylan swallowed, reaching deep for the composure which had allowed him to survive thus far in the Scythe’s clutches. With a jerk of his head, he replied, “I do.”

When Dylan did not elaborate, the Messenger gestured broadly with one hand. “The floor is yours, Dr. Yew.”

Hearing the tightly controlled impatience in the Messenger’s tone, Dylan began to divulge the tale he and Kieran had contrived. “Approximately four weeks ago, I was approached by someone near my place of work. He was a childhood friend who had come to the area on unexpected business when he recognized me on the street and engaged me in conversation.” 

Dylan shifted in his chair, striving for an attitude of nonchalance. “He had believed, as had all of my previous acquaintances and friends alike, that I had been killed during the Allendale Train Station–” he hesitated, changing his wording from the usual “Allendale Train Station Tragedy” to something more prudent, “--incident.” 

The Messenger sat slightly back in his chair, wordlessly awaiting the rest of Dylan’s explanation. Taking this as permission to continue, Dylan dove back into his rehearsed script. “I explained that he was mistaken, that the tragedy of the day and losing my father had driven me to leave the city. I was only in the area now for a short time. I asked the man to keep our encounter to himself, as it was still too painful to consider reuniting with any of my old friends.” Dylan ran a hand through his hair, reminding himself not to rush through the explanation too quickly. “He agreed, and we parted ways.”

“Dr. Yew, I am unsure how this relates to your purpose for being here,” the Messenger answered, and Dylan heard the hard edge of irritation creeping into his tone. 

Understanding that he needed to get to the point, Dylan brought the conversation around to Kieran. “As you know, I have been instructed to remain hidden as a condition of my…freedom… in working with the Phantom Scythe. Any complications from the past would lead to unwelcome inquiries. I considered the matter for quite some time, before growing concerned that this individual would not be able to remain silent on the matter indefinitely. I then approached the Purple Hyacinth in an effort to seek help for my predicament from a source I hoped would help me avoid any disciplinary action.” He fought to force a contrite expression onto his features. “I apologize for my small act of deceit in this area, though it was also my intention to avoid any unnecessary work for you or your comrades.”

The Messenger sighed loudly, the sound only faintly muffled by the mask he wore. “Get on with it, Dr. Yew.”

“This is also the reason I was not more forthcoming with you when you first summoned me. My surprise at your inquiries resulted in a reticence that was unwise. The Purple Hyacinth eventually decided to aid me in remedying my difficult situation, though it took several interactions to settle on a course of action. At length, Mr. White agreed to help me take care of the issue his way so that I would no longer have to fear being uncovered.”

Dylan cocked his head to the side, daring to push the Messenger slightly in hopes of distracting him from the possible holes in their story. “I was unaware that I was not allowed to correspond with your prized assassin, sir. Our histories may be similar, but we have had nothing more than loose acquaintanceship since our early days with our organization.”

The Messenger sat silently for a long moment. “Impertinence does not become you, Doctor.”

“Forgive me,” Dylan apologized hastily. “I did not intend to cause offense.”

“Indeed,” the Messenger said dryly. Settling forward in his seat once more, he clarified, “And you have no knowledge of any other endeavors your acquaintance might be involved in?”

“No, I do not,” Dylan answered emphatically, praying fervently that the sweat beading on his brow was not apparent in the dim light. 

“Very well. You are dismissed, Dr. Yew,” the Messenger declared abruptly.

Dylan choked back his surprise and stood rapidly, the legs of the chair rattling behind him as he did so. He slowed his movements in an effort to cover his ill-advised hastiness and nodded a goodbye to the Messenger before controlling his pace to exit the room. 

That’s it? Dylan thought, unsure of whether to rejoice or be even more afraid at the lack of questions.

As the door shut behind Dylan, the Messenger pushed his chair away from the table and stood. Crossing his hands behind his back, he paced the length of the small room as his guard pushed back her heavy black hood.

Tossing her head to return her hair to its previously undisheveled state, Bella crossed her arms and sighed dramatically. “And what, exactly, was the point of all of this? He told you nothing.”

The Messenger chuckled darkly. “Oh, the boy told me more than you think, Ms. Davenport. In fact, he told me everything I needed to know.”

Bella narrowed her eyes as the Messenger stilled, facing her direction even as his features hid behind the striking mask. 

“You do understand why the Apostle wanted you here, do you not?” the Messenger asked.

With a small scoff, Bella answered, “Of course I do. Do you know why I’m here?”

The Messenger ignored her. “There were only two outcomes of this little exercise, Ms. Davenport. Either our dear Dr. Yew would provide us with actual valuable intel about what the Purple Hyacinth has been doing, or he would lie through his teeth. I think you and I both know which of these occurred tonight.”

“Obviously,” Bella answered almost flippantly. “He was sweating bullets.” 

“And you and I both know that Mr. White does not kill without orders,” the Messenger added. “It’s part of what makes him so valuable.” The Messenger removed his gloves, dropping them one after the other onto the table. “Not to mention the fact that they seemed quite close earlier today as one of my men reported. No doubt this was the good doctor’s last ditch effort to contrive a tale to spin for us. I’ll give him this: for one not trained rigorously in our ways of subterfuge, he remained remarkably composed. A clever story. But not clever enough.”

Bella could all but see the smug smile spreading across the Messenger’s face as he continued, “No, what I wanted to determine is whether their relationship still ran deep enough for us to have finally found the leverage we need over our assassin before he truly goes rogue. And it seems we might have done just that.”

Bella remained quiet, an impassive expression on her features. She wondered what the Messenger would say if he knew about Kieran’s other “acquaintance,” the little red-haired pet police officer. The leverage they needed had already been right in front of their faces, a fact that Bella had inexplicably kept to herself.

The Messenger interrupted her musings with a low laugh. “I think this will be an entertaining time for us all, Ms. Davenport.”

This time, it was Belladonna Davenport who stood outside a door the next afternoon, wavering on her decision to enter Kieran’s apartment.

What was she doing here? Bella knew it was foolish, but something in her felt compelled to break her promise that the last time would be the last time she stuck her neck out for Kieran White. 

And so, here she was, tugging her coat closed as she fought back the biting chill of the weather as she stared at the nondescript door in front of her leading into apartment #16. 

With a sigh of resignation, Bella knocked on the door and awaited a response. 

After a moment, she could hear the scrabbling of the lock and the door opened to reveal a surprised Kieran White. 

“Bella?” he asked, glancing with a raised eyebrow at the door and then back to her. “You actually knocked. I must truly be in trouble now.”

Her heels clacked on the floor as she swept past him into the relative warmth of the fully lit apartment. “You’ve got that right, Mr. P.H.” She glanced around at all the lights, commenting, “Afraid of the dark, are we?”

Kieran followed her gaze, shrugging lightly. “I was drawing.”

Bella rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “I can’t believe you still do that. You’re such a nerd.”

Kieran gave her a flat look but did not engage any further. “Why are you here, Bella?” 

She could sense his wariness, the carefully guarded expression, the positioning of himself always angled toward her as though to prevent her from entering his blind spots. Good. He wasn’t a complete fool yet, she thought.

“Care to tell me why your old pal Dylan was spouting some ridiculous story to the Messenger last night?” she asked, studying her immaculate fingernails. 

She could see the flicker of dismay before he managed to suppress it. “What do you mean?” he replied carefully, making his way to the kitchen to retrieve a glass from the cabinet. “Water?” he asked, already anticipating the answer as she shook her head “no.” 

Bella sighed and stepped over to the small table near him, bracing her splayed fingertips on the surface. “I told you I wouldn’t do this again, but I’m too curious to resist, I suppose.” He avoided her steady gaze, filling the glass with tap water. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?” she prodded.

Kieran took a long sip and sucked air through his teeth lightly. “Well, I can assure you, little spy, that it has nothing that will have any impact on our illustrious overlords.”

He thinks I’m here for the Messenger, she thought, wondering herself just who she was doing this for.

“Right,” she answered, clearly unconvinced. She decided then and there to be perfectly transparent with him. “Kieran,” she began, and noted the brief widening of his eyes in surprise at her serious tone before it disappeared back into the previously bland expression. “Let me lay this all out for you. The Apostle, via his Messenger, is out for your head, and he will find any excuse to take to the Leader to have you pulled forcibly from your throne. I don’t know what you’ve been doing with Dylan, or with your police officer, and frankly, I really don’t care. They don’t seem to have noticed your dalliance with her, but they have decided that Dylan is their solution for your rogue behavior.”

She paused, letting the words sink in as Kieran expressionlessly took another sip of water. 

“They intend to have Dr. Yew brought in for…questioning. You know just what that entails,” she revealed. “Whether he remains alive or not is yet to be seen, and is likely dependent on how you react. My instincts tell me he will not survive the encounter, Kieran.”

Kieran studied her for a long moment. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked, showing true emotion for the first time that night in the form of confusion. 

Bella shrugged indifferently. “I owe him one. He helped me with a particularly nasty wound after I was injured on an assignment.” She had forgotten the memory until she saw Dylan in the small chamber with the Messenger, but she knew no other way to explain to Kieran what had brought her to him that night. She wasn’t sure herself.

This time it was Kieran’s turn to sound unconvinced. “Right,” he said as he set the glass down on the table in front of him. The light reflected off the glass as small ripples disrupted the surface, and his eyes seemed drawn to the movement.

As he hung his head and stared at the surface of the table, Bella belatedly realized that he must have been weighing the truth of her words, trying to determine if this was all yet another trap she had laid for him on behalf of the Scythe. 

At last, he must have decided that she was being truthful, because he asked quietly, “How much time do we have?”

Running a hand through her hair, Bella let out a short breath. “Two or three days, tops.”

Kieran let out a muffled sound of frustration under his breath. Straightening, he met Bella’s eyes squarely for the first time that night. “Thank you,” he told her seriously. 

Bella raised her eyebrows in surprise at his gravity. She slid one hand up onto her hip. “Just remember you owe me now,” she said archly, discomfited by his sincerity. 

Kieran nodded shortly, clenching his jaw as she shook her head and moved back toward the door. Her fingers lingered on the doorknob before she turned halfway back toward him. 

“Kieran? Don’t make me regret this,” she said before seeing herself out with a resounding thud of the door shutting behind her. 

Chapter Text

Please consider listening to Adagio for Strings, Op. 11a as performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra during this chapter.

Kieran adjusted the mask covering his eyes as he lurked near the back of a deserted circus tent as he waited for Dylan. The costume attire he had donned for tonight was much more subtle than the last, for he had not had the time to procure anything more than the bare minimum to avoid attention. 

The circus had been the most logistically convenient meeting place between their respective homes, and the activity there would help avoid undue scrutiny from passersby. The carnival music and murmur of voices in the distance did nothing to drown out the unease weighing on his soul, however, and his agitation made him ache to have his sword in his hands. He wanted anything that would help him feel more in control of the situation. 

At last he perceived a figure making its way toward him bathed in the flickering light of various torches. A similar black mask covered Dylan’s features, but it failed to hide his irritated expression as he approached the shadowed corner in which Kieran waited.

“What is this about, Kieran? We shouldn’t be–” Dylan said by way of a greeting, but was interrupted quickly.

“They know,” Kieran hissed in a low voice, gripping Dylan’s arm to pull him just inside the flap of the darkened tent. The scent of straw filled the air, and it was considerably warmer inside the canvas covering. Only the most vague outlines of each other were visible before their eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. 

“...what?” Dylan whispered, an icy dread filling his veins.

“They know. They know it was a lie.” Kieran spoke slowly, as though speaking to a small child. “Bella dropped in to let me know that you’re wanted for ‘questioning.’”

Swallowing thickly, Dylan took a measured breath to calm himself. He knew exactly what Kieran meant by “questioning.” 

A trio of voices began to draw nearer outside their hiding place, and both Kieran and Dylan froze, hardly daring to breathe until the footsteps belonging to the circus members gradually died away.

Relaxing slightly, Dylan asked quietly, “Why are they doing this? What’s the point?” 

Kieran gritted his teeth. “It’s because of me.” Silence fell between them like a stone. At length, he murmured, “I’m sorry. I never should have brought her to that clinic.”

Shifting uneasily, Dylan forced a small laugh. “Well, in your defense, you were looking for the Doc, not me.”

Dylan could see the indistinct outline of Kieran running a hand through his hair in agitation. 

“One of the Apostles is out for my blood, and I’ve already suspected for some time that the Leader is trying to give me just enough rope to hang myself. I’ve been hoping to bring them down before they had the chance to act on anything, but it seems they think that you must be their new leverage against me,” Kieran explained grimly. “By some miracle, they haven’t managed to notice Lauren– at least, not that Bella has any knowledge of.”

“But, why me? We’ve barely spoken in years,” Dylan muttered to himself.

“Because it worked before,” Kieran answered simply. “And honestly, it would work now.” 

Dylan raised his face to Kieran’s in surprise, eyes straining in the low light to read Kieran’s expression. 

“That’s why we have to get you out of here,” Kieran said firmly. 

“What do you mean?” Dylan asked incredulously, craning his neck as Kieran pulled the tent flap back lightly to peer out. 

Seeing no one in their vicinity visible from his vantage point, Kieran let the covering drop once more but folded it slightly so that a sliver of orange torch light could make it through the opening. “We are going to get you out of this city. It’s the best I can do for you, Rosy.”

Dylan huffed out a frustrated sigh and removed his mask briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Everything was just fine before you came bursting through the door, White,” he grumbled. 

His instincts wanted him to be infuriated at Kieran for ruining his life in this way, pulling him from his quiet existence and forcing him out of the city to heaven knows where. He may have still been under the Scythe’s thumb, but he had finally grown used to his new way of life. 

As he glanced up to glimpse Kieran’s miserable expression, however, Dylan’s ire unexpectedly fled without much of a fight. The man standing in front of him had surrendered his life, his morals, his soul in order to give Dylan the chance at having a relatively peaceful path to follow. How could he truly fault him now? 

“You know it’s your best option. I’m…I’m sorry, Dylan,” Kieran said regretfully. 

Dylan shook his head with a quiet, bleak laugh. Well, he thought dryly to himself, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to start over, would it? And truly, he had few friends these days to be sorrowful about leaving behind.

“I suppose it’s more my fault anyway for being a lousy liar,” Dylan said wryly. “It…sounded as though you might have a plan?” he ventured at length. 

Kieran shifted on his feet, trying to squash the rising guilt of having caused these circumstances to fall upon Dylan. “I do. There’s a ship leaving tomorrow morning just before dawn for Bramstead, and you need to be on it.

“Tomorrow…” Dylan’s lips formed the word without uttering much of a sound, processing the information. Then, louder, “But that’s in a few hours!”

“Shh!” Kieran urged, placing a finger to his lips. “Do you want to give them the chance to take you in?” He let out a frustrated breath. “You’ve got plenty of time to gather whatever belongings you want to take. You could still practically get a full night’s rest at this point.”

Dylan gulped once again as his thoughts turned to Lauren. “Does Lauren know?”

Kieran considered him silently for a moment. “No, not yet.”

“Were you planning on telling her before or after I left, White?” Dylan asked in irritation, pacing a few steps into the tent with his hands on his hips. Lauren… how could he tear himself away from her now?

“I hadn’t decided yet,” Kieran admitted honestly. “Although, she would likely have my head if I kept it from her until you were already gone.” He tilted his head to the side to view Dylan’s shape warily. “I’m too aware of your feelings for her to be purely objective about this, to be frank.”  

Dylan turned to view Kieran’s backlit form still standing near the tent entrance. Drawing nearer, he pushed the tent flap slightly more open to study Kieran’s features in earnest. “She deserves to know.”

Crossing his arms, Kieran sighed once more. “Don’t make me admit that you’re right, Rosy.”

