#futuristic!au

Henry's family fully, completely and lovingly embraced you into their family, treating you as one of their very own; uncaring that you were born in the lower Sectors of London. They included you in everything from social parties and events to family gatherings. You were surprised, when you went to his family home for the first time, because unlike you and your family, Henry and his family were raise in an actual house in Sector Two's posh neighborhood, where nearly every member of the Royal and Cleric Council lived, with their families; his brothers and their families also lived in houses of their own, in the neighborhood.

The Cavill's had lived in this neighborhood for several generations, his father's side of the family had always been members of the Cleric Council and his mother's family had always been members of the Royal Council; but Henry was the first Cavill and Dalgliesh to not be either a Beta, Alpha or High Royal or Cleric, in nearly nine generations.

“Why don't you live here too, Henry?” You had asked, the first time Henry had taken you to his parent's house, for dinner, two weeks after getting out of the hospital. “Can you not, since you're a High Marshal?”

“Oh no, I can live here, if I'd like too, being the son of a Cleric and Royal.” Henry replied, as he pulled into his parents’ driveway. “But, I choose to live in the flat, in Central Sector Two. I didn't need a big house, since it was just Kal and I. Even with it being the three of us, there's still no need for one.” He explained, then got out of the car to move around and open your door.

Henry's family had even invited your parents and little brother to their family functions.

They had been slack jawed, while they sat in the back seat of Henry's car, you and Henry having gone to pick them up and take them to the Christmas party you all had been invited too. They watched as each Sector got brighter and brighter, until they finally got to see the sun, for the first time, as it started to sink below the horizon. Henry glanced at them through the rear-view mirror and smiled, remembering the same look of surprise and awe on your face as you saw the same view for the first time, over a year before. He looked at you and smiled even brighter as you looked at him, having looked back at them and saw their reactions to it as well.

Their awestruck continued as you entered the Cavill family's posh neighborhood, seeing all the fancy and large three-story houses, the lush green grass of the front lawns and the expensive cars in their driveways. Parking, you all got out of the car and headed inside, greeted by Henry's parents in the foyer.

“Merry Christmas.” Marianne smiled, hugging you and Henry. “Welcome and Merry Christmas.” She said to your parents and little brother, as you and Henry greeted his father.

“Thank you and Merry Christmas, My Lady.” Your mother replied and smiled back, nervously bowing her head to Marianne.

“Please, call me Marianne.” She replied, smiling sweetly. “This is my husband, Colin.” She said, introducing him.

“Pleasure.” Colin greeted them, smiling warmly.

“I'm Tasha. This is my husband, Tristan.” Your mother answered, motioning to your father. “And this is our youngest son, Christophe.” She said, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Your house is ginormous!” Christophe replied, his mouth hanging open.

Marianne and Colin chuckled, warmed. “Please, come in and make yourselves at home.” She said, motioning into the living room, where most of the group was congregating. “The other kids are playing in the backyard, if you want to join them, Christophe.” She offered your brother, then showed him the way out to the backyard.

“You want something to drink?” Henry asked you as you moved into the living room with everyone else.

“Yes, that would be fantastic.” You nodded, smiling up at him.

“All right.” Henry smiled back, kissing you softly, before going into the kitchen.

“Is it time yet?” Simon asked, coming into the kitchen with his little brother, to also grab himself and his wife something to drink.

“Soon.” Henry replied, pouring you a glass of chilled white wine. “I need the perfect moment.” He said, pouring himself a glass, then handed the bottle to Simon.

“Just don't chicken out.” Simon teased him, grinning.

“Chicken out of what?” Marianne asked, coming into the kitchen.

“The right moment.” Henry replied, feeling his face burn, and took a deep gulp of the chilled wine, trying to cool his face off and fortify his nerves.

“You'll find it, Henry.” She told him, rubbing his broad back, trying to be encouraging and supportive of her son. “Don't rush it.”

“I won't.” Henry sighed, picking up the two wine glasses. “I want it to be perfect.”

Henry took the glasses into the living room, finding you sitting on the couch and took a seat beside you, holding out one of the glasses. You smiled at him, taking the glass and kissed him on the cheek, before taking a sip of it. Henry wrapped an arm around you, sipped his wine and got caught up in the flow of the conversation that was going on with everybody.

“They're all so nice.” Your mother said as the two of you went into the kitchen for more wine.

“They really are.” You replied, smiling as you heard Henry's laugh carry into the kitchen. “They're incredibly loving and supportive, especially towards Henry and I.” You told her, then sighed.

Henry's mother had been right, people did find out about you being a Slummer, and it had happened sooner than both of you had thought it would.

A month after returning to London from Bristol, you and Henry were at a Cleric Fundraiser, which was held every year to raise money to donate to one of the lower Sectors, so they could use it as they saw fit; usually to help buy supplies for the Sector's Hospital. When a woman approached you, while Henry went to find the Fundraiser Manager, so he could donate money to the event.

“So, your High Marshal Cavill's new girl.” She said, lifting a sculpted brow at you.

“I am.” You replied, frowning at her, in her glittering and almost skin tight dress. “Who are you?”

“I'm Natasha, Beta Cleric Shaw's wife.” She told you, still giving you a mean and judgmental expression. “Henry and I dated, a while back.” She added, tossing her straight black hair over her shoulder with a swish of her head. “We were serious, for a moment, before I left him.” She said, an evil smugness glinting in her gray eyes.

“I never thought Henry would stoop so low, as to date a Slummer.” She said, her upper lip curling with distaste.

“H-how do you know that?” You asked, gulping and feeling your hands tremble.

“My husband was on the Council panel, when you testified against Oron Anderson.” Natasha replied, resting a hand on her hip. “He told me all about you being from Sector Twenty-Eight and how long you spent in that trafficker's warehouse in Thirty-One; before Henry bought you.”

“How's it feel to be his bought and paid for play thing?” She asked, looking you over.

“I'm not.” You replied, your voice barely audible.

“You can think that and Henry can tell you that, but we-” She motioned around the room, the gold and diamond bangles rattling on her thin wrist. “All know the truth.” She told you, tipping her nose up at you, then walked away.

Your breath hitched in your throat as hot tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, before turning your back to her and rushed out of the room. Henry had been halfway back, just missing Natasha walking away from you, when he saw the look of anguish on your face and rush out of the room. Scanning the room, trying to see what had caused it, Henry rushed after you. You took your heels off as you got out the front doors of the venue and ran into the manicured garden to the side of it. Henry finally caught up with you, finding you gulping down deep mouthfuls of cold night air by a massive fountain.

“Hey.” He whispered, resting his hand on your goosebump and chilled skin. “What's wrong?” He asked, shrugging out of his blazer and draping it over your shaking shoulders, before hugging you against his chest, your tears spilling over onto his dark gray dress shirt.

“What happened? Tell me.”

“They know.” You sobbed, clinging onto him and getting makeup all over his shirt.

“Who knows what, babe?” He asked, cupping your head in his hands and pulled your face away from his chest.

“They know what I am.” You cried, your bottom lip puffy and trembling.

Henry blinked at you for a moment, before his brain connected to what you meant and his eyes widened.

“Yeah.” You gasped and sighed. “They know I'm just a fucking sl-”

“Don't.” He snapped, shaking his head at you.

“I am, Henry.” You hissed back at him, becoming angry. “I'm a Slummer and they know it.” You huffed, trying to pull away from him.

Henry bit his lip, biting back his own frustrated anger. “Who told you this?” He demanded, keeping a hold on you.

“Your ex.”

Henry's shoulders slumped and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Natasha.” He growled between clenched teeth.

“Yes, her.” You nodded, folding your arms inside his blazer. “Told me how the two of you dated, before she left you, and that everyone knew that I was a Slummer, because her husband told her about me testifying at Twist's trial.”

“How the hell does she know you testified at Twist's trial.” Henry frowned, taken aback.

“Her husband is, apparently, Beta Cleric Shaw.”

“So, she did end up with a Cleric after all.” Henry sighed, shaking his head.

“What?” You snapped at him.

“The reason Natasha broke up with me, was because I wouldn't leave the Marshal Council to become either a Cleric or a Royal. She wanted that posh and expensive life that they have. But, I wouldn't do it, I love being a High Marshal. So, she left me, and apparently got what she wanted in the end.” He sighed, rubbing his face.

“But, I don't care about that. What I care about is her trying to hurt you.”

“She did a damn good job.” You whispered, staring down at your bare toes. “Called me, your bought and paid for plaything.”

“Look at me.” He whispered, touching his fingertips underneath your chin and lifted your head, until your wet eyes met his. “You're not my 'bought and paid for' plaything. We both know that, sweetheart. She's just a salty and unhappy woman, that only gets her happiness out of watching others suffer, and other people might know about you being from the lower Sectors, but she's only one crazy enough to say anything about it to your, my, or any of my family's face or within earshot of us either.” He told you, gently swiping his thumbs beneath your eyes, wiping away your tears.

“As for her husband speaking about the trial, when he's not allowed to speak to anyone about it outside of the Councils, and she's nowhere near a position on them, he's going to be in a load of trouble, when I bring it up to my mum.”

“I don't want him to get into trouble because his wife is apparently a bitch.” You told him, grasping his wrists.

“I know you don't, love.” Henry smiled at you. “But, if he's talking to his wife about them, then he's more than likely talking to others he's not supposed to, and that's a breach and violation of his position. The Councils have to be told about it.” He explained to you.

“What, will you not tell me things, if I were your wife?” You asked him, trying to tease him.

“I'm a High Marshal, my job is less top secret and involved than a Cleric or Royal.” Henry replied, chuckling. “I don't know how interested you'd be in me talking about homicide cases, they tend to be a bit graphic.”

“I wouldn't mind. Especially, if you needed to get something off your chest, if one is really bothering you.” You confessed, biting your lip as you looked up at him, recalling all the nightmares you had soothed him through.

“I'll keep that in mind.” Henry smiled, kissing you. “You want to go back in?” He asked you, looking back at the building. “Or we could ditch it, go back home and have a movie night.”

You pressed your lips together, thinking about it. Part of you wanted to go back in and face Natasha's no doubt judgmental glares the rest of the night, showing her that you weren't going to be intimidated by her and what she thought, but if you were honest, now that you were calm, you didn't actually care what she thought.

“I like the idea of movie night.” You said, looking back up at Henry.

“So do I.” Henry agreed. “I'm dying for a pair of sweats.”

“You are?” You laughed, looking at yourself in the tight gown and your bare, but screaming, feet.

“I wouldn't mind helping you out of that.” Henry chuckled, grinning and winking at you.

You grinned up at him and had a feeling that the impromptu movie night wouldn't last long, if the expression on Henry's face was anything to go off of.

“What is it, honey?” Your mother asked, seeing that far off look in your eyes.

“Nothing.” You laughed, shaking it off.

The back door came flying open and several of the kids came running in from outside, yelling and screaming as they went to their respective parents.

“Christophe, what's the matter?” Your mother asked him, frowning.

“Come look! Come look!” He said, grabbing his mother's hand and dragging her out the back door.

You frowned after them and looked to Henry as he and everyone from the living room filed through the kitchen and out the back door. “What's going on, Babe?” You asked him, as he took your hand and guided you outside with them.

“It's snowing, Nugget.” He grinned at you, excited for you to see it.

You let Henry lead you outside, gasping as you stepped out onto the back deck and into the heavy flurry of thick white flakes. Henry smiled, moving to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you back against him, kissing the back of your hair and resting his chin on top of your head, gently swaying as you both watched the snow fly. You were memorized by it, even with how cold it was, tilting your head back and smiling up at Henry, who smiled back at you, kissing your forehead.

“I'll be right back, I have to grab something.” He said, letting go of you and going back inside.

“This is amazing.” Christophe said, and stuck his tongue out like Henry's nieces and nephews, catching the flakes on it.

You smirked at him, tilting your own head back a bit and did the same, giggling as the snowflakes melted on your tongue and oblivious of Henry coming up behind you.

“Babe?” He called out, getting your attention.

You turned around to face him, but had to drop your eyes down slightly, as he knelt before you in the gathering snow on the wood deck. “Henry?” You answered, blinked down at his, confused.

“Oh god.” You heard someone gasp.

“I know,” Henry started, looking incredibly worried and nervous. “we've been through a whole lot since we met, a year and a half a go, but for all that, I wouldn't have wanted to endure any of that, without you.” He explained, fidgeting and fumbling for something in his back pocket. “I love you. I want to be with you and spend the rest of my life with you, only you.”

“So, I want to ask you something.”

“Okay.” You grinned, feeling how warm your cheeks were getting and the flurry of butterflies flying around your stomach, like the snowflakes in the air around you.

“Will you marry me?” He asked, in a rush, his nerves getting the better of him, as he opened the box and revealed a beautiful diamond ring.

A huge smile pulled across your face and giggled nervously, you were speechless for a minute, completely stunned and surprised by Henry proposing to you, then finally managed to answer.

“Yes.” You nodded, giddy. “Yes!” You laughed.

“Oh thank god.” Henry laughed back, relieved, then slipped the ring onto your finger, standing up and wrapping his arms around you, kissing you deeply.

Everyone clapped and cheered, happy for the both of you.

Five months later, you and Henry walked down the aisle and married, in a private ceremony, attended only by friends and family, the people that mattered to the both of you, and it was two years after that, that you two of you moved into a house in his family's neighborhood and welcomed your first child, a boy, that you both mutually agreed on, and named, Michail. If it wasn't for your brother, in so many ways, neither you or Henry would have met and fallen in love.

Your life was perfect now and even though you had lost your brother, neither you or Henry would change it for anything.

The small flowers felt heavy in his hands. They were safe in their round suspension chamber, with enough battery to last a full week. There was no emergency… He should leave. Come back another time when he was actually needed and not just to drop off some stupid flower -

“Wanyin!”

Too late.

He spotted Lan Xichen coming up the path behind him, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jinyi close behind him pushing levitating carts full of equipment, apparently coming back from a supply run. Seeing him out and about still filled Jiang Cheng with relief. He often wondered when that streak of protectiveness had snuck up on him, but there it was. It was undeniably pleasing to see him healthy. Lan Xichen still couldn’t go on long trips, but his face had regained all its colour and he looked like he still had energy after climbing the stairs all the way up to Cloud Recesses. He was miles ahead from the thin shadow he had been when Jiang Cheng had first seen him a year ago.

When they reached him, the juniors sent him a knowing look even as Lan Xichen waved them ahead. They snuck several unsubtle happy glances at them as they disappeared around the corner and Jiang Cheng had no doubt his impromptu visit would be reported back to his brother.  

“This is a surprise,” said Lan Xichen, bowing to him in greeting, “I am very happy to see you!”

Jiang Cheng returned the bow and ignored the pleased thrill in his heart at the bright smile directed his way. He was still grappling with everything it made him feel to see Lan Xichen so happy to see him. Hopefully, he wasn’t about to make a complete and utter fool of himself.

“I just came by to drop something off,” he said, bracing himself.

He handed the flowers over, watching Lan Xichen’s eyes widen in surprise as he carefully took them and immediately cradled them close, cheeks flushing.

His client had called them Gentians. She had insisted he take them as a thank you for his work because she had no other way of paying, adding they were just gathering dust and she had no idea how to take care of them anyways. Jiang Cheng had immediately though of Lan Xichen, and how he would probably like them. He hadn’t expected him to start tearing up however.

His heart jumped in panic and he instinctively leaned closer to ask what was wrong – was it the flowers? Were they some hidden insult? – but Lan Xichen just shook his head and a smile suddenly reappeared on his face as he looked up from the flowers and straight at him.

“Thank you, Wanyin, these are truly wonderful,” he said, very softly.

Then, before Jiang Cheng could flee, he caught him by the hand and pulled him inside Cloud Recesses, leading him straight to his gardens hidden at the back and to the greenhouse, where he grew all of the rare and precious flowers.

Lan Xichen only let go when he found a free spot in partial shade and kneeled down onto the fresh dirt, beckoning Jiang Cheng to do the same. He obeyed, fingers tingling with warmth where they had been held, and watched silently as Lan Xichen removed the gentian plant from its pod with practiced movements and placed it down.

“They were my mother’s favourite flowers,” said Lan Xichen as he scooped the earth with his fingers, “there used to be so many of them around here, we were even able to let them grow in the wild.”

In all the times he had come over, Jiang Cheng did not remember seeing any flower of this kind. A sinking feeling made itself known in his chest.

“What happened?” He asked, tentatively.

“The Wens burned down Cloud Recesses. There was nothing left of them for me to regrow.”

Jiang Cheng was all too familiar with this pain. He was still weighed down by his own memories of a similar attack on Lotus Pier, of the fire and everything around him burning. To this day, they were still finding what used to be a rare artefact or a priceless piece of tech, now burned to a crisp and lost forever.

“I’m sorry,” he said, roughly.  

“Ah, but Wanyin, you brought them back to me!”

Lan Xichen placed the small plant upright in the hole and pushed the soil back into place, focusing intently on a task he must have done thousands of times already.

“It means more to me than I can say,” he said, quietly.

He smoothed out the soil and leaned back to survey his work, lips curled in a small smile of satisfaction. The gentians looked unassuming in their little corner, dwarfed out by their neighbours, but the thought of them taking root and blooming somewhere they had previously been eradicated gave Jiang Cheng an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction, more than such a small gift had any right to.

“I can’t wait for you to see what our hills look like with them,” added Lan Xichen, indirectly looking up at him through his eyelashes, still fussing with the dirt in front of him, despite being clearly done.

Jiang Cheng’s heart skipped a beat at this implication of a future, joy bubbling inside him and threatening to burst out of him in song.

“Neither can I,” he said, unable to hold back a lopsided smile of his own.

At the admission, Lan Xichen’s focus shifted entirely to him. His cheeks and the tip of his ears were dusted with pink and suddenly Jiang Cheng could not resist any longer.

He leaned forward, careful not to crush the flowers between them, and caught Lan Xichen’s mouth in a soft kiss. He didn’t have to wait before a smile curved up against his lips, a hand came up to gently cradle his cheek and he mirrored the movement, brushing a strand of dark hair behind the ear as he deepened the kiss. He noticed for the first time that, beneath the petrichor, Lan Xichen smelled of sandalwood.

They only parted when the need to breathe became too hard to ignore and even then they didn’t go far, foreheads pressed together. Lan Xichen was still smiling and the kiss must have short circuited Jiang Cheng’s brain because the only thing he could think to say was -  

“You know, you don’t have to deliberately break things to have me come over.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes shinned with mirth, his thumb lightly brushing specks of soil off his cheek, and he leaned forward again.

“Well now I don’t,” he murmured against his lips, “my Wanyin.”

Letting out a hard and shaky breath, you dropped back onto the mattress, damp from your sweat. You stared up at the ceiling, gripping the blankets in shaking fists as hot and furious tears dripped over your temples and into your hair.

“He isn't coming back.” You choked on your own snot. “They've captured and killed him, I just know it. He's died trying to protect me and there's nothing I can do to stop it. To make up for it, so his pain and death weren't in vain.” You took gasping breaths and only choked more on your tears. “I'm so sorry Henry. Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You wailed, crying without abandon.

You beat your fists on the mattress, outraged at your negativity and ease of giving up on him. Henry wouldn't have given up on you, he would have stayed strong and came for you, like he had when you ran away from him in London. Jerking up, you sat on the edge of the bed, the springs of the mattress creaking under your shifting weight.

“He's still alive.” You forced yourself to say out loud. “Henry is still alive, and I will find him.”

Resolved to this conviction, you stood up and dressed, pressing his shirt to your face and took a deep breath, inhaling his earthy and masculine scent, fortifying you, before slipping it on over your own shirt and finished tying your shoelaces. You weren't completely sure what to do or how to go about finding, and potentially saving, Henry. You weren't the amazing and seasoned High Marshal Henry was, is. You tried putting yourself in his shoes, hard as it was to fill size eleven boots. So, you started in the only place that made sense to you, the Black Bone pub, where your brother and his handler were known to frequent. So, locking your room, you trekked the six blocks from the hotel to the dingy pub, heart pounding in your throat as you entered.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked you as you approached the counter.

“Um,” You looked at the stained menu taped to the bar top. “A Virgin Mojito, please.”

The bartender lifted a brow at you, shrugged his shoulders and turned away from you. A minute later, he set the tall glass in front of you and held out his hand, wanting payment. Sighing, you dug out the meager change you had and slapped it into his hand, picked up your drink and took a seat in the corner, the same corner you occupied with Henry the day before.

You tried your best to look as inconspicuous as you possibly could, keeping your eyes on the tv, like Henry had, swirling your drink with the thin black straw inside of it and checking out everyone in the room from the corner of your vision. It was slightly more busy than it had been the morning before, but there was no sign of your brother, Knox or Henry. What your inexperienced eye failed to notice, was the bartender keeping his eye on you, for several minutes, before going to the back of the store room and making a phone call.

“Yeah, Ashe. It's me, Bruce, the owner of the Black Bone. You asked me to keep an eye out for a lady.” He rattled off your description. “Told me to call if I saw her around.”

“And?” Ashe replied, staring at the black, web-like, 3-D printed cast on the hand he busted in his fight with Henry.

“She's back.” Bruce told him, stepping out of the store room and peeking around the corner, to make sure you were still there, clearly ignoring your drink. “Sitting in a booth, right now.”

“Excellent.” Ashe grinned, wolfishly. “I'll be right over, let me know if she leaves.”

Bruce hung up with Ashe and moved back to serve his new customers, keeping his eye on you the whole time. You finally took a sip of your drink, the mint was refreshing to your taste-buds with the slight twinge of the lime's tartness, when the door of the pub chimed as it opened and from the corner of your eye you saw who entered, making your blood run cold, the man from the day before, who had given Henry the creeps and chased you both down the alleyway. Your hands shook as he glanced in your direction, a faint smirk on his thin lips, you noticed the cast on his arm and drew conclusions; knowing he and Henry must have gotten into a fight. Wishing you had the bartender put the rum into your drink after all, you gulped it down and tried to get up as casually and calmly as possible, eyes darting to the lopsided and hand written sign above the bathroom door and headed that direction.

The bathroom was big enough for a discolored and filthy toilet and a teeny window above that. Locking the bathroom door, you climbed top of the toilet, wobbling on the unstable tank to peek out the cloudy windowpane. There was another alleyway behind the pub, but you couldn't see where either end of it led out too, but you weren't going back out into the bar area with Ashe there, waiting to pounce on you. The window was wedged into the frame, sticking it into place from years of hard rains and freezing winters, swelling and warping the wood. Biting your lip, you started bashing it with the heel of your hand, the wood protesting and squeaking with each blow, until it suddenly flew open.

Glancing over your shoulder to the latched door as the dented handle started to rattle, you wasted no time, jumping and diving halfway through the window, legs flailing and kicking the dingy wall. Scrambling to get a footing and wiggle the rest of the way through the window, the rough wood scraping and cutting up your sides and ripping holes into your jacket. The bathroom door started to shake, a shoulder driving into it, you knew it wouldn't be long before Ashe busted through and hauled you out of the bathroom. Growling in frustration, you kicked hard at the wall, breaking through the crumbling drywall and used it to boost yourself up more. Punching more and more holes into the wall with your feet to you wiggle and shimmy through the window.

You gasped as your hips passed through the window frame and scrambled to get a footing on the other side, before you fell face first into a pile of two week old trash. You had just managed to flip yourself as you fell out of the window, landing on your butt on top of the overstuffed black plastic bags with a grunt. The eruption of Ashe charging through the bathroom door exploded above you, followed by his flurry of curses as his head popped through the window, the only thing small enough to fit through it.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared, pushing an arm through the window with his head to try and grab at you.

You struggled to your feet and stumbled away from Ashe and the window, out of breath and bleeding. Knowing he wasn't going to get through the window, Ashe jerked back inside and stormed out of the bathroom, shoving and knocking people aside as they came to see what all the commotion was about. Not waiting around for Ashe to reach you, you bolted down the alleyway, slipping on the slimy pavement and tripping over trash, just making it to the end, when two shadows blocked the way. Startled, you tried twisting around to run the other way, but they were faster than you were, grabbing the hood of your jacket and yanked you back, making you choke in the process.

“You ain't going anywhere.” One of them huffed as you were slammed chest first into the wall, scraping the side of your face on the rough surface.