Dylan closed his eyes as he considered leaving Ardhalis behind. Before, it had been a comfort to him to hope that Lauren still walked those same streets, going about her life as happily as she could.

During his years of training, he had imagined countless scenarios of running into her one day by accident. The notions were silly, but they were one way he had coped in the early years before he had faced bitter reality. They would steal away time to see each other, escape the Scythe somehow, and fall in together as they had always been fated to. 

Encountering her bleeding and unconscious in a desperate Kieran White’s arms late one night had not been included in his various musings. 

But now…now he would be leaving her home forever, and any chance meetings would never occur again. Dylan felt a dismal twist of misery in his chest at the thought, not having realized how much he had come to rely on that tiny thread of possibility as a lifeline tethering him to this place. 

“I’m going to ask her to come with me,” Dylan declared with sudden resolve, barely remembering to keep his voice low. In the feeble orange glow of distant firelight, he saw Kieran’s brows raise in surprise. 

Feeling the need to defend himself, Dylan continued, “It’s not fair of me to do this, but I can’t–” he groaned under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve loved her since we were children, Kieran.” The words spilled from his lips abruptly, clearly a confession that had been struggling to remain hidden for quite some time. 

A heavy hush filled the air between them. Dylan knew he had truly shaken Kieran when he watched the blandly neutral expression settle onto his features. Kieran only adopted that look when he was acting as a Scythe agent, or if he was otherwise desperately trying to hide how he was feeling. 

Kieran’s heart indeed felt torn as his mind flitted through a series of thoughts. Dylan’s feelings for Lauren were nothing new to Kieran, but his sudden decision to act on them had indeed taken him aback. Kieran could also not help but recognize yet again that Lauren deserved much better than he could give her, considering his blood-soaked past. He feared she would take Dylan up on his offer, but he also acknowledged that Lauren was likely too committed to their goal to leave the city now. This did not mean that she would not decide to shift her affections towards her childhood friend despite his absence, however. She would have a starting point for how to find him if she chose to leave at a later date. 

Even more than that, however, Kieran dreaded the heartbreak that Lauren would face knowing that Dylan had to leave, and that if she chose not to follow, she would be wounding him yet again. He hated the position he had inadvertently placed her in. 

At last, Kieran said, “Do as you will,” before sweeping out of the tent back into the brisk night air.

Dylan trailed after him, momentarily distracted by being grateful that their meager disguises would hide them from casual observers. They began to meander between various tents, avoiding the more populated areas except for a few uninterested people who wandered near them. 

Eventually, Kieran’s thoughts grew heavy as he considered Dylan once again not as Lauren’s childhood friend and prospective lover, but as his own brother in arms. Their relationship was far more nuanced than simply two men who had fallen in love with the same woman. 

Slowing, Kieran glanced over at Dylan. “Be at the north shore docks at least an hour before dawn. You won’t get another opportunity to leave, Dylan,” he warned him seriously. 

Stopping short at the very outskirts of the area, Kieran observed Dylan carefully. Pushing aside his feelings for Lauren for the moment, he considered all that he had shared with the man during the darkest time of his life.

Noticing the intensity of Kieran’s expression, Dylan had the sudden sense that he was in a new kind of danger before the feeling fled as Kieran pulled him into a brief hug. Surprised, Dylan returned the embrace as relief swept through him that he would not have to part with Kieran on poor terms yet again. 

“You’d better keep yourself safe, Rosy,” Kieran told him with a small smile. 

Dylan returned the gesture nervously. “Look at you. Now you’re the one saving lives.”

Kieran shrugged with an air of feigned nonchalance. “Eh, I figure it suits me better than the ‘cold-blooded killer’ theme.”

“I, for one, agree with you,” Dylan answered sincerely. “I’ll do my best to avoid saving only the bad guys this time around, alright?” 

Kieran huffed out a soft laugh at the inverted banter, feeling truly sorrowful to part with Dylan despite everything they had struggled against.  

“If– if we ever sort this all out,” Kieran said tentatively, “take down the Scythe, I mean…I’ll send word somehow.”

Dylan’s quirk of a smile showed that he had little faith in the possibility, but he nodded anyway. “Goodbye for now, then, Kieran.”

“Goodbye, Dylan,” he answered solemnly. Then, with a small gleam in his eyes, he confirmed, “For now.”

As quickly as he could make it across the city, Kieran scaled the wall of the Sinclair residence in order to land on Lauren’s balcony. He had spied the hint of a light on in her study, and correctly guessed she would be there. 

For a moment, he hovered outside the window, peering in at Lauren as she hunched over her desk. She was dressed in her nightgown and slippers, her shoulders bare, and her forehead rested against her fingertips as she pored over some document. The yellow-orange glow of the lamp beside her cast glints of amber light across her crimson hair where it was pulled into a simple bun at the nape of her neck. The room was otherwise dark, the view of bookshelves and furniture obscured in the low light. 

Remembering that he had no time to waste, Kieran slipped inside the silent room and crept up behind Lauren’s seemingly unsuspecting form. 

To his astonishment, however, she suddenly whipped around and pressed the barrel of a gun into his chest before locking eyes with him and breathing a loud sigh of relief.

“Kieran White! You nearly scared the life out of me,” she admonished, placing her handgun heavily onto the desk. She rubbed her face with one hand, willing her heart rate to return to normal.

Kieran chuckled despite himself and shook his head. “I’m happy to see you’re aware of your surroundings, at least.”

“Yes, well I seem to be in the habit of collecting as many targets on my back at one time as possible,” she answered wryly, leaning back to perch on the edge of the intricately designed wooden desk. “I’d better start paying attention.”

Kieran raised an eyebrow at her with a small smirk. “Oh, so you’re finally admitting that you’ve managed to stick your nose in so many places it doesn’t belong that you might actually be in real danger?”

Her eyelashes fluttered as she rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms. “So you just waltz back in after leaving me like that in the archives without so much as that promised phone call afterward?” she asked, glancing at the small clock on the desk. “And it’s after nine already.” She raked her eyes over his outfit, shiny black material with the edge of a mask sticking out of his pocket. “What on earth are you wearing?”

He forced down the rising guilt at his lack of contact with her thus far. Waving a hand dismissively, Kieran answered, “Don’t worry about it. I’m here because– because I wanted to see you,” he hedged. “What are you working on?” he asked, changing the subject.

Lauren frowned, clearly itching to know how his conversation with Dylan had gone. “Just a case from work I hadn’t finished documenting yet. I do actually still have a job other than gallivanting around the city at night, you know,” she said dryly.

Kieran put a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “You do? Heavens, I hope I haven’t distracted you too greatly,” he replied with a grin. 

Straightening from the desk, Lauren twined her hands around his neck, drawing close. “You are terribly distracting, I’ll admit,” she told him with a small smirk. 

Kieran returned her smile, forcing it to remain as he considered the softness of her in his arms. With the light from the lamp spilling onto her milky skin and the sensation of bunching his fingers in the fabric of her nightgown behind her back, she was positively bewitching. 

What would he do if she slipped away from him?

Needing to hide his faltering expression, he pulled her closer to his chest in a tighter embrace. He stared behind her into the dimly lit room and swallowed. He knew he had to tell her, but he was terrified about what the consequences might be. 

Kieran had long been afraid of losing Lauren to the Phantom Scythe, but he was outright terrified of losing her to Dylan. Somewhere along the way, his fears about Dylan had shifted from him betraying them to him sweeping Lauren away and giving her a better life than he ever could. Would she leave this all behind, now that she had found all the answers that she’d been looking for in the first place? Kieran knew he had too much blood on his hands to ever compete with Dylan, no matter how much she had come to care for him. 

Lauren pulled away slightly, though she left her hands clasped behind his neck as she studied his now solemn features. “Kieran? What’s wrong?” she asked softly, concern heavy in her voice. She took one hand and skimmed her fingertips along his jawline, demanding his gaze as she tried to comfort him. 

He gave her a flinch of a smile, his posture becoming more tense as he met her eyes. “I need to talk to you about Dylan.”

Lauren’s hands stilled and her brow furrowed slightly. “What did you find out?”

With a sigh, he released her and pulled the chair from her desk out, motioning for her to sit. When she did so, he took a seat on the edge of the desk and folded his hands in his lap. 

“I was right,” he answered reluctantly, and then he proceeded to fill her in on the details he knew thus far about Dylan’s dealings with the Scythe. 

Lauren sat stricken, listening with rapt dismay at everything Kieran told her. 

“Once Bella paid me her visit, I knew we had to get him out of the city if he had any chance,” Kieran continued. “I managed to arrange passage on a cargo ship for him to go overseas. I met him just before I came here to tell you.”

Lauren’s knuckles were white on the arms of the chair. “Has he left yet?”

Kieran bit back a flinch at how concerned she was. It was only natural, he told himself. They had been close friends. “Not yet. The ship leaves just before dawn.”

Lauren stared unseeing at the floor as her heart raced. “This is happening so quickly,” she lamented. “Where is he leaving from? I need to see him.” Her tone grew more urgent as she met Kieran’s gaze again. 

Clenching his teeth, Kieran closed his eyes briefly. Everything in him wanted to get down on his knees and beg her to stay, but he knew he had to trust Lauren to make her own decision. “The north shore port.”

Lauren nodded mutely, standing to pace the room. After a few passes, she returned her attention to him. “I have to tell Will. I need to give him the chance to come say goodbye if he wants to.”

Kieran had not even considered William’s role in this dynamic, but he understood Lauren’s desire to ensure her friend had the same chance for closure that she had received. “Very well,” he replied simply. 

Lauren bit lightly on one of her fingernails, face lined with worry. “This is so unfair,” she muttered. 

Kieran rose and met her, pulling her into his arms once again. “I’m sorry, love. This is yet another reason we’re doing what we’re doing here,” he reminded her. 

Lauren rested her forehead against his chest, hiding her face from him. “I know,” she mumbled in a defeated tone into his shirt. For a long moment, she merely breathed him in, taking comfort in the now-familiar scent of him as she lingered there. 

Letting out a deep breath, she turned her face to rest her cheek against him. “I have to go see him before he leaves.”

Kieran swallowed hard, only to realize belatedly that Lauren would have easily noticed the action from her position. “Do as you will,” he said for the second time that night.

Sensing his melancholy but not understanding the source, Lauren drew back to peer up at him. She gently pushed a wayward strand of hair away from his forehead. Before she could pull her hand away, however, he took it delicately and pressed a kiss to her palm. His eyes closed as his lips trailed down towards her wrist, and when he finally opened his eyes to meet hers, she could see a shadow of fear there that she did not comprehend.

“What’s wrong?” Lauren whispered, her face mere inches from his now as he released her fingers. 

“Lauren, I–” he murmured back, but halted, lips parted as he debated on whether to speak. Releasing the arm holding her against him, he brought both his hands to her cheeks and guided her face to his for a kiss that was teetering upon despair. He could sense her confusion, but it was overridden as she responded to his touch in kind. Her hair came loose from its bindings as he tangled his fingers through it, and their lips met again and again until both of them were utterly breathless. 

I love you, Kieran thought desperately, pressing swollen lips against hers one last time. They rested their foreheads together as they caught their breath, and he slowly reclaimed his composure brick by laborious brick. 

Drawing back, Kieran produced a weary smile. “Forgive me, darling,” he apologized softly, not giving an explanation for his behavior. 

Lauren searched his eyes as her heart continued to pound in her chest. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she responded quietly. 

Fully releasing her at last, Kieran stepped away and toward the balcony once more. “You should call Will before it gets too late,” he suggested without looking at her. 

“Are you coming with me to the port later?” Lauren asked, watching him speculatively. 

Still facing away from her, Kieran shook his head. “No, we’ve said our goodbyes.”

“Alright, then,” she replied, feeling a flicker of disappointment at his answer. 

“I’ll…see you at work, then?” Kieran said over his shoulder as he trailed his hand along the door frame before stepping out into the night.

Lauren frowned, wondering why he would phrase it as a question. “Certainly,” she answered. “Goodnight, Kieran.”

“Goodnight,” he murmured before disappearing into the darkness. 

Chapter Text

Earlier the same evening

The sounds of the city fell upon their ears as Will and Kym pushed open the oversized door of the APD. Their path was lit by street lamps as well as passing headlights as they faced the brisk night air of the Ardhalis winter. 

“Brr!” Kym complained lightly, shaking her coat out from where it had been hanging over her arm in order to put it on. “I forgot how cold it was today.”

Will glanced at her but said nothing, as his mind was too occupied with the staggering knowledge Lauren had provided him with regarding their childhood friend. During work hours, he had managed to push it aside for the most part, but now that they were free to go their own way for the evening, the complexity of the situation assaulted his thoughts once again. 

“I’m glad we’re not on patrol at night at least,” Kym continued, undaunted by her companion’s reticence. The pair had inadvertently fallen into a pattern of leaving the precinct together, venturing home side by side until their common path diverged a few blocks away from the APD. 

With a response that was only slightly delayed, Will nodded his agreement as he tried to shake his mind free. “Same here. It’s wearing everyone down, I think. We should be able to send some of these new recruits out onto the field on their own soon, though, don’t you think?”

Kym sucked air through her teeth, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I guess so.” With a short laugh, she added, “No better way to learn, right?”

“Right,” Will answered absently, navigating the sidewalk’s various obstacles automatically as his gaze remained unfocused before him. 

Elbowing him lightly, Kym cocked her head to the side. “Hey, Will?” she ventured. “Lauren’s been acting…” She struggled to find the right word. “Strange? Have you noticed lately?”

Will’s mouth went dry. “It’s probably because of her injury,” he supplied somewhat lamely. 

“Right," Kym said dryly. In her characteristic move, she skipped forward a few steps and turned to face him, walking backwards on the sidewalk. “Kind of like you’re being right now, in fact.

Will rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh that was far more forced than it usually had to be. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ladell.”

Kym merely hummed skeptically in response and spun around to face the correct way. She used one hand to grip the freezing metal of a street lamp and swing around until she fell into step next to Will once more. “Well, at any rate, she and Kieran are adorable. I caught them in the archives the other day making doe-eyes at each other,” she grinned. 

Misinterpreting Will’s stony silence, Kym hastily explained in a mockingly arch tone, “Oh, nothing untoward, Lieutenant Hawkes, I assure you. Lauren would never live it down if someone caught her engaged in something improper.” She let out an easy laugh, imagining her friend’s face. “They’re just so wretchedly private. I’ll take what I can get.”

“They certainly keep to themselves, don’t they?” Will acknowledged distractedly. 

Kym graciously allowed the conversation to fall silent as they continued walking. At last they reached the corner at which they typically parted ways. Instead of calling out a quick goodbye and branching off in their respective directions, however, Kym halted when Will hovered on the spot, hesitating. 

Kym eyed Will as he continued to stare blankly at the ground. She reached out to tug his sleeve lightly, maintaining a loose hold there. “Hey,” she prompted. “Are you okay?”

Will met her gaze at last, understanding that the only reason Kym phrased her inquiry the way she did was to give him an out if he did not wish to speak on what was bothering him. She knew clearly that everything was definitely not “okay.”

Seeing his miserable expression, Kym peered up at him for a moment before adding gently, “You know you can talk to me if you need someone, right?”

Agonizing inwardly, Will then heard the words leave his mouth before his brain had a chance to process them. “Do you want to have some coffee with me?”

Kym straightened and released his sleeve as she let out a small chuckle. “Well, Rosaline’s is closed tonight. Where else could we go around here?”

“Oh! Uh,” Will floundered, a blush already crawling up his neck. “My apartment is close by,” he suggested. 

Kym grinned in truth now. “Oh, Will! How scandalous!” she teased. “If I’d only known how you felt about me–”

She cut off abruptly when Will’s features grew even more embarrassed instead of annoyed. His lips parted as though preparing to speak, and she sobered quickly in response.

“I just– I just need a friend right now,” Will mumbled, his entire face flaming with mortification. 

Kym felt a twinge of guilt at making him feel so self-conscious. Looping her arm through his jauntily, she strove to make up for her lack of compassion. “Good thing you’ve got me here, then, right? Let’s go.”

Burying his shame, Will allowed himself to be tugged down the sidewalk toward his apartment, only for Kym to stutter to a stop at the end of the block.

“Uh,” she began with a nervous chuckle, “I’m blanking on where to go from here.”

“Oh, right!” Will answered sheepishly. He indicated that they should continue straight with his free arm, inexplicably not wanting Kym to let go of his other one. 

Please listen to Irreplaceable by Chad Lawson during the rest of this chapter.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Will’s apartment. He retrieved his arm from Kym’s easy grasp to fetch his keys from his pocket. When he realized that he was actually a bit disappointed to break the contact, Will decided that the past few weeks had officially driven him mad. 

Clearing his throat, he scraped the key into the lock and pushed open the door. The apartment was dark, and Kym trailed in wordlessly behind him as he moved into the relative warmth of his home. Hanging his hat and coat on hooks by the door, he flicked on the light over the entryway and reached for Kym’s belongings as well before she could throw them down somewhere else. 

Blinking for a moment as her eyes adjusted, Kym peered around the apartment, absently handing him her coat. She breathed in the clean scent she had come to associate with Will, wondering when exactly she had begun recognizing it. 

Striding forward, Will raised one hand dismissively as he made his way to the kitchen. “Have a seat. I’ll make some tea.”

Brightening, Kym flopped unceremoniously onto the pale sofa with a loud sigh. Stretching up after a moment, she switched on the lamp, bathing the room in a warmer glow. She could see Will’s piano through a doorway in the opposite wall and remembered hearing him play the song from the music box the last time she had been at his home. 

Before she had time to consider it further, Will reappeared with a rattling tea set on a tray, setting it on the table in front of the sofa. 

“The whole tea set, hmm? I didn’t realize I was an official guest,” Kym teased, sitting up straighter on the couch.

Will merely rolled his eyes and served her a cup of tea before settling into a nearby chair with his own. The pale porcelain cup produced curls of steam as it lingered in his hands, unmoving. 

As he stared at the rippling surface of the cup, three words kept consuming his thoughts: Dylan was alive. He felt the bitter tang of guilt infusing him once more as he considered how he had discounted Lauren’s theories as merely the wishful thinking of a grieving girl.  

He was elated with the knowledge, but it brought about a heavy sorrow that Will could not seem to suppress. Dylan had remained hidden for ten years now. What had the Phantom Scythe done to him in that time? 

His musings were interrupted by Kym’s voice piercing through the weighted atmosphere. 

“Besides, I came here under the condition that I would be given coffee. Or did you forget?” she asked with a grin.

Will realized with a start that she was right. “I- I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Kym’s smile wavered at how distressed Will appeared.“Aw, that’s alright,” she protested. “I’d take anything hot right now with how cold it is outside.” She raised her teacup toward him with the words, but the motion caused a splash of tea to spill out over the edge.

“Oh, this blasted white sofa!” she cried, bending awkwardly to use her shirt to blot up the tea now staining the fabric couch next to her leg. The action made her spill more of the liquid onto her legs, and she let out a noise of dismay as she hurriedly set the cup down onto the table in front of her. 

Will scrambled to his feet to set his own tea aside and fetch a napkin. 

“Who has a white sofa? I mean, honestly,” she groaned as she snatched the proffered napkin out of his hand upon his return. "Rich people, that’s who.”

Chuckling despite himself, Will waved off her concern. “Relax. Just focus on your clothing. I’ve become practiced at removing stains from that particular piece of furniture, believe it or not. I’ll fix it.”

Those last words were a quiet echo of those he had said before in almost the same spot in his apartment, weeks ago when Kym had walked him home once before. She froze in her frantic motions, meeting his eyes with a degree of compassion that surprised him when he caught her gaze. 

As quickly as it had arrived, the flicker of emotion flew away from Kym’s features as she fought to bring back her casual smile. “Don’t worry,” she answered. “I can fix this for you.” Jumping up quickly, she darted into the kitchen for supplies. She blotted at her pants, thankful that the dark color hid the resulting wet spot. 

When she returned, Will was bent over the couch tending to the spill, his blond hair spilling over his eyes uncharacteristically. 

“Stop it, I said I’ll take care of it,” Kym admonished, smacking him lightly with one of the cloths she had brought with her. 

“Hey!” he protested, leaning away from her.

Kym bent to her knees and pressed her hand on top of Will’s briefly. “I’ll do it,” she insisted firmly, before nudging him aside to press the damp cloth against the stain. 

Swallowing, Will looked down at her, noticing the way the angle of the light made her hair shine almost blue. “Fine, have it your way, Ladell,” he said, retreating to his chair. 

Once her task was complete, Kym regained her seat and slipped her shoes off to fold her feet under her. She gripped the teacup with two hands as though making a point of being as careful as possible as she took a long sip. 

“This tea better not make me sick,” she remarked, eyeing Will over the rim of her cup.

Will could not help the chuckle that escaped him at this. “That was the tea you made, if I may remind you.”

“Yeah, yeah, details,” Kym replied dismissively, eyes twinkling as she took another sip.

For several minutes, they chatted aimlessly about various events of their previous days, as Kym seemed to understand that whatever was bothering Will would not be produced until he recovered from the fact that he had, for some reason, invited her over unsolicited. 

When Will stood to return the teacups and accouterments to the kitchen, Kym rose and stretched her arms over her head with a loud yawn. Placing her hands behind her back, she paced to the other side of the room, peering at the various decor. Two bookshelves rested against one wall, organized precisely with nary a tome out of place as best she could tell in her brief perusal. Hearing the sound of the faucet running in the kitchen, Kym began to slink toward the doorway that led to the room with Will’s upright piano. 

With a final glance toward the kitchen to see that her host had not yet emerged, Kym moved fully into the dim room. More bookshelves surrounded the walls on either side, broken only by the window on the right side of the room and the piano on the far wall. Whereas the bookshelves in the former room had been meticulously arranged, the books here tumbled about the shelves in faded groups of tilted pages and well-worn covers. These books had the look of being used, rather than arranged for aesthetics. 

Leaning over, she switched on the small lamp that sat near the piano. The yellow glow bathed the room in its light and made the small room feel warm and comfortable, as though it were being hugged on both sides by the books. 

Taking a seat on the cool wooden bench, Kym brushed her fingers along the cool keys, feeling their smooth texture absently as her thoughts turned toward the fact that Will always seemed the most relaxed when he played. 

“Kym?” Will called upon finding the sofa unoccupied. Seeing the golden light pooling at the doorway, he meandered in after her to see her seated at the piano looking at the keys solemnly. 

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly, trailing his fingers along the door frame as he lingered there uncertainly. 

Kym’s gaze flew to his in faint surprise as she straightened on the bench. “Oh! Just…preparing to amaze you with a song I learned,” she answered with a shrug. 

Will scoffed goodnaturedly and crossed his arms, leaning back against the door frame to watch. When Kym merely fidgeted in her seat, he gestured broadly before him. “Well, go on then, Sergeant.”

Drawing herself up with a superior look, Kym made a great show of cracking her knuckles and skimming her fingers along the keys. At last, she brought her hands down to play, but abruptly halted to begin using only one finger to tap out “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”

When she completed her presentation, she twisted around on the bench to take a bow and peer at Will, who was shaking his head with silent laughter. 

Will pushed off the wall and strode toward her, nudging her with the back of his hand. “Move over, Ladell.”

Kym slid over as requested, but remained seated on the slick surface of the bench. To her surprise, Will merely took his seat next to her and smiled atoher out of the corner of his eye. The smallness of the bench meant that their hips were pressed together, and she felt a nervous flutter of warmth in response. She was further astonished when Will began to play, his fingers dancing along the keys nimbly, seemingly without effort or even thought. 

With widened eyes, she observed his hands as they played, still taken aback that he would choose to play in front of her. She did not recognize the tune, but it was a hauntingly beautiful song, full of longing. 

As he played, his elbow caught her lightly as he moved, and he met her eyes to murmur an apology. 

“That’s alright,” Kym replied immediately, feeling trapped by both his gaze and the music in the air around them. “Should– should I get up?” she asked with uncharacteristic quietness. 

As his hands slowed in their motions, a troubled expression flickered across Will’s features before he shook his head and turned to watch the keys in front of him. “Please don’t,” he answered simply, resuming his former tempo. 

Will sighed deeply, closing his eyes as his fingers danced on the keys nearly by their own volition. He slowly tried to sort through his muddled thoughts, yearning to speak of what was troubling him. The reappearance of Dylan had rocked him off-kilter as yet another revelation that he had been completely in the dark for far too long. Lune, Rafael, his father, and now Dylan. How many times was his world going to be turned on its head?

Opening his eyes, he glanced down at his companion as he played, comforted by the warmth of her presence next to him. 

And then there was Kym. She was, in many ways, a mystery to him. She resided outside all the other categories of people Will was acquainted with, skipping between them in her lively way, unwilling to settle into one “box” in which he could define precisely what she meant to him. But still, he was grateful for her presence, as he had been the night he met Rafael outside the circus. 

The tightening in his chest that had begun to relent when he began playing returned in full force with the weight of his musings. He had promised not to speak of Dylan, but perhaps he could still share some of what was bothering him. 

“Kym,” he said softly to get her attention. “Can I ask you something about your sister?”

Straightening suddenly at the topic, Kym bumped into Will’s elbow again and leaned back slightly with a sheepish grin to cover her uneasiness at Will’s sudden inquiry. 

“Sure,” she answered. “What do you want to know?”

“I’m not– I’m not asking this to be insensitive,” he started awkwardly, hands slowing nearly to a stop as he turned his face toward her. “But…what would you do if you found out she was really alive all this time? Like– Like Rafael.” 

The glow of lamp light reflected off her eyes, turning them to the color of warm caramel, and Will found that he could not look away as he awaited her answer. 

Kym met his eyes for a long moment with her tongue feeling like lead in her mouth. She chose her words carefully, mindful of the fact that Will was still dealing with the shock of running into his brother. “I would be elated,” she began, but turned her gaze aside. “But also I would need her to have a very good reason for not telling us she was alive.” 

Nodding, he found that he could not find the next words to speak. Will could only hope that Kym was taking his question as a parallel to his own brother, rather than associating it with their recent conversation with Lauren about Dylan. He slowly resumed playing the piano, as though to distract him from the vulnerability of the conversation.

“When I saw Rafael, and he spoke of our father…” His shoulders brushed against Kym’s as he heaved a sigh. “I feel as though everyone around me has led some double life I’m not privy to,” he said. 

“Well, I practically live at the precinct with you, so I’ll be your partner in mundanity,” Kym teased, bumping him lightly with her shoulder. 

Will huffed out a soft laugh. “Partners, huh?”

“Sure, why not?” Kym replied easily, catching his gaze for a moment. 

“Why not, indeed,” Will murmured with a smile. The amusement slowly faded, being replaced with a solemn expression instead. “I suppose I’m just tired of being—” he hesitated briefly. "Forgotten," he admitted with a sardonic twist to his smile. 

For several heartbeats, only the sound of music filled the air. Something in Kym ached for him to know how exceptional he was, and she searched inwardly for the words to say to ease Will’s struggle as his song finally came to an end. He rested his fingertips gently against the keys as the notes hung in the air for several seconds until Will let up on the pedal. 

As the last chord disappeared into silence, Kym decided that there were times when simply being present was the best response. She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder, fixing her eyes on the black and white keys in front of her. 

Will froze instinctively, then swallowed down his surprise to replace it with an unexpectedly deep appreciation for Kym’s understanding. He quietly slid his hand back to bring his arm around her lower back in a loose embrace, and they lingered there wordlessly in the warm glow of the lamp. 

Suddenly, their tenuous reverie was shattered by the shrill ringing of Will’s telephone.

Kym and Will both jolted at the sound, blinking at each other until it registered to Will that he needed to respond to the noise. 

He jumped up, heart still thudding in his chest from surprise, and answered the phone in the next room. He was surprised to hear Lauren’s voice on the other end of the line. 

“Will?” she asked, seeming almost out of breath.

“Lauren? What’s the matter?” he asked, placing a hand on his hip as he fixed his eyes on the wooden paneling of the wall in front of him. 

“Will,” she repeated, seeming as though her words were stuck in her throat. At last she forced out, “You have to meet me at the port on the north shore before sunrise.”

Will straightened in surprise and glanced behind him. Kym was lingering in the next room, apparently attempting to appear disinterested, though Will knew she was probably listening closely due to her endlessly curious nature. 

“Okay…” he trailed off, leaving the unspoken question hanging in the air. When Lauren failed to continue, he added, “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

He heard her sigh deeply, the sound crackling over the line as static. 

“Will, it’s– it’s about our friend. He…has to leave. I can explain everything when I see you later.”

Will felt a pang of uncertainty coiling in his chest. “Lauren–”

“I can't talk right now, Will,” Lauren answered hurriedly, clearly distressed. She lowered her voice to a near whisper, saying, “I can hear my uncle in the next room.”

“Okay, okay,” Will answered placatingly, holding out one hand despite knowing she would not see the motion. “I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Will,” she replied softly.

“Hey, Lauren?” Will interjected before she could end the call. 

“What is it?” Lauren asked calmly, as though forcing herself not to sound rushed. 

Will hesitated for an instant before answering, “Thank you for telling me. For remembering me.”

“Well, of course,” Lauren answered as though it were obvious. “How could I forget you at a time like this?”

Swallowing, Will cleared his throat. “Alright, I know you have to go. I’ll see you then.”

“See you,” Lauren confirmed, and then the line went dead.

Will felt as though he were moving in slow motion as he replaced the phone on its stand. Hearing a shuffling sound behind him, he turned to see Kym hovering in the doorway with her hands clasped and a worried expression fixed on her features. 

“Kym!” Will said as though remembering her presence. He vacillated on the spot before moving forward a few steps and gripping the back of the sofa with white-knuckled force. 

“Is everything alright?” Kym asked, peering at him with open curiosity. 

All these secrets, Will thought, hating the fact that he could not be more transparent with Kym. “Yes– I mean, I think so. I– I can’t really–”

Kym seemed to grasp quickly that the subject, whatever it was, could not be expounded upon. She took a slow step forward and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine, Will. I get it.”

It took a moment for Will to realize that Kym seemed to have taken his words as though they had held a tone of rejection. 

“I should go,” she said, moving to take her coat from the hook by the door. 

“No, wait,” Will protested, moving swiftly to intercept her. He gripped her forearms lightly and implored her to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll explain when I can. I’m not sure of enough of the details to know what to say, even if I end up being at liberty to do so.”

The earnestness in Will’s features softened Kym’s own as she studied his face. “Fine,” she answered, a hint of her usual joviality returning to her tone. “But I expect to hear all the gory details as soon as the gag order is removed, alright?”

Will huffed out a soft laugh and released her, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Deal.”

A lock of hair fell forward over his forehead as he tilted his face down toward hers to smile at her. Without even realizing what she was doing at first, Kym found herself brushing the strand back into place, her fingertips barely grazing his skin. 

They both froze, eyes widening slightly in response to the unexpected touch. With a nervous laugh, Kym clapped him on the shoulder brusquely and cleared her throat. 

“Right! Well! I’ll be going then,” she blurted out as she pushed past him. 

Before she had reached her coat, however, Will grabbed her hand and caused her to turn back to him in surprise. 

“Kym,” Will said hesitantly, “thank you for coming tonight, and for...” He cocked his head to the side with a self-deprecating laugh. “For listening.”

“Sure,” she answered as he released her. Retrieving her coat and sliding it on, she added, “Any time.”