Your arms were harshly yanked behind you and hands slipped through the loops of thick black cuffs, before your captor pressed a button on the handle connecting the cuffs and they automatically tightened around your wrists, painfully cutting off circulation and into your skin. They jerked you off the wall and faced you out of the alleyway, one of them clamped a hand down on your shoulder, making you whimper in pain and try to shrink away from him, only to be struck in the side.

“You should have stayed in London.” Ashe's angry voice growled as he approached the three of you, pinching your chin between his fingers. “Or just not have been born at all.” He hissed, letting go of your head with a jerk. “Get her in the van.” He ordered the two men, hitching a thumb over his shoulder, to the van parked at the curb, its back sliding door open and waiting.

You looked up and down the sidewalk as they pushed and shoved you towards the van, frantically hoping someone would see the four of you and rush to help you, stop them for kidnapping you. But, as you looked at the full street, you noticed everyone looking everywhere but at you, not wanting to get involved, knowing doing so would land them in the same hot water you were finding yourself in. But, to your utter shock, one face did look back at you, just as stunned to see you as you were to see them.

“Michail.” You mouthed, blinking like it was just a fragment of your frantic mind. “Mikey!” You screamed out, realizing it wasn't your mind toying with you, before you were thrown into the van and the door was slammed shut behind you.

“Let's go grab a pint.” Knox said, throwing on his jacket. “Come on, Keagan, one pint won't kill you. We have a load of time before your first big run.”

Michail sighed and rubbed at his face, his back ached from hunching over the map of his first run as an Adjutant Runner for Quinn. He had been staring at it non-stop for two weeks and the run was due to happen in three days. But, Knox was right, an hour's break to enjoy a frothy pint at the pub would do him and his brain some good. So, stiffly raising from his chair, he grabbed his own jacket and followed Knox to the lift and down the four floors to the ground floor and out onto the street. They chatted about the run as they walked down to the Black Bone, Knox's usual establishment for a good pint, hammering out more details and clearing up any misunderstanding about what was to go down, once it did happen.

But, they were interrupted by a small scuffle ahead of them, near the pub.

Looking away from each other and to the altercation, they saw three sizable men roughly handling a woman, her hands tied behind her back. Michail felt the breath in his lungs freeze and his heart drop out into his stomach as he met the woman's eye, watching her mouth his name, before yelling it out.

“Mikey!”

“Issy?” He whispered back, too stunned to manage anything louder before you were manhandled into the van.

“You know that woman, Mike?” Knox asked, his eyes panning between the speeding away van and him.

“She's my sister.” Mikey replied, his mouth hanging open, shocked and speechless to not only find you in Bristol, but being carted away by those ruffians. “But, she should be back in London.” He blinked, slowly regaining himself. “What the hell is she doing here in Bristol? Do you know who those guys were?” He asked, looking at Knox.

“Only one of them.” Knox replied, narrowing his eyes. “The blond is Ashe James, he works as a free agent, working several different jobs in every Sector.”

“Why would he take my sister like that?” Mikey asked himself, deeply troubled.

“We'll find out later, let's get that pint.” Knox answered, clasping Mikey on the back and pushed him towards the pub.

Henry spit nothing, but blood, as Emilio gave him another crack punch to the face; which was multicolored and inflamed. A cut high on the bridge of his bloody nose and upper lip, his bottom lip was split and bleeding as well, blood caked in his beard and curls, as well as his chest; soaking into the fabric of his jeans. His eyes burned from the unyielding and bright lights illuminating the room. He was spent and exhausted, leaning forward with his head lulling and eyes half rolled and swollen shut. A forest of marks and box cutter cuts littered his body, partiality around the surgical site of his artificial kidney. He was more than sure every one of his ribs were broken or cracked, making him wheeze and hiss with every breath he took.

Henry wasn't sure how much more of he could take, but that didn't mean he would break.

“I don't think you have much more blood in you, mate?” Emilio huffed, shaking his throbbing hand, his fingers puffy and bruised from hitting Henry so many times. “Usually, the people I—set straight—have given up by now. But, no. Not you, you're tough. I respect that.” He said, shrugging his sore shoulders.

“To a point.” He chuckled, slapping Henry in the back of the head, making him whimper. “Why don't you tell my boss where the girl is? Then, we can let you off. But, if you don't, you'll just end up dying here.”

Henry remained quiet, he had run out of witty and smart-ass comments hours before. So, he kept his mouth shut and reserved his energy and strength to withstand their assault on him. The one saving light was the thought of you safe and sound in your room. He knew, by now, you were freaking out and panicking. There were no clocks and only one mirror that Henry knew, without a doubt, was a two way, but he could catch a glimpse of Emilio's expensive watch. He had been in the room for nearly twelve hours, all night and most of the morning.

He sighed, grimacing as he swallowed another mouthful of blood that was pooling in his mouth from his bloody nose, cut lip and the cuts on the inside of his cheeks; his stomach cramped and twisted as he swallowed it down, adding to his discomfort. His mind started to wonder, his pain was beginning to numb his battered nerve-endings, he wondered how much longer he would survive, what blow would potentially kill him.

He counted each blow.

One.

Two.

Three.

The door came flying open and Benji waltzed in, the door slamming closed behind him, as he grinned and looked chipper after getting a good night's rest, having left not long after Henry's torture started. But, he seemed overly happy, too happy, for Henry to be comfortable with, he knew something. That's when Henry's fear finally spiked and his abused body tensed and his bloodshot, blue orbs widened with panic, showing that growing ounce of fear outwardly for the first time.

“Well, Mr. Cavill, I see that you are still alive!” Benji quipped with an amused smile, grabbing the back of Henry's sweaty and bloody curls, and jerked his head back, roughly. “I am quite impressed by your stamina. I bet the ladies love it.” He teased, lowering himself to meet Henry's gaze.

“I have a surprise for you, Henry.” He cooed, menacingly, his brown eyes darkening to a black hole of evil and danger. “I'm quite sure you'll be relieved to see it.” He said softly, running a finger over the freshly bleeding cut on Henry's brow, making him hiss as heavy beads of sweat mixed into it, then straightened up.

“Bring it in!” He yelled, moving away from Henry and turned towards the two way mirror.

The door swung open again, revealing Ashe, who pressed his back against it, to keep it open, and motion into the hall for someone to come forward. Henry's shoulders fell with his face, the last bit of his strength he had draining out of him as you were shoved into the room, stumbling and almost falling if Ashe hadn't grabbed the handle of your zip cuffs and steadied you.

Your mouth dropped open seeing the pitiful and terrifying condition Henry was in, covered in blood, bruises, cuts and god knows what else. You struggled to swallow down your throbbing heart and blinked back the searing tears that burned your eyes, biting hard into your lip to keep yourself from falling apart. Henry licked his split and chapped lips and blinked slowly at you, trying to keep himself together, but not to cry, but to not lose his temper, his muscles flexing as his anger flared and surged beneath his blue and purple, blood covered skin, straining in his restraints, like a bull seeing red.

“Two very different reactions.” Benji commented, watching the pair of you through the two-way mirror. “Interesting.” He hummed, turning on the heels of his expensive dress shoes. “I've been looking for you.” He said, stepping closer to you. “Thank you for making it so easy to find and get a hold of you.”

He smiled, touching the tip of his finger to your cheek and drew a smiley face on it.

In Henry's blood.

“Release her hands.” He ordered, snapping his fingers.

“Boss, is that a good idea?” Ashe asked, hesitating with the key to your cuffs. “She's pretty cunning.”

Benji's cool broke and slapped Ashe across the face, ripping the key out of his hand and releasing the cuffs from around your wrists. “I know what she is, you moron. But, what is she going to do? They're in my house, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of my men. Even if, they managed to get out of this room, they wouldn't make it out of the hall, before we either killed or incapacitated them. So,” He smirked at you, giving you a sour taste in your mouth.

“Let's leave them be.” He chuckled, making a motion with his hand and cleared the room, other than you and Henry.

You stood frozen for several moments, unable to move as you and Henry stared at each other, your silent tears finally escaping down your cheeks. “I'm so sorry, Henry.” You sniffled, gulping thickly.

Henry closed his eyes and sighed, groaning and gently shaking his head. He knew, he knew you had left the room to come look for him, the guilt and evidence of it was all over your face. “It's all right.” He finally replied, his voice dry and raspy. “I know you were scared.”

“I was worried.” You whimpered, slowly approaching him. “I still am.” You told him, dropping to your knees before him, looking over his battered body. “I'm sorry, Henry. I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted anyone to get hurt because of me. Least of all, you.”

Your emotions started to overwhelm you, reaching out to gently cup his face in your shaking palms and pushed up on your toes to touch your forehead to his temple. Henry frowned and nudged your face with his, trying to give you what comfort he could, while still tied to the chair. Your wet cheek smeared more blood on the both of you, as you wrapped your arms loosely around his bare waist.

“I told you to wait for me.” He whispered, meeting your damp eyes.

“I tried.” You protested, pulling back from him. “But, I-” You bit your lip and looked away from him.

“I told you, I'd come back for you.”

“How?” You snapped, incredulous. “You're tied to a fucking chair and practically bleeding to death!”

Henry narrowed his eyes at you. “I'll be fine, I just needed more time. I've done this before.” He told you, shaking his head, then regretting it.

“That doesn't make me feel any better or convince me, Henry.” You replied with a huff. “How are we going to get out of here?” You asked, lowering your voice, sure they were eavesdropping.

“I'll think of something.” Henry answered, looking around the room, but there was very little to aid you in that endeavor. “Just stay strong for me.” He added, turning his face into yours, his chapped lips brushing your ear.

“Nugget.”

Benji stood in the room adjoined to the interrogation room you and Henry were held in, watching the two of you interact and talk, when a phone started to ring. Flexing his hands, Benji turned on his men, glaring each of them in the eyes until one of them shied away from his gaze.

“Answer it, Luis.” He hissed at the smaller man. “Now!” He roared, making everyone flinch.

Luis slipped a shaking hand into his pocket and pulled out his mobile, flipping it open and answering it. “Hello?” He squeaked, his voice high pitched with fright. “Um,--” He shuttered, eyes glued to Benji. “It's Monroe, Sir. He's asking about the girl, why she was nabbed this morning.” He explained, holding his phone out to Benji.

“Knox!” Benji roared into the receiver. “Why are you asking about the girl?” He demanded.

“My new Runner, they know each other.” Knox replied, cool as ice, he was used to Benji's outbursts. “We saw Ashe and the boys dragging her out of the Black Bone, she saw us too, and called out Keagan's name. When I asked how she knew him, he answered that she was his sister.”

“Her brother?” Benji said slowly, turning back to the mirror and staring at you as you huddled close to Henry. “Bring him to me, I want you here within the hour.”

“You got it, boss.” Knox replied, hanging up.

“The bubble of intrigue just keeps growing around this girl.” He said, studying you. “I love it.”

“I just got a call from headquarters.” Knox said as he approached Mikey at their table. “We need to go in, they're having a Runner meeting we need to attend to get the new details on our run in a couple days.” He explained.

“All right.” Mikey nodded, wiping the foam off his upper lip as he finished off his pint. “Are we going straight there?” He asked, standing up.

“Yep.” Knox nodded, clapping him on the back and directing him to the door, waving to the bartender as they left.

They hailed a cab to the Hernandez building, it was the tallest building in all of Bristol, showing the power, presence and money they had, running their empire of drugs and violence. The twenty minute ride there was quiet, and Knox almost felt bad for Mikey, knowing the kid had zero clue what was about to happen to him, but he wasn't sorry for the fact he was related to you, who could possibly bring down the business that kept him employed and out of the Slums.

“Mr. Hernandez is expecting us.” Knox told the receptionist at the front desk.

Nodding her head, the receptionist picked up her phone, dialed a number and waited for it to pick up. “Mr. Monroe to see you, sir.” She said, then hung up. “He'll meet you at lift number three.” She told Knox, then returned to her paperwork.

“Come on, Keagan.” Knox called, motioning Mikey to follow him.

Mikey followed him, unaware and naive to what was about to happen to him, to what was waiting for him, as the lift doors slid open and revealed Benji and Ashe. It was seeing Benji and Ashe that Mikey got a strange feeling in his stomach, but he ignored it, figuring it was just nervous jitters from meeting the most powerful man in Bristol.

“Knox.” Benji smiled at his prized Runner, then settled his cold eyes on Mikey. “Mr. Keagan, how nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much.”

“All good, I hope.” Mikey gulped.

“Of course.” Benji chuckled, motioning for the two men to step into the lift with them. “Let's go to my office to speak.” He suggested.

The ride in the lift was silent and stiff, no one speaking or moving, not even making eye contact for the several minutes the ride took, until the ding announced their arrival to the floor and the sleek metal doors slid open. Benji stepped off first, followed by Knox and Mikey, with Ashe bringing up the rear. They walked down a long hallway and Benji stopped beside a door, scanned a key card and pushed it open, motioning for Mikey to go in first, wanting to see his reaction as he entered.

Biting his lip, Mikey did as he was told, a nervous sweat breaking out on his brow as he moved into the dark room, noticing the wall length window to one side. He stopped in front of it, looking through the two way mirror and felt his jaw and heart hit the floor.

“Issy.” He gasped, seeing you pacing the bright room, then noticed the large and beaten male tied to the chair in the room as well.

His shoulders slumped as it all clicked in his head, he had been lied to too and was now as much a prisoner as you and Henry were. A cold sweat broke out all over his body and his hands started to shake, gulping several times to try and keep his composure.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked, eyes snapping to Benji as he watched Ashe lock and block the door, leaving Knox in the hallway.

“Who is that girl to you?” Benji asked, lightly tapping the glass of the mirror. “And answer truthfully.”

Mikey steeled himself. “I don't know.” He huffed, puffing out his chest.

Benji rolled his jaw and banged on the mirror, grabbing Emilio's attention. Smirking, Emilio pushed himself off the door he had been leaning against and strode over to you, startling you and making you stubble away from him.

“NO!” Henry and Mikey both screamed at the same time as Emilio grabbed you roughly by the hair, yanking your head backward and making you cry out as he shoved you closer to the mirror.

“Who is she to you?” Benji asked again, slowly.

“A friend.” Mikey whimpered, clenching his fists together as he felt and saw your pain.

Benji knocked on the window again. This time, Emilio twisted you around by the hair and slammed your back up against the mirror and wrapped his meaty hand around your slender neck. Henry jerked and squirmed in his chair, roaring with madness and cursing loudly as Emilio choked you, trying desperately to break free and pull him off of you, before it was too late.

“Stop!” Henry roared, letting his anger and frustration out in a violent scream. “Let her go! Do it to me!” He begged Emilio. “Let her be!”

Mikey doubled over, his hands braced on his thighs as he gasped for air, like a goldfish out of it's tank. “Please, stop this.” He begged Benji, in a wheeze.

Benji tilted his head as he watched Mikey, watching his distress as it mirrored your own. Curiously, he banged on the mirror again and Emilio, still choking you with one hand, drove the fist of his other into your stomach, making you yelp around his hand, incapable of more as you struggled for air. Mikey stumbled back into a shelf behind him, nearly losing his footing. Benji's fingers caught the underside of Mikey's chin and jerked his head back, thick strings of drool on his lips and chin.

“Tell me who she is to you?” He hissed in his face.

“Please.” Mikey begged him, weakly.

“Tell me, and I'll make him stop.” Benji told him, his face twisted with smug malice.

Mikey whimpered, hearing you struggling and Henry's desperate protests. “She's my sister.” He broke. “My twin sister.” He admitted, weakly.

“Your twin?” Benji echoed, intrigued. “So, you feel what she feels. Does she feel what you do, I wonder.” He let go of Mikey and knocked on the mirror twice, signaling Emilio to release you, which he did, causing you to collapse to the floor. “Ashe, go in there and tell me if she feels anything from him.” He ordered, keeping his eyes on Mikey.

Nodding, Ashe left the room and entered yours and Henry's, nodding at the mirror, so Benji knew he was in position. Smiling, Benji promptly drove his knee into Mikey's stomach and looked behind him and saw Ashe smirking and chuckling to himself.

“The connection between twins.” Benji laughed, amused to all ends. “I love it. Let's have a proper little family reunion, shall we!” He declared and motioned to Luis to grab Mikey. “Bring him.” He ordered, marching out of the room. “Good news everybody!” He declared, bursting into the room with you and Henry.

“It's family time!” He laughed, as Luis shoved Mikey into the room with the two of you.

“Mikey.” You coughed and rasped, holding your bruised neck.

“Issy.” He rasped back, crawling over to you. “Where have you been?” He asked, cupping your face in his shaking hands. “We thought you were dead.”

“I went looking for you, to try and patch things up with our parents, after the fight.” You explained, fresh tears dripping down your face. “But, I was caught by the Traffickers and was held by them. Henry,” You looked up at him, still straining in the chair, his blue eyes wild. “he saved me and I've been with him the whole time.”

Mikey blinked up at Henry, then narrowed his eyes at him. “Saved you?” He echoed your words, but not your sentiments and appreciation. “The only reason a person goes into a Trafficker's warehouse, if they're not merchandise, is to buy.” He hissed, his face darkening. “You bought my sister from a fucking Trafficker. Typical Upper, buying and enslaving us just because we were born in a lower Sector than you.”

“Mikey, it wasn't like that?” You panted, shaking your head at him, desperate for him to understand.

“How can you fucking defend him!” Mikey barked, gritting his teeth at you. “Unless he's already brainwashed you, convinced you that owning you didn't make you any different than him.”

“I don't own her.” Henry growled, low in his throat.

“Is that so!”

“It is!” You barked back, regaining yourself. “He never registered me for an Ownership Bracelet. Henry's never treated me like a Slave, or even a Slummer, for that matter. He's been good to me, Mikey.” You told him, cupping his tense neck in your hands and pressed your forehead to his. “He's been helping me to find you.” You whispered to him, holding his eyes.

“He's been protecting me.” You said quieter.

“I was originally meant to follow her until you were found, then bring you both back to London.” Henry added, his eyes on you. “So, she could testify against him.” He jerked his chin at Benji. “and to turn you in for your part in the Running business. But,” He paused and sighed. “But, I changed my mind and decided to just help her bring you back home, safely. Make up some story about why I didn't bring you in, then once she testified, I was going to release her to go back home to your family.” He explained.

Mikey opened his mouth to ask why a High Marshal would bother to do something like that, when he finally felt it, a warmth that came from you, and met your eyes and saw the cause of your warmth, towards Henry. You were in love with the High Marshal, and looking to Henry, he could tell that Henry felt just as strongly about you.

“I've been a complete brainless prick.” Mikey sighed, feeling guilty, if he hadn't decided to become a Runner, then none of this would have happened, the two of you and Henry would still be safe and sound in London, going about your lives as should be.

“I'm sorry, Issy.”

“Well, you're just a stupid boy, what do you know anyway.” You huffed, smiling softly and shrugging it off.

“Well, isn't this all well and sweet.” Benji huffed pushing off the wall.

“But, we all have an issue. The three of you are a threat to my business.” He said, folding his arms. “You, High Marshal, are on the case that threatens my business. You,” He looked at Mikey. “Being a Runner, know the routes and procedures of my business, and you,” He settled his eyes on you. “Are the witness to my operations and hold the key to ruining my business in London and putting away one of my best Traffickers.”

“I can't let you live.” He said, looking at the three of you. “So, we're going to play a fun little game.” He smirked, greedy and giddy, as he rubbed his hands together. “Luis, your gun.” He ordered, holding his hand out to the other man. “Ashe draw yours as well, and Emilio, why don't you untie Mr. Cavill over there, we do out number them with people and firearms, so I doubt either of them will be stupid enough to try something.” He said, motioning Emilio towards Henry.

Obeying, Emilio removed the key to Henry's bonds from his front pocket, while Ashe had his gun trained on him, anticipating any attempt Henry, you or Mikey might make to try and be a savior. Emilio unlocked the ties around Henry's chaffed ankles, then his wrists. Henry let out a relieved sigh as the strain and tension of his shoulders and arms released, almost slumping out of the chair.

“Henry!” You gasped, dashing forward to try and catch him.

“Ah, no!” Benji barked, stopping you in your tracks. “Leave him be.” He hissed at you. “Get up, Cavill.” He demanded of Henry. “Now, or I'll start putting holes in her!”

Groaning, Henry forced himself to stand, swaying on his throbbing and injured legs and almost falling, but caught himself on the back of the chair. Assured that Henry would be able to reasonably stand, then took the gun Luis was still holding out to him, Benji removed the clip from the firearm, checking how many rounds it had, reloaded the clip and cocked the slide, securing a bullet into the chamber.

“Take it.” He snapped, holding it out to you.

“No.” You whimpered, shaking your head and taking a step away from him.

“You either take it, or I kill all three of you now, starting with the High Marshal, then your dear brother and you last, so you can watch as your brother and the man you love, die.” He threatened, with an eerie calm.

Taking a shuddering breath, you stepped forward again and, with a shaky hand, took the heavy weapon from Benji's hand. You looked at Henry and Mikey with wide and frightened eyes, visibly shaking with terror. They both looked back at you with the same fright and worry.

“So, this is our game.” Benji grinned, licking his lips, like an evil serpent. “You get to choose who dies first, and get the honor of killing them.” He told you, grinning sinisterly.

“No.” You whimpered, slowly shaking your head. “No, I can't. Please, I can't.” You begged him, trembling, and staring down at the gun, like you expected it to swallow you.

“None of you are going to leave this room alive. So, you might as well put each other out of your own misery.” Benji tried to reason with you. “Do you want them to suffer because of your selfishness?”

“Don't listen to him.” Henry snapped, drawing your attention. “You don't need to do this, just give me the gun.” He told you, reaching out a hand to you.

“He's right, Issy. You don't.” Mikey agreed, holding his own hand out. “Just give it to one of us, we'll figure this out.”

Both Henry and Mikey knew why Benji had given you the gun. You would never have considered hurting anyone, with or without the firearm; unlike Henry and Mikey, who would.

Your eyes darted back and forth between them, unsure who to give it to. What would Henry do, if you were to give him the gun? Would he manage to kill Benji, Ashe, Luis and Emilio before they could do any real damage to the three of you? What about Mikey? Did your brother even know how to use a gun? What would he do once he had it? Should you even give it to them? What if one of them turned on the other, what if Henry turned on Mikey? He had originally been sent after you to bring you back to testify and take care of Mikey, because of his involvement with Benji and Bristol. Would Mikey try to kill Henry, because he was a High Marshal, maybe try to save face and show Benji he could be trusted, to save himself, and maybe you too.

You knew neither of them would turn on you or harm you in any way. You weren't afraid of them; you were afraid for them, and what they might do if they had the gun themselves.

It took all you had not to throw up, then and there. Everyone was staring at you waiting for your decision, but you couldn't decide, you wouldn't decide. You loved Henry and you loved your brother, you would rather kill yourself than one of them; and it was as if they sensed your mind go in that direction, for both Henry and Mikey jerked towards you, startling you.

“No!” Henry hissed, his eyes wide with panic. “Don't you dare.” He panted heavily, spots in his eyes as his advanced blood loss started to take its toll on him, on top of everything else going on. “Don't you dare turn that gun on yourself.” He whispered, half begging and half ordering you.

“Listen to him, Issy.” Mikey agreed, nodding his head. “Don't harm yourself. We can figure this out.” He said, eyeballing Benji over your shoulder.

Tears dripped down your face, like a waterfall after a heavy rain, it was too much, it was all too overwhelming for you to take. Mikey looked between you and Henry, he saw the absolute terror and worry in Henry's eyes, his pupils eating away the cobalt blue and speck of brown of his irises. Your own blown out pupils doing the same as you started back at him. It was something that Mikey wasn't used to. When things became scary and too much, it had always been him that you looked to in those moments, but this time, it was Henry you were seeking comfort and protection from.

“You fucking prick!” Mikey growled, trying to lung at Benji.

“Ah ah!” Benji barked back, grabbing Luis's wrist and forcing him to point his gun at you. “If either of you try and act a hero, Luis will kill her, out right.” He warned, meeting Mikey and Henry's eyes.