Will moved behind her to open the door for her, and the cold air rushed in as he pulled it open. For a moment, they both hovered in the doorway. Unbeknownst to each other, they were each struggling with a murky desire to reach out in some way. 

Just as Will felt like the tension would snap him in half, Kym ended the standoff by rising up onto her tiptoes and pressing a fleeting kiss to his cheek. Without another word, she strode out the door and down the street, evoking a confidence that the flush of her cheeks revealed was purely for show. 

Pressing his fingertips to the spot her lips had touched, Will watched her leave with a startled confusion swirling in his gut. 

The world really had turned upside down, he thought as he slowly closed the door. 

Chapter Text

Please listen to Dwell (Snowfall Remix) by Tony Anderson during this chapter.

The frozen darkness was oppressive as Lauren waited between two tall, brick buildings near the docks. She buried her chin in the burgundy scarf around her neck and folded her arms over her torso to conserve warmth. At the sound of footsteps approaching from behind her, she spun on the balls of her feet with a flare of adrenaline flashing through her veins.

Her breath fogged in the air as she let out a relieved sigh upon seeing that the footsteps belonged to Will. Barely perceiving her features in the predawn darkness, he nodded at her in greeting.

“Hey,” Lauren murmured, watching him solemnly as he paused to rub his eyes, trying to disperse the gritty sleepiness from them. 

“He’s not here yet, I take it,” Will said softly, pushing his hands into his pockets as she shook her head in reply. 

They wordlessly turned to lean back against the brick of one of the buildings, and Will propped one foot against the wall. His ears and the tip of his nose burned from the cold, and he had a thrum of nervousness in his chest that refused to relent. 

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, waiting for her to elaborate on what exactly they were doing there. She caught his eye with a small double-take, realizing that he was patiently awaiting answers. 

Pushing off the wall, Lauren paced a few steps away, peering at the far end of the street where an orange street lamp glowed in the distance. “Long story short, the Phantom Scythe wants to bring Dylan in for ‘questioning’ because of his unusual habits lately.” 

She had frantically tried to come up with a way to explain their predicament to Will without bringing Kieran into the picture. She had to hope that Will would not pry too deeply. 

“He’s lived with the threat hanging over his head for far too long now, and he fears that I’ll be implicated if they dig far enough. He’s decided to leave the city for good, and has arranged passage on a ship to Bramstead,” she explained, turning to face him as she spoke. 

Will took in her miserable expression, understanding that the blow of losing Dylan yet again would be weighing on his friend terribly. She would likely feel responsible, and he knew she already carried enough guilt with regards to Dylan. He stepped forward and slid his hands out of his pockets to grip her forearms lightly. 

“It’s alright, Lauren. He’s going to be fine,” he told her encouragingly with a small smile.

Despite her heavy sigh, Lauren was bolstered by the belief in Will’s voice, and she forced a smile back at him. 

A voice from the entrance of the street drew their attention. Backlit by the distant street light, a tall figure approached them with a duffle bag hung over one shoulder. 

“Long time no see,” Dylan called softly with a quiet laugh. 

Will’s throat tightened as he took a stuttering step forward, and then another to meet Dylan. Stopping just short of him, they faced off for a long moment without speaking as Lauren hung back, watching them with a tentative smile.

Finally, Will lunged forward and engulfed him in a hug, producing a startled laugh from Dylan. He clapped William on the back and then pulled away to grip Will’s shoulders. Ginning, he studied his old friend’s face before shaking his head slightly. 

“Of course we’d finally meet right as I have to leave,” Dylan told him, hitching the bag on his shoulder to put it back in place. 

Will seemed only capable of gaping at first, but finally shook his head as well. “Sorry, it’s like I’m seeing a ghost. Lauren told me, but seeing you in person is…”

“It’s different,” Dylan confirmed. “You should have seen me when Lauren crashed into my clinic bleeding.”

An incredulous laugh escaped Will’s chest as he considered the thought. “I bet.”

They spoke quietly for a few minutes until Dylan glanced over Will’s shoulder at Lauren lingering in the background. Catching the direction of his gaze, Will recognized the fact that he was consuming much of their available window for saying goodbye. 

“I– I should go,” Will told him. He could also hear the early sounds of sailors down at the docks and knew that time was running short. 

Dylan gave him a half smile in acknowledgement of Will’s desire to give Lauren and him time to speak alone. “I’m glad she brought you along. I wasn’t sure she would tell you.”

Will let out a quiet laugh. “I’m glad she did as well.”

Dylan pushed him lightly in the chest with a fist, rocking Will back on his heels. “Don’t stay too perfect. Try to leave yourself some room to breathe.” The words were teasing, but Will also saw the undercurrent of truth Dylan was trying to convey. 

“And maybe you can stay out of trouble now,” Will replied with a pained smile. “You’re…important to us.”

Dylan gave him a short nod and merely watched as Will turned away and began striding back down the deserted street toward Lauren. Will put his hand on Lauren’s shoulder briefly in acknowledgement and then continued on with only a short smile over his shoulder at them both.

And then it was only the pair of them, Lauren and Dylan, as it always had ended up when they were children. Lauren scraped the toe of one boot across the pavement as she slid toward him a half step. Dylan came to meet her, but took her by the elbow and pulled her closer to the end of the street, toward the only source of light in the inky black surrounding them. He wanted to see her features more clearly for what he had to say. 

Dylan let out a shuddering breath that stirred the frosty air, and Lauren waited to hear whatever he seemed to be working himself up to tell her. 

With their position, half of her face was shadowed and the rest was illuminated by the light, one of her eyes a burnished gold. He searched her face, swallowing as the fear in his chest built to a feverish height. 

“You could come with me, you know,” he said, trying for an offhanded tone as he dropped his bag onto the sidewalk. He ignored the slight ache in his shoulder from the extended period of time he had held it there.  

Lauren straightened in surprise. “What?” she asked as though she could not have possibly heard him correctly. 

Dylan took a half step forward and reached out to grip her hands in his. Her fingers were freezing, and he squeezed them lightly as though to bring back some warmth. He knew that this was the moment he was going to lay it all out on the table for her, no holding back. 

“Haven’t you ever wondered, Ren?” he asked in a low voice, bending slightly to bring his face closer to hers. “What it would have been like if I had never been taken? If we’d continued to grow up together…grown old together?” His eyes roved across her face before his gaze collided with hers once more. “Maybe you’d be in my arms…” He broke off abruptly, but they both heard the unspoken, "instead of his."

With widened eyes, Lauren stood transfixed. The light glinted off his silver hair as she gaped up at him, and her mouth went dry as her heart began racing, a hollow sound pounding in her ears. 

Dylan leaned forward again ever so slightly with a desperate expression shadowing his eyes. He gripped her hands more firmly as he willed her to listen to him. “I know it’s unfair to ask this of you. It’s selfish of me to want you to leave everything you know and come with me.” 

He paused and swallowed, bracing himself for the words that were burning in his chest. “But can’t you see? I’ve had a thousand daydreams of escaping all of this and being with you, only you. How can I just leave you behind here?” His voice dropped to a pleading whisper. “Ren…come with me.”

Gently pulling her hands out of his grasp, Lauren stepped back. “I– I can’t Dylan. I–” She trailed off, lips still parted as she shook her head at him. 

A deep sadness crept onto Dylan’s features, but he quirked his lips into a forced smile. “Despite everything…I never stood a chance against him, did I?” he asked slowly. 

Lauren forced a swallow down her bone-dry throat. “It’s not just that, Dylan. There’s– there’s so much we’re involved with here. We’re so close to bringing down the Phantom Scythe.”

Not just that, Dylan thought ruefully. “I love you, Ren. I always have.” He softly reached forward and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear as she watched him, trembling. “And I always will.”

Lauren could not deny that something in her stirred at the words, the truth of everything Dylan had said confirming that it was straight from the depths of his heart. She realized, however, that his desire was truly a yearning for something that could never be; even if they dismantled the Phantom Scythe, they were no longer the children they were, and their experiences had changed them irrevocably. 

Her features softened as she stepped forward and rested one hand on his forearm. “Do you, though? Do you love me?" She paused as Dylan’s forehead creased into a confused frown. Needing him to understand, she explained, “That innocent little girl? And that carefree little boy?” She shook her head. “They don’t exist anymore.” 

For a long moment, each of them found themselves imagining what their lives might have been like without Allendale, without the destructive influence of the Scythe. What peace they might have had. 

Yet, Lauren knew that there were parts of her life now that she would not have altered even if she could. She dropped her hand from his sleeve. “We’ve both changed in ways that can’t be undone. I’m not sure you’d like what you found if you got to know this version of me. And now...”

Dylan shook his head, interrupting her with a ghost of a smile. “And now, I won’t have the chance to prove you wrong, will I?” He sighed softly. “I’m– I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Ren. Perhaps someday I’ll be able to get to know her more.”

The sounds of workers at the docks around the corner had been steadily growing, the shouting of orders and heavy cargo being loaded humming in the background. The faintest hint of daylight was beginning to blur the edges of the darkness. 

Lauren looked over Dylan’s shoulder in the direction of the ship that would take him away. “You have to go…”

Dylan’s gaze followed hers for an instant, but his thoughts were still scrambling for a way to change her mind. As she remained silent, resignation slowly crept over him. 

He had to let her go. It was what she deserved, and it was the only thing he could give her. 

Breaking the standstill, Lauren reached into one of her inner coat pockets and pulled out a faded brown hat with a blue patch. “I suppose it’s time I give this back to you now,” she commented, feeling as though returning the hat would close this chapter of her life forever. 

Dylan seemed to sense the finality of the action, and he gently pressed it back into her hands. “Keep it safe for me?” he asked, much as he had when she had attempted to return it before. “Just– just until I see you again?”

Neither of them wanted to admit the futility of hoping they would see each other in the future. Lauren clenched her fingers around the thinning fabric, merely nodding when she found that she could not trust her voice to speak. 

Wrenching his eyes closed for a flicker of a moment, Dylan stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight embrace, aching at the reality of being forced to let her go. She returned the hug softly, until he drew back and cupped her cheeks with his hands. 

“Goodbye, Ren,” he whispered, and pressed a kiss to her forehead before releasing her. 

Clearing his throat with a sniff that he told himself was purely from the cold, he stepped back and nodded to her before hoisting his bag back up onto his shoulder.  He spun toward the docks, toward a new life of possibilities. 

The sky had brightened to the palest gold, though the sun had not yet broached the horizon. Watching him stride away, Lauren murmured a quiet, “Goodbye,” as he rounded the corner and out of her line of sight. 

Lauren found that she was shaking, and she was not certain if it was from the intensity of the conversation or the frozen morning dawning around her. 

Kieran. She recalled how desperate he had seemed when she left him a few hours ago, and she realized with a painful twist in her chest that he must have known Dylan was going to ask her to leave with him. He must have truly believed there was a chance she would go.

She needed to see him. The sounds of the docks behind her faded away as she retreated down the street, rubbing her hands together to bring some warmth back to them with the friction as her feet hurried toward her goal.

She debated on which destination she should have in mind, but decided ultimately that Kieran was likely to be out in the city due to the weight of his thoughts. He rarely brooded at home these days. Adjusting her course, she began making her way toward what they had come to consider their bridge. 

The sun finally began to make its debut as she crossed the city on foot, needing to clear her mind. She followed the river toward the bridge, and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when she saw Kieran waiting there. He was gripping the railing of the empty bridge, facing the direction he knew she would come from if she decided to look for him there. 

The sun had reached just enough height to set the clouds on fire with a brilliant golden glow, glinting off the river. She could smell the curls of morning mist rising from the pavement produced by the meager warmth from the winter sun. 

As she reached him, she could see the relief in his eyes that he was trying to bury. 

“Good morning,” he remarked with a smile, as though it had been merely an ordinary day. 

Lauren gave him a crooked smile in return, shaking her head at him. “Good morning,” she answered, unable to stop herself from studying the way the sunlight made his eyes even brighter than usual. As he turned from the railing to face her, she suddenly found herself pulling him towards her.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held him tightly, feeling infinitely warmer now that she was with him. Kieran hesitated only briefly before returning the embrace. He buried his face in her neck, breathing her in as his fear was assuaged by her touch. He was relieved that the early hour seemed to have staved off any passersby that might interrupt their tryst.  

He pulled away, turning to brace himself against the railing again, facing the river as she quietly came to stand next to him, pressing their sides together as they studied the water with small smiles. 

“Did Will make it there as well?” Kieran asked after a moment of stillness.

“He did,” Lauren answered with a fond smile. “I think it meant a lot to them both. Like I said before– Will needed a win of some kind, even a bittersweet one.”

Kieran nodded, a muscle twitching at his temple as he clenched his jaw slightly. 

Lauren noticed the motion out of the corner of her eye and smirked slightly. “You’re dying to know, aren’t you?”

Kieran released the railing in surprise, turning to meet her eyes with raised eyebrows. He huffed out a laugh at her smug expression. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, really?” Lauren answered with mock surprise. “Alright then, never mind.” She turned back to watch the faint breeze chop up the surface of the river in minuscule waves.

Groaning in defeat but refusing to bring up the topic first, Kieran leaned forward and rested his elbows on the barrier separating them from the water. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” Lauren asked softly, watching him as he fixed his gaze elsewhere. “That he was going to ask me to go with him. That’s why you didn’t come with me.” And why his goodbye had been so charged the night before, she added to herself as she recalled his almost anguished kiss before he departed for the night.

She watched him swallow and glance down at his hands with a smile that was more like a grimace. 

“He might have mentioned it to me,” he admitted, sparing a glance in her direction briefly. 

A frown flickered across Lauren’s features. “And you truly thought I would drop everything and go?”

Kieran straightened with a heavy sigh, swiveling around to rest his back against the railing. He squinted against the brilliant sun making its presence more insistently known as morning dawned fully. “Perhaps not,” he hedged. “It wouldn’t be like you to abandon your goals so close to what could be the end.”

“But…” she coaxed, hearing the word as though he had actually been the one to speak it. She placed her hand lightly on top of his, peering up at him curiously. 

"But," Kieran countered, his smile now obviously forced, “you don’t want to hear what I’m thinking right now, detective.” 

Lauren narrowed her eyes at him and tugged on his hands until he faced her. She clasped his fingers in hers and waited for a long moment. 

Finally worn down, Kieran peered down at her features, no longer blinded by the sunlight but instead seeing her basking in it now with the direction they faced. She must have seen something in him begin to relent, because she raised an eyebrow with a wry smirk.

“But,” he clarified with a self-deprecating laugh, “I can’t help but wonder if you’ll be making your way to Bramstead after all of this.” His smile slowly turned calculating as he studied her reaction. “He would be a much less… damaged person for you to find yourself with.”

Lauren’s eyes widened as he confirmed her suspicions about the direction of his thoughts. Her heart and mind had been in turmoil for so long now, but as she lingered there in his arms, she suddenly understood that Kieran had no idea how she had come to truly feel about him. 

Her musings about what might have been if the Scythe had never influenced their lives were inconsequential. Their twisting paths had led them to this reality, and here, right here, she had found someone who matched her perfectly. She would choose Kieran every time, no matter the circumstances. 

She hung her head with an exasperated laugh before raising her face to his again. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” she asked before she grabbed the lapel of his coat and tugged him down for a kiss. 

It took Kieran a moment to overcome his surprise and return the gesture, sliding his arms around her. He gripped the cool fabric of her coat to hold her tightly, the rustling of the material dimly registering in the back of his mind as his senses focused on only her. Her lips were warm, and her touch filled him with an almost painful longing to have her closer. 

He broke the contact slightly, his mouth still hovering above hers as he murmured the words he had been holding inside for far too long. 

“I love you,” he breathed, unable to restrain himself any longer. 

Surprised, Lauren opened her eyes as a flutter of feeling rose in her stomach at the words. She pulled his head down gently this time, kissing him softly. “Do you, now?” she murmured against his lips as she broke away.

He chuckled, spreading his fingers out against her back to hold her close. He brushed his nose against hers and then pressed another kiss to her lips. “I do,” he admitted. “I’m just hoping that I can somehow convince you to feel the same.”

“Kieran, honestly,” she answered between their languid kisses. Breaking away with an exasperated sigh, she looked him in the eyes as she said, “If you can’t get it through your skull that I’m completely in love with you by now, I don’t know what will convince you.”

Kieran breathed out a laugh, an uncharacteristic giddiness rising in his chest. “Is that right, then?” At her nod, he pulled her back and captured another kiss from her. “Lucky us, hmm?”

Lauren pulled back, linking her hands behind his neck as she grinned. “Oh, sure. The luckiest. We’re just being hunted by– oh, everyone– but that’s unimportant,” she teased with a dismissive scrunch of her nose. 

Kieran’s laugh this time was full as he tilted his head back. “Completely irrelevant, detective.”

For a moment, they merely smiled at each other, lingering in the quiet dawn around them. 

“You stayed,” Kieran reiterated at length, his smile becoming somewhat more tinged with an inscrutable emotion. 

Lauren sighed again in soft exasperation. “Of course I did,” she said earnestly. 

She held him tighter as the city slowly awakened around them. “How could I leave my partner behind?”

Chapter Text

The first letter arrived about six months after Dylan fled Ardhalis, on a beautiful day in late August. The sky was piercingly blue, with just the type of voluminous white clouds Lauren loved best dotted across it. 

She was standing on her small balcony, observing the beauty from the comfort of the shade, when Lucy knocked lightly on the glass behind her. Lauren tucked a strand of wayward hair behind her ear and smoothed the skirt of her simple periwinkle dress as she stood to retrieve the envelope Lucy was holding out to her. 

“This just came for you, ma’am,” Lucy said with a smile, passing the nondescript white envelope over to Lauren. 

She took the missive in hand with a questioning look, nodding her thanks at Lucy before regaining her seat. The envelope had no return address, even when she flipped it over to view the other side. There was nothing but her name and address in simple block letters handwritten on the front. 

Her eyes flickered out onto the grounds, watching for Kieran’s arrival despite knowing that she would likely never see him coming; it had become his favorite game to see how long he could avoid detection when he came to meet her. 

Seeing no sign of movement, Lauren slowly opened the envelope as her curiosity overwhelmed her. 

Ren,

 

I pray this letter finds you whole and well. I have limited myself to scanning various newspapers to receive information about you or our friend, but local news sources do not typically find reporting on individuals as important as attempting to summarize the overall picture of foreign affairs. 

As best I can tell, you two have managed to avoid the headlines despite being what appears to be quite busy. You have certainly made significant progress since last we met, but you know that there are more rats that will crawl out of their holes to replace those you dethrone. I will unnecessarily caution you to be careful.

To be honest, I have yet to declare my purpose for writing this letter because I have not yet identified it myself. It seems that at last I was unable to resist the temptation of sending some sort of word to you. Perhaps it is an effort to assuage my own frustration in not being able to accurately determine once and for all if you have remained unscathed. 

To put it plainly, I am worried about you…and my dear scoundrel of a friend. And, on the off chance that you have been worried about me, at least I may alleviate one of our burdens: I am clearly alive and well. 

I am choosing to operate on the assumption that you are doing perfectly fine and are currently seated in your manor enjoying the finer things of life. Admittedly, I fear it is the only way I can bring myself to think of you now. To consider any alternative is too painful. 

I have rambled quite enough. I simply felt compelled to reach out to you. 

Sincerely,

Your Friend

Lauren jolted and whipped the letter downward immediately as a gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder from behind. 

“What’s that, love?” Kieran asked curiously, placing a brief kiss on her cheek as he glanced down at the paper being inadvertently crinkled in Lauren’s fist. 

Spinning to face him, Lauren tried to quell the pounding of her heart from the unexpected turn of events. 

“It’s—” she began, but hesitated as she glanced behind him to be sure they were alone. “It’s a letter from Dylan,” she answered in a low voice. 

Kieran’s eyebrows rose slightly, and she knew it was the only sign of surprise she would get from him. His habit of keeping his true emotions from appearing on his features had yet to be eliminated completely, and the more concerned he was, the more he would instinctively try to hide it. 

“Here,” Lauren said quickly, handing him the missive. 

Kieran’s gaze flickered from hers to the paper and then back, before turning so that the sunlight no longer shadowed the words on the page. He scanned the lines quickly, flashing a twitch of a smile as he reached the “scoundrel” part. 

“Well,” Kieran said with a shake of his head as he returned the letter to Lauren. “His penmanship is predictably terrible, at least. He truly fits his ‘doctor’ stereotype to the fullest.”

Lauren rolled her eyes but then her features crinkled back into confusion. “But, is it safe? Should he have done this?” 

Kieran pushed a hand into his pocket and leaned casually against the wall, shaded from the bright sunlight. “I think what’s left of the Scythe has bigger things to worry about than watching your mail. And even still, he kept it fairly vague. I wouldn’t worry about it, love.”

“Right,” Lauren answered faintly, staring down at the scrawled lines on the page once again. She could not deny that her soul breathed a sigh of relief that Dylan was safe, a weight she had not realized she carried finally lifted. She was still torn between the odd mixture of grief and irritation that had flooded her when he escaped the city. His farewell to her had been a brutal blow; knowing how Dylan really felt about her had cast a baffling pall over the whole affair. 

Kieran pushed off the wall and took her face in one hand before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Let’s talk about it on the way. We need to be off.”

Lauren’s eyes fluttered back open at the words, and she shook herself lightly. “Right!” she repeated, stronger this time. “Let me just grab my things,” she called over her shoulder as she rushed past him into her room. 

The next letter arrived on a dismal day in early October, a bitter rain pelting against the windows of the APD’s eleventh precinct headquarters. Lucy had handed Lauren the envelope as she rushed out the door on a call, but it was several hours before the detective finally had a chance to open it. 

The I.U.’s offices were mostly empty, but Lauren cast her eyes around the space before leaning back in her desk chair to pull the letter out of her bag. It was addressed in the same way as the first, in simple block letters, with no return address. 

Dear Ren,

 

I had resolved not to write again, but I continue seeing all manner of things which remind me of you. I fear this failure of self-control you now hold in your hands will be a repetitive problem. A child ran past me in the street today with a daisy crown upon her head, and I found myself at a desk writing these words scarcely before I knew it. 

Forgive me, Ren. I beg of you to forgive me for the way I left you. I should never have placed such expectations on you, and I should never have burdened you with my feelings so unexpectedly. It was wrong of me to interfere with your life when it had been so many years since I was a part of it. 

It was a desperate act of a man who had spent far too much time thinking about freedom without ever truly believing he would receive it. Your words that day have weighed upon my mind, and while I will not decry the nature of my affections for you, I understand that we would require much time together to become truly acquainted as the individuals we have become over these last years. 

You deserved a much better goodbye than the one I afforded you. I hope this letter will begin to suffice for a meager attempt at remedying that deficiency. 

Tell Mother I also owe him a much better farewell, but this admission is all he shall receive with that regard. After all, he did steal my childhood sweetheart right out from under me. (I hope you know I am jesting, Ren. I have long since made peace with our current positions.)

Sincerely, 

Your Friend

Lauren cleared her throat and shifted in her chair, discomfited by the vulnerability of the words she read. Dylan had a way of softening her anger, her resolve, that most people were unable to match. She felt a swell of pained warmth in her chest as what appeared to be a most earnest apology. 

Hearing footsteps approaching her location, she hastily stowed the letter back in the envelope and raised her eyes to the door, only to relax when she caught sight of William entering the room. 

“Oh, there you are!” Will called, hanging lightly onto the door frame as he leaned into the room. “Come on, we’re all waiting for you.”

With a startled glance at the clock, Lauren realized she had missed the appointed time she, Kym, Will, and Kieran had set for dinner. The heavy clouds outside that had hung over her head all day had obscured her sense of time. 

“Sorry, I’ll be right there! Just– just let me–” Lauren stood rapidly, trying to stuff the letter into her red department jacket, but the corner kept snagging on the edge of the pocket. Finally it gave way and she glanced up at Will to see him watching her curiously, her lack of composure noticeable. 

“It’s– it’s another one,” she offered, hoping Will would understand as she patted the pocket in which the letter now resided.

Confusion marred his features for only a moment before the realization dawned on him. “Is– is he well?” Will asked, turning to walk in step with her as she exited the room. 

Lauren gave him a look that suggested she was not quite sure, but answered in the affirmative. “It would appear so. He’s well enough to tease Kieran, so I suppose he can’t be in too dire straits.”

Will let out a laugh, shaking his head as he glanced out the window at the weather. “We’re going to need a boat to reach the cafe at this rate,” he commented, sensing that Lauren was not willing to share any further details about the letter yet. 

She groaned, steadfastly ignoring the view as she strode purposefully down the hall. “Yes, well, maybe it’s an opportunity after all. I can find a way to force you and Kym to share an umbrella,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, a sly grin inching across her face as she side-eyed Will. 

Now it was Will’s turn to groan as he slowed to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This again?”

Lauren halted and turned toward him with her hands on her hips. “Listen, practically everyone in the city at this point knows how you feel about her– except for her. When are you going to finally–”

Will interrupted her with an outstretched hand. “It’s not that simple, and you know it.” He huffed a sigh, glancing down the hallway to be sure they were alone. “My family is…well, to be frank, a disaster right now. The last thing I want to do is drag her into that.”

Lauren softened her posture and placed one hand on his arm sympathetically. “I understand, Will, but I think the both of you deserve a bright spot right now.”

Will resumed walking, but glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, brow furrowed. “I’ll– I’ll think about it. Truly.”

The night of Christmas Eve arrived with an auspicious veil of pristine snow blanketing the city, reflecting the twinkling of lights all around as Tristan opened the door to usher Lauren and Kieran out of the manor. 

Shaking Kieran’s hand firmly, Tristan smiled warmly as he bid them goodbye for the evening. “It was good to see you again, Mr. White.”

There was a lump in Kieran’s throat as he considered the acceptance with which Chief Sinclair received him into his home, despite knowing everything he did about Kieran. It had been a long night when Lauren finally brought Kieran home to sit down and talk with her uncle about the identity of her mysterious partner and his origins.

“Please, sir, just Kieran is fine,” he tried again, shaking his head by way of a small plea.

Kieran almost missed Tristan’s wink due to the warm orange glow causing the chief’s imposing form to be back lit in the doorway. “I think you know the day I’ll be willing to call you that, son.”

With a swallow, Kieran realized that Tristan was referring to the fact that he had impulsively bought a ring six weeks ago, and it had been positively burning a hole in his pocket ever since. It had taken a month for Kieran to gather the courage to approach Tristan, but since then, the chief had been relentless with his not-so-subtle encouragement. It was baffling, but Kieran was grateful for the unexpected support.

“Alright, play nice, boys,” Lauren inserted dryly, pulling her burgundy coat around her more tightly as she slipped her arm under Kieran’s elbow. “Time to go!”

Taking their final leave, he and Lauren set off on foot through the city. For all her purported impatience, it appeared that she was in no hurry when she veered off the direct path and instead led them on a more circuitous route.

“And just where might we be going, darling?” Kieran asked curiously, smiling down at her as she adjusted her cream-colored hat. “I thought you’d be too freezing to take us on the scenic route.”

Lauren sighed out a smile, turning her face to the sky as occasional flakes of snow drifted downward. “It’s beautiful out here. The lights, the sounds of the city, the Christmas music, it’s…it’s nice.”

Kieran paused at the edge of the sidewalk, casting his eyes around them to take in the various passersby milling about the streets, Ardhalis humming with life. “There is a lot to celebrate, after all,” he admitted.

Rising up onto her toes, Lauren placed a gloved hand along his cheek and kissed him softly, their lips cold from the evening’s chill. “I still can’t believe it’s actually over,” she murmured as she pulled back an inch. Her eyes finally left his mouth to meet his gaze, but he caught her before she could back away in order to give her another gentle kiss. 

“We’re holding up traffic,” she joked lightly against his lips, kissing him quickly once more before pulling away in truth. She entwined her fingers with his and they resumed their meandering trek.

“But honestly, I can’t believe we even survived,” she said in a low voice.

“Nor can I,” Kieran answered grimly.

“And Dylan still won’t send me a blasted return address,” she added, as though Kieran had not even spoken. Dylan had sent additional letters over the past several weeks, merely short notes to touch base with his friend back home. He had been traveling throughout various undisclosed locations, occasionally taking temporary positions as an interim doctor to provide for his nomadic existence.

Kieran chuckled lightly, knowing that she tended to bulldoze her way through a conversation when her mind was elsewhere. “Still trying to run away from me, love?”

Tensing, Lauren’s gaze shot to his in alarm before she read the teasing look upon his face. Sinking back into her more normal posture, Lauren redirected her view forward as they navigated a particularly crowded area outside of a restaurant. 

“Of course not, but you know I’d like to be able to fill him in on what’s actually going on,” she explained. 

“He said he ran into someone from Ardhalis though, didn’t he?” Kieran asked, referencing Dylan’s latest letter. “He wrote that he heard about the end of the Scythe, of all the reforms being passed by the royals.”

Lauren’s breath fogged before her as she huffed out a sigh. “I know, but it’s not the same.”

Leaving their fingers entwined, Kieran raised her hand to his to kiss the back of her glove lightly. “At least we know he’s well, darling.” He let out a small chuckle. “Honestly, I think he’s too afraid of your censure to give you a means by which to answer him.”

“Well, he’d deserve it, wouldn’t he?” Lauren answered irritably. She continued to mutter under her breath, brow furrowed in what seemed to be a permanent crease.

Kieran loosened his grasp to slide his arm around her as he nodded to a couple passing them by. “You know you miss him,” he chided good naturedly. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be so upset. It’s alright– I’m only barely jealous,” he continued with a teasing grin. 

He had determined long ago that he owed it to Lauren to do his best to put his insecurities with regards to Dylan aside, that he would trust in her professed love for him. Dylan had been too important to them both to waste time on resentment.

And if she ever changed her mind, he would accept that as well. Although, if he was being truthful to himself, he hoped that the ring that had resided in his pocket these last few weeks would put an end to that possibility as well. 

They turned onto what they both considered to be their bridge, pausing in the center to look out over the river. The city lights reflected off the water like diamonds in the darkness, and Kieran winced as he saw Lauren tensing slightly again as she took in the view.

Nudging her with his shoulder, Kieran remarked, “Come now, darling. This is no time for worry.”

Lauren released her grip on the bridge railing, rubbing her hands together for warmth. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to not looking over my shoulder,” she admitted. 

Taking her wrists gently, Kieran pulled her toward him. “That makes two of us,” he acknowledged. “But, the truth of the matter is, while there may still be shadows lurking, the level of imminent danger has diminished considerably.”

Turning her face to his, Lauren’s eyes roved over his features, taking in the sight of snowflakes dotting his raven hair. A smile grew on her lips, and she drew nearer to rest her form against his. “What a turn of events this is, for you to be reassuring me instead,” she murmured, resting her head against his scarf.

She could feel the laugh in his chest from her position. 

“I’m merely reminding you of all we have to be grateful for,” he countered. A smirk appeared on his lips, and Lauren raised an eyebrow as she anticipated his next remark. He continued, “And besides, you have the city’s most capable assassin at your side as your protector, detective.” He shifted his hands from hers to slide them around her waist instead. “Should anyone ever get past your own formidable defenses,” he acknowledged with a shrug.