Biting his lip, Mikey took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh, Benji had the three of you cornered. He was forcing you to kill one of the men you loved with your own life, while stopping Henry and Mikey from trying to save the day, by threatening to kill you, knowing they both would die to keep you safe.

What a twisted and poisonous web that was being weaved in the room. But, sooner or later, the strings of that web would start to snap and unravel, taking all of you with it.

Mikey took a hesitating step forward, his heart pounding and choked inside of his throat, his eyes daring between you, Benji and Luis. Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, feeling the weight of the gun you held in that hand. The pounding pulse in your wrist drummed against Mikey's fingers, and he felt his own heart become attuned with yours. From the day the two of you came into the world, you several minutes before him, the pair of you were in sync, but as you grew older, you became less so. You had taken the right path, following the law, doing the job assigned to you, making the best of the life you had been dealt, without a complaint. While Mikey rebelled and became restless, wanting to be more, wanting the people he loved to be and have more than you already did, failing to see the wealth he already had, in you, your parents and little brother.

It was too late now to go back and fix those things, to see and cherish them properly, like Mikey now realized he should have.

The two of you synced together, heart beats the same steady, but pounding rate, breathing heavy and as one, flowing in a way that only twins could. You read his face, like it was the page of an open book and knew what he was doing. Your hand grasped the grip of the gun tighter, eyes widening and head softly shaking.

It's all right, Issy. His face and eyes said to you.

No. Your eyes begged back, blinded by collecting tears. Not like this. Don't do this. I can't live without you, Mikey.

You'll be fine, Sis.

He looked away from you, to Henry, who stood there, supporting himself on the back of the chair he had spent hours being tortured in. Henry looked back at Mikey, confused, just like everyone else in the room to what was transpiring between you, narrowing his eyes and frowning, shaking his head at Mikey, wanting to understand. But, Mikey looked back to you, squeezing your wrist and pressing his free hand to your chest.

You have the High Marshal to care for and protect you now. His eyes said to you. And he'll do a better job at it. He can give you the love, life and protection you need and deserve in life.

You shook your head at him, eyes screaming at him. Don't do this! What about our parents? Our little brother? What will I tell them? They will be crushed.

I'm no good and we both know this. Let me do this, and prove I still have some good left in me.

His hand slowly slipped down yours, gently prying your fingers from around the gun's grip, carefully taking it from you. Your hands shot out, gripping Mikey by the sleeves, one last plea for him to reconsider, to help you and Henry find a different plan and outcome, to give it a chance. But, he shook his head and took your arm in his free hand, leaned in to kiss your cheek, then gently shoved you in Henry's direction. Henry just managed to catch you before you stumbled over your feet, and himself from falling as well, blinking between you and Mikey, starting to realize what was going on.

“Mikey, n--” You started to scream as he raised the muzzle to his temple.

Henry's thick arms wrapped around you, somehow mustering the strength to hold you back as you struggled and thrashed in his embrace, trying desperately to stop what was about to happen.

A loud pop and a high pitched ringing filled your ears, muting out all other sounds that were being made, the sounds of your scream that you only knew was happening by how sore it made your throat, the warm spray of droplets against your face and neck, the world ending sight of your brother crumbling to the ground, the gun falling from his limp hand and slid across the blood covered floor, spinning under the chair at Henry's foot.

But, the chaos didn't stop there.

As Mikey hit the floor, Ashe came to life, using the distraction of Mikey's decision, to pull the gun out of his back waistband, smoothly flipping off the safety with his thumb, cocked and pointed it at Luis. All of it was in slow-motion, ears still screaming, as another pop filled the room, this time taking out Luis. Henry's body tensed up against yours as he watched Luis instinctively pull the trigger of his own weapon, the bullet whizzing towards you both. Henry wrapped his arms completely around you and threw you both down onto the floor; caging you in with his heavy and bloody body, using himself as a human shield as more muffled shots rang out.

You felt Henry's body jerk once against yours and the hot breath of him groaning against your neck, then a searing pain in your thigh, before the room went quiet and dark.

You started to come back around to the sound of Henry yelling your name, above the ringing that was still filling your ears and mind. You shook your throbbing head, feeling him pat your cheeks, trying to get you to open your eyes and respond to him.

“Can you hear me?” Henry asked, blinking down at you.

You blinked back up at him, only catching every other word he said. “A little bit.” You wheezed back, your thigh felt like an overfilled, hot water bottle as it throbbed.

“Good.” He nodded, then looked down the length of your body, just then noticing the slow puddle of blood pooling around your leg and cursed. “You've been hit.” He huffed, wrestling with his body's want to panic, but kept calm.

Spotting the tattered remains of his shirt, that Emilio had cut off, Henry grabbed it. “This is going to hurt, but, I need to control the bleeding before you lose too much.” He explained, carefully bringing your leg up, then wrapping the strip of his shirt around your thigh, just above the bullet wound, and tied it off as tightly as he could without causing any more complications.

You winced and whined as he did, gripping his bicep and digging your nails into his skin. “What happened?” You asked, out of breath, you couldn't see most of the room, Henry's body blocking your view, mostly on purpose.

“It seems, we have a friend.” Henry replied looking over his shoulder to Ashe. “We're going to get out of here.” He told you, fussing over your wound as a thin and steady stream of blood continued to flow from it, tightening his shirt more.

“We can't leave without--” You paused, remembering. “Oh god, Henry!” You gasped, it all rushed back to you.

“I know.” He frowned at you, crushed.

“We have to take him with us.”

“We can't.” Henry whispered, licking his cracked lips. “It'll slow us down.” He told you as carefully as he could. “I'll get him back for you. When we get back to London, I promise you.” He said, helping you sit up.

“Henry--” You sobbed, throwing your arms around his neck and buried your face into his sweaty and sticky chest.

“I know, love. I am so so sorry.” He whimpered in your ear, cradling you in his arms as you sobbed.

“We need to go.” Ashe's rushed voice came from the door. “Now, before the alarms go off.” He said, looking back into the hall.

He felt for you, he really did, never expecting all of this to happen, but now that it had, the three of you needed to put as many kilometers and as much time between you and Bristol as you could, because Benji's men would be coming after you in no time.

“Come on.” Henry grunted, pulling himself up to his feet and taking you with him, wrapping your arm around his neck, to support you out of the room.

Your breath caught in your throat as Henry helped you stand up, seeing Mikey's body laying there in a large pool of blood, but also Luis, Emilio and Benji's bodies as well. In the chaos of Mikey taking his own life to save you and Henry, Ashe had sprung, pulling his weapon and dispatching them in the confusion. Luis and Emilio let off several rounds from their own guns, one of them nicking Henry in the side and another going through your thigh.

“Is he on our side?” You wheezed, as you and Henry followed him down the hall.

“Yeah.” Henry nodded, shifting you against his side as you started to slip. “He's a Alpha Marshal, from London.” He explained to your questioning brow lift

“How did you not know that?” You asked him, frowning, you figured since Henry was a High Marshal, he would know all of the other Marshals.

“He finished Marshal training four years before I went in, and was recruited straight out of it to go undercover and infiltrate Bristol and climb the ladder as far as he could. Seems he got as high as being Benji Hernandez's personal enforcer.” He explained, stopping as Ashe secured the hallway around the corner.

“Which is damn lucky for the two of you.” Ashe commented, coming back. “The way is clear, there's a back service lift that goes down to the garage. I have a car there we can use to get the fuck out of Bristol.”

“Let's go.” Henry nodded, antsy.

You looked back down the hall, to the still open door to the room that held all that carnage, and shuttered. Henry looked at you, feeling the shiver and frowned, reaching up to brush your hair out of your sweaty and bloody face. He couldn't understand the level of pain and anguish you must be in, after watching your brother commit suicide to save you. But, he knew that Mikey would want him to protect you and get you the hell out of there, with or without his body, and that's what Henry planned on doing.

“You can do this.” He whispered to you, blood crusted fingertips brushing your cheek. “He would want you too.” He added even softer.

“I know.” You gulped down tears, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “Let's go, before I lose my nerve.” You said, looking away from the door.

Nodding his head, you and Henry supported each other down the hall to the lift, leaning against the wall as it went down to the dark underground garage. Finding Ashe's car, he unlocked it and helped you and Henry get inside, before rushing around to the driver's side, tearing out of the garage and onto the street.

“Here.” You sighed and removed your torn and filthy jacket, revealing Henry's shirt beneath it, and took it off, seeing Henry's shiver.

“Thanks.” Henry whimpered, carefully pulling the shirt on his sore and battered torso. “How are we getting out of here, Ashe?”

“There's a gate out of this Sector that most of Benji's top men use for dealing with business outside of Bristol. I know the guard that works it, he'll let us through and keep his mouth shut.” Ashe explained, keeping his eyes on the road. “From there, I'll drop you both off at the drop location I use for sending my information into London.”

“What Sector is that in?” Henry asked, checking your makeshift tourniquet.

“Three.” Ashe replied, slowing his car down as they approached the gate he spoke about. “Let me do the talking.” He said over his shoulder, rolling his window down as a stocky male with a semi-automatic weapon approached the driver's side.

“James, it's been awhile. How have you been?” He asked, staring through the open driver's window.

“Been all right.” Ashe replied casually, as if nothing was amiss, like the two bleeding people in his backseat. “I need to run an errand outside the city, if you don't mind opening the gate and letting me through.”

“Sure thing.” the guard replied, chipper and oblivious to you and Henry, unable to see through the black tinted windows.

Stepping away from Ashe's car, the guard moved into a small booth beside the gate, turning a key and held down a large red button. The large and scuffed up gate groaned to life, screeching and protesting as it slid out of the way, revealing barren land and an uneven road on the other side. Waving back as the guard waved Ashe through the gate, he drove through, letting out a relieved breath as the gate closed behind you, everything so far going smooth.

“It's a two and half hour drive to your drop off location.” Ashe said, breaking the silence.

“That's fine.” Henry replied. “It took us nearly a week to walk here.” He added with a huff, that felt like a year ago at this point.

“What about you?” You asked Ashe. “What will you do now? Will you not come into London with us?” You inquired, interested, since his life and the long years he spent undercover in Bristol was now blown apart because of you, Henry and Mikey.

“I'm not originally from London.” Ashe replied, stiffly. “I'm from Chester. My father was killed in an accident and my mother couldn't take care of me. So, she had a smuggler bring me to London where I have a wealthy aunt. She took me in, adopted me and raised me as her own son, enabling me to have a better life. With her connections, I was able to attend the Marshal Council Academy, graduated top of my class and was recruited directly out of training to go undercover and infiltrate Bristol and the Hernandez family. I've been there ever since, running and doing whatever job Benji and his family tell me too, while sending the information back to London and half of the money I make back to my mum in Chester.”

“I've wanted to return to Chester for a long time, I haven't seen my mother, in person, since I was eight. So, I plan to go back there, after I drop the two of you off.”

“Won't they go looking for you there?” You asked, concerned for him, you had dragged so many people into this mess.

“No, as far as they know, all my family is dead.” He answered, glancing at you in the rear-view mirror. “My backstory was I was orphaned as a baby and raised on the streets of London, where I got in with Runners and came to Bristol to be more big time. So, I don't know who my parents are, let alone, know if I have any other family or where.”

“And they believed that?”

“For more than a decade.” Ashe chuckled, smiling at you.

The rest of the drive was quiet, you and Henry huddled together in the backseat, Henry's heavy head resting on your shoulder. His eyes were closed, but he didn't find any sleep, still too worked up to find it with the state you both were in. You rested your cheek on the top of his head and closed your own eyes, your head still throbbed and your leg was on fire, but had stopped bleeding so much. Both of you were worn, spent and weak, desperately needing proper medical attention and rest after everything that had happened.

“Henry?” You whispered softly into his messy curls.

“Hm?” He hummed back.

“What are we going to say, when we get back to London?” You asked him, biting your lip.

Henry sighed, picking up his head as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed his lips to your temple. That had been brewing in his mind for the last hour, trying to figure out how to explain all your injuries and absence to everyone that asked. The only person that truly knew the nature of your and Henry's disappearance was Reyes, and he didn't know what Reyes would do when the pair of you showed back up in London in the sorry state you were in, and without Mikey.

“We'll cross that road, when we get there, love.” He finally replied, kissing your temple again.

You crossed that road an hour and a half later, when Ashe pulled up to a door that had been built into the wall of Sector Three. He helped you and Henry out of the car and approached the door with you, pointing out an intercom box beside the door.

“The code is 8391, it'll ring whoever is working the door today, they'll come down and ask for credentials, tell them you're a High Marshal and you'll get all the assistance you need.” He explained to you, heading back towards his car.

“Ashe!” Henry called after him, before he could get into the car and leave. “Thank you.” He said, when Ashe turned back.

“We're Marshals, we're trained to look out for each other.” Ashe replied, nodding his head to you both and got into his car.

Henry waited until Ashe's car disappeared from sight, before limping up to the door and pressed in the code Ashe had given you. A buzzer went off and five minutes later, the door opened, revealing a Beta Marshal, who frowned between you and Henry.

“High Marshal Henry Cavill.” Henry told him, as the Beta Marshal started to open his mouth. “We require aid and you need to get a call into Supreme Commander, Dylan Reyes.” He said, grabbing your hand and pushing through the door.

“Now, Beta Marshal, before we finish bleeding to death.” Henry hissed at him, annoyed and impatient.

“Of course, sir.” the Beta Marshal squeaked, saluting Henry and showing you both to his service car. “Supreme Commander Reyes, this is Beta Marshal Grant, down at the Security Door. I have a High Marshal here, wishing to speak with you.” the Beta Marshal explained, as his call to Dylan connected over the car's speakers.

“Who would that be, Grant?” Dylan's voice asked back.

“It's me, Dylan.” Henry huffed, slumping in the seat.

“Henry!” Reyes's voice snapped in surprise. “You're alive!”

“For the time being.” Henry sighed, rubbing at his face.

“Do you have the girl and her brother?” He asked, sounding desperate and frantic.

“I have her, but not her brother.” Henry explained, glancing at you. “It's a very long story. But, right now, we both need medical attention. She's been shot in the leg and bleeding heavily and I've spent the last thirteen hours being tortured.” He revealed to his boss.

“Grant, get them both to the Marshal Council Hospital right this second and make sure they don't spare any medical intervention and assistance. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Supreme Commander.” Grant replied, with a hard nod of his head as he started his car and directed it towards the Marshal Council Hospital, in Sector One.

“I'll be there promptly.” Reyes replied, clearly rushing out of his office for the parking garage.

So much of the tension went out of you and Henry, you were finally back in the protective and safe walls of London, no more worry about people trying to find and kill you, no more filthy and bare essential hotel rooms and days of endless walking. You were home and free, and with Henry. Now, you both just needed to get looked over and have your injuries treated, then you could go back to the comfort of your own flat.

You and Henry were rushed into the hospital, dozens of doctors and nurses swarming you both, poking this and pulling on that, asking a barrage of questions too fast for either of you to answer properly. The leg of your leggings was cut all the way to your hip as they removed Henry's ripped and blood soaked shirt to examine your gunshot wound. You screamed in pain as they pushed around it, and apologized profusely for it, and became more gentle about touching it.

“Good news is, it went through, relatively clean.” The doctor explained to you, standing beside your bed.

“The bad?” You whimpered, biting your lip as you tried preparing for it.

“The bullet nicked your great saphenous vein, it's the longest vein in the human body, running the entire length of the leg; which is what's causing a lot of your bleeding. ”

“Am..” You gulped down a hot lump of vomit trying to surge up your throat. “Am I going to lose my leg?” You asked, frightened beyond belief and wished Henry was in the same room as you, but they had separated the two of you after coming in with Beta Marshal Grant.

“No.” The doctor chuckled at you, shaking his head. “We have a procedure that will stop the bleeding and help the wound heal in no time. But, I must warn you, it is rather painful.”

“As long as I don't lose my leg, I don't care.” You told him.

You had already lost too much.

“Excellent, I'll have the nurse bring in the instruments and we'll get down to treating you.” He smiled at you, sweetly, trying to be supportive and calming. “Do you have any questions, before we get started?”

“Yes, how's Henry—the High Marshal.” You asked, correcting yourself.

“High Marshal Cavill has lost a good amount of blood.” He told you, his brow creasing with his concern. “We gave him a blood transfusion and an army load of fluids, while we treated his wounds. He has broken and cracked ribs and sternum, a broken nose, a severe concussion and very deep cuts on various parts of his body.” He explained to you, as gently as he could.

“But, he will make a full recovery. He's a tough young man, and has the best medical care London has.”

“Good.” You sigh, relieved.

The doctor smiled at you, gently resting his hand on your shoulder before leaving the room to prepare your treatment. A nurse came in a moment later, pushing a cloth covered cart, then put an IV port into your arm and hung up a bag of fluids, antibiotics and blood; since you had lost so much blood from your bullet wound. You hissed as she gingerly rotated your leg and slipped a triangular shaped pillow under your bent knee, an oval notch cut in the top of it for your knee to rest comfortable and securely, while they treated you.

She removed the cloth from the metal cart she brought in with her, and you saw what looked like a short caulking gun, a tube with a fat nozzle and two packaged patches. Picking up one of the patches, she ripped it open and dipped it in a small bowl of solution, the patch absorbed some of the liquid solution and became almost rubbery and gel-like. She moved around to your stabilized leg and gently pressed the ice cold patch to the bruised and puckered hole on the inside of your thigh, where the bullet exited, more than halfway up. You hissed as the cold gel patch touched the heated and angry skin of your thigh, whatever the solution she dipped it in stung and burned like liquid fire as it covered your wound, adhering to your skin with a firm hold.

“This will keep your wound protected, clean and sterile. It has antibodies that will recognize any infections or foreign matter and attack it, preventing your wound from going bad.” She explained to you, pressing her palm to it and held it there with firm pressure.

“And that?” You asked as she let go of the patch and picked up the caulking gun-like device and slotted the tub into it.

“This is Nanite Gel. It has antibodies in it, as well as stem cells and biological Nantes, that will start working to repair the severed muscle, skin, tendons, nerve endings and tissue inside your leg; closing the wound right up.” She replied. “The doctor will insert the nozzle into your wound and slowly draw it out, while filling it with the Gel. The patch also works as a barrier, since the projectile went through one side and out the other, preventing the Nanite Gel from squirting and leaking out.” She described to you.

“Fantastic.” You replied, with a nervous sarcasm.

You gulped with anticipation as the doctor came back in, with an additional nurse, and pulling on a pair of latex gloves. He smiled at you, took his position beside your leg, and took the injector from the first nurse. The second nurse grabbed your ankle and the top of your knee, pinning your leg down as the doctor lined up the tip of the nozzle with your uncovered and slightly bloody wound.

“Deep breath.” The doctor instructed you, taking a deep breath with you. “Ready?” He asked as the first nurse carefully dabbed at the blood with a wad of gauze at the end of a clamp, keeping your wound clean, so the doctor had an easy time guiding the nozzle in, which was easily bigger than your actual wound.

“More than I ever will be.” You replied, bracing yourself.

Nodding his head, the doctor pressed the nozzle to the opening of your wound and started to push it inside. You tensed and jerked, screaming again, but the second nurse had an iron grip on your leg, keeping it still as the doctor continued to push inside. You had strobing spots in your eyes and your jaw was so tight it felt like your teeth were going to shatter at any second. The doctor barked at the first nurse to give you twelve micrograms of Fentanyl for your pain, and she scurried out of your room and came running back a minute later with a IV syringe full of the opioid, pushing it directly into the tube of your IV. Within a couple of seconds, the painkiller washed over your whole body, like a hot comforter out of the dryer, and allowed you to relax, going slack on the bed.

“Good.” The doctor nodded, seeing and feeling you relax and finished pushing the nozzle the rest of the way in.

Shifting his hand, the doctor pressed down on the trigger of the injector and slowly drew it out again, filling the tunnel the bullet made with the blue-ish gel. You didn't feel the pain of it, but you felt the pressure in your leg. Your eyes were heavy, glazed over and half lidded, you felt absolutely nothing and you were so sluggish from the opioid that you couldn't even form words to think, it felt nice after all the trauma and hardship you had gone through in the last week.

So, you let it take you, pulling you under the crashing waves of exhaustion, pain and the high of the painkiller, your body going totally limp. It alarmed the doctor and nurses for a moment, fearing you had blacked out. But, once they checked you out and determined you had simply fallen asleep, they relaxed and finished tending to your wound, filling it with the gel, then covering it with another patch, like the other one, and lightly wrapped it with a bandage.

They left you to rest, closing the blinds over the window and turned down the lights, before softly closing the door behind them.

“How is she?” Henry asked Reyes as he came into Henry's room; he had heard your screams of pain from his room, across the hall.

“She's doing fine.” Reyes assured him, patting him on the shoulder. “They treated her gunshot wound with Nanite Gel, gave her some strong pain medication and she's asleep now.”

“Good.” Henry nodded, relieved, but still wanted to see you, to be by your side.

“So, what the hell happened?” Reyes asked, pulling up a chair next Henry's bedside.

Henry started to heave a sigh, but stopped, clutching his rib-cage with an arm as his ribs screamed. “I chased after her, like I said I would. It took me nearly three days to finally catch up to her. She's crafty, in a good way. She'd make a great Marshal.” He chuckled, carefully. “I was going to bring her straight back to London to testify. But, she was dead set on finding her brother, so I went with her, figuring I'd kill two birds with one stone.”

“Get her back to London to testify and have her brother prosecuted.” Reyes nodded, understanding.

“Well, when we got there, we had no clue on how to find him.” Henry continued on, staring out his room window. “I recalled that a Beta Marshal that had been banished to Bristol for dealings with Runners and Crime Bosses. Ramsey Kellan. We found him in Sector Fifteen and he gave us the information we needed.” He rubbed the side of his face, he really wished he could just take a nap, but continued to fill Reyes in.

“Somewhere along that time frame, we were outed as being in Bristol, and looking for her brother.”

“Over a decade as an undercover, and your first blown cover happens with the girl.” Reyes laughed, greatly amused.

“Yeah.” Henry frowned, not finding it funny, if his cover with you hadn't been blown, so much of this wouldn't have happened. “As I said, our cover got blown in a pub in Sector Three of Bristol. Benji Hernandez sent his best guy to track us down there. I was able to get us out of the pub and down an alleyway, where I boosted her over a wall, to keep her safe, and faced the guy. We fought, he tazed the fuck out of me, and the next thing I knew, I'm waking up in a bright room, cuffed hand and foot to a chair.”

“They tried beating and reasoning me into telling where she was, but I refused.”

“Where was she, when this was going on?”

“The hotel room we got before going to the pub.” Henry replied with a sigh.

“But, she was clearly found.” Reyes pointed out. “How?”

“I told her I would return in an hour. When I hadn't returned by morning, she got worried and decided to try and find me. Which ended up with Benji's men, who had been keeping an eye out for her, capturing her and bringing her in.”

“And the brother?” Reyes pushed, leaning forward, his elbows pressed to his thighs.

“They saw each other as she was being thrown in a van to be taken to Benji. His handler, Knox Monroe, had found out that they were siblings and outed him, and he ended up in the room with us.” Henry replied, gingerly shifting to find a more comfortable position.

“So, where is Keagan?”

“Dead.” Henry replied, bluntly. “Benji gave her a gun and forced her to decide which one of us would die first.”

“She killed her own brother?” Reyes asked, stunned and gobsmacked.

“No.” Henry shook his head, the image still burned in his mind. “She couldn't do it. She wouldn't choose either of us, she almost turned it on herself. Before, Michail managed to take the gun from her.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the image out his mind, the sound of your screams as you were forced to watch.

“He took his own life, so she didn't have to choose.”

“And Hernandez allowed the pair of you to leave afterwards?”

“No, I'm sure he would have forced either her or I to kill the other, then kill the last one himself.” Henry answered, opening his eyes again.

“Then, how did the two of you make it out?” Reyes asked, tilting his head at Henry.

Henry looked at Reyes. “Do you know Alpha Marshal Ashe James?” He asked, his eyes scrutinizing his boss.

“I do.” Reyes nodded back, his brows drawing together. “My predecessor, Eric Banner, told me, when I took over his position, when he retired, that he had a man on the inside of Bristol and to expect his reports regularly.”