“Ah, my hero,” Lauren deadpanned, returning his embrace. They both ignored a pair of straggler passersby crossing the bridge, unfazed by the temporary company. 

Peering down at her face, Kieran’s expression faded into a somberness. “Lauren,” he began hesitantly. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

Lauren frowned slightly. “Of course. And you know I love you.” She searched his eyes. “Where’s this coming from, Kieran?” she asked seriously.

Kieran fought back a grimace, but as a more careful expression shuttered his eyes, Lauren tightened her grip on him immediately. 

“Don’t do that,” she insisted with a look bordering on a glare. “Don’t hide from me, Kieran White. What’s wrong?”

Kieran shook his head but ventured a reluctant smile. While his insecurities regarding Dylan had been laid to rest, he could not help the flashes of dread he felt as he considered holding Lauren to him when he was so damaged. 

“It’s mere foolishness. Concerns that you have answered a hundred times, my love,” he finally replied. 

Sighing gently, Lauren tipped her face up to his, placing another slightly chilled kiss to his lips. “And I will answer them a hundred times more, if you’ll let me,” she told him solemnly. 

Kieran’s heart seemed to swell in his chest as he searched her eyes. The lights of the city and various Christmas festivities shone behind her as snow carpeted the bridge and muffled their surroundings. 

“Marry me,” he murmured, face inches from hers. As her eyes widened in surprise, the words that had inadvertently slipped from his lips registered in his mind. “I mean–” he said suddenly, drawing back at Lauren’s questioning gaze.

“Wha-” Lauren started, but Kieran steeled himself and spoke the words that had been burning in his chest for far too long. 

“Please. Lauren, I want to be with you for the rest of my days.” Almost briskly, he released her to fish around in the innermost pocket of his coat and pull out a small box. 

Lauren’s eyes widened even further when Kieran dropped to one knee in front of her as he opened the box to reveal a diamond ring. 

A surprised laugh burst from Kieran’s chest as he held the box up to her. “This is not how I planned this at all,” he admitted with a grin. “But Lauren, will you marry me?”

A mirrored laugh escaped from Lauren as she grabbed him by the front of his coat and tugged him to his feet. Ignoring the ring for the moment, she kissed him out of pure excitement, and the bite of the cold was suddenly lessened as warmth filled them both. 

“Is that a yes?” he murmured against her lips, pulling her flush against him. 

“What do you think?” she grinned, her gaze flickering from his eyes to his mouth. 

Kieran tilted his head back with a groan, but his smile never wavered. He kissed her once more, savoring the lightness in his chest that her presence afforded him. Without breaking away, he deftly pulled off her glove and slid the ring onto her finger.

“Well, now you don’t have a choice,” he answered jauntily, pulling back enough to see her expression as she peered down at her left hand. Snowflakes dotted her coat, and her cheeks were exquisitely flushed, breath still fogging before her. In that moment, she was startlingly beautiful. 

“Is that how that works?” she asked, snapping her gaze to his after a moment with feigned confusion. “You just– get the ring on, and–”

Kieran cut her off, nodding as he took her hand in his and turned to walk across the bridge. “Yes, that’s all it takes. I should have done this months ago,” he replied with a teasing laugh, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. 

Lauren nodded with mock seriousness before a laugh bubbled up out of her chest. She shook her head, grinning as she fixed her eyes on their feet for a moment as they walked. 

“So,” she ventured, a wry glint in her eyes. “How did you plan to ask me, then?”

Kieran sucked in a breath through his teeth as though reluctant to disclose the information. “Ah, you know. Hot air balloon, fireworks, some kind of life-threatening event, the usual.”

“Naturally,” Lauren answered, choosing to allow him to keep his secrets for the moment. “Well, it is Christmas Eve,” she acknowledged.

“Oh, does that make it romantic, then?” he asked with a grin. 

“Of course,” she replied promptly. She reached for her glove in his free hand, but he pulled it out of her reach. “Hey!” she cried lightly. “It’s freezing out here!”

Kieran merely tucked her glove into his pocket. “Ah, ah. I want to see how long it takes Kym and William to notice.” He glanced down at her. “Or did you forget we were supposed to be meeting them?”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Of course not,” she said, but Kieran had the distinct sense that she was lying. 

Pausing briefly, Lauren turned to him and placed her newly adorned hand against his cheek. Rising up onto her toes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and then released him to look forward with brightened eyes. 

“Let’s get going then!” she said as she began to pull him down the sidewalk, the sound of her laughter only slightly muffled by the snowscape around them. 

Several minutes later, they were sliding into a booth at the S&E Bar. Lauren barely had time to remove her coat before Kym sprang over the table and snatched up her hand. 

“What is this?!” Kym cried triumphantly, gaining the attention of the entire establishment. She was fully on top of the table now on her knees, bent over Lauren’s hand from her position at the edge of the booth. 

Next to her, Will’s look of alarm slid into one of relieved happiness at the sight of Lauren’s delighted grin as Kym examined the ring now resting upon her finger. 

Seated across from Kieran, Will leaned forward with a smile bordering on a smirk. “I see you finally managed it, then?” he asked in a low voice.

Kieran straightened, unable to keep the joy from his features. “Lieutenant, you look almost smug right now. I think that should be my honor, no?”

Will laughed as Kym whistled in appreciation as she pulled Lauren’s hand this way and that to see how the diamonds caught the light. Finally directing her attention to Kieran, she said, “You have outdone yourself, my good sir!” Shaking her head, she added, “Just how did you manage to pull this off on an archivist’s salary?”

Kieran forced down a nervous laugh. He could hardly confess that his other occupation had been far more lucrative than being an archival assistant. 

Thankfully, the question seemed to be rhetorical as Kym slumped back into her seat. Her stillness was short-lived, however, as she suddenly leapt up and called for a round of drinks. 

“This night could not get any better!” Kym gushed as she plopped back down into her seat after retrieving the beverages. 

She would be proven wrong an hour later, however, when the combination of the atmosphere, the alcohol, and a sprig of well-placed mistletoe provided Kym with an opportunity she had not anticipated.

The last thing she thought before Will impulsively (and therefore shockingly) took her face in both hands and placed a kiss directly on her lips, was that Christmas had to be the absolute best time of year.

It was almost Kieran’s birthday when Lauren received a letter that finally contained a return address. A drizzling rain had settled in over the city, but it went completely unnoticed by Lauren as she stared at the outside of the nondescript white envelope Lucy had handed her as she was trying to leave her home. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Kieran asked, peering over her shoulder as he rested his fingertips lightly along her lower back. He ushered her closer to the door to shield her from the brunt of the weather as he waited for her to examine the missive more closely.

Without answering, Lauren ripped open the letter to confirm her suspicions, finding that it was indeed from Dylan. 

"Finally," she hissed as her eyes flew over the paper, ignoring Kieran’s chuckle. 

Dear Ren,

 

I am undecided about whether providing a return address for you will increase or diminish the level of seething I’m sure you have been invisibly directing my way. My anonymity has been for the protection of us both (physically, certainly, but I will not deny it is also from the fear of your formidable and appropriate wrath towards me, dear friend). But alas, my cowardice has at last given way to curiosity. 

Perhaps you will be willing to provide me with details regarding your “adventures” and confirm my prayer that you are whole and well. I will temper the list of endless questions I have for you until you have decided whether you have forgiven me enough to respond. 

I am planning to settle in this place for a few months at least; I have taken a position at a small hospital for the time being. It seems my unconventionally obtained credentials are sufficient; after all, only my name and my other documents for admission into medical school were falsified, not the degree itself of course. 

My nerves compel me to curb the length of this letter before I prattle on uselessly. I do hope you will write.

 

Sincerely,

Your Friend

Raising her gaze from the letter, Lauren passed it to Kieran and crossed her arms over her chest. She stared out at the drizzle, trying to sort through her conflicting feelings unsuccessfully. 

Kieran slowly snaked an arm around her waist as he read, holding her closely to his side. 

“I knew you had it in you, Rosy,” he murmured under his breath, only audible to Lauren because his lips were so close to her ear from their position huddled together away from the brunt of the drizzle. 

As he raised his eyes from the paper, Lauren glanced up at him and then unfolded her arms to snatch the letter and replace it into its envelope. The action was slightly more aggressive than she had intended, and she muttered an apology in response to Kieran’s subtly amused smile.

“Let’s go. We’ll deal with this later,” she grumbled, pushing the letter into the inside pocket of her jacket. She grabbed Kieran’s hand and forced him out into the rain. 

Following obediently, Kieran gave her hand a small squeeze. “Aren’t we taking the car, love?” he asked as Lauren swiveled instead toward the path that would take them toward the heart of the city if they walked. 

Her gaze flickered to his with a grimace. “Do you mind if we walk? I need to clear my head.”

Still holding her hand tightly, Kieran nodded. “That’s fine, but do you want me to grab an umbrella first?”

Lauren merely shook her head, lips pressed into a thin line as they began their trek in earnest. 

Eventually, Lauren was brought out of her brooding by the realization that Kieran had been suspiciously quiet. There was a chance that he was merely being courteous and allowing her to have time to herself to think, but one glance at his face told her a different story.

They had reached the tree-lined avenue along the river’s edge, and she halted under the large, empty branches as the mist swirled around them. The path was deserted due to the weather, leaving them alone. “What’s wrong?” she ventured, despite believing she already knew the answer. 

Kieran flashed a smile that failed to reach his eyes, opening his mouth to explain away his previously sullen expression. Before he even managed to get a word out, however, he saw the set expression of her raised eyebrow and knew that any denial would be thwarted decisively. 

It was only when he released her hand that he realized how tightly he had been gripping it. His fingers ached slightly as he pushed his hands into his pockets, breaking the contact with her. He answered her as he had so many times before, “Nothing you want to hear, darling.” Nothing I want to admit, he thought. 

Softening, Lauren tilted her head, shaking it solemnly. The moisture in the air had dampened their hair, and a dark strand was clinging to Kieran’s forehead as he averted his eyes to peer at the gravel crunching beneath his feet as he shifted. 

Lauren gently brushed back the wayward strand and trailed her fingertips down until she cupped his face. The chill of her engagement ring against his jaw caught Kieran’s attention, and he closed his eyes and pressed his hand over hers to hold it there. 

“Do you really think I would leave, Kieran?” Lauren asked, a hint of sharpness returning to her words as she tried to catch his gaze. “Now that I know where I could find him?”

Kieran opened his eyes, the piercing blue still partially obscured by dark lashes as he stared ahead unseeing. Dropping his hand, he heaved a sigh and met her eyes. 

The expression there was all the answer Lauren needed. “Kieran, I love you,” she told him seriously.

Kieran winced. He reached up to gently pull her hand away from his face. He pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles before releasing her. “You…searched for him for a long time, love.”

There was much unsaid in the slight pause he left, and Lauren knew it. The pause held years of obsession, one that had led to partnership with one of the most hated assassins in the city, risking her life in one reckless endeavor after another. 

And it had also led her here, to this moment, with the man she loved more than life itself. 

“I did,” she acknowledged. There was no denying it. “And thanks to you, not only did I find him, but I also found answers and helped free both of you from ever having to submit to such monstrous people ever again.”

Kieran appeared unfazed and took a half step back to lean against the trunk of the barren tree. “And if I were to ask you how you felt about him– if he had been in my place, and he was here in the city…what would you say?”

Lauren huffed out a sigh, shaking her head as she turned to peer at the river for a moment before answering. “We’ve been over this Kieran,” she replied. Reading his posture, she could see that somehow, despite it all, her fiance was still unconvinced. He could not seem to rid himself of his self-loathing tendencies, no matter how often she tried to reassure him. 

A crease appeared between Kieran’s brows as she glared at him for a moment and then surged forward. Gripping his forearms since his hands were still in his pockets, Lauren held him utterly captive with the intensity of her gaze.

“Dylan is important to me, I won’t deny it. You know that I care for him. And I know you care for him, even if you won’t admit it most of the time. But the way I feel about him is completely unlike the way I feel for you.” She was nearly pleading with him now, her glare shifting into a pained expression. “I chose you, and I would choose you again. And I will choose you every day from here forward, regardless of what else this life throws at us.”

Kieran seemed to cave forward, and a crooked smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I’ll try to keep this conversation down to a once-every-three-months schedule, alright, darling?”

Lauren rolled her eyes but did not try to restrain the smile curving her lips. She braced herself lightly against his chest and tilted her face up to kiss him, softening into him as he brought his hands around her waist and deepened the kiss. 

After a moment, Kieran broke away just enough to speak. “You taste like rain,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers before sinking into another brief kiss. 

Lauren hummed, pulling away enough to press her lips against his cheek, chilled from the dismal weather around them. “Well, we are standing here in the rain like idiots.”

Kieran chuckled, giving her a tight squeeze before releasing her. “I will remind you that it was your idea, love. Another brilliant plan by Detective Sinclair!” he teased as he swung away to resume walking down the avenue. 

“I guess I can’t fault my subordinate from following along with my wishes,” Lauren replied archly, executing a small jog step to catch up to him. 

His laugh was full this time, and he held out his arm for Lauren to take his elbow as they strode down the gravel path. 

“So,” he ventured, “what are you going to say to him?” 

Lauren gritted her teeth. “Oh, I’m still mulling that over, don’t you worry.”

~~~

DYLAN ROSENTHAL. YEW. WHATEVER YOU'RE CALLING YOURSELF. 

 

A year. A YEAR. You left me hanging for a YEAR without giving me a way to contact you. Do you have any idea what I did to search for you after Allendale? And how hard it was over the last few months to just sit by and wait around to receive some kind of word?

Not to mention the way you left things that day at the docks. I received your apology, but you owe it to me to allow me to stay angry for at least one letter. 

And for heavens’ sake, if Kieran can walk around in broad daylight with no one being the wiser despite what he did both for and to the Scythe, you can sign your own name on these blasted excuses for letters. I think even you know we are past that kind of danger if you’re confident enough to include the return address. 

You will have to sit in ignorance a bit longer, as I will not indulge your indirect inquiry for answers about my current circumstances. But lest you worry too much, at least I don’t plan on making you wait a YEAR. A few months should suffice. 

 

Most sincerely,

Lauren

 

Ps: You made me lose a bet, Rosy. I thought it would be at least another six months before you caved and gave her the return address. Congratulations on your burst of courage. -Kieran

 

Chapter Text

From that point forward, a steady flow of – now reciprocated – letters ranged back and forth over the frigid sea separating Ardhalis from the various locales Dylan found himself in. He continued to travel from city to city, more out of restlessness than necessity now, though he would not admit it. He always made sure to include the address for his next destination, however. 

It was at Lauren’s coaxing that Dylan attempted to include more detail in his concise letters about his various goings-on rather than only responding to whatever she had first written to him. Over time, it grew more natural for him, and his letters filled in the gaps more fully than they had before. Lauren, on the other hand, surprised them all with her natural loquaciousness in the letters she wrote. It was as though she was attempting to make up for the eleven years of friendship they had been robbed of previously. 

Through her letters, Dylan felt as though he had an inside view to her life, including those she spent her time with. He “knew” her fellow detectives now, and he could read between Lauren’s humble and vague descriptions of cases to get a sense of her brilliance in her chosen career path. He came to “know” Kym and her refreshingly unique personality. He read about how she balanced Will, and all about the man his childhood friend had become. 

He read about Kieran – oh, did he read about Kieran more often than he would like at first. On one hand, Dylan still cared deeply for his former brother-in-arms, but on the other hand, reading words so saturated in the obvious adoration Lauren had for him still brought a slight twinge of pain that had yet to fade completely. 

One letter Dylan received was particularly difficult. 

Dear Dylan,

 

It’s official– you may now address me as Lauren White. It’s about time I had a name change to help me get out from Uncle Tristan’s shadow. I love the man, but every time I saw that light of recognition in someone’s eyes after I introduced myself as a Sinclair, I had begun to want to scream. 

I will not bore you with details of the wedding. You are a patient reader, but I fear even you would grow tired of me by the end of such a letter. Suffice it to say that it was beautiful, and almost everyone I love was there.

However, whoever decided it was a good idea for Kieran to change jobs one week before our wedding was a fool. (D ylan, you already know it was me from previous letters, but please indulge me in ignoring that fact for the time being.)  At least his supervisor at the library was already prepared for the fact that Kieran would need a week off immediately after starting in order for us to go on our honeymoon. 

Also, I swear the amount of paperwork on my desk multiplied by ten while we were gone as well. But at the end of the day, the home I go to now includes a husband waiting for me, so I cannot overly complain. 

I had hoped our marriage would prompt Will to finally propose to Kym, but alas, it has not happened yet. Perhaps you can talk some sense into him sometime. I know you’ve written to him occasionally. 

How is your new position going? Is it ever tiring moving from place to place, having to learn a new clinic or hospital in each location? You seem to handle it well, but I would imagine it must be exhausting. 

You could always think about coming home, you know. You always ignore these lines in my letters, but your pointed way of responding to everything but that leaves me wondering exactly why. 

I hope to hear from you soon.

 

Sincerely, 

Lauren

When he penned his response to the final part of her letter, the words were a lie, and they both knew it— even if Lauren could not use her special talent on written word. He told her he did not want to risk running into any lingering Phantom Scythe agents, but they both knew from the brusqueness of the letter that he was struggling more than he let on with the news of her marriage. 

Somehow, before Lauren had gone through with the marriage completely, Dylan realized he had harbored some tiny flicker of hope that she would change her mind. Despite his shifting feelings, despite what he believed to be a much more rational and appropriate kind of affection toward her, a small part of him had continued to love her more than he should. 

However, it was this letter that finally brought about the change that Dylan needed most. The words had finally closed a door Dylan had believed to be long since shut, and he began to find a peace he had not previously possessed. 

Indifferent to them all, time marched on. Months passed and the letter exchange continued. One autumn night found Lauren and Kieran curled up under the sheets in their apartment. The evening had graced them with that uniquely refreshing chill after weeks of heat, and they had enjoyed themselves outdoors until the setting of the sun and the weight of the responsibilities that awaited them in the morning drove them inside. 

Switching off the lamp, Kieran settled into a delicious tiredness as he sank into his pillow, grateful for the quiet evening he had been able to have with his wife. Closing his eyes, he rolled over onto his side and tugged her over, tucking her against his form to share her warmth. The tips of his nose and ears were still reddened from the cold, and he buried his face in the back of her neck, ignoring the tickling of her hair against his cheek. He breathed her in, the scent of her honey and lavender shampoo filling him with comfort.

Next to him in the dark, Lauren smiled and lay her hand atop his where he embraced her. She, however, was still thrumming with excited energy, and she found it difficult to remain still despite the hour growing late. 

After a few minutes of poorly contained fidgeting, Kieran finally sighed deeply and loosened his grasp on her slightly. “Mrs. White, do you plan to rest tonight?” he said in a voice that was already roughened with the edge of sleep. 

With a quiet, sheepish laugh, Lauren sat up, slowly disentangling herself from him. The sheets pulled against Kieran’s side as she leaned over to turn on the lamp. The yellow glow bathed the small room in its light, illuminating the simple furniture that dotted the space in the small gaps not covered by bookshelves. Grabbing another pillow, Lauren slid up to a seated position and leaned back against the two pillows. 

Tenting her knees, she wrapped her arms around them and peered down at her less-than-thrilled husband as he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Partially raised onto one elbow, he heaved out another sigh of resignation. 

Finally, he looked up at her with a fondly exasperated smile. “They’re still going to be engaged tomorrow, you know. You can save some excitement for the morning.”

Lauren buried her face in her knees and let out a sound approximating a small squeal of delight. At the uncharacteristic response, Kieran laughed aloud and rose enough to place a kiss on her cheek, then trailed his lips along her jaw until he pressed them just below her ear. 

Momentarily distracted, Lauren turned her face to return the kiss, releasing one leg as she leaned toward him. Her attention soon returned to her former train of thought, however, and she broke away. Kieran groaned lightly and buried his face into his pillow as she stood abruptly, pacing about the room. 

He only resurfaced at her soft gasp, turning over to see Lauren press her hand to her mouth for a moment. 

“I haven’t told Dylan!” she exclaimed, locking her eyes onto Kieran’s. 

Kieran shook his head. “Shame on you. It happened yesterday for goodness’ sake. What have you been doing? He’s going to be heartbroken.”

Lauren rolled her eyes and padded out of the room to retrieve material for writing a letter. She reappeared quickly and recovered her space in the bed quickly, leaning against the headboard and propping the paper on a book against her bent legs. 

Kieran flopped onto his back and interlaced his fingers over his midsection as he stared up at the ceiling. “You’re not going to use the desk?”

With a sideways glance that was bordering on sly, Lauren nudged him with one foot. “But then I wouldn’t get to be near my darling husband.”

Slightly mollified, Kieran let out a long breath and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the light as Lauren’s pen scratched away next to him. 

Dear Dylan,

 

It finally happened. Will finally asked Kym to marry him! I thought Kym was going to ask him herself if he waited any longer. If I hadn’t known that Will bought the ring months ago, I would have let her. 

Of course this means they’ll have their hands forced about working in the same department of the APD. Will has been nominated as a candidate for Captain in the next precinct, and I think he’ll take it. Kym would be the best option suited for Lieutenant here, as surprising as that might sound with the picture of her you must have from my letters. 

They are planning for a late spring wedding, sometime between their birthdays. Kym wanted it to be on her birthday because “Everyone already thinks we’re a joke.” (I will remind you that Kym’s birthday is very fittingly on April Fool’s Day.) However, Will won out in the end. May it is, most likely. 

You mentioned once that you feel as though you know my friends thanks to these letters. Kym feels the same way about you, and I know Will misses you as well. 

I wonder if another seven or eight months would be long enough to convince you to come to Ardhalis. Or are you still determined to remain a nomad physician for the rest of your life? You’ve told me yourself you don’t stay anywhere long enough to make real friends. Why must your only true friends remain on paper? 

I will not badger you any further. You know I had to try, at least.

 

Sincerely, 

Lauren

Before she could fold up the paper, Kieran raised up with a grumble and grabbed her pen, scrawling out a postscript.

PS: Rosy, you’re going to have to stop monopolizing my wife’s time. She spends forever writing these blasted letters. Just come back to Ardhalis already. It will be easier to ignore you in person. -K

Lauren leveled him with a flat look, which he mirrored perfectly before yawning dramatically. 

“Fine, fine,” Lauren capitulated, folding up the paper and setting it on the bedside table before turning off the lamp. Plunged into darkness once more, she let out a surprised yelp as Kieran tugged her down into place next to him. 

She merely laughed as he let out an unintelligible grumble and pulled her closer. Burying her face in his chest, she slid one arm over him and tucked one knee between his own to anchor herself there. 

As she relaxed into his grasp, a contented weariness finally sapped some of her exhilaration to the point at which she could sense the tendrils of sleep reaching out for her.

Her thoughts roved over various places, until they landed on the memory of the fateful day she had met Dylan at the clinic after tending to her gunshot wound. That day had brought with it a bewildering tumult of feelings for everyone involved, and what felt like a mere breath of days that had followed before Dylan had to leave went by in a blur. 

Lauren was grateful that the months (nearly two and a half years, she reminded herself) had tempered the shock of it all. What was left behind was an enveloping warmth of friendship as she and Dylan slowly built up a relationship no longer bound by danger and secrecy. They each learned what the other was truly like after having been touched by the Scythe in such far-reaching ways. 

For Lauren, the baffling awkwardness of understanding her feelings for Dylan had relented, and Kieran loved them both enough to trust that Lauren was earnest in her desire for only friendship with Dylan. 

What’s more, they had also come to sense from Dylan’s letters that he genuinely desired only the same. Something in the words had subtly shifted after Lauren married Kieran. They had lost an understated tinge of longing, the cheerfulness losing the slightly contrived tone that had been present before.  

The haunted “what ifs” were fading into what actually was, bringing with it the confidence of old friends who had braved the storms of life and come out above the waves. 

With this thought singing in her mind, Lauren smiled into Kieran’s chest and drifted off to sleep. 

Kieran frowned at the envelope in his hands as he tossed his keys down on the small side table inside the apartment door. He studied the plain white paper with suspicion as he unwound his scarf and placed it on the hook by the door, surprised that the letter in Dylan’s now-familiar handwriting was addressed to him and not Lauren. 

He slid a knife out and sliced the envelope open cleanly, scanning the messily written lines.

White,

 

Hypothetically, if a certain ex–revolutionary who was still delighted to be free from his life of forced servitude was considering reintegrating into his former city, what might be the best means by which to accomplish said task? 

There might be a myriad of complications for such a man, after all. If any of his former overlords remain, he could be roped back into a service he would rather not engage in. And even if he remained untouched by his previous life as a reluctant accomplice to criminal activity, the matter of his previous, previous life would still be complicated as well. Especially if such a life had been essentially eradicated from the possibility of existence by those who had deemed him useful to their cause when he was but a child. 

To put it bluntly, I’m supposed to be dead, Kieran. How are we to manage this without at least a large portion of people drawing the obvious conclusion that my “miraculous” return would have to indicate that I had been a PS member? Why else would a boy who had been ostensibly killed by the ATST suddenly appear once again as alive and well with no explanation for the missing years? Or would I simply continue being Dr. Yew and claim that any such resemblance had to be coincidence?

For obvious reasons, I am writing to you instead of Lauren, as I do not wish to fill her with a false hope unless we can come up with a workable solution.  

If we do manage to contrive an answer to this conundrum, let’s hope it works out better than our last attempt at a false story.

 

Dylan

After finishing his perusal of the letter, Kieran glanced up at the clock over the sink in their kitchen. It was half past four o’clock in the afternoon, the winter sun streaming in across the clean white countertops, which meant he had plenty of time before Lauren would be home from her shift. 

Sighing heavily, Kieran ran a hand through his hair, disheveling its previously neat appearance. He tossed the letter down on the small table next to his keys and removed his coat before setting about making a cup of tea as he considered his response to Dylan’s inquiry. 

The contents of the letter were not wholly surprising to Kieran. Over the last few months, Dylan’s letters had contained a hint of unsettled yearning that had gone either unnoticed or ignored by his wife, but had been all too clear to someone who had once felt the same desperation for a more normal life, for connection to someone or something. Kieran had long since believed that it was only a matter of time before Dylan finally caved. 

The ceramic of his teacup clinked against the wooden desk as he set it down and loosened his tie, preparing to draft a response. 

Rosy,

 

What, no greeting? No three paragraphs on pleasantries and the flavor of pastry you had for breakfast? I see how it is. I shall respond in kind, then.

If the aforementioned ex-bad guy saver wanted to return to his city of origin, I have no doubt that a solution of some kind could be reached. 

As for his former superiors trying to reconnect with him, if they have ignored their– let’s be honest– much more valuable asset for so long, I doubt they would have the impulse to track down and coerce such a man into being in their service once again. And should any other former member try to point fingers in this man’s direction, he would effectively be admitting his own involvement in the organization. 

The rest? Merely details. Details that would be discussed with other interested parties, one of whom has an uncle who happens to the Chief of Police and could help with some of the more…logistical… issues. 

Details that would only be discussed with such people if you decided this is something you have become fully determined to pursue, Rosy. 

Whatever the solutions we create, however, the result would be the end of at least most of the hiding. There is nothing more exhausting than having the truth of your past lurking over your shoulder for all time (I would know). It will be your decision regarding how much of the truth you would like to reveal. For example, both Kym and William are familiar with the fact that I was also affiliated with our old friends, though they are not aware of exactly to what extent. That is a conversation for the future. 

The decision about whether to proceed is in your hands. The “how,” we will manage together. 

 

-K

Three weeks later, Lauren drummed her fingers impatiently on the cool surface of the well-worn table in front of her at Rosalind’s cafe. Kym and Will sat across from her, a bit cozier together than Will might have typically preferred due to the bitter cold that had chased them into the cafe. The heavy January snowfall outside was nearly completely obscured by the fogged window to Lauren’s right, but she could still feel the chill radiating off the glass next to her. 

The cafe was winding up for the dinner crowd, humming with life and the scent of freshly baked breads and soups. The cheery bell over the door rang, and all three of them snapped their gazes toward the sound, only to relax in defeat once again when the patron was not who they were waiting for. 

“We should at least order some coffee,” Kym suggested in a tone verging on a grumble. 

“Fine with me,” Will agreed, motioning to the middle-aged waitress that typically served them here in their usual spot. 

“I don’t know where he is,” Lauren stated, pointing out the obvious. She quickly murmured her coffee order (and Kieran’s) to the friendly waitress, momentarily setting her irritation aside. Resuming her former train of thought, she commented dryly, “This has to be the first time in the history of Ardhalis that the librarian had to work later than the APD officers.”

Kym considered the thought for a moment before asking, “Do you– do you think he’s okay? I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s not like him to be late.”

Lauren fought to hide her smile, snickering inwardly– Kieran was the least likely of all of them to run into any danger he could not handle. 

Will answered for her, however. “Of course he is. He just got held up somewhere; you know the library is practically halfway across the city from here.”

Kym’s shoulders relaxed as she acknowledged the truth, but then another thought crossed her mind. “Why do you think he wanted to meet tonight? He never instigates these things,” Kym observed, pulling her woolen coat tighter around her. 

A crease appeared on Lauren’s brow as she considered the same question. Indeed, Kieran clearly enjoyed spending time with those who had become their friends instead of only hers, but he rarely initiated any gatherings. “I’m not sure–” she started, but the sound of the bell chiming interrupted her just as the waitress returned with four steaming mugs of coffee. 

“There he is!” Kym chirped, waving broadly toward him to indicate their location, as though they did not sit at the same table every time they ate at Rosalind’s. 