“He was the one that saved our asses.” Henry explained with a sigh. “He was the one that stunned me in the alleyway. When Mikey killed himself, Ashe took the opportunity to pull his weapon and dispatched Benji and his men.”

Reyes blinked at Henry. “Are you telling me that Hernandez is dead?”

“I am. Unless, there's some way Nanite Gel can repair a hole in the brain.” He replied, with slight sarcasm. “Which I know there's not. So, he's now out of the way.”

“This is great.” Reyes grinned at Henry. “That'll be a massive blow to the Hernandez family, their operations and Bristol. Especially, when she's healthy enough to testify against Twist and his trafficking business.”

“It will be.” Henry agreed, but the only thing he was concerned with was the two of you getting well again. “I'm guessing, they'll be postponing the trial for a few weeks.”

“I still have to call the Cleric and Royal Councils and report everything that's gone down. But, I'm sure they'll delay the trial, for at least, a month.”

“Good, I want to take care of her first.” Henry added, nodding and relieved.

Reyes frowned at Henry and leaned back in his chair. “What is it between the two of you?” He asked, he had the suspicious feeling in his gut about the two of you for a while, but had only just had the time and place to ask.

Henry's cheeks warmed slightly and glanced away from Reyes, making his boss laugh out loud, seeing it in Henry's body language.

“You're in love with her.” He blurted out, tickled at the notion. “The great Upper, Henry Cavill, is in love with a Slummer, that's meant to be his Servant and Slave.”

“She's not my Slave! And, don't fucking call her a Slummer, either.” Henry roared, huffing angrily through his nose, like a bull about to charge. “I never registered her, and I never will register her, either.”

“Oh, I know you never registered her for an Ownership Bracelet, Henry.” Dylan continued to chuckle at his friend. “I checked and I got a copy of the paperwork you both filled out for her Life Pin.”

“And, you didn't say anything?” Henry asked, surprised.

“Not my business what you do with your private life, Hank.” He replied with a sigh, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“But, you pressed me into buying her.” He hissed back, eyes wide.

“I did.” Reyes nodded, pressing his lips together. “We needed the paperwork, a trail to link Twist to trafficking, and to Benji. What you did, or didn't, do with her outside of that, was purely on you, and her.” He confessed, running a hand through his short black hair.

“I was also hoping you'd find a lover or mate.” He added, clearing his throat.

“You were what?” Henry barked, taken aback.

“I should let you rest.” Dylan sighed, getting up, then carefully rested his hand on Henry's shoulder. “It's good to have you back, and alive. You did good, taking care of her and everything else. Take all the time you need to recover, the Council will be here, when you're ready to get back into it.”

“Thanks, Dylan.” Henry replied, giving him a respectful nod of his head, still brewing on what he said.

“Do you want me to call your family?” Reyes asked as he stopped at Henry's door.

“No, I'll call them, when I'm ready.” He shook his head, feeling that new wave of stress hit him. “Last time you called them about me being in the hospital, I almost died, and ended up needing a kidney replacement.”

“Fair enough.” Reyes laughed, and saw himself out.

A day later, Henry slowly limped into your hospital room, across the hall from his, and found you sitting up in bed, eyes glued to the tv and eating a jell-o cup. Your eyes shot over to Henry as he came in, setting your cup down and turned off the tv, relieved to finally see him. The two of you had only been given random updates on each other through your shared nurse, who also, gratefully, passed messages between you as well.

“Henry, should you be out of bed?” You asked as he stopped at your bedside.

“Well, I wasn't the one shot in the leg.” He chuckled and grinned at you, before leaning in to kiss you. “I just had to see you for myself.” He confessed, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek.

“How are you feeling?”

You took a deep breath, tilting your head into his hand. “Like I got shot in the leg.” You chuckled back at him.

“Other than that, Nugget.” He laughed, shaking his head at you.

“I feel fine. Sore, but fine.” You assured him with a nod. “How about you, Puppy?” You asked, looking him over in his hospital gown, a warm and playful smile spreading across your lips.

“Same. Sore and ready to go home.” He smiled back, his stomach full of butterflies.

“I'm ready to go home too.” You concurred with him, sighing at the thought.

The butterflies in Henry's stomach wilted and died, a nauseous, heart-shaped lump forming in his tight throat, hearing you wanted to go home. His shoulders dropped, trying to get a hold on his heartbreak, before you saw it and had your mood ruined.

“You know what I've missed about it?” You asked, looking up at him, just as he managed to hide his disappointment.

“What?” He replied, pained.

“Kal.” You chuckled at him, oblivious, until you saw his shocked face. “What? You think I would miss you, when we've been together practically the whole time?” You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“No.” Henry squeaked, confused and relieved at the same time. “I just thought..” He paused, looking away from you.

“You just what, Hen?” You frowned at him, seeing his face and became worried. “Henry, sit down.” You ordered him, becoming concerned for him as you put down the arm rail, so he could sit on the edge of the bed with you.

“Tell me.” You whispered, gingerly wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I thought you were talking about going back to your family's home.” He whispered, faintly. “When you said you were ready to go back home, and that you missed them.”

“Well, I do miss them, Henry.” You told him, pressing your cheek to his bruised and nicked shoulder. “I would love to see them again. But, I wanna stay with you.” You whispered, looking up at him.

“Unless, you don't want me too?”

“I do want you too.” He replied, quickly. “I love you and I want to be with you. I want you to come home and stay with me.” He confessed to you, nosing the hair at the top of your head. “And, Kal.” He added, softly.

“Your place has become more of a home to me, than my parents' place has ever been.” You told him, honestly.

You had grown a lot in the time you shared with Henry, and a lot had also changed you. You didn't get kidnapped in your own city, imprisoned in a pitch black and freezing cold cell, either not fed or fed food crawling with unmentionables, cut off from most contact with people, other than the traffickers that had put you there, when they dragged you out for another line up for another snobbish, stuck up and entitled Upper, or to beat you into submission, without something changing you.

You still had nightmares about being in that cell.

You also changed from all the things Henry exposed you too. New foods, tv shows and the luxury of being in the upper Sectors of London, like taking you to that Royal Dinner party with his family. Henry had taken the mostly naive and sheltered Slummer and opened the world up to you. You would always appreciate and love him for that, and for taking care of you and protecting you through the long months after saving you from Twist.

Henry and Kal had become your new home, and the three of you had made a new family.

“I love you, Henry Cavill, and nothing will ever stop or prevent that.” You told him, kissing his cheek tenderly.

“So, you'll come back home with me?” He asked, looking down at you, hopeful.

“I don't want to be anywhere else.” You replied, smiling back at him.

Henry's face broke out into a smile and cupped your face in his hands. “Neither do I.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours and kissed you.

“Henry!” A frantic voice came from across the hall.

“Mum!” Henry called back, breaking away from you. “Mum, over here.” He yelled out, limping to your room door as his mother rushed out of his empty room.

“Oh, thank god, Henry!” She cried, rushing him and throwing her arms around him.

“Easy, Mum.” He winced, but hugged her back. “How did you know I was here?” He asked, he hadn't gotten around to calling her and his family yet.

“A report came across my desk about you being injured in the line of duty with a Slummer, and that you were still recuperating here in the hospital. I was afraid it was serious, when you hadn't called me to tell me you were all right.” Marianne explained, shaking her head at her son. “What were you doing with some Slummer that caused you to get so hurt?” She demanded, upset.

“I hope they get the punishment they deserve for getting you into such danger.”

“Mum.” Henry snapped eyes wide and looked back at you.

Marianne blinked and looked into your room, seeing your sheepish and hurt expression, then looked up at Henry. “She's a Slummer?” She asked him, surprised, as she recognized you.

Henry took a deep breath, biting his lip. “We need to talk.” He said, stepping aside, so Marianne could enter your room and followed her, closing the door behind him.

“What's going on?” She asked, taking a seat as Henry sat back down on the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his.

“Several months ago, I was undercover in Sector Thirty-One. I was tasked with infiltrating a trafficking warehouse run by one of Benji Hernandez's men. I did so, with my usual skill and process, but after finally getting an appointment with the guy and seeing the people that had been imprisoned there, Dylan told me I had to—make a purchase—to nail the traffickers and for them to get properly arrested and prosecuted by the Councils.” He explained to her.

“One of the people they had kidnapped and had for sale, was her.” He said and looked at you, giving you a soft and loving smile. “So, I purchased her, and was meant to take care of her, until the trial happened and she testified.”

“So, you bought a Slum-”

“Don't call her that.” Henry hissed, angrily, but recalled himself. “Don't call her that.” He repeated, calmer.

Marianne took a deep breath, glaring at her son. “So, you bought her, in a sting operation, took her home and acted like none of this happened, taking her to events and other functions.” She summed up, studying the two of you. “When she is, technically, your Slave.”

“Yes. But, I don't and didn't want her as a Slave. That's why I never registered her for a Bracelet.” Henry replied, licking his lips.

“So, how did the two of you end up in Bristol, of all places?” She asked, looking between you.

“I ran away, to find my brother, who got himself into a situation, as a Runner, in Bristol.” You answered, before Henry could. “I wanted to go there to try and convince him to come back home. I didn't expect Henry to come after me, when he found out where I went.”

“But,” Henry sighed and bit his lip. “I did. I was worried about her safety, and Dylan asked me, unofficially, to bring her and her brother back here. So, she could testify at the trial and her brother could face justice for his hand in the whole thing.”

Marianne looked at you, her expression stern. “And where is your criminal brother?” She asked, stiffly.

You gulped and licked your lips, staring at your covered legs and picked at the fuzz on your blanket. “He's dead.” You whispered, choking up and tears filling your eyes. “He gave his life, so Henry and I could live and get away from Benji and his men.” You blubbered, crushed.

“Sshh.” Henry hushed you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you against him.

Marianne blinked between the two of you, taken aback.

“They tried torturing her location out of me, that's why I'm so injured. They wanted to kill her to stop the trial against Twist and their operations. I refused, for obvious reasons. She tried to save me, but got caught. When they realized her twin brother was her sibling, they brought him in as well. He died for us, and she got shot in the leg during the escape. Another undercover Marshal helped us get away and back here, to London.” Henry finished explaining to his mother.

“That's what happened.” He sighed, his eyes still on you.

“You're in love.” Marianne blurted out, seeing it as plain as day now.

“Yes.” Henry nodded, looking up at her. “I don't care that she was born in the lower Sectors, mum. I love her, with my heart and soul, and she loves me.”

“I do.” You replied, gulping down your tears and clinging onto him.

Marianne sighed and pressed her lips together, she had waited, a long time, for Henry to finally find someone to fall in love with and share his life. He was the last of the five Cavill boys to find love, settle down and start a family. If she was honest, she didn't care about what social standing the girl he fell in love with was, as long as he was happy, and by the looks of it, you and Henry were more than happy and in love with each other.

“All right.” She whispered softly, nodding her head. “I approve.”

Henry lifted his head and blinked at his mother. “Really?” He asked, shocked to hear it. “You don't care that she's from the lower Sectors?”

“Honestly, Henry? No.” She replied, sighing and shaking her head. “Love is love, and nothing is stronger than true love, not even differing social status.” She told him, honestly. “But, you both know that if, and when, people find out about it, there will be issues. They'll gossip and make comments, some might even turn away from you, shunning you for being with a Sl—someone of a lower standing.” She said, looking between the two of you with an authority of a Royal.

“Do you think you both, and your love, can survive that?”

You and Henry looked at each other, a silent conversation happening between you, before Henry looked back to his mother. “Yes.” He answered, firmly.

The two of you had gone through a lot worse than people talking behind your backs and shunning you.

“All right then.” Marianne replied, standing up. “Then, you have my, and no doubt the rest of the family's, approval, respect and support in the choice of your relationship.” She approached the bed, hugging Henry and kissing his cheek, then turned towards you.

You gulped at her, like a mouse getting stared down by a hungry cat, before she leaned in and hugged you as well; you were surprised by her move, but gave her a hug back. Breaking the hug, Marianne left the room, leaving you alone with Henry again.

“That went incredibly better than I thought it would.” Henry commented, finally breaking the silence in the room.

“You can say that again.” You agreed with him, staring at the open door of your room. “What do we do now, Henry?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Now, Nugget.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. “We get you well enough to go home.” He said, squeezing you against him.

Four days later, with the help of some crutches, you left the hospital with Henry, going back to his flat in Sector Two. Kal was over the moon to see you guys again, Charlie having dropped him off at the flat that morning. Henry had body block the Akita to keep him from knocking you over and harming you, until you were able to sit down on the couch and he was allowed to greet you; pressing himself against you and licking at your face.

“Yes, yes!” You laughed, hugging his thick neck, trying to calm him down. “We missed you too, Bear. We missed you just as much.” You told him, kissing his face back and giving him scratches.

After getting settled back in, Henry carefully picked you up, making you laugh as he did.

“Where are we going, Henry?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you through the flat.

“We are both absolutely filthy and need a proper shower.” He told you, going into the bathroom and setting you down on the sink counter. “Lucy!” He called out, looking up.

“Yes, Mr. Cavill?” His flat's AI replied.

“Start the shower on preset two, please.” He said, pulling off the clothing his mother had brought him, before you both left the hospital.

“Right away, sir.” Lucy replied, and the shower came to life.

“Here, let me help.” He said, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“Thanks.” You smiled, then eased off the counter, balancing on your good leg and grasping Henry's forearm.

Marianne had even been kind enough to bring you clothes as well. So, Henry's hands dropped to the ties of your loose sweatpants and untied the knot, pushing them down your hips to pool around your bare feet. You half limped and half hopped under the spray of the hot shower head, making you moan and groan as it cascaded over your battered and sore body. Henry chuckled and stepped in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your wet hair.

“I love you, so very much.” He whispered to you. “I'm glad you came back with me.” He added, even softer.

You turned in his arms, wrapping yours around his hips. “I love you too, Henry, and I don't want to be anywhere that you're not.”

“Neither do I.” He replied, kissing you gently on the lips.

Dried blood, dirt and grim swirled around the shower drain as you and Henry helped clean each other off. You scrubbed his skin with an exfoliating sponge, careful of his cuts and stitches, as he washed your hair, then switched, Henry washing you as you washed his hair.

“There's almost no better feeling than that shower clean feel.” You said, limping into Henry's bedroom and snagged one of his shirts out of his closet, slipping it over your head. “It's such a euphoric feeling.”

“What feels better than that?” Henry asked, coming in after you and pulling on a loose pair of pajama bottoms.

You smirked up at Henry, impishly. “I think you know.” You chuckled at him.

Henry laughed, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you, tenderly, but passionately on the lips. “I agree with that.” He said against your lips. “But, you know what else feels euphoric?” He asked, lifting a brow at you.

“Tell me?” You giggled at him.

“A nap in that bed.” He said, pointing to his bed.

“Oh yes.” You agreed, biting your lip and staring at it. “The clean and divine smelling sheets, the warm and cloud-like mattress and pillows.”

“It's an orgasm in itself.” Henry cooed, staring at his bed with a wanting lust.

“I vote we sleep in it for the next year.” You said, looking up at him.

“I vote, the next decade.” He added, looking down at you.

“Deal.”

Henry scoped you up, carrying you to bed, and laid down with you. Cocooned under the soft and clean sheets, both of you moaned, as you melted into the mattress, like warm butter. You snuggled together, wrapped in each other's arms, and almost sound asleep the moment everything settled in around you. 

“Lucy, go to night mode.” Henry mumbled, his body feeling like a ton of rocks, he was so tired.

“Yes, sir.” Lucy whispered back.

Everything went dark, heavy drapes closed over the windows, the lights went out, the doors locked and the air purifier went on, with the soothing sound of ocean waves filling the bedroom, and you and Henry were out cold within minutes.

You slept the rest of the day and well into the next, only getting up because your stomachs were growling for food and your bladders were screaming for release, then you both crawled back into bed and slept even longer. Henry was the first one to officially wake up from your long and deserved hibernation, he laid in bed with you, stroking your hair and the nap of your neck. He traced your face, placing delicate kisses to your eyes, between your brows, the tip of your nose, both cheeks and finally, softly, to your lips.

“Henry.” You whispered, a smile tugging on your lips, before your eyes fluttered open and met his sparkling blues.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He asked, the tip of his finger ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Warm, content and happy.” You answered, snuggling in closer to him and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “You?”

“The same.” Henry replied, nuzzling your hair. “We should go see your parents.” He said suddenly, biting the inside corner of his lip. “They deserve to know.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead to his chest. You had been trying to avoid this, avoiding telling your parents that you had been kidnapped and sold by traffickers, to the man you were now madly in love with, and that their son was dead, having killed himself in the pursuit of saving you and Henry from the same outcome.

How do you tell them that? You asked yourself.

“I don't know how.” You mewled, squeezing his thick bicep, like it was a lifeline.

Henry frowned into your hair, stroking the small of your back. “With honesty.” He whispered back, his heart hurting for you.

You stood in front of the door to your family's flat and it felt alien, you didn't feel the familiar nostalgia of coming home, of seeing your family after a grueling and mindless fifteen hour shift at the supermarket. It felt like you were there for the very first time, as if you had never been there before and didn't belong. You could hear the noise inside the flat, your brother running around the place, playing with his toys.

Henry rested his hand on the small of your back and gave you an encouraging smile. Biting your lip, you mustered the courage to knock on the door, it didn't feel right to enter the pin and walk in. You fidgeted as you waited for the door to be open, absentmindedly rubbing your thigh as it throbbed with even the slightest bit of your weight on it.

Finally the door ripped open and Christophe looked at Henry first, his eyes growing with shock, then looked to you, where his face lit up with surprise.

“Issy!” He shouted, and launched at you.

“Fuck.” You snapped, catching him in your arms as Henry caught you in his, keeping you both from tumbling to the floor. “Easy, Christophe. I don't need any more injuries.” You tried to scold him, but only ended up laughing at him as he hung from his arms around your neck, feet dangling.

“Where have you been, Issy!” He demanded, letting go of you and looking between you and Henry. “Who's this?”

“Is mum and dad home, Chris?” You asked, smiling down at him, nervously ruffling his hair.

“Yeah!” Christophe nodded and rushed back into the flat. “Mummy! Dad! Issy's back!” He screamed running around the house.

You looked to Henry and took a deep breath, shoulders rising, rolled your eyes, and stepped into the flat. Henry followed behind you, as your parents rushed into the living room, hot on each other's heels.

“Oh my god!” Your mother gasped and scrambled to you.

“Easy.” You warned her, unable to take a second person jumping you, and motioned to your leg as she lifted a brow at you.

“What's happened to you?” Your father asked, blinking at your wrapped thigh.

“I was shot.” You sighed, figuring it was best to be open and honest, and not sugar coat too many things.

“What?” They both roared, horrified.

“You might want to sit down.” You said, motioning towards the sofas.

Looking at each other, your parents shooed Christophe back to his room and sat down on one couch while you and Henry sat on the love-seat, across from them. There was a long, and awkward, silence, before any of your spoke.

“I'm sorry, I've been gone for so long.” You started, squeezing Henry's hand for support and comfort. “There's been a lot going on, and I didn't, we didn't want to risk your, or Christophe's, safety.” You tried to explain the best you could.

“What are you talking about?” Your father frowned, shaking his head at you and Henry.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, you came out with it. “After I went looking for Mikey, that day, I was tricked and taken by a group of Traffickers in Sector Thirty-One. I spent several months in their warehouse, I don't want to go into details, I think that's best.”

“Of course.” Your mother nodded, clutching your father's hand.

“Henry here, is a High Marshal with the Marshal Council.” You introduced him. “He was undercover, trying to get information on the people running the trafficking warehouse, when he—uh—“ You gulped hard.

“He purchased me from them.”

“You what?” Your father hissed at Henry.

“It was part of his job, papa.” You cut him off, before his temper flared too much. “He had to do it for paperwork and other Council stuff. After he did that, he took me back to his place in Sector Two.”

“Is that where you've been this whole time?” Your father asked, his eyes narrowed angrily at Henry.

“It is.”

“And you couldn't contact us?” Your mother asked, upset. “Sent us something to tell us you were alive and all right?”

“She wanted too, many times.” Henry finally spoke up. “But, her life was in serious danger, and if she contacted anyone close to her, like yourselves, you would have been in grave danger as well. So, we didn't contact you for that reason.” He explained to them, hoping to ease that conflict.

“And how did you get shot?” Your father asked, still angry.

“I found out where Mikey was going.” You answered, quietly. “He was heading to Bristol, to advance his training as a Runner.” You gulped and looked up at Henry. “I ran away from Henry, and went to Bristol, trying to find him. I knew he was going to be in a load of trouble and I wanted to try and prevent that; to make him come home.” You explained to them, starting to shake.

Henry wrapped an arm around you and hugged you against him. “You can do this.” He whispered into your ear, gently.

Nodding and clearing your throat, you continued. “Henry came after me, trying to get me to return to London with him.”

“But, she wouldn't come back without Mikey.” He added, nodding his head at you, his eyes only on you. “I was meant to bring her back, so she could testify against her captors. But, I was also meant to bring Michail in, for his part in the Running business.”

“When we got to Bristol and started looking for him, people were looking for me, and they found us.” You picked up the narrative. “They took Henry after he made sure I was out of the way and safe. They hurt him.” You said, looking at his still bruised and cut up face. “I tried to go after him, but they got me as well.”

“While all that was going on, they somehow found out that Mikey and I were related and brought him in as well, locking us all in the same room.”

You stopped talking, trying to keep yourself from getting overwhelmed and turning into a sobbing mess. Your parents sat there for a long time, watching you try to control yourself and got the feeling something very bad had happened, worse than everything you were telling them.

“Where is Michail?” Your mother asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“He's-” You licked your lips and shook your head, unable to get it out of your mouth.

“I am sorry to inform you both.” Henry replied for you. “But, Michail didn't make it.” He said gently, using his High Marshal voice, the only way he knew how to say it to your grieving parents.

“They were forcing me to decide which of the three of us would go first.” You sobbed, shaking. “Mikey made the choice to take his own life, so we could live.”

Your mother wailed and threw herself on your father, howling and sobbing, screaming at the top of her lungs about the loss of her beautiful and precious boy. You sat there with Henry, clinging onto him and wincing at each terrible and heartbreaking cry your mother made into your father's neck. Your father sat there, stoically, but silently crying as he held her and rocked back and forth.

“I'm sorry.” You whined at them, drained. “I tried. I tried so hard to bring him back.” You mewled at them, crushed.

Your father's eyes were on Henry as they both comforted the women they loved. “And you, what do you get in all this?” He asked, suspicious. “You bought my daughter, are you going to keep her from her family, still?”

“No, sir.” Henry replied, frowning back at him. “I love your daughter. I have treated her as my equal from the moment I saw her, and she will always be my equal. I don't want her as a Slave or a Servant.” He looked at you and wiped your tears away.

Frustratingly for Henry, he struggled to keep up with you, almost always an hour or more behind you from the last stop over you had taken. At one point, he had even been a mere thirty minutes behind you, in Froxfield, and was sure he'd catch up to you at the next safe house, only to spend an hour checking the two safe houses there and asking people if they had seen you, only to learn you had stopped in the mini-town long enough to replenish your supplies and get a thicker coat, before moving onto the next place.

“At least, she's keeping warm.” Henry said to himself, as he stepped out of the supply store and headed on his way to the next town, two hours away, in Marlborough.

Making it to Marlborough, Henry went to the only safe house the town had, a residential home, that was also the supply location for the area. He walked down the cracked and uneven sidewalk of the neighborhood, most of the houses on the street were dilapidated, boarded up or charred remains. So, it made finding the house easy, it was the best kept house on the block, but still in a level of disrepair.

“What do you want?” Asked a man standing outside the rough picket fence that bordered the dirt lawn.

“I'm looking for someone, a girl.” Henry told him, pulling his mobile out and showed him. “Have you seen her?” He asked, looking up at the windows at the second floor of the house.

The man leaned forward, squinting at the screen of Henry's mobile. “No.” He shook his head and pulled back. “We haven't had any girls come here in about a week.”

Henry sighed and rubbed at his gritty face, his temples throbbing, then turned away from the man. “I swear, when I get my hands on that girl.” He grumbled the empty threat, for the millionth time.

Pulling up the map on his mobile, Henry calculated the distance and time to the next mini-town of Cherhill, and how much time he had in the day. It was an almost three and a half hour walk to Cherhill from Marlborough, with two hours of sunlight remaining. So, sucking it up, Henry decided to chance it and walk there through the night.

Getting into a room in Cherhill, you gingerly peeled your shoes and socks off your feet and rubbed at the raw skin and fat blisters that covered them. You weren't accustomed to walking for so long, for so far, and they felt like they had been worn down to your ankles.

Luckily, this pit stop was a little more accommodating, and you had a little bathroom in the room you were put up in, with the most absolute, teeniest tub you had ever seen in your life, and you lived near the bottom of London! But, you filled it with hot water and removed your clothing, sitting down on the dark stained toilet seat and soaked your feet into the water. Dipping a threadbare washcloth into the water, you used it to rub away some of the grit and dust that was caked into your skin. Once you soaked your feet for a little while, you rinsed your hair out in the sink, wishing you had some shampoo or soap, but settled for the plain water. Semi-refreshed, you redressed, nibbled on something for a late lunch and rested back against the bed, staring up at the water stained ceiling.

“Eric, how far is the next checkpoint?”

“Three hours, Ms.”

“When's sunrise?” You asked, rubbing at your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Four hours, Ms.”

You laid there for a long moment, considering the sanity of walking yet another ten kilometers to Chippenham. “Oh, what's the worst that can happen?” You sighed, getting up and packing your things. “At least, I got to rest my feet.” You quipped to yourself, going out into the hall.

“Shit!” You snapped suddenly, looking down the long hallway and seeing the very last person you wanted to see, before dashing back into your room, in a complete panic. “How the fuck did he find me! How did the fucker even know I had come this far?!” You paced the room, shaking.

“Of course!” You berated yourself. “He's a goddamned High Marshal! It's all he does! All day, for years on end. But, why is he even bothering to come after me?” You shook your head, trying to clear the panic. “I'll worry about that later, I need to get the fuck out of here, before he sees me.”

You frantically looked around your room and spotted a godsend.

“Praise the gods.” You huffed, relieved for this room actually having a window.

You dropped the room key on the bed and rushed the window, pushing it open and looked out. You were on the third floor, so it was a fair drop to the ground outside. But, luckily there was a small metal balcony outside the second floor window of the room below yours. So, wiggling out your window backwards and hanging from the window frame, you dropped yourself the meter down to the balcony with loud clang and a shake of the rickety supports bolting the balcony into the red brick wall of the building.

Crouching there for a moment, to give the structure a moment to settle, you dropped the last meter to the ground at the first level of the building, then tucked tail and ran. Just as Henry's head popped through the open window of your abandoned room, he caught sight of you as you dashed around the side of the building.

“Fuck!” He barked, charging out of the room and down the hall, stomping down the six flights of stairs to the main lobby, then out the entrance door, calling your name as he chased after you through a cluster of trees.

Henry had made it to Cherhill an hour before sunrise and exhausted as all hell. He had already decided to get a room, whether or not you were there, to take a power nap, before he fell flat on his face. He was no good as spent as he was from looking for you, then to take you back to London, for the trials. He still didn't know how he was going to get his hands on Mikey, but part of him didn't give a fuck about your brother, it was you, he was worried about.

Entering the safe house, a rundown, three story hotel, Henry took a deep breath in and out as he approached the front desk and the male behind it, reading some cover-less and water damaged book, and readied himself to hear that he had never seen your face before. The guy looked over the top of his book as he heard Henry step up to his counter, slowly setting it down on the desk on the other side of the counter, and stood.

“Wanting a room?” He asked, looking Henry over.

“Yeah.” Henry nodded his head. “Can you tell me if you've seen this girl?” He asked, turning the screen of his mobile towards him.

“Oh yeah, I have.” The guy nodded at your photo. “She got a room here not that long ago, a couple hours maybe.”

Henry's hope went up a teeny bit. “Is she still here?” He asked, in suspense.

“Uh..” He turned his back to Henry and stepped into a little room for a moment, before returning. “Her key is still gone, so she must still be in her room. Unless, she forgot to return it, it happens more than you could realize. But, it's not a surprise, many people up and leaving out of the blue around here..”

“What room is she in?” Henry asked, interrupting him, even more antsy.

“Third floor, room six.”

“Do you have a master key to open the door?” He asked, chewing on his lip.

“Yeah, but I can't just go up there and open her door for you.” The guy protested. “It's against policy.”

Growling, Henry turned on his heels and headed for the stairwell leading up to your room. If he wasn't going to open your door, then Henry would just kick it in. He wasn't going to go up there and knock, so you would have the time to figure out how to slip by him again.

“Hey!” The hotel worker yelled, running around the counter and rushed after Henry.

Stomping up the stairs, the guy managed to get ahead of Henry and block the doorway that led down the hallway of your floor. Standing his ground as Henry stopped before him, huffing angrily, like a bull just entering the ring to fight the matador.

“Get the fuck out of my way.” Henry hissed, between clenched teeth. “Now.”

“It is against Hotel policy to disturb the guests. If you don't leave this instance, I will be forced to call security.”

“Oh really!” Henry snapped, brows lifting. “And who is the security in this shit hole?” He asked, folding his arms over his chest.

The guy gulped as he watched the biceps of Henry's arms bulge through his clothing. “I-I am.” He squeaked, like a frightened mouse, facing down a panther.

“That's what I thought.” Henry chuckled, as a door slammed somewhere in the building. “You'll be getting out of my way.” He said, grabbing the front of the guy's shirt and jerked him out of the way, before storming down to your room door.

Henry thrust his size eleven boot through the flimsy door of your room and stormed in, feeling the cool breeze bellowing in through the open window. “Goddamn it!” He hissed, stomping to the window and thrusting his head out and watched you dive around the corner of the building.

“Fuck!” He barked, charging out of the room, down the hall and down the six flights of stairs to the main lobby, then out the entrance door, calling out your name as he chased after you through a cluster of trees.

Whether or not you liked it, Henry was there chasing after you, no longer just missing you at every mini-town from London to Cherhill. He was in minutes of you, charging through the thicket of trees to the East of the hotel you both had bolted from. Henry could just see you ahead of him, maybe half a soccer field away from him, so he started pushing himself and closed the gap between you, within a few short minutes.

“Stop!” He yelled, reaching out and grabbed the back of your backpack, yanking and sending you backwards, before locking his arms around your upper body, trapping you against his chest; both of you gasping for air.

“Just stop.” He panted softly, dropping his forehead against the crown of your head. “Please, just stop.”

You growled, almost sounding like an angry cat, as you kicked your legs out and struggled in Henry's embrace. But Henry's thick arms only held onto you tighter, not picking up his head as you did, but grunted as you fruitlessly tried jabbing him in the side with your elbows and stomp on his foot.

“Stop it.” He barked into your ear.

“Let go of me!” You screamed, half hoping someone would hear and come help you, giving you the advantage to run again.

“I'm not.” Henry rumbled, spinning you around to face him and keeping a firm hold on you. “I tracked your butt for nearly a hundred and sixty kilometers, to take you back to London, and that's where we're going, as soon as we can.” He told you, with a heavy sigh.

“I'm not going back to London, so you can get fucked!” You barked at him.

“Ah!” He snapped and just managed to block your attempted knee shot. “Yes, you are.”

“Then, I'll run again!” You hissed, still struggling with him.

Henry sighed again, squeezing his eyes shut, taking a hold of your elbow and marched you back to the hotel. “Room.” He growled at the hotel guy, who looked like he wanted to protest, but gave Henry a key anyway.

“What are you doing with her?” He called after the two of you.

“Mind your own business, shithead.” Henry barked over his shoulder as he pulled you up the stairs to the second floor. “Sit down.” He ordered, carefully pushing you into the room and pointed to the chair.

You stood in the middle of the room, arms defiantly crossed over your chest. Henry stared back at you, a war of unsaid words flowing between the pair of you through looks alone.

“Why did you run?” Henry asked, finally breaking the tense silence.

“My business.”

“Your business is my business, since you want to act like a fucking brat and run off in the middle of the night, without word or reason. Especially, since you've gotten me in hot water with my boss. So, out with it.” He scolded you, his body tense.

“I know it's about your brother.” He said, when you remained silent. “I know that he's a Runner, working for Jaxon Quinn in Bristol. That he's going there to get training to be a big time Runner, and you're terrified that he's in some sort of trouble.”

“Congratulations.” You smirked at him, smugly. “Now, get the fuck out of my way!” You barked, starting for the door, but Henry blocked it. “Get out of the way!” You yelled, pushing at him, but he didn't move.

“I'm not.” He told you, softly, but firmly, shaking his head.

“You're going to get him killed!” You screamed, your voice breaking.

Henry blinked down at you, shaking his head again, and reached out to cup your face in his hands, tilting your head back to look up at him, seeing the furious and frightened tears in your eyes that you had been trying to keep at bay since having the nightmare. His thumbs smoothed over your cheeks, wiping away the dripping tears from your lashes, his face pinched with concern and confusion at how upset and desperate you were to reach not only Bristol, but your brother.

“You have brothers, Henry.” You sniffled softly, voice weak. “Wouldn't you do anything in the world, that you could, to save and protect them, if they were in danger?”

You tried to reason with him, pleading to his sense of family and the protective nature you knew Henry harbored in his soul, the reason you knew was why Henry wanted to be a Marshal; he couldn't protect people as a Cleric and Royal, the way he could as a Marshal. Henry's face softened, so did his heart, he would do everything he could, including giving his own life, to save one of his brothers, if they were in danger and trouble. He understood, mostly, what you were doing with running off and trekking through dangerous lands to reach Mikey.

“What trouble is he in?” He asked, blinking at you.

“I-” You frowned, you knew Mickey was in trouble, terrible trouble. But, you didn't know what that trouble actually was, and sighed. “I don't know exactly.” You admitted, gulping. “But, I know he is.”

“I just—I just feel it, Henry.” You told him, choked up.

Henry sighed, feeling the space between the rock and a hard place he was currently trapped in, get a whole lot tighter. He didn't know what to do with your brother, but he saw how deeply you felt about it and couldn't ignore that. So, he moved back a couple spaces and just focused on you, now that he had you.

“We'll figure it out.” He told you, softly. “But, for now, why don't we just rest. I'm sure we're both drained after all of this.”

“That's an understatement.” You laughed, nodding your head and letting your shoulders melt under the weight of exhaustion and stress.

“Give me your shoes.” Henry said, suddenly.

“What?” You snapped back, your nose wrinkling in confusion as you looked up at him.

“I said, give me your shoes.” Henry repeated himself, pointing down at your filthy trainers. “You can't run without them.”

“You wanna bet!”

“We both know you can't, love.” He chuckled, smirking at you, smugly. “So, take them off and give them to me”

You sighed. “Henry, I'm not going to run again, I promise.”

“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Henry quoted, lifting a brow at you.

Rolling your eyes, you sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled your trainers off, tossing them to land at Henry's feet. Henry bent and picked up your shoes, shrugging his backpack off of his back and opened it, taking a couple of things, then shoved your shoes into his pack, zipping it up and connected the zipper to the hook below it, locking the backpack closed with a combination number; that wasn't his life pin.

“Why are you here, Henry?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him as you flexed your sore toes.

“To get you.” He replied, uncapping his water bottle.

“Why?” You asked, drawing it out. “You wouldn't just chase me because you wanted to. What, you worried about losing out on your six thousand credits? Wanting them back.”

“No!” Henry barked, enraged at the thought that all he wanted out of you was money. “I was worried about your fucking safety.”

“I made it here in one piece.” You said, gesturing around.

“That's not what I meant.” He mumbled, moving across the room to the window. “Completely.”

You narrowed your eyes at his broad back. “What aren't you telling me?” You asked, feeling the vibe fill the room.

“What am I not telling you? What haven't you been telling me?” He hissed, turning back to you. “You ditch out in the middle of the night, without a word or note telling me to get fucked, to trek across this barren waste, risking your safety, for your drug dealing, crime running brother, because you feel he's in trouble.”

“Don't mock me.” You growled back at him, your own anger bubbling. “I knew you wouldn't believe me, if I woke you up to tell you that I had a dream about him being killed. I knew you'd fucking mock me about and tell me it was just a dream and to go back to bed. That you wouldn't understand the deep gut feeling I have that it isn't just some random dream I had.” You paused, trying to get a hold of yourself.

“It's a deep and hot feeling in my gut, like a sharp knife to my bowels; that hurt so much. That bond between him and I, vibrates with it. I couldn't just sit in your flat and ignore it, and I sure hell wasn't going to tell a High Marshal about my brother being an Adjutant Runner for Quinn. That would be a career maker for--”

You froze and stared at him, wide eyed, feeling the pieces fall into place. Henry knew about your brother, he knew everything about him and his activities, and knew that you were running straight for Mikey. It was perfect for Henry, follow you to Mikey, drag both of you back to London and turn Mikey into the Supreme Marshal and the Clerics. He'd be hailed a hero, given a promotion and a medal and who knows what else for it.

Oh, you felt like clawing his beautiful blue eyes out of his smug fucking skull.

“You fuck.” You said, your voice dripping with barely contained anger and slightly sibilant. “You're just using me to get to Mikey.”

Henry pressed his lips together and pushed his jaw forward, then nodded his head. He grabbed the back of the chair and set it down in front of you, plopping down on it. “I was going to come after you, before I knew anything specific about your brother. I figured, since you were heading for Bristol, that he was into some sort of crime, people don't tend to go there if they're not. I was afraid you would get hurt, and god knows what else.”

“I didn't give a fuck about the money I spent to get you out of Twist's hell hole, or the money you took for the mobile and backpack you have.” He said, eyeing them. “Just you. But, my boss, Supreme Marshall Dylon Reyes, called me, while I was out looking for you. To tell me that the Council of Clerics were starting the trails on Twist and his associates for their operations, you're a witness in that case.” He explained to you.

“A witness.” You echoed.

“Yes. You were there, one of the victims. So, the Council would want to talk to you, ask you questions and take your statement about anything you saw or heard there, the things you went through. My purchase of you, was done to verify that Twist was indeed selling people as Slaves and Servants. Keeping you, was, I don't fucking know. I was just told that it was final and I had too.”

“So, you did.”

“Obviously.” He snorted, lifting a brow at you. “But, it was also to keep an eye on you, to make sure you were kept safe from any of Twist's allies and higher up bosses.”

“Why would they care, I'm not the only one that was there.” You said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Of the fourteen people we took out of that warehouse that had been kidnapped, just like you, under the same pretenses, you're the only one that had a buyer. So, you're considered more high profile.”

The muscles in your jaw twitched and your skin tingled with the hot heat of your fury, that unleashed with rock solid slap to Henry's tired and scruffy cheek, actually jerking his head to the side, from the force. Henry grunted and hissed at the searing pain of the slap, like lava had been splashed in his face. His hands gripped his knees and he shook his head against some of the pain, before looking back at you, his blue eyes darker than a stormy ocean and jaw tight.

“This is your fault.” You barked at him, trembling. “If it wasn't for you, if you had just purchased someone else in that line up, I would be home right now! I would have been able to convince Michail into not going to Bristol with that damn handler, months ago. Months ago, Henry!” You screamed, wanting to strike him again, but his hands shot out and gripped your wrists, pinning your hands to your thighs.

“I fucking hate you, dear god! I fucking hate you, so much.”

“I can live with that, if it means keeping you safe.” Henry growled through a tight jaw.

“I don't need you to protect me!” You snapped, jerking against him.

“Like fuck you don't!” He hissed, bringing his face closer to yours. “Your dear brother works for Jaxon Quinn, the second worse fucking Crime Boss this country has!”

“I know who the fuck he is!”

“Did you know he's the one that helped Twist fund that little warehouse you were imprisoned in?” He asked, lifting his brows at you. “Did you know that he's got people out here wanting to kill you? Because, if you can't make it to that interview with the Clerics, everything about Twist and that operation won't end well. They'll just get stuck with a few millions in fines, a couple of banishments, maybe someone getting sent to the Iron Tombs prison or executed. All of which people like Jaxon Quinn don't fucking feel, cause millions of credits is pocket money to him, just like the lives of the people that will be ruined and snuffed out, because there's thousands of people waiting in line to take their places.”

“Such as your brother.”

Your blazing anger turned to ice in your stomach and you nearly puked your guts out at the thought of a hit-man around some corner, waiting to kill you, or your brother taking the place of someone that had been killed by the justice system of London for their part in Quinn's business.

“That's why I came after you.” Henry said softly, easing the pressure he was putting on your wrists. “People are out here, wanting to kill you. You have a price on your head, and you're about to walk into the house, where every last one of those dirt-bags, live. Do you understand the danger you are in? Your feeling about Mike being in trouble could be true, but it also could just be the realistic feel of a nightmare.”

“But, the danger you are in is real.”

He tried to make you understand, he was desperate that you understood that your life was in danger and you being out here and heading for Bristol was only increasing that danger and making it easier for them to find and kill you.

“It won't stop me.” You said, softly. “I have to get to Mikey before something happens to him.”

“I'll tell you what happens to him.” Henry said, frustrated and tired. “You find him, his handler finds out that you're his sister and they kill you both.”

“No questions. No begging. Just both of you dying.”

A chill raced down your spine, the revelation spiraling around your brain. “That must be it.” You said, eyes flaring at Henry. “What if he does find out about Mikey being my brother, somehow?”

Henry let go of your wrists and rubbed at his face, hunching over his chair. “I don't know, maybe.” He huffed into his palms. “Is there a shower in this place?” He asked, looking up at you.

“I don't know if this room does, but I had a micro-bathtub in my room.” You retorted, looking towards the half open bathroom door.

Getting up with a tired and sore groan, Henry pushed open the bathroom door and found it did indeed have a shower and another micro-bathtub, so much to his relief. He turned back to you, studying you for a long moment, before taking off his jacket, shoes and socks, then pulled his sweater over his head, tossing them all onto the chair.

“I'm going to take a shower.” He told you, his voice measured with the still rocky trust the two of you had for each other.

“Okay.” You replied, staring back at him.

Henry slowly turned towards the bathroom, like he expected you to suddenly bolt for the door or window, but you stayed where you were on the edge of the bed. Sighing, Henry entered the bathroom, but didn't close the door all the way, in case you ran and he needed to go after you; possibly naked and wet. He spun the loose hot tap and the shower head sputtered to life, he stood there for a long time, waiting for the water to heat up, as he stared at his exhausted reflection through the spiderweb cracks running through the broken mirror, before removing his jeans and boxers, dropping them on the tank of the old toilet and stepped under the weak spray, with a loud groan.

You sighed, hearing the shower turn on and moved your backpack into your lap. Unzipping it, you removed your water bottle and a package of food you bought at the last supplier's. You sat there eating your food and drinking your water, trying to block out the thought of Henry naked just mere feet from you, and being able to catch a glimpse of his body through the fogged up mirror above the chipped sink and the open door.

“You know, Teddy Wang said you held him up at knife point.” Henry said, coming out of the shower in nothing but socks and his jeans, as he rubbed a hole strewn towel over his dripping head; still chuckling at the thought.

“Because, I did.” You retorted, glancing out the window and not his warm and pink torso.

Henry stopped and blinked down at you. “Really?” He laughed, a grin of amusement spreading across his lips.

“Yes.” You snapped, looking back at him. “He wouldn't tell me what I wanted to know, so I took out the knife my dad gave me and told him what I would do with it, if he didn't.” You informed him, angry at his amusement.

“Lord, I can only wonder what you told Fynn, to make him talk.” He roared with laughter.

“I told him, I would use his own door to bash his head in.” You replied, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I was sure you could take care of yourself, but I didn't take you as such a violent little thing.” Henry said, still unendingly tickled. “I mean, maybe I should be surprised. You did nearly take my head off with that slap of yours.” He chuckled, rubbing his cheek at the residual sting.

Letting out a frustrated growl, sick of people not taking you seriously, and the situation period, you launched off the bed and towards Henry, catching him off guard enough to send both of you into the wall. But, Henry recovered quickly, turning and pressing you up against the wall.

“Easy there, little nugget.” He grinned at you.

“Don't call me that!” You barked, struggling against him.

“Call you what?” He chuckled, enjoying your little rampage. “Nugget?”

“Yes!” You hissed, pressing your palms against his bare chest and tried pushing him off of you.

“Or what, Nugget?” He continued to chuckle, barely teetering as you pushed against him. “Hey now!” He snapped, squeezing his legs shut, planted his hands under your arms and pushed you up the wall, until your faces were level. “That's the second time you tried kneeing me there. That's not very nice, Nugget.”

“Oh my god, stop calling me that, you big brute!” You huffed. “Or else!”

Henry smirked at you, bringing his face close to yours. “Or else, what?” He said in a low and deep voice.

You knew you should just give up, he had you out matched in nearly everything, your feet were dangling above the dingy carpet, as he held you up against the wall, like you weighed less than the wallpaper peeling off of it.

So, you did something he wouldn't expect.

Licking your lips and taking advantage of how close his face was to yours, the tips of your noses lightly brushing, you tilted your head and kissed him on the lips. Henry nearly dropped you, in shock of feeling your warm lips against his, his mouth falling open and his pupils dilating. You didn't pull back, but you didn't deepen the kiss either. Henry slowly closed his mouth, his full lips cradled your bottom lip for a moment, before he pulled his head back and looked at you, licking his lips and tasting the sweetness of yours on his tongue.

He let out a shuddering breath, eyes darkening as he stared into yours. He saw a look eclipse your face and brought his lips back to yours, kissing them with a soft smack echoing in the room. You let out a soft breath through your nose and whimpered, eyes half falling shut. Henry smirked and chuckled softly against your mouth and kissed you deeper, his arms moving to wrap around you, pressing you closer against his body. You wrapped your arms around his neck and picked up your hanging legs to wrap them around his waist, nudging your mouth against his, feeling a growing bubble of desire and need for him.

One arm hugged around your waist, Henry planted a hand on the wall by your head, swirling his tongue against your mouth as his head tilted to the side, moaning deep in his throat and chest. His hand went to tangle in your hair, as the pair of you heatedly made out. The kiss was hungry and almost sloppy, you panted as Henry kissed down your mouth and chin to your neck, nibbling and biting at the pounding pulse under your jaw. You pushed your head back, letting your eyes finally fall closed as he sucked on your throat, whimpering softly as he sank his teeth into the bruised skin.

“Fuck.” He huffed and pressed his forehead against your temple. “I want you.” He moaned against your cheek, out of breath and gasping for air, as his blunt fingers and nails clawed and tugged at the waistband of your pants. “I've wanted you.” He admitted, eyes rolling shut as his clothed cock rubbed against your covered pussy, begging to be buried in the heat it knew was there, like it was sonar.

Chuckling, you nudge your cheek against his, amused by the turn of events. You had only kissed him to see if he would let you go and quit calling you, Nugget; not have the two of you melt into a heated and passionate lip battle, leaving both of you breathless and clearly wanting for the other. You would be lying, if you didn't admit that you had thought about Henry like this from time to time, wanting to see what he looked like naked, all in a hard pant, his skin damp with sweat and a pink glow from his spent effort; the feel of him inside of you. But, it also gave you qualms, deep in the pit of your stomach as well, a soft shyness washing over you for a moment, before you felt the nudge of Henry's hips against yours again, throwing it out the window and into the dying sunlight.

“Me too.” You admitted into the shell of his ear, nose brushing the still damp curls around it. “I want you too, Henry.” You whispered, breathless, and hugged your legs tighter around his hips.

Henry let out such a growl against your neck, that you let out a needy whimper, as he pushed you both off the wall, taking a step back and turning towards the bed, laying you down on it. He unhooked your legs from around his hips and fumbled with the button of your pants, before shoving them and your underwear down your hips and thighs; so you could kick out of them, while he removed his own jeans. Henry was attacking your mouth and throat again, his hands diving under the hem of your shirt and going straight for your breasts. You moaned at the feel of his lips against your skin, his hot hands squeezing and kneading your breasts in his palms, and the free feeling of his cock rubbing shamelessly against your bare folds, making the muscles of your thighs tremble from how good it felt.

“You like that, don't you?” He asked, in a husky voice, loving the sounds you were making as he humped against you.

“God, yes.” You mewled, dragging your nails down his broad back.

He chuckled, bracing his arms at either side of your head and looked down at you, watching you melt into the mattress beneath you. “You're still a virgin, aren't you?” He asked, his head tilting as he shifted his weight to one arm and glided his fingertips over your stomach.

You looked up at him and gave an audible gulp, nodding your head and looking up at him like a frightened rabbit. A smirk grew on his scruffy face, fingers circling your navel before dipping low, to rub the pads of two fingers against your sensitive clit. Henry wasn't put off by your virginity, but he didn't want to ruin it by succumbing to his animal desire to thrust his, well-endowed, cock into your tight, little hole and fuck you within an inch of your life, either. You whimpered and bucked up against his fingers, crazy for more friction. Henry clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head at you and grinning like a hungry wolf.

“None of that, Nugget.” He cooed at you, removing his fingers from your wet folds and licked them clean; his eyes never leaving yours. “Have you ever touched yourself?” He asked, tilting his head at you.

You nodded your head, mutely.

He reached out and took your hand into his, pulling it down between your legs, and flattened two of your fingers down on your clit, and pressed them down with his own, gently guiding both of your hands in a slow and easy motion against it, watching your face for a few moments, before removing his hand, letting you continue touching yourself on your own, and looked down between your bodies. You had heard enough about sex from Mikey and your co-workers to know, this wasn't how you did it, but you did know about touching yourself, you had done on and off since you were a teen. But, you had never done it in front of anyone before, and doing it with Henry leaning over you, his eyes intent on your fingers, made you incredibly self-conscious.

“Henry..” You moaned out, trying to put the sound of a question in it, but your brain couldn't form it.

Henry's eyes flickered towards yours and smirk. “What, you just want me to shove my massive cock in that tight and little hole of yours?” He quipped, teasing you softly, his fingers brushing the skin between your breasts. “If I did that, you wouldn't be walking anywhere, for a very long time.” He chuckled, kissing the tip of your nose.

His fingers moved down your torso, skirting around your still working hand and teased a fingertip between your folds, ringing it around your entrance and coming back with a thick string of come. “Take that finger,” He tapped your middle finger. “and slip it in that sweet hole of yours for me.” He said, nodding his head at you, encouragingly.

“I--” You choked up, eyes wide, and gulped. “I've--” You gulped, flustered.

“Oh,” Henry chuckled, brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead. “You're a button rubber.”

“A what?” You squeaked, confused and caught off guard.

“You rub your little button.” He cooed, tapped your clit, with a smirk. “To get off. Without touching your core.” He gently pushed the very tip of his thick finger into your entrance. “A virgin, in almost every way.”

“That's okay, you can do it.” He encouraged you. “Nice and easy, Nugget.” He purred, moving his finger out of your way.

Gulping again, you slowly inched your hand away from your clit, fingers cupping your folds for a moment, as you hesitated, trying to muster the courage off of Henry's face and into yourself, before, very slowly, parting your folds with the tip of your middle finger and towards your entrance. It felt strange to push your finger into yourself. It was deep, wet, so much warmer than you thought, and soft. You touched something deep inside of your cunt and gasped, toes curling.

“Oh, someone found her sweet spot.” Henry chuckled, playfully tapping you on the nose.

“It feels so good.” You whimpered, rubbing at it a little bit more, biting your lip.

“That's good.” He smiled, watching you start to mindlessly thrust your finger in and out. “That's it.” He encouraged you, basking in the sight, rubbing his palm up and down your quivering thigh, before turning his hand to join yours. “No, no.” He murmured as you started to remove your finger. “Keep that finger right there.” He said, the tip of his finger brushing the underside of yours.

Henry tickled the edge of your folds for a moment, before slipping it under yours and gingerly pushed it in to join your own finger inside of you, stretching you wide open. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth as you whimpered, uncomfortable at the almost painful stretch of your combined fingers. He shushed you and timed his thick digit with your smaller one, gently joining the tip of your finger at your sweet spot, and added even more pressure to it, making you cry out loud, throwing your head back.

“You're doing so well.” He praised you, nuzzling the side of your face with his. “I can't wait to have my cock inside of you.” He panted, eyes rolling shut at the idea. “Let's see if you can take one more.” He said, curiously. “Pull your finger halfway out.” He instructed you, rubbing his next finger in the juices dripping from you, then poising it at your hole.

“Just like that, good girl.”

Carefully shifting his first finger around yours, Henry pressed his new finger through the ring of muscle surrounding your entrance, taking it slow.

“Just relax.” He cooed at you, pressing his knees against the edge of the bed to shift his weight and used his now free hand to caress the side of your hot face and rubbed his palm over your chest, trying to help your relax. “Deep breaths. That's it. Very good.” He smiled at you, his finger halfway in.

“Henry, please.” You mewled, chewing your lip to bits.

“Hush.” He whispered, caressing the pad of his thumb down the bridge of your nose. “Gotta get you nice and open for my cock, love.” He told you, breathing heavy has the rest of his finger slide home with the first. “It'll hurt so much more, if I don't, and I don't want to hurt you, darling.” He said, a rush of icy goosebumps racing over his body at the sweet whimper that left your parted lips.

“Put your finger back in.”

“I can't.” You whimpered, shaking your head at him.

“Yes, you can.” He said softly, nodding his head and holding your eyes. “Come on, sweetheart.” He cooed at you, sweetly. “You can do it for me, can't you? Don't you want me to be inside of you?” He asked, coaxing you. “Keeping you nice and warm.” He added with a chuckle, feeling the creeping cold of the night outside coming through the thin walls and windowpane, chilling the sweaty skin of his naked body.

You gulped at the tone of his dirty talking, feeling it going straight to your pussy, making Henry chuckle as he felt the pooling wetness growing around your combine fingers. Whimpering softly, you pushed your finger back into the tight space above Henry's big ones.

“There, see.” Henry smiled, kissing your forehead. “Not so bad, is it, love?” He asked, crooking his, and your, fingers into your sweet spot and rubbed at it, with measured experience. “How's that feel, baby?” He asked, leaning in to kiss you, lazily.

“It feels so good, Henry.” You moaned against his mouth. “So fucking good.”

“Just wait til you have my cock in you, it'll feel a million times better.” He promised.

“I want it now.” You whined, nudging him.

“Just a little bit long, honey.” He cooed, kissing your hot cheek. “There's a little something I want you to give me first, just to make sure you're nice and relaxed, and comfy, for me to nestle inside this sweet little hole of yours.”

“Hen--”

“Ah-Ah, Sshhh.” He interrupted you, shaking his head and starting to work his fingers in and out, taking your finger with them. “Enjoy it, darling.”

You moaned aloud, licking your lips and pushing your head back, eyes rolling shut at the phenomenal feeling of the teamwork your joined fingers were pulling off inside you. You rocked your whole body down on your and his fingers, driving them deeper inside of you and stretching you wider with each motion. Henry smiled down at you, watching you lose yourself in the motion and moment; and he hadn't even given you the best part yet. He slowly slipped his fingers free of your core, you blissfully unaware of the change as you continued to fuck your own finger.

“I can't wait to have you squirt all over my cock.” He said aloud, his eyes glued to your finger, then watched the change slowly wash over you as your orgasm neared. “That's it, sweetheart. Fuck that finger good, come all over it.” He said in a husky and arousal dripping voice, feeling himself get even harder at the sight, and started rubbing your swollen clit.

“H-Hen-Henry.” You gasped, breathing hard, as your toes curled against the amazing hot flood rushing through your sweaty body; rubbing your clit alone had never felt this good.

“Come.” He hissed, eyes huge and focused on you. “Come for me. Soak the the bed, baby. You can do it, come on.” He encouraged you, a free hand moving to his hot and swollen cock, giving it a few pumps.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck!” You mewled, face contorting as your orgasm started to peak. “Henry!” You cried out, before finally falling into your orgasm and drenched your finger, leaving a damp spot on the duvet beneath you.

Henry licked his lips, the heavy and pleasing aroma of your arousal filling his nose; it made him hum. “See that? Told you, you could do.” He said, when you were halfway recovered. “And you didn't even need my fingers.” He added, with a sly grin.

“Huh?” You squeaked, looking down your heaving body to see his fingers still resting lightly on your clit, and your own finger still inside your core. “Oh fuck.” You chuckled shyly, your face heating up.

Henry chuckled and kissed you deeply. “Now, you can have my cock, sweetheart.” He smiled slyly at you.

“I don't know what—” You cut yourself off, feeling self-conscious again, and looked away from him.

You didn't know what to do once he was inside of you, you hadn't known what to do with your own finger inside of you, if it wasn't for Henry's fingers there as well, and him instructing you. But, Henry was very experienced in the art of lovemaking, and wasn't surprised or bothered by your inexperience in it; he had his own solutions to such things. So, he wrapped your heavy legs around his waist and your arms about his neck, before putting his arms around your waist. Henry lifted you up, so he could stand to his full height, slipping an arm beneath your bottom as he did, to keep you from slipping.

“It's all right, sweet girl.” He assured you, moving to the head of the bed and sat down. “Take your shirt off.” He told you, tugging on the garment.

Biting your lip shyly, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off over your head, tossing it to the floor. Henry smiled and smoothed his palms up your back to the clasp of your bra and popped it free. Slipping the straps of your bra off your shoulders, Henry tossed the undergarment to the floor with your shirt and leaned forward to place open mouthed kisses to the supple skin of your breasts, nuzzling his face between them and leaving, almost painful, love bites in their wake. You whimpered, hugging your arms around his neck and hiding your face into his hair, feeling the solid and hot flesh of his cock press up against your thighs and ass.

Moaning against your skin, as your shifting rubbed your ass down against his cock, Henry turned and laid back on the bed, his head on the dingy and flat pillow, all the stuffing flattened from years of use. He held you in his lap, as you straddled him, and pulled up his knees to give you a little more stability. Henry gripped your hips to move you, so you knelt on your knees over him, then reached between your legs to take himself in hand, lining up with your sticky entrance, and pushed his hips up enough to press the fat and swollen tip of his cock just into you, then held his hips there.

“Very slowly, push yourself down.” He instructed you, nodding his head at you, as he broke out in a sweat, that plastered his curls to his forehead. “That's good. Keep it up, baby.” He said, breathing hard.

You pushed your hips down on Henry's cock, feeling how hot and hard it actually was as it filled you more and more. There was only a little bit of extra stretch as he entered you, but it wasn't uncomfortable and the slickness left over from your orgasm helped make it easier to do. It took some slow patience, but you finally had your fill of Henry inside of you, shifting in his lap.

“That feels so different.” You whimpered, feeling like he was deep inside of your stomach.

Henry smiled up at you, chuckling. “I'm sure.” He replied, nudging his hips upwards. “I'm nice and deep into your cervix.” He commented, feeling it wrapped around his cock. “Are you okay?” He asked, taking a few deep breaths, to keep a handle on himself.

“I'm-I'm fine.” You assured him, flustered at the feeling of him rubbing up against your cervix. “Wh-what do you wa-want me t-to do?” You asked, gulping thickly.

“So eager.” Henry teased, kneading your hips in his palms. “Just follow my motion.” He said, looking up at you.

Gripping your hips more securely, Henry started moving you back and forth on his cock, keeping himself firmly housed inside of you, while hitting all the right places, including rubbing your still sensitive and swollen clit against his belly. You gasped aloud, your hands gripping his wrists, and rocked faster, but Henry held you off, keeping your motion slow and steady, not wanting either of you to rush it.

“Easy, baby girl.” He cooed at you, letting go of your hips and rubbing his palms up and down your thighs. “We have all night, sweetheart. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere, I promise.” Henry shifted his hips as you continued to ride him in an easy pace, feeling the sticky smear of your juices all over his stomach and cock.

Henry had dreamt about this, in the lone times he didn't have crippling nightmares.

You would come into his bedroom, like you would when he was having a bad dream. Running your hand up and down his chest, touching his face and playing with his hair, before moving your hand down his taut stomach and into the elastic waistband of his pajama pants; rubbing his soft cock and fondling his balls, making him slowly grow against your warm palm. Wrapping your hand around the base of his then swollen cock, your hand would slide up and down the long length, swirling your thumb around his sensitive head; smiling so sweetly at him, when he moaned deep in his throat and thrust up into your grasp. Your pace was maddeningly slow compared to the hot need Henry had to be inside of you; spilling his load as deeply as he possibly could into you, and hear you call out his name as you orgasmed.

It didn't take long for that to happen as you lifted away the fabric of his pants, his eyes dropping to your still stroking hand. Smirking, you let his cock fall heavily to his abdomen and stomach. Henry gulped as you moved over him, straddling his waist and kneeling over him, hands braced against his broad chest for a moment. You reached back with one hand, taking up his cock again and bringing it to your weeping pussy, sliding him into the comforting, eye fluttering, warmth of your core, making Henry call out and grab your hips, planting his feet and thrust into you with one fluid motion, burying himself so completely inside of you.

“Oh!” You gasped suddenly, bringing Henry back from remembering the dream. “Henry.” You whimpered, as you felt the intoxicating build of a second orgasm.

Henry's hands moved from your thighs to the back of your arms, pulling you down on top of him. Wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head, he kept his knees bent, using his planted feet on the squeaky mattress to push up into you. Keeping the same easy rocking, but driving himself so much deeper, that it sent spasms of pleasure throughout your whole body. You moaned into his neck, panting opening mouthed against the skin of his shoulder, sounding so soft and sweet in Henry's ear.

It wasn't long before Henry felt the unraveling snake of pleasure overcome him, his cock pulsed and throbbed inside of you, his natural instincts kicking in and made his movements involuntary as he continued to wildly thrust, his balls tightening in preparation. You could feel every muscle in Henry's body tense up, his loud, uncensored and lewd sounds grunting and moaning into your ear and hair, both of you could feel the rapid beating of your hearts pounding together with your chests pressed together; the feeling of his cock throbbing into you keeping in time with each heartbeat. He was at the point of no return now, with a few more thrusts, he push himself as deep into you as he could, scrunching you both up in the process, and came.

The strong and hot spurts of his come going off inside of you, drumming your cervix like a demolition hammer. You let out one sound, then came and squirted around Henry's still spewing cock, drenching his abdomen and balls with your release; leaving yet another puddle on the bed. Both of you became dead weight, spent from all the walking and stress, magnified by the mind-blowing orgasms you shared. Henry's hands slowly came to life, rubbing up and down your back and sides, head turning to kiss your temple as he did.

Neither of you said anything, neither of you needed to say anything. It had all been spoken in that intimate moment, saying what words could not. You sighed softly, the scent of his sweaty skin in your nose as you nuzzled his neck, feeling the deep tug of sleep take over you. Henry smiled softly, brushing his fingers through your hair, kissing your forehead as he felt you fall asleep, the soft change of your breathing, chilling his skin. He pushed his head back into the pillow and mattress, staring up at the stained drop ceiling with a huge grin crossing over his face, he hadn't felt this satisfied and relaxed in a very long time, he had never felt this complete either, as he fell asleep with you.

You woke a little while later, still laying on top of Henry, his soft cock still buried in your sore pussy. Biting your lip, you carefully sat up, freezing as Henry moaned and shifted in his sleep. You reached out and gently soothed his curls off his forehead, until he relaxed and dropped back off into a deep sleep, before carefully moving off him, biting back a moan as his cock slipped free and you could get off the bed.

Henry stirred again, and you again played with his hair.

“Ssshh.” You whispered to him softly, heart pounding. “Sleep sweet, Henry.” You cooed at him, using your other hand to rub his chest, knowing how well it calmed him. When he finally relaxed again, you tiptoed into the bathroom, carefully feeling for the toilet in the darkness, not wanting to turn the light on and wake Henry up. Finding it, you groaned as your butt touched the ice cold seat, and relieved yourself with a sigh. Stepping back out of the bathroom, you glanced around and spotted Henry's backpack. Every nerve and cell in your body told you to grab it and break into it, taking back your shoes and the rest of your stuff, and bolt out of the room; nighttime be damned, you needed to get to Mikey.

You almost did go for it, before you heard Henry softly mumble out your name in his sleep. He was dreaming about you. So, it wasn't only you that dreamed of him, that your mind-blowing and intense sex wasn't just because you had given him an opening to do so. Henry actually wanted to have sex with you, because he was in love with you.

“Goddamn it.” You huffed softly, your breath coming out in a light fog in the chill of the room, feeling the chemicals of your flight mode die away as you watched him sleep from the foot of the bed, and he mumbled out your name, yet again.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the first shirt like object off the floor and pulled it on, before stepping over to the curtain-less window. You were so conflicted, you wanted to leave and get to Bristol, it was only a ten hour walk from Cherhill, and according to the antique clock on the wall, it was only three in the morning. If you left now, you could power walk it to Bristol, gaining more time between you leaving and Henry potentially waking up. Then, by the time he reached you again, you would be in the heavily populated city, making it a million times easier for you to hide from him, as you searched for your brother.

You looked over your shoulder at Henry and sighed, but you couldn't just abandon him again either. Especially, after the night you both had. It would have been a kick to his trust if you had ran again, but an even bigger drop kick to his heart, ruining whatever was potentially happening between the pair of you. He would never trust you again, he would never love you again. He would either finally treat you like the Slummer Slave he had purchased, or he would just throw you to the Council of Clerics, letting them do with you as they pleased. Sighing again, you rubbed at your tired face, turning back towards the window, and looked out over the back of the hotel, the half moon resting on the tips of the trees beneath it, throwing a eerie silvery light through their branches.

“What am I going to do?” You asked yourself, breath fogging up the windowpane in front of you, oblivious of Henry starting to stir on the bed behind you.

The slow alarm sounded through Henry's skull as his body realized that your weight was no longer on top of him. His unconscious mind's first attempt to remedy this, was to roll over onto his side, figuring you had simply rolled off of him in the might. A hand sluggishly moving out over the mattress in search of you, but came up empty. He moaned in his sleep, brow furrowing, before his alert blue eyes popped open and panned around the room in front of him, the bathroom door was dark, but open, a quick glance to the room door showed it was still locked, but you could have taken the key and locked it behind you as you ran again.

His heart started to pound, with the anxiety of possibly losing you, and anger that you had broken your promise not to run again. He rolled onto his back, to get up out of bed, but paused, finding you standing at the window, wearing nothing, but his knit sweater, to keep the chill of the room at bay, to some extent. He was relieved to see you hadn't run after all, but he could tell by the way you stood and hugged your arms around yourself, that you were having a mental war with yourself. Frowning, he sat up, reaching out for his boxers and pulled them back on, before standing up to move behind you.

You gasped at the touch of Henry's hand on your hip. “Christ.” You let out in a frightened huff.

Henry smiled softly at you. “I'm sorry.” He chuckled softly. “I didn't mean to scare you.” He said, kissing the back of your hair and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, hugging you back against him, to share the extra warmth of his body, and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“Anything interesting?” He asked gently, looking out the window.

You knew what Henry meant, he wanted you to confide in him, tell him what you were thinking and what was clearly bothering you. You sighed and squeezed your eyes shut, your stomach was in knots, as you thought about him and your brother, torn between the two men. Did you tell Henry you weren't going back to London with him, no matter what, breaking his heart and incurring his wrath? Or, did you let your brother reap his choice to work for dangerous people, potentially getting himself kill? It had been Mikey's choice to work for Jaxon Quinn, he knew the risks and rewards of doing so.

Everyone did.

You sighed again, the weight of your conflict sounding with that outtake of air. Henry took a soft intake of air through his nose and let it out again, your body was tense against his. He really didn't need to ask what you were thinking, or really how you were feeling, he could sense it, and had known about it the moment he learned all the facts in the matter. He just figured it would help you relax and come to a conclusion on what to do, if you talked about it.

“He's my brother, Henry.” You whispered, leaning your head back against his chest, but kept your eyes out the window.

“I know.” He replied, gently.

“But,” You frowned at the faint reflection of you both in the window, a new knot twisting in your stomach.

“But?” Henry frowned back.

“But, I-” You chewed on your lip for a moment, mustering up some courage. “I also love you.”

Henry felt a tingling warmth in his chest, hearing your words, pressing his lips together as he tried controlling the smile on his face. “I love you too.” He confessed, feeling a weight lift off of him.

“I don't want to choose.” You added, almost soundlessly.

Henry sighed, the smile turning into a frown as he heard your words. “I know you don't.” He said, softly, and closed his eyes, feeling the swell of conflict fill him as well.

He honestly didn't want to make you choose between him and Mikey, knowing that whatever choice you did make, you would end up regretting it, because it wasn't the other option. He felt you get squeezed into the same rock and hard place he was currently trapped in.

“Come back to bed.” He said, finally. “It's cold.”

The Supervisor laughed, shaking his head at the table between them. “He might spend a whole hour here for his shifts, other than that he's missing in action. I've reported him to the Council of Daily Operations numerous times, but they don't care because he still clocks in, despite it only being for that one hour.”

“So, he knows how to cheat the system.” Henry nodded, chewing on his lip, frustrated.

“Him and that equal loser friend of his, who's supposed to be working for us, but got himself transferred to his family's hole-in-the-wall restaurant.” Parker huffed, rolling his eyes.

“What friend?” Henry frowned, leaning against the table on his elbows.

“Theodore 'Teddy' Wang.” Parker replied. “He's a dishwasher for Wang's Take-Away.”

“Thanks.” Henry said, standing up and extending his hand to Parker, then made his way to the Chinese restaurant.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Jinyu asked from behind the register, smiling as Henry stopped in front of her.

“I'm looking for your son, Teddy Wang.” Henry replied, glancing behind her.

The smile on Jinyu's face melted away, she could tell by the way Henry looked and held himself that he was part of the Marshals Council. “He's not here today.”

Henry sighed, pressing his palms to the nicked counter top and leaned all his weight on his arms, bringing his piercing blue gaze to hers. “Mrs. Wang,” He said softly. “I'm not here to arrest your son, even if he's doing something that warrants it. All I want from him is answers to my questions. It's that simple, unless you and your son want to make it complicated.” He explained to her.

Jinyu stared at Henry for a long time, before rolling her eyes and pointing to the beaded curtain behind her. She knew if she didn't comply, Henry could make a load of trouble for her back at the Council, and she, her family and their business didn't need that. Henry nodded his head to her and stepped around the counter, parting the rattling beads as he stepped into the back of the restaurant and found Teddy there, doing what he was always doing; washing dishes.

“Teddy Wang?” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, who wants--” Teddy started, setting the plate in his hand down and turned towards Henry, drying his hands on his filthy apron. “Oh shit!” He yelped, seeing the imposing Henry, and spun around, tripping over his feet, before catching himself on the edge of the sink and bolting out the back door of the restaurant.

Sighing through his nose and dropping his arms, Henry went after Teddy, quickly catching up to the kid in the trash filled alley, trying to scale a chain-link fence. He easily reached up, grabbing the back of Teddy's shirt and yanked him off the fence, before slamming his back against the grimy wall of his parents' restaurant.

“Look, I ain't got nothin'!” He barked at Henry, squirming.

“Is that so?” Henry smirked, deciding to have a little fun on Teddy's expense. “That's not what I heard.” He shoved a hand into the front pocket of Teddy's faded jeans. “Oh, what's this?” He grinned, pulling out a small, dime-sized bag from the pocket, a sky-blue powder inside of it.

“That's just Naproxen tablets, they must have gotten crushed.” Teddy gulped, looking like a caught sheep.

“Right.” Henry laughed, opening the bag and dumping it out onto the wet ground, then rubbing it out with the sole of his boot.

“Oh, come on, man!” Teddy whined, slumping back against the wall. “That's expensive.”

“Really? I thought Naproxen was only five creds?” Henry replied, tilting his head at the boy.

“One cred is too expensive down here, you'd know that, if you lived in this hell hole too.” Teddy sneered at him. “Marshal.”

Henry smirked at Teddy. “I wanna talk about Mikey Keagan.” He said, cutting to the chase.

“Oh fuck that!” He snapped, shaking his head. “I am getting tired of being roped into their fucking issues.”

“Their?”

“Yeah, their!” Teddy spat. “Mikey tries to rope me into his Running operations and his sister, the last time I saw her, she held me up at knife point, until I told her where her brother went.”

“When was this? That she held you up?” Henry asked, not buying his story about you holding him at knife point.

If only he knew.

“Eight or nine months ago.” Teddy replied. “Mike got into a fight with his parents about becoming a Runner for Jaxon Quinn, over in Sector Three of Bristol, and went down to the Thirty Sectors to stay with a friend. Issy comes by, a week later, and holds me up, until I tell her what friend he's staying with. Gave her shortcuts around the gates and everything.”

“What's the friend's name?” Henry asked, narrowing his eyes as he processed the story.

“Fynn Penmark.”

Henry looked Teddy over. “I'll let you off for having the Sub-Blue. But, if I ever find out you're in possession of it again, I'll make sure you're banished so far outside the walls of London, you'll be on a different fucking continent.” He threatened, pressing Teddy to the wall with a palm to the chest.

“Got it?” He hissed.

“Got it.” Teddy gulped, licking his lips and nodding his head, like a bobble-head.

“Good.” Henry pushed off of him and headed through the back door of the restaurant again.

“Hey, mister!” A boy on the street corner called out to Henry as he was unlocking his car.

“What!” Henry barked back at him.

“You lookin' for a girl?” He asked, and described you to him.

“That's her.” Henry nodded at him, leaning back against his car door. “What do you know about her?”

“What's in it for me?” The boy asked.

Henry chuckled, shaking his head. “What's your name, kid?”

“Oscar.”

“Well, Oscar.” Henry sighed, rubbing his forehead and carding his fingers through his hair. “What do you want for the information?”

Oscar looked around him and pointed back to Wang's Take-Away. “Lunch. She already got me breakfast to see if any of her family was home.” He confessed.

Henry half smirked at the little boy and finally recognized him, so you had been in the area within the last three hours. “Fair enough.” He agreed to Oscar's terms. “Information first, then lunch.”

“She's looking for her brother, says he's in some kind of trouble, didn't say what.” Oscar told him, fidgeting. “Then, she told the Chinese lady to give me some food, got some for herself, then left.” He pointed to the East, toward Sector Twenty-Nine's gate. “That way.”

“All right, kid.” Henry sighed, satisfied with the information and pushed off the car, going back into the restaurant and let Oscar get some food and a drink, before heading towards Sector Twenty-Nine's gate.

He figured you were going to go find this Fynn Penmark's flat, to see if your brother was there, or what Fynn knew about Mikey's whereabouts. Henry gave you credit, you would make a damn good Marshal with the level of forward-thinking and intuition you had going on, in the case of finding your brother. He was also relieved to know that his own intuition about your brother being in some kind of serious trouble was all so right.

Now, to find you and learn the rest of the facts on the matter.

It took some doing, but you finally found out where Fynn Penmark lived. But, as you approached the opening in the wall separating Sector Thirty and Thirty-One, your heart started to race and pound, hands shaking and palms sweating, it became hard to breathe. You stopped and pressed your hands to your face, trying to push back the terrified tears that streaked hotly down your cheeks. You felt like you were breaking loose.

“Are you okay?” A voice nearby asked.

You started, stumbling away from the concerned looking woman. “Stay away from me!” You barked at her, gasping for air.

The woman looked wildly at you, palms held out to show you she meant no harm, but stayed where she was standing. You stared at her, taking huge lungfuls of air, trying to fight off the dizziness clouding your brain and the bright, blinking spots in your eyes. Your tears finally stopped, but your hands still shook, and you could breathe a little bit easier.

“I'm sorry.” You apologized to the lady. “It's been a hard day.”

“It happens.” She replied, lowering her hands. “Do you need to get somewhere?”

“I know where I'm going, thank you though.” You assured her, even if it was possible she didn't mean you any harm, you weren't going to risk it, like you had the last time you were in these Sectors.

“I hope you find what you're looking for.” She told you, honestly.

“So, do I.” You nodded to her, politely.

You waited for her to go back about her business, before finding the opening and slipping through it, careful not to cut yourself again. Eric gave you point by point directions to the shabby building that Penmark lived in. You weren't surprised to find the lift in his building was broken, so you found the stairwell entrance and started mounting them to the twelfth floor.

“Flat 1283-A, Ms.” Eric's voice said through your headphones.

You found the dented and scuffed up door of Fynn Penmark and pounded on it, until he finally opened it. It took everything you had not to just burst out laughing. “Are you Fynn Penmark?” You asked, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Who wants to know?”

He was gangly, face pockmarked from severe acne, that he was still clearly suffering from, his greasy black hair fell to his shoulders, his filthy clothes might have fit properly, if he weighed more than a kilogram, and with the slightest intake of air, you could tell he hadn't showered in a while, he smelled ripe.

“I'm looking for Mike.” You told him, breathing through your mouth.

“I don't know any Mike.” He said, then slammed the door in your face.

Rolling your jaw, you started pounding on his door again.

“Look, bitch.”

“Call me a bitch, and I'll crack your head open with your own door.” You growled at him, heated. “I'm looking for Mikey, he's my brother. My twin brother.”

Fynn looked you over, then cracked a smile. “Oh, I see it now.” He chuckled, leaning against his door. “I haven't seen Mike in a week.”

“Do you know where the idiot's gone?” You asked him, folding your arms over your chest.

“His new handler, Knox Monroe, picked him up from here, as I said, a week ago, to take him to Bristol.”

“How long does it take to get to Bristol?”

“Depending on your transportation, anywhere from three hours to two days.”

“How do you take the three hour trip?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Have someone with a car pick you up and take you there.” He laughed, still smirking at you. “And I'm sure you don't. So, you'll be walking, and that's the two day option.”

“Doesn't seem so bad.” You sighed, frowning at the thought of walking that far.

“Are you stupid?” Fynn snapped, suddenly agitated. “Have you ever been outside the wall? Have you ever seen outside the wall? It's not rainbows and puppies out there. It's a barren fucking wasteland with pocket groups, that are more like feral wolves than humans, that would jump you, rob you and leave you for dead; if they didn't kill you in the process.”

“Have you been out there?” You asked him, chewing on your lip.

“Countless times.” Fynn nodded. “I make the run to Bristol, at least, once a month.”

“Can you take me?” You asked him, hopefully.

“No.” Fynn shook his head at you. “I've already made my run for the month and I don't take tag-alongs.”

“Can you tell me how to get there?” You tried to persuade him.

“Why is it so vital for you to go after him? He'll be back in a couple months.”

“Because, something bad is going to happen to him, and I have to warn him, before it happens.” You told him, desperate.

“Like, what?”

“Can you help me or not?” You snapped at him.

“All right, fine.” Fynn huffed back, rolling his eyes at you. “Come in.” He sighed, pushing the door open for you.

You hesitated for a moment, but stepped into the trashed flat. Fynn pushed some stuff aside until he found an electronic pad and pulled up a map he used to get from London to Bristol, the most efficient and safest way he could, when he did have to walk there. You watched him fuss over it for a few seconds, before holding his hand out to you.

“Mobile.” He grunted, rolling his eyes again and snatched it from your hand. “I'm giving you my best directions there, with a couple of notes, should you need to stay somewhere. Whatever you do, and I mean whatever you do, do not travel at night. I marked several places along the way you can stay at safely or get supplies from, just show them this.” He pulled up a logo on your mobile, his interlocking initials.

“They'll know I sent you and accommodate you, for free, and know you can be trusted.”

“Thank you.” You sighed, taking your mobile back.

“Hey, Mike is a good friend, and he's saved my ass more than once. So, I'm just returning the favor.” Fynn sighed, rubbing his face. “I wouldn't want Mike bashing my head in for getting his sister killed, that's for sure.”

There was a strong knock on the door and Fynn got up to check the peephole.

“Fuck, it's the Marshals.” He snapped.

“Big fellow, shoulders wider than the door, curls and beard?” You asked, your adrenaline pumping.

“You know him?” Fynn asked, shocked.

“You can say that.” You gulped, glancing around. “Please, you have to hide me. If he finds me here, he'll stop me from saving Mikey.” You pleaded with him, clutching at his cold hand. “Please, Fynn.”

“Fucking Christ, you Keagans are a wily bunch.” He huffed, then directed you into his bedroom. “Be quiet and don't touch anything.” He said, pointing a finger at you, before closing the door and rushing to answer Henry's incessant pounding.

“What the fuck do you want?” Fynn barked at Henry, almost able to look Henry in the eye, glaringly.

“High Marshal Cavill.” Henry said, flashing his badge in Fynn's face.

“And?” Fynn huffed, unperturbed, he had dealt with far scarier people, both High Marshals and Crime Bosses before, and wasn't afraid of Henry.

Henry could see that Fynn wasn't frightened by him and his tired blue eyes darkened, before he grabbed Fynn by the shirt and launched him backwards into his flat, then stepped inside himself, kicking the door closed behind him. While Henry didn't usually employ rough tactics and overly abuse his power as a Marshal, he wasn't wholly immune to it either, he still had his flaws and prejudice from his status as a high born and position in London.

“Fynnch Oliver Penmark.” He growled at the Runner and looked around the utterly trashed flat, a scowl of disgust on his face. “Rumor has it, that you're a Runner.” He said, settling his eyes back on Fynn, who was using the cluttered coffee table to pull himself up.

“Vicious rumors.” Fynn huffed, brushing himself off. “That dumb brain at my work place has it out for me, so he keeps trying to report me to the Council of Daily Operations.”

“You certainly don't spend much time at work.” Henry countered. “What were you again? A floor licker?”

“A Janitor.” Fynn barked, scowling. “I don't want to spend all my time in a hostile environment. So, I do enough hours to appease those blood thirsty bastards at the Council, and get paid.”

“We'll see how long that'll last.” Henry replied, folding his arms. “All I have to do is give them one word and they'll cut you off and you won't have this hell hole to keep you cozy in anymore.”

“What do you want, mate?” Fynn sighed with a growl, he was starting to think you weren't worth the trouble Henry wanted to make for him.

“I had a visit with a friend of yours, Teddy Wang, up in Sector Twenty-Eight.” Henry said, pushing aside some trash by his foot. “He told me that you might know something about Mikey Keagan and his sister.”

“I haven't seen Mike, in a week, and I've never met his sister.” Fynn replied, taking a seat on a clear spot on his couch.

“Funny.” Henry hummed, frowning at him. “I had a little informant tell me that she was seen coming this direction, to see you.”

“Well, either that informant lied to you or she's lost her way. Because she's not here or has she been.”

“I doubt you would tell me, if she was.”

“Look, if giving you information on her would get you out of my place and my business, then I'd give it and her to you. But, I don't know where she is and I haven't seen her.” Fynn told him, annoyed. “You can look around, if you want.” He said, motioning around his pig sty.

Henry glanced around with a dirty look, then looked back to Fynn. “I know you're lying to me.” He hissed, his gut was screaming. “So, you either tell me, or I'll make that call right now and arrest you on top of it.” He warned Fynn, taking out his mobile.

“Jesus!” Fynn barked, jumping to his feet. “Fine! She came by an hour ago, looking for her brother, and said she was afraid something bad was going to happen to him, if she didn't find him and warn him about it. She wanted to know when I saw him last and I told her, just like I told you, it's been a week since I saw Mike.”

“What did she do with that information?” Henry asked, lowering his phone.

“She asked if I knew where her brother went.”

“And, where is Mikey?”

“Bristol.” Fynn said, deflating.

“Bristol.” Henry repeated, sighing. “What is Mikey doing in Bristol?”

“I don't-”

Henry grabbed Fynn by the shirt and yanked him against him, narrowing his glowing blue eyes. “Out with it, Slum.” He growled, harshly.

“He's a Runner.” Fynn yelped, now he was frightened of Henry. “He's been a Runner for the last two years, and he's going to Bristol so he can be trained as an Adjutant Runner for one of the top Crime Bosses of Bristol, Jaxon Quinn.” He babbled out, his eyes huge. “I gave her directions on how to find him there and she left soon after, to start that way.” He added without Henry prompting or threatening him.

“Fuck.” Henry barked, pushing away from Fynn and storming out of his flat, cursing all the way down the hall.

“You can come out now.” Fynn huffed, opening his bedroom door a few minutes later.

“How could you tell him all that!” You snapped at him, punching him on the arm.

“Oh, chill your heels.” He growled, rubbing his arm. “He thinks you're already gone and doesn't know the route you'll be taking. Besides, he's a High Marshal, he's not going to leave the wall for some girl. The Councils wouldn't allow it and even the craziest and most determined Marshals have enough sense not to chance it.”

“I could have just given you away, after all the trouble the asshole gave me.” He added, sourly.

“Thanks.” You grumbled under your breath.

“Hey, when you see your brother again, tell him he owes me for a change.” He called after you.

“Tell him yourself.” You snapped over your shoulder and slammed his door shut.

“She's fucking stupid.”

Henry growled, every muscle in his body was wound up and tight as he thought of you crossing the desolate waste outside the London Wall to Bristol. The danger that laid between there and London, and the even worse danger that lived and functioned inside the city of Bristol itself.

“She's out of her mind!” He kept mumbling, all the way back down to the car. “She's going to get herself killed!” He sighed, running both hands through his hair and making a bigger mess of his wild curls.

“What!” He hissed at his mobile rang through his car's AI.

“Is that how you address your Supreme?” Reyes asked, stiffly.

Henry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. I'm sorry, sir. It's been a horrible morning.” He apologized.

“That Slave of yours keeping you up at night, Cavill.” Reyes laughed, his voice suggestive.

“Not exactly.” He huffed, spent.

“Well, either way.” Reyes sighed, sounding just as tired. “I need you to bring her in for her formal interview. The Council of Clerics have finally started the trials for the Trafficking.”

“Ugh.” Henry groaned, slumping in his seat. “Mother fucker.”

“Henry?” Reyes said slowly, hearing the sound of his voice.

“She's gone.” Henry admitted, regretfully. “I woke up this morning to her, gone. I've been trying to find her all day.”

“You lost her!”

“If you want to put it that way.” He mumbled, picking at his nails and feeling like he was getting scolded by his mother.

“Where is she?”

“Well, if I knew that, I would have her, wouldn't I?” He snapped back, forgetting himself for a moment.

“What have you been doing all day!?”

“Following every lead to find her that I could, Dylon.” Henry defended himself, exasperated. “I've been to her family home, her work place and even her twin brother's workplace, along with every one of their friends'.”

“And?” Reyes screamed, veins bulging from his forehead and neck.

“My latest Intel says, she's on her way to Bristol, to find her brother, Michail.” Henry sighed, his temples throbbing. “She believes he's in trouble, since he's an Adjutant Runner for Jaxon Quinn.”

“Are you telling me, your Slave, has a twin brother, that's a member of a top Crime Boss's business? The same Jaxon Quinn, that funds Twist's Trafficking?”

Henry swallowed, thickly. “Yes.”

“You realize, she's not only a top witness to Twist's operations, but Quinn's as well. She could help us bring him down, Henry! And you let her get away! How did you not know this to start with? Don't, don't fucking answer that. You know, if she gets there and Quinn realizes who she is-”

“He'll kill her.” Henry replied, his voice weakening.

“Has she left for Bristol yet?”

“As far as I know.” Henry replied, depressed on the matter. “I plan on going after her, Dylon.” He added, he had already made the choice to go after you, he didn't care what Dylon or the Councils said on the matter.

“You know, I can't officially back you in your decision to chase after a Slummer, Henry.” Reyes sighed, leaning against his desk and rubbing his own throbbing head. “But, as your friend and someone that wants to take down Twist and Quinn, you have my full backing.”

“What are we going to say when I don't come in for work, for however long it takes me to find and bring her back?”

“I want both of them, Henry. I want her and her brother. She's a witness and he's a conspirator in Quinn's business.” Dylon told him, bluntly. “I'll tell them that you are quite deeply undercover, trying to gain more info.”

“I'll need to go home and take Kal to Charlie's. I'll just tell him, I'm going undercover for a long while and will be back, when I crack the case.”

“That sounds fine.” Reyes nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. “Don't fuck this up, Henry.” He said, then hung up.

“Thanks.” Henry sighed, rolling his eyes.

You were careful as you made your way to the wall, knowing Henry was probably still lurking somewhere nearby, looking for you. You tried to stay in as well populated areas as you dared, hoping to dodge anyone working for Traffickers or getting spotted by Henry.

“Hey, do-”

“Fuck off.” You snapped as a guy approached you, not wanting anything he had to say or wanted from you, and picked up the pace of your walking.

It was starting to get late, after it taking all day to piece your way through the Sectors and follow your brother's footsteps. You probably would have been out of the city by now, if Henry hadn't showed up at Fynn's flat and took vital time interrogating him about you. You wondered how furious he would be to know how close to you he was in Fynn's place, and still didn't manage to catch you.

“We'd have to see each other again.” You mumbled to yourself.

The chances of seeing Henry again were probably pretty slim. After being gone for a little while, he would give up on trying to find you and go back to work for the Marshals and his life. A deep part of you throbbed though, you felt bad for leaving him like that, especially after everything he had done for you. He could have been an absolute monster and treated you like the Slummer that you are, forcing you to wear a Ownership bracelet and making you his proper Slave. But, Henry had been a complete gentleman to you, taking care of your every need and whim, it was almost like he had become your Slave. Then, the charging of several hundred credits to his account for the backpack and mobile, and the dress and jewelry for the party.

“He'll get over it.” You said, shaking your head. “He's a High Marshal, for fuck sake! He probably makes all that in a single case.” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

But, it didn't stop you from feeling bad for leaving him, without a single word.

“Take a right.” Eric's voice said, cutting into your train of thought.

Grunting, you took the quick right at his instruction. As you rounded the corner, you saw, several meters in front of you, the opening in the massive wall that encompassed the city and its citizens. The opening was one-third the size of the meter wide metal and rusted panel, a strip of dying light filtering through the four meter thick wall. Just a kilometer beyond that, was the first place you would be able to find shelter in for the night, then come first light, you would be on your way towards Bristol and your brother.

“Hey!” A harsh call barked behind you as you approached the gap.

You slowly turned and felt a hard lump form in your throat. It was a Beta Marshal, and he looked pissed. “Me?” You squeaked, pointing to yourself, sheepishly.

“Yes, you!” He hissed, face starting to go red with his anger. “Get away from the wall!”

“Why?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him, heart pounding.

“Because, I said so!”

You took a deep breath in and out, turned on your heels and dashed for it. The Beta Marshal screamed for you to stop and come back, but you ignored him. You dove into the opening and shimmed along it, going as quickly as you could, having to turn sideways in a couple of places to get through. The Marshal was still yelling at you, wedging himself into the gap to chase after you.

The light got bright and brighter, despite the sun setting lower and lower, as you struggled through the opening to the outside world, until you finally popped out on the other side, a cool breeze rushing passed you, fresh and clean. You turned back to the hole and saw the Beta Marshal panting about halfway, then made a dismissive motion with his hand and started back inside London.

You were home free now.

“Eric, where's the first safe house?” You asked, grinning and feeling victorious, despite the hundred and eighty-five kilometers between you and Bristol.

“Head straight for an hour, Ms.” Eric replied a moment later.

With Kal taken care of by his family, Henry returned to the Marshal Headquarters, intent on following after you, but knowing he needed better information on how to navigate the world outside London to do so.

“Henry.” Martin grinned as Henry entered his floor in the headquarters. “How are you?”

“Not in the mood.” Henry growled, folding his arms over his chest. “I know you have a Runner in your lock up, Lukas Hadwin.”

“Um,” Martin blinked up at Henry, then turned towards his computer and typed the name into his computer. “I do! He was arrested two months ago and is awaiting trial with the Council of Clerics.” He confirmed, turning back towards Henry.

“I want him brought to a private interrogation room on my floor, in the next five minutes.” Henry told the Alpha Marshall, then turned on his heels and marched back up the three floors to his office, needing the walk to calm down some of his anger.

Four minutes later, Martin shoved Lukas Hadwin into the private interrogation room on the High Marshall's floor, and handcuffed him to the table.

“Get out.” Henry barked at Martin, throwing the door open, startling both Martin and the Runner.

“But, Hen-” He started to protest, but his blood froze in his veins seeing the look on Henry's face. “High Marshall, he's my arrest, so he's my responsibility.”

“I outrank you, Sidwell.” Henry growled back at him, the anger he had managed to walk off started boiling again. “So, when I tell you to get out of my fucking interrogation room, I mean, get out.” He hissed.

Martin licked his lips, sheepishly, his mouth drying up. “Of course, High Marshall.” He croaked, edging around Henry, for the door.

“Mr. Hadwin.” Henry said, reaching up to the camera in the corner of the room and turning it off. “According to your extensive file, you're a high ranking Runner for a Bristol Crime Boss.”

“Total bullshit.” Lukas barked, trying hard to keep the angry and outraged expression on his face, despite shaking in his jail issued trainers. “My bitch of an ex-girlfriend reported me to the Council of Marshals, telling you corrupt pricks that I was a Runner, because I broke up with her and refused to pay her flat fees.”

“Is that so?” Henry replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Then, what's this?” He asked, dropping an open file on the table and pointed to a section of it. “Says you and another known Runner were arrested in 2864, for possession of a large cache of Sub-Blue. Your little partner in crime blabbed about how you both worked for a lucrative Crime Boss, running the drugs between Bristol and London.”

“Was he lying?”

Lukas glowered at the report, but didn't answer Henry's question; which only increased Henry's blood pressure. Grabbing the back of Lukas's neck, Henry slammed his face onto the metal table, cracking the screen on the file, and rested an uncomfortable amount of his weight on Lukas's neck.

“Was he lying?!” He yelled, directly into his ear.

“No!” Lukas cried out, squirming, fruitlessly.

“What Crime Boss?” Henry continued to yell.

“Benji Hernandez!” He squealed, whimpering.

Henry pushed off of Lukas's neck with a huff, he had heard about Hernandez, he had heard about all of the big time Crime Bosses that ruled Bristol like the Council of Clerics and Royals ruled London. But, Hernandez was the cream of the crop. His family was credited with establishing Bristol and bringing it to the level, almost on par, with London through deep waves of crime, selling every drug they could get their hands on or manufacture themselves, their number one seller was unsurprisingly, Sub-Blue.

Many Crime Bosses and groups had tried dethroning the Hernandez Family, and all had failed. They had too much money, too much power and their followers, all across England, were loyal, to the death. A massive turf war had broken out several years back, the first conflict of the sort since the end of the fourth war. It had mainly broken out and was confined in Bristol, with pockets of skirmishes in London and the other major city of England, Chester, before finally being squashed. Dozens of people were killed and maimed in the four month long battle, and the Hernandez's kept their throne and were still stronger than ever.

The Hernandez's family, friends and their most distinguished workers were the only ones that lived in Sector One and Two of Bristol, everyone else lived in Sector Three to Sector Fifteen.

“How do you get to Bristol?” Henry asked, pacing around the table.

“It depends.” Lukas panted, rubbing the back of his sore neck.

“On?” Henry pressed.

“The size of the load.” He replied, groaning. “If it's a small load, I'll walk there. If it's a large load, then we'll be driven from a checkpoint outside London to Bristol and back.”

Henry quietly paced around the room, brooding on his next course of action. He knew, for a fact, you wouldn't be driving to Bristol, or knew someone, other than your brother, who was already gone, that could drive you there. So, you had to be heading for Bristol on foot. He debated how he would follow after you, he could take his car to find you, sure he could reach you faster that way, but the moment he managed to get out of the wall with it, his car's on board locator would alert the appropriate channels and they'd go after him.

Especially since going after you wasn't authorized and being done quietly. Leaving Henry with the same option you had been saddled with.

Walking

“How do you get from London to Bristol?” He asked and leaned against the table, across from Lukas.

“There's two routes to Bristol.” Lukas sighed, knowing if he didn't tell Henry the information he wanted, the High Marshal would no doubt beat it out of him. “One is only used if you have a car, because pit stops are few and far between, and you don't want to be caught out there alone, especially at night. So, staying in the moving protection of a car is the best way for that path, since it's longer.”

“The other?”

“The other, is the one that's usually used by Runners that are walking between the two. It's shorter, by several kilometers, but slightly more dangerous than the car route, since it runs through several mini-towns that people, who were either banished or choose to live out there, populate. Some of them and the mini-towns are friendly and benevolent, but most are not. So, if you don't know what ones to stop in, chances are, you'll end up dead and stripped clean of any valuables they can take back into the cities and trade for goods.”

Henry gulped thickly, and felt a cold sweat break out on his skin as he battled the anxiety of you being out there, alone, for so long. He knew it was critically dangerous out there, but hearing Hadwin talking about it and the things between the two cities made it abundantly clear it was even more dangerous than he thought.

“Are you all right?” Lukas asked, seeing Henry's scruffy face steadily grow pale.

“I'm fine.” Henry growled, getting a handle on himself. “How do you know this other route, you used to walk there?”

“It's been used by thousands of Runners, for years.” Lukas laughed, shaking his head. “But, it was recently refined by another Runner.” He added, tugging on his cuffs. “Fynn Penmark recently compiled a map of safe places that Runners can stay for the nights and buy supplies.”

What were the chances? Henry thought.

“You'll be giving me that map.” He told him.

“I can't!”

Lukas squeaked, frightened at the thought of a High Marshal having the map showing him where Runners were coming and going from, the places they stayed and people that aided their operations.

“They'll kill me, if they find out I gave it to you!” He protested.

Henry leaned across the table, bringing his face close to Lukas's. “Look in my eyes and ask yourself, if you think I give a fuck?” He whispered, his tone cold and calculated.

“Now, give me the directions.”

Lukas gulped and nearly peed himself from the energy brewing off of Henry, who didn't pull back as he gave him the directions for the route. Henry looked over the map, making a legend of the symbols Lukas had made along the way, marking places to sleep and get supplies, as well as places that should be avoided at all costs. Once he was satisfied and sure the Runner wasn't lying to him and had told him all he knew, Henry stepped out into the hall and by Martin, not exchanging a single word with him.

Returning to his flat, Henry felt the quiet throughout it, without Kal's barked greeting and you either watching tv or listening to music. He missed those noises and being greeted by the both of you as he got home from work or wherever he had gone. Sighing, he grabbed a bag and stuffed a few items into it, a change of clothes, a small medical kit and a few other things he felt he might need, then checked to make sure his service weapon was still secure to his hip. Knowing it was getting cold out, Henry took off his coat and shirt, and pulled on his base layer HAMR, long sleeve shirt to wear under his black, knit sweater, before pulling his lightweight down jacket back over that.

Slinging his backpack over his back, situating his beanie on his head and zipping up his coat, Henry went back out the door, locking it up and rode the lift down to the ground floor. He knew a place in Sector Four with a large enough hole in the wall that he could squeeze through and start his journey to finding you.

Taking his best guess and trusting his gut feeling, Henry made his way to one of the first safe houses on the map, that you would likely stop in for the night. He just hoped he could get there before you left. But, you had an almost five hour head start on him already. Since, he had to spend so much time pulling information out of Hadwin, plus the nearly a two hour walk around the wall to get to the closest point to the house, and where you nearly had a straight shot to it, then the hour to the mini-town.

Within an hour of you both leaving Fynn's flat, Henry had entered the Marshal's Headquarters to interrogate the known Runner, Lukas Hadwin, on how to get to Bristol, and you had reached the opening in the wall. While you finally reached the safe town and your room, Henry had been grilling Hadwin for a tense hour. For the next two, you took a much needed rest, and Henry finally finished juicing Hadwin for every bit of info he had, including the map Fynn had given you for the trip. He then rushed home, taking Kal to Charlie's and packing a bag to follow after you.

Henry wasn't afraid of the nearly three hour walk to the house, in the middle of the night. He could easily protect himself, both with his weapon and his hands, it was you that consumed all of his worry and fear. You had nothing to protect you, other than your wits, but those would only get someone so far, before running out and getting you severely injured, or killed.

“Please, just keep her safe until I can reach her.” He said out loud, looking up at the inky black sky and twinkling stars.

“That's all I ask.” He sighed, walking faster.

You were exhausted after running around London all day, running from Henry and a Beta Marshall, then walking non-stop for a solid hour to reach the first safe place on Fynn's map, just as the last rays of sunlight died behind the horizon.

“Who are you and what do you want?” A hard looking woman behind a makeshift counter asked as you entered the decrepit building that was marked as a safe place.

“I'm a friend of Fynn's.” You told her, approaching the counter and showed her Fynn's logo off his map.

“I guess you want a room then?” She asked, turning her back to you and grabbed a key off the wall behind her.

“I do.” You replied, sheepishly.

“This way.” She rasped, disappearing through a doorway.

You gulped and followed after her, following her down a long dimly lit hallway with rows of doors on either side. She stopped by a door in the middle of the hallway and jammed the key in the lock and opened it. Pushing it open, she handed you the key and went back down the hall, leaving you alone. You leaned into the room, flicking on the light and finding it bare, only furnished with a bed, a single chair and nothing else, not even a window.

Sighing and figuring it was better than nothing, you stepped inside, closed and locked the door behind you, even shoving the chair up against it, for added security, before sitting down on the squeaky and dingy bed. Shrugging off your backpack, you unzipped it and pulled out a package of food you'd brought with you, slowly munching on it, before making sure Eric woke you up as soon as it was light out, and laid back on the bed; using your pack as a pillow. But, it took you a long time to fall asleep, the room was cold and there were scratching noises happening all around you, making you paranoid. But, eventually your exhaustion won out and you fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of your brother dying and Henry's voice calling out to you.

The time seemed so short, when Eric's voice sounded in your ears, and in reality, it had only been a mere two hours. Now, unknowingly, three hours ahead of Henry, you woke groggily and sat up, rubbing at your face, as you got up and pulled your backpack on. You removed the chair from your door and went down the hall to the front desk, finding the same lady there.

“Do you have a bathroom?” You asked her through a yawn and handed her the room key back, your bladder screaming.

She pointed to a door on the other side of the room and you went inside, grimacing at the filthy condition of it, but you really needed to pee, so you made do with it. Emptying your bladder, you looked at your map and found a supply store a mile up from you and headed that way, hoping for something decently hot, and was overjoyed to find a brewing coffee pot. You showed the supplier Fynn's mark, then filled a reusable cup with the hot brown liquid and roamed around as you sipped at it. Taking a couple more things of food, refilled your water bottle and pieced together something for breakfast.

“Thanks.” You smiled at the supplier as you finished your breakfast and refilled the coffee cup, before getting back on your way.

You made sure to follow Fynn's advice and the map, keeping your eyes to yourself and walking as quickly as you could to avoid trouble or attracting any unwanted attention. Everyone else around you did the same, there were very few people just standing around, those that were, begged for credits to buy things or trying to sell something else.

But, you ignored their harks and kept walking.

Once you were clear of the mini-town, you dared to have Eric put on some low music, the eerie quiet of the area playing on your anxious nerves as you headed for the next safe place, four hours to the north of your location. You decided to walk there as quickly as you could, then decide whether or not you could risk walking the extra two hours to the next one after that, without risking your own safety. Even though the sun had only just risen, you didn't want to play it risky or get cocky. If you did, and got yourself in trouble, you wouldn't make it to Bristol, hopefully in time to warn Mikey about potentially being in trouble, as Quinn's Runner.

“I'll make it, I know I will.” You assured yourself, pushing down the fearful anxiety. “I will.” You repeated, stubbornly, clenching your hands into fists. “I have too.” You added even softer, weakening to some of that concern.

“Have you seen this girl?” Henry asked, approaching a hard looking woman and showing her a photo he had taken of you and Kal, not that long ago.

“No.” The woman replied, shaking her head.

Henry narrowed his eyes at her, knowing she was lying through her missing teeth. Had he been in London, he would have simply slapped his badge on the counter and she would have sang like an Opera singer on opening night. But, he wasn't and that move would have sealed her lips up tighter than a crab's shell, and probably gotten him into a heap of trouble, wasting more of his time.

“Fine.” He sighed, turning away from her and heading back outside.

Glancing around, he spotted an elderly man standing at the corner, hands held out to every person that walked by him.

“Hey, old timer.” He said, walking up to him.

“Credit for a sandwich?” The old man asked, reaching his hands out to Henry.

“How about a sandwich for some information?” Henry asked, pulling a sandwich out of his pack. “Have you seen this girl?” He inquired, showing him your photo.

“Yeah, saw her super early this morning.” the old man replied, scratching his scraggly beard. “Just as I was setting up here, after first light, maybe three hours ago.”

“Looked in a mighty rush to be somewhere.” He added, nodding to himself.

“Thank you.” Henry thanked him and let him have the sandwich, plus an extra sandwich, just to be nice to the poor man, then started power walking away, knowing he was on the right path to find you and that the gap between you was steadily closing.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, you rubbed your palm up and down his thick arm, humming gently to him, then moved your hand to his broad and tense back, coaxing the strong muscles there to relax, before moving on to the one thing that always soothed Henry. Your fingers touched his curls, still slightly damp from the shower he took before bed. You didn't know what it was, but Henry loved having his hair played with, especially when he was asleep and agitated. You ran your fingers through them, how you learned he liked. Henry took a soft breath in and out, then relaxed for a moment, making you smile, assured he'd moved past the nightmare he was having.

But, as you moved towards the door, Henry whimpered again, and you turned back to see all your work of the last ten minutes, undone.

“Stubborn tonight.” You commented, looking down at Kal.

Shoulders slumping, you moved back to your spot on his bed and started caressing and rubbing his hair again, gently massaging the back of his neck. You thought you were about to get him to relax and calm down again, when he took a sudden sharp breath, tensed every muscle in his body and jerked upright. Pupils huge with his fright as his blue eyes scanned the room, like he would find the cause of his fear, but his frantic gaze shifted to you; your own pupils dilated from the start he gave you. He only looked at you for a moment, before his arm wrapped around your waist and hugged you against his shaking body, and buried his face into your neck.

Blinking, you wrapped your arm around his shoulder and rubbed his back. “It's okay.” You whispered into his hair, gently rubbing the back of his head. “It'll be all right.”

Both of you stayed like that for a long time, Henry holding onto you and you tenderly carding your fingers through the back of his hair, just still and quiet in the darkness of his bedroom, his grasp on you never loosening.

“Why don't you lay back down?” You suggested, your fingertips trailing down the cooling sweat along his spine.

Henry slowly let you go and laid back against his pillows, and you softly smiled at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, before standing back up. But Henry's hand caught your wrist and you looked back at him, you could see the fear lingering in the back of his cerulean eyes. Licking and biting your lip for a moment, you moved around the foot of his bed, to the open side, and laid down with him. You scooted close to him, draping your arm over his bare stomach, letting him know you were there with him, and closed your eyes.

Henry watched you for a few minutes, before finally allowing himself to relax and go back to sleep. The skin of his stomach tingled under the contact of your arm, the warm bare skin of your arm was like a balm to the fear and terror of his nightmare. He woke the next morning, still in the same position with you, but you were closer to him, the caress of your breath on his shoulder, warm and gentle. He turned his head to look at you and realized how deeply asleep you were, a smile tugged at his lips, amused for someone that still didn't completely trust him, would be so out cold in the same bed.

Gently detaching you from him, Henry sat up and ran a hand through his hair, feeling the ghost of your own hand in it still. You woke up a few minutes later to the smell of coffee, just as Henry came back into the room, holding a cup in each hand. He looked up and smiled, extending one of the cups to you.

“Thanks.” You whispered, taking the steaming hot cup from him and sat up. “And, good morning.” You added, taking a sip and discovering it was tea, just how you liked it.

“Morning.” Henry smiled and took a gulp of his coffee.

“You all right?” You asked, frowning at him, he seemed unusually chipper.

“I am.” He nodded, his bright blues holding your gaze. “What were you doing in here, last night?” He asked, finally.

“You were having a nightmare.” You replied, clearing your throat and breaking his stare.

“Yeah.” He nodded again, sitting down on his bed with you. “I tend to have them, nightly.”

“I've noticed.” You chuckled, lightly. “Last night was the third time you woke me up, because of them.” You confessed, shyly.

“I'm so sorry.” Henry blushed, gulping.

“It's all right, it's not your fault.” You assured him. “It's not like you're having them on purpose.” You pointed out.

“So, what have you been doing?”

“I do try to wake you up from them, but you never do. Until last night, that is.” You coughed, biting your lip, and feeling awkward. “So,” Your face grew hot and you hid your face around the rim of your cup. “I just sit with you, until you're okay again.”

Henry grinned at you, his scruffy cheeks coloring. “That's very sweet of you.” He complimented you. “Thank you.” He added, quietly.

“Mr. Cavill.” Lucy suddenly chimed in.

“Yes, Lucy?” Henry replied, looking away from you.

“You have an incoming call from your mother.” Lucy answered, just as the sound of Henry's mobile went off on his bedside table.

“Thank you, Lucy.” He sighed, setting his coffee down and picked his mobile up. “Hey, Mum.” He smiled, as he answered the call.

“Henry, I hope you haven't forgotten the Royal Dinner tonight.” His mother replied, right away, knowing her son well enough.

“Oh fuck.” Henry snapped, raking a hand through his hair.

“Henry.” She sighed, shaking her head at her son's language.

“Sorry, Mum.” He gulped, biting his lip. “I did forget about it, work's been crazy.”

Marianne sighed again, shaking her head at how much her son worked for the Marshals. “Well, You're still coming, we haven't seen you in almost a year, and we live in the same Sector.” She tisked at him, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “We'll have to find you a plus one, you can't come alone.” She said, running through a mental list of all the young and single ladies she knew, that could come to the Dinner with Henry, and not make the family look bad.

“Perhaps, Riley.” She said, picturing the redhead on Henry's arm. “I think she's still single, or Michelle, I just saw her mother the other day, and she made a point to say she was single..”

Henry pressed his fingertips to his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as his mother continued to run through the list, shaking his own head. He didn't want to go with any of those status and money hungry, plastic gold diggers. Then, his eye caught you, sitting up against the headboard, sipping your tea and petting Kal's head, totally oblivious.

“Mum,” He said, cutting her off. “I don't need a date.”

“Nonsense, of course you do.”

“No.” Henry chuckled. “I mean, I don't need one, because I already have one.” He told her, smiling at you.

“What?” You and his mother squeaked at the same time.

“Who is she?” Marianne asked, shocked to hear Henry had a girl already, that could so easily go with him.

“Um, she's a girl I met at work.” He replied, his mouth going slightly dry.

“She's a Marshal?”

“Uh, no.” He carded a hand through his hair, nervously. “But, she did help me on a case and we got close.” He told her, looking at you wide eyed.

“As long as she's respectable.” Marianne told him, suspicious.

“She is.” Henry nodded, smiling softly at you. “We'll see you tonight.” He said, then hung up with her.

“What are you doing, Henry?” You asked, with wide eyed shock.

“I need a date to the Royal Dinner tonight.” He answered, biting his lip.

“And you want to take me?” You gulped, feeling a nauseous pit in your stomach.

“Why not?”

“You want me to go to one of the most prestigious dinners London has, with the top officials, that run the city? Me. A low down Slummer, that is technically your slave.”

“Yes.” Henry nodded, stubbornly, he didn't care about any of that.

“You seriously think they're going to let me go with you?”

“I do.”

“Yeah, then push me in a corner with the rest of the slaves.”

“Like hell they will.” Henry snapped, angered at the idea.

“No, Henry. I can't.” You shook your head. “That's too much. I don't know the first thing about high society or Royal etiquette. I'll fuck things up and make both of us look stupid.” You argued, getting out of his bed and going into the living room.

“You won't, I swear.” Henry said, following after you. “I'll help you. We'll be in this together. I'm not any better at socializing with them than you are.”

“But, you still know what you need to do and how to look or act. I don't.”

Henry moved closer to you, gently cupping your face in his hands. “You'll be fine, I'll be right there with you, the whole time.” He said softly, lowering his head to stare directly into your eyes. “We'll be in it together.”

You felt so strange in the long, royal blue, Chiffon halter-strap dress, with matching suede, lace-up heels, that you were slightly wobbly on.

“You look so beautiful.” Henry smiled, seeing you all dressed up.

Henry himself was in a similar dark blue, three-piece suit with a dark grey tie, so the pair of you matched. You smiled and glanced away from him, shyly, gently brushing your hair behind your ear. Henry chuckled and pulled something from his pocket, a medium sized, velvet box.

“It's customary to be decked out in blues, for families of the Royal Council.” He explained, opening the box. “So, I figured these would go perfectly with your outfit.” He said, turning the open box towards you.

“Oh.” You gasped, softly, eyes huge.

There was a pair of sparkling diamond and sapphire teardrop earrings in the box, accompanied with a matching teardrop necklace. You couldn't believe how beautiful they were, and just how expensive they must have been, on top of your dress and shoes that Henry bought for you to wear to the dinner. You had tried to convince him to not spend so much money on you, but Henry wouldn't hear anything about it, he wanted you to feel as beautiful as you looked, to feel special, so he dropped tons of credits on you.

“They're gorgeous.” You whispered, touching them gently.

“Glad you think so.” Henry smiled, setting the box down and carefully removing the necklace, then stepped behind you, gently putting it around your neck and clasping it.

You slipped off your regular earrings and delicately put on the new ones, feeling the cool weight of the real stones. Henry felt his heart skip a beat seeing you in all your decked out glory, a small lump even formed in his throat, that made him clear his throat and look away to gather himself again.

“So, where is this Dinner?” You asked, as the car left the parking garage.

“Sector One.” Henry replied, fidgeting with his tie. “There's a venue that all the high end Royals have for their functions, like the dinner.” He explained, giving up on it. “The dinner will only be two hours.” He added, glancing over at you.

“I really hope I don't embarrass you.” You mumbled, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“Oh, my family is going to embarrass me far before you do.” Henry chuckled, shaking his head at the thought and memory of the last few events he had to attend. “Don't worry about it. You'll do great.” He added in a softer tone, seeing the still unsure and worried look on your face.

Reaching over, he took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, a soft and encouraging smile on his face. You squeezed his hand back and returned his smile, feeling a bit more fortified against your anxiety about going to the dinner with him.

The venue for the dinner was so elegant and lavish, it took your breath away and had your eyes the size of plates. The colors were so rich and vibrant, deep blues and glittering golds with smooth charcoal grays and rich blacks. The twinkling of expensive crystal chandeliers hung over all of the tables, at least a hundred it looked like to you.

It was a buzz with people, all of them dressed, more or less, in the same colors as the venue. Henry had explained to you the importance of the colors, because it was only higher Sectors, four and up, that could afford and had occasion to wear them, so it showed status and wealth. It had only hit you at seeing the venue and the attendees that you realized just how high fashioned you and Henry were dressed, as the son of one of the most popular and powerful Supreme Royals, Marianne Dalgliesh-Cavill.

“Henry!” A voice came from the crowd of people, before the owner of the voice finally appeared.

“Heather.” Henry smiled at his sister-in-law as she approached.

“It's so good to see you, it's been ages.” Heather grinned, throwing an arm around Henry's neck in a warm hug.

“Yeah, I know.” He chuckled, hugging her back. “Work's been keeping me busy, as usual.” He told her, as they pulled apart.

“You work far too much.” She softly chided him with a gentle slap on the arm, then her eyes shifted over to you.

“Heather, this is my date.” Henry smiled brightly at you, giving his sister-in-law your name.

“It's a pleasure to meet you.” Heather smiled, offering her hand to you.

“Likewise.” You replied, carefully taking her hand for a moment.

“You look amazing in your dress.” She complimented you, giving you a look over.

“Thank you.” You gulped. “As do you.” You returned the kind comment; loving her knee length, navy blue, silk dress.

“The rest of the family is at our usual table.” Heather said, looking back to Henry for a moment, before skillfully gliding through the crowd towards the table.

“Told you.” Henry whispered, leaning close to your ear and chuckling.

Henry guided you towards the large table, you noticed Heather sitting beside a young man that was the near spitting image of Henry himself. You noticed his mother next, it was hard not to notice her, even seated Marianne carried herself with deep authority, grace and importance. She was beautiful, her shoulder length blond hair carefully styled and framing her gorgeous face. She was in a flawless navy blue, off-the-shoulder dress and matching jewelry. Henry rested his hand on the small of your back as you both stopped in front of the table, both of you taking a deep breath before the entire table turned to notice you.

“Henry.” Marianne said softly, smiling as she stood, the rest of the table standing with her, out of respect.

“Mum.” Henry smiled back at her.

“Who is this young lady?” She asked, looking at you.

Henry offered her your name, glancing at you, a sparkle in his blue eyes.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am.” You said around a tight throat, hoping you didn't look as terrified as you felt.

“You as well.” Marianne replied, her eyes methodically moving over you. “Well, shall we sit?” She finally said, taking her seat again.

“Yes, let's.” Henry's father, Colin, agreed, sitting down beside her.

As everyone sat back down, Henry politely pulled your chair out and pushed it in once you sat down, before taking his own seat beside you, his hand lightly resting on your thigh, feeling the slight shake to it as he did. Henry gave you another sweet and encouraging smile, then went around the table, introducing you to the rest of his family, his little brother, the one that looked so much like him, Charlie, who was Heather's husband. His three older brothers, Piers, Nik and Simon. All of them were either part of the Cleric Council or the Royal Council. He introduced his sister-in-laws, who were either homemakers or in similar Councils as their husbands. They were all extremely polite and nice to you, easing a lot of your anxiety and worry about attending such a high end function with Henry.

Everyone chatted about family life and work related things, sweetly keeping you in the conversation so you didn't get left out, until dinner was finally served about forty minutes later. Everything was so delicious and flavorful, some of it you didn't even know the name of, let alone seen and had before. But, it was all so good.

“So, what is it that you do?” Piers's wife asked, looking at you from across the table.

You felt your throat go dry and Henry's hand grasp your thigh under the table, neither of you had fielded this question on the way to the event.

“She's not currently working.” Henry said, as you picked up your champagne glass.

“Then, how was it that she helped you in your last case?” Colin asked, before taking a bite of his food.

“I was conducting interviews for the case and she was one of the people I interviewed.” Henry said, his face somehow gave away none of the tension you could feel in his hand. “She had the information I needed.”

“You must have returned to interview her, if the pair of you hit it off so well, that you'd ask her to attend tonight with you.” Simon said, eyeing his little brother.

A smile started to break the control Henry had over his expression, before he managed to pull it back in. “Well, she is the witness for the case, so we got close.” His hand relaxed slightly.

“What was the case about?” Marianne asked, lifting a brow at her son.

“I'm still investigating it.” Henry replied, swallowing a gulp of wine. “So, you know I can't completely speak on the matter.”

Marianne stared at Henry for a moment, before her brow slowly lowered and she dropped the subject. “What Sector are you from?” She asked you.

“She's-”

“I asked her, Henry.” She gently scolded him.

The tension returned into Henry's hand, tenfold. You wouldn't be surprised to see bruises in its wake later.

“Lower than Sector Three.” You replied, trying your best to keep your face under control, gripping Henry's wrist, like it would help. “My family is of no prominence, but they make do with what they have.”

Marianne regarded you for a tense moment, before nodding her head. “It was nice of my son to invite you.”

“It was.” You agreed, nodding your head at her. “I'm quite honored for the distinction he's given me.”

The grip Henry had on your thigh changed slightly, it wasn't full of worried tension, but a grip of pride in your words and actions, standing up on your own against his mother's interrogation of you. After a short silence, the table returned to its normal conversation, seemingly appeased with the information gathered on you, however exaggerated it was. When you leaned in close to Henry and informed him you really had to use the restroom, he excused both of you and showed you to where they were situated.

“I'm quite impressed by how you stood up to my mum.” He commented as you both took your time returning to the table. “Not many people outside our family do.”

“With a good mind, I'm sure.” You chuckled, softly. “I hope, I didn't cross a line.”

“Oh, trust me.” Henry laughed. “If you had, she would let you have it.” He assured you, amused. “But, no. I think she likes you.”

“Really?” You replied, shocked to hear it.

“Yeah.” He nodded, looking across the room at his mother. “If she didn't, she wouldn't have let up on grilling you and just the way she is.”

“Well, that's nice to know.” You chuckled, nervously.

“You know what.” Henry said suddenly, grabbing your elbow to pull you to a stop. “Come dance with me.” He said, motioning to the modestly filled dance floor, several couples dancing to the soft song playing.

“No.” You shook your head, shyly. “I don't know how to dance.”

“That's fine.” He chuckled, slowly reeling you over to the floor