Lauren watched him as he shook thick flakes of snow from his hair and then made his way toward their table, looking harried. Feigning indifference, she merely turned back to her freshly poured cup of blessedly hot coffee, wrapping her fingers around it gingerly until they had adjusted to the temperature enough to grasp the cup more firmly. 

Kieran slid his coat off and draped it over the back of his chair, leaving him in only a thin black sweater, but he seemed oblivious to the cold that the others were still experiencing as he sat down in a rush. “I apologize. I was held up at the library,” he said by way of explanation. 

Each of his companions responded in their typical ways: William merely nodded and took a sip of his coffee, not wishing to pry if Kieran did not wish to share, while Lauren side-eyed him with subtle expectation, and at last Kym burst out with the obvious question. 

“What happened?” Kym blurted out, downing about half of her scalding coffee immediately after speaking. She winced at the heat and took the glass of cold water that William offered her wordlessly. 

Kieran huffed out a sigh as he settled back in his seat. “Lucian and Susanna were particularly at each other’s throats today. Nothing was done right.” he explained, describing his two young library assistants. He shook his head, but underneath the table he was gripping his knees with his hands. 

Lauren’s eyes flickered to his hands, then to the slight tightening around Kieran’s eyes. These were two of his very few tells that let her know he was apprehensive about something. 

“Ahh, young love!” Kym gushed, bringing her hands to her cheeks. Her engagement ring shone on her left hand, catching the light. “I’m telling you. They’ll be together by spring, just you wait.”

“You think everyone is in love now, Kym,” Lauren teased, gesturing to her ring. 

“It’s true,” Will added, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye with a grin. 

Kym stared archly back at Lauren, drawing herself up straight. “Just watch. You’ll see.”

Kieran finally noticed the cup of coffee in front of him and murmured his thanks to Lauren as she pulled off her coat, similarly draping it over her chair as his arrival brought with it a new measure of warmth in addition to the coffee.

Kym and Will followed suit, and Lauren used the moment of distraction to gently touch Kieran’s leg next to her under the table. 

“What’s going on?” she said in a low voice to him while their companions’ attention was elsewhere. 

“I–” Kieran began, but they were interrupted by the reappearance of the kindly server. 

“Are we ready to order?” she asked politely, tucking the pen back into her pocket as it was unlikely to be needed. Sure enough, each of them ordered their usual, and she nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. 

Aided by Kym’s constantly upbeat chattering, Kieran deftly avoided the topic he had gathered them to discuss until their food had arrived. This gave him the chance to ease the tension in his mind brought on by the hectic day and the portent of the letter he was about to share with them. In its place, a bubbling excitement for what this would mean to his wife began building in his chest.

With a small, self-deprecating laugh, Kieran leaned back in his chair and tossed a potato chip into his mouth. Clearing his throat, he gathered the attention of his companions as he stretched back languidly before settling back into his seat in a more relaxed position. 

He’s trying too hard to be calm, Lauren thought, continuing to wonder what exactly he was masking. At first it had seemed to be his usual reflexive defensiveness when a threat of some kind was involved, but now she was not so certain. 

“Alright,” Kieran finally said, and Kym’s chattering ceased as they all awaited his next words. Instead of speaking further, however, he merely twisted behind him to retrieve a letter from his coat pocket.

He handed it to Lauren first, watching her confused expression with a guarded smile. 

“Okay, what’s with all the ceremony here?” Kym complained lightly, swallowing a huge bite of her sandwich. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just something that will..change things. A lot,” Kieran explained as Lauren opened the envelope and read Dylan’s initial letter to Kieran about his “hypothetical” desire to come home to Ardhalis.

Her eyes flew across the page, and then back again to re-read the words, ensuring that she had gleaned all of the pertinent information. Her gaze shot to Kieran’s, and she felt an odd sort of adrenaline flood her veins. She knew that this would not have been the only letter; the postmark was some time ago, or at least, plenty of time for more letters to have been exchanged.

Even Will was growing fidgety now with impatience. “Lauren?” he ventured, fork hovering above his plate. 

Silently, she passed the letter over to Will, watching them as Kym leaned toward him to read over his shoulder. 

A slow grin crept across Kieran’s face as he watched them all read and understand what the words meant. 

“He’s coming back?” Lauren asked in disbelief as Will and Kym finished reading. “Truly?”

“No, I spent the last three years learning how to mimic his handwriting to tease you like this,” Kieran quipped, tossing back another potato chip. 

Lauren let out an exasperated groan and pulled on the sleeve of Kieran’s thin sweater. “So, what have you heard since then? You must have written more to each other or you wouldn’t be bringing this to us.”

Will nodded in agreement. He knew that above all else, Kieran would protect Lauren from anything that might hurt her, be it physical or emotional. Kieran would never have shared this with them if Dylan did not have a concrete plan in place to return. 

They were startled by Kym slapping her palms on the table on either side of her plate, causing the silverware to rattle and the soup in Will’s bowl to ripple in response to the jarring motion. The action understandably captured her companions’ attention (as well as a number of guests that were not seated at their table). 

Kym’s voice was an odd mixture of hushed and shrill due to poorly suppressed excitement when she asked, “Are we about to have a battle plan meeting?”

Will turned his face to eye her incredulously. “A battle plan? What exactly do you think–”

Kieran’s laugh interrupted them, and he answered, “If you asked Dylan, he’d say that you’re not too far off, actually. Poor kid’s been a nervous wreck.”  He paused to eat a bite of his sandwich, ignoring the nearly palpable curiosity radiating off of everyone around him. “We’ve certainly made some plans, but I want a few more opinions before we act on anything.”

As Kym rattled off a dozen different plans, each one more convoluted than the last, Lauren sat frozen in place next to Kieran. She stared down at her plate blankly as countless thoughts raced through her mind. It took Kieran softly nudging her with his elbow to drag her back into the conversation, the softness of his smile a lifeline to her as she reeled with the notion of Dylan returning to them. 

Slowly, a grin overtook Lauren’s features as she leaned forward and joined the conversation. 

As they traded ideas, the sun disappeared below the horizon, leaving only the frozen night outside of the frosted windows next to the four friends seated in the cafe. They were each on their second (or third) cup of coffee, and everyone had grown more relaxed with each other around the table as they spoke animatedly. Kym had her feet perched up in the chair with her, and Will had even loosened his tie. An array of blonde strands hung over his forehead as he leaned in to hear what Lauren was saying. 

“I mean, this is exactly the sort of scenario Dakan was envisioning! He’s kept it under wraps – for obvious reasons – so even I don’t know anyone who might be involved,” Lauren was explaining, referencing a program Dakan had contrived to help former Phantom Scythe members attempt to rejoin society with conditional immunity for cases like Kieran’s and Dylan’s in which they had never truly chosen such a life.

Kieran leaned away, fixing her with a baffled expression. “Seriously?” he asked.

Lauren paused midway through her train of thought and turned to consider him. “...what is it?”

Kieran shook his head with a laugh and ran his hand through his hair. His smile was somewhat incredulous as he looked at her. In a low voice, he murmured, “Don’t you think that your former Phantom Scythe husband might have benefited from this little ‘program’ of your uncle’s?”

Kym snickered and Will attempted to hide his smile behind his mug of coffee as Kieran’s words seemed to register in Lauren’s mind. 

Recovering quickly, Lauren straightened and waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, please. You’re fine. Your civilian identity was clean, remember? Besides, you were practically the prototype for it all.”

Kieran rolled his eyes. “Alright, so we can look into Dakan’s methods, certainly. Let’s discuss another topic. I think it would be best for Mr. Rosenthal to remain at rest. All of Dylan’s medical credentials are under the name Yew, and forging a medical license is not as easy as it sounds. The less we have to alter his licensing, the better.”

The buzz of excitement among the four of them continued until they were kindly chased out of the cafe. The snowfall had lightened to a flurry, the flakes nearly invisible until they were trapped in the light of a street lamp. 

Lauren threaded her arm through Kieran’s with a happy sigh, and he smiled down at her as he interlocked his fingers with hers and pushed their hands down into his coat pocket.

A flush of warmth rushed through Kieran’s chest despite the cold. Seeing his wife so hopeful, so joyful…it was all he could ever want.

The velvet darkness on the other side of the window across from Kieran was held at bay by soft lamp light as he straightened from his chair to peer down at the drawing he had just completed. 

The lines of charcoal showed a story of a stolen glance inadvertently reciprocated. Susanna and Lucian were captured on paper in a moment at the library in which Kieran had seen them attempt to surreptitiously look at the other but were caught. The faint surprise and chagrin on each face was etched there, and it brought a small smile to Kieran’s lips as he considered his assistants. 

Stretching his arms above his head with a small groan, Kieran pushed his chair back with a scrape against the wooden floor and rose. His joints were stiff from sitting so long, and he grimaced with the thought that perhaps all the fighting and running across rooftops had not been the best thing for his long-term health. 

He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt as his sock-clad feet padded across his and Lauren’s home to retire for the evening. 

Upon entering the bedroom, instead of finding his wife quietly sleeping, she was wrapped in a thin blanket and staring out the window with a blank expression on her face. Only moonlight lit her features, lending a blue sheen to her skin. 

Kieran crept up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. He buried his face in her neck, swaying her slightly to the side with the motion. A ghost of a smile flickered across her face, and she pressed her hands over her arms to hold him there. 

A tension in her shoulders she had not realized was present melted away from Lauren as she relished his embrace. She could feel his warmth through his thin shirt, and she closed her eyes with a tired sigh. 

“Why don’t you come to bed, darling?” Kieran murmured quietly. He resisted asking her what was worrying her. 

She nodded wordlessly, and he released his grip as they retreated to the bed and slid under the sheets. 

Facing each other on their pillows, Lauren snaked her hand over the small gap and entwined her fingers with his as she studied him as best she could in the darkness. This contact was something that had become nearly a necessity when they slept. For Kieran, it was half protective instinct and half irrational doubt that she would still be there if he let her go. 

For a long moment, silence reigned. Inevitably, however, the stillness was broken. 

“What kept you up tonight?” Lauren asked softly, surprising Kieran with the inquiry. He had been about to ask her the same thing. 

He flexed his shoulder in a small shrug. “The usual,” he replied. 

The answer was vague, but he knew she would understand. Ghosts from their pasts often pursued them, and it was not uncommon to find one of them awake in the middle of the night. It had improved over time, as long as they were together. The nights Lauren had to work were the bane of his existence; there was something about each of them knowing their partner was there that allowed for better rest. 

These nights they lay awake together, however, provided opportunities to speak about subjects they usually would avoid, secrets able to be shared because the dark of night would never tell them. 

“What about you, love?” Kieran prompted when Lauren fell silent once again. 

The sheets rustled slightly as she shifted, formulating her response. “I’m not sure how to explain,” she hedged, dropping her gaze. “Now that it’s finally happening…” She trailed off.  

He did not have to ask what she was referring to. Dylan’s approaching return had constantly been on both their minds. 

“You’re worried about how it will all work out,” he answered for her. “About how he’ll settle into our world.”

Her eyes flew up to meet his, and her hand twitched in his grasp. “How did you know that?”

Kieran huffed out a soft laugh. “Because I know you.” He squeezed her fingers. “He’ll be fine. If being in the Phantom Scythe teaches you anything, it’s how to adapt.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow in a wry expression. “Fair enough.”

“He won’t be alone, Lauren,” Kieran reminded her gently. “He’ll have three friends who know his history well, and he has support from Tristan and Dakan— powerful people. Not to mention the fact that he and Kym are already practically best friends through letters alone.”

Lauren let out a quiet but genuine laugh at this. Kym had taken to adding small notes in Lauren’s letters from time to time, and her exuberance had been received with great amusement by Dylan. 

Kieran raised up on an elbow and leaned forward to press a kiss against her forehead. “Sleep, love. It will all sort itself out. Trust me.”

She tilted her face up and kissed him sweetly, grateful for his steadying presence in her life. 

“If you insist,” she answered with a dry smile as she closed her eyes and sought sleep at last. 

Lauren allowed herself to pace up and down the open train platform one last time, glancing around her at the season’s foliage. The air had that burgeoning warmth that accompanied early spring, and she wondered what the scenery would look like to Dylan as he sped toward them on the train.

In the brilliant sunshine, the cheery yellow daffodils, the rosy pink dogwood trees, and rainbows of tulips would make a riot of streaming color outside the window as the train made its way toward Ardhalis. Despite the slightly chilled breeze, the colors seemed to imply warmth, and the passengers would tumble off the train with small smiles even if they did not fully understand why. 

Lauren tugged fretfully at the hem of her dark blue blouse, clenching her jaw as she stared up at the station clock. The train would arrive any minute. 

“Aw, I almost had it that time!” Kym cried from somewhere behind her. 

“Sure you did, sweetheart,” Will answered her, watching with an indulgent smile as he watched his fiancé. The station around them was only moderately populated, which meant there were only a few witnesses to Kym’s current activity. 

She was standing one-footed on the armrest of the metal bench Will was sitting on, and she was attempting to toss small balls of wadded paper into a trash bin located a large distance across the pathway. A handful of her previous failed attempts were littered near the target. 

Lauren forced herself to halt her anxious pacing, tugging on her shirt once again to adjust its position. 

Kieran appeared next to her and gently took one of her hands in his, placing a kiss on the back of her knuckles. 

“Relax, love,” he urged, smiling with amusement. 

Her eyes flickered to his for an instant, and she inhaled deeply as she acknowledged his advice as best she could. 

“Yes!” Kym cried, throwing her hands into the air as her missile had reached the trash bin at last. The motion caused her to wobble on the thin arm of the bench, and Will sprang up to catch her as she began to tumble backwards. 

“Kym!” Will admonished, his grey hat tumbling to the ground behind him as he supported Kym’s weight from behind. 

She merely grinned sheepishly before regaining her footing and hopping down the cold concrete below them. 

Will sighed, shaking his head slightly as he retrieved his hat and replaced it onto his head. 

Any further antics were interrupted by the distant sound of a train whistle. Lauren held her breath and craned her neck to stare down the track. 

At last, the shining black engine came barreling toward them. With a shriek and a hiss, the brakes were applied as the train slowed, finally coming to a stop with the center of the long train of cars directly in front of them. 

Kym bounced up onto her toes as she watched the passengers disembark, and Lauren’s eyes flew over every one of them as she sought the one face she was searching for. 

“There he is,” Will said with a note of excitement in his tone as a grin arose on his features. He pointed towards the end of the train, and three other heads snapped toward the direction he had indicated. 

Dylan’s tall frame stood out among the rest of the travelers, not to mention the sunlight glinting off the silver of his hair. He had the same duffel bag he had fled Ardhalis with slung over one shoulder. Like theirs had been, his eyes, too, were scanning the crowds with a faint hint of nervousness. 

Lauren and her friends began milking through the crowd of passengers exiting the train. As Dylan caught sight of them, smiles widened across each of their faces — even Kieran’s, though he would never admit it when they discussed it later. 

Kym began barging her way toward Dylan, stopping him in his tracks with a squeal and a bear hug when she reached him. 

Dylan’s eyes widened in surprise as he patted her back with his free arm, but the grin never left his face. 

“Kym?” he asked with a laugh as she released him. 

“Of course!” she answered, as though this was not the first time they had actually met in person.

“Who else?” Lauren answered dryly, moving in for a hug of her own as Kym stood aside with her smile still shining brightly. Dylan squeezed her tightly for a brief moment before drawing back to greet Will and Kieran as well. 

“You made it alright?” Will asked, taking Kym’s arm almost subconsciously to bring her back out of Dylan’s personal space. 

“It was—“ Dylan started to answer, but Kieran interrupted. 

“Let’s hold the small talk, we’re blocking the traffic,” Kieran remarked dryly, taking Dylan’s bag from him to carry it over toward the station exit. 

“What chivalry,” Dylan commented with a teasing smile. “Carrying my bag for me?”

“Yeah, yeah, Rosy. Don’t get used to it,” Kieran retorted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

The group left the station and hovered off to the side, more out of the way now. The sounds of the city swelled around them as cars sped past and the various denizens went about their business. 

“So, Dylan!” Kym asked. “Where to? Where are you staying?”

Kieran eyed him with a flat expression, though there was the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. “Well, you’re not staying with us.”

Rolling her eyes, Lauren elbowed Kieran lightly in the side. He pretended to be gravely wounded with a grunt and an expression of dismay, but Lauren ignored him. 

“You’re staying with my uncle, Dylan,” Lauren said. “You’re welcome to stay there for as long as you need.”

They spent a few minutes hashing out some of the details. Kym and Will then took their leave, making a plan to rendezvous at Rosalind’s cafe in an hour and a half. 

“I’ll find us a cab,” Kieran said before jogging down the sidewalk back towards the train station entrance. They had chosen not to drive in light of the limited parking in the area. 

“Oh!” Lauren exclaimed, grabbing Dylan’s arm with one hand as he watched Kieran depart. 

“What is it?” he asked quizzically, meeting her gaze with a small frown. 

“You told me to keep it safe. But I hope you’re ready to take it back now,” she explained as she reached into her jacket. Pulling the faded hat from an inner pocket, she gripped it with white knuckled hands for a moment. 

Dylan instinctively understood the significance. As he gently took the hat from her hands, they both knew it was an acknowledgement that he had finally come home. 

The sunlight streamed down between buildings of his city, and it warmed his cheeks as Dylan took a deep breath.

As he met the eyes of his dear friend, Dylan knew one thing with a certainty rooted deep in his heart.  

This was truly all he could ever want. 

—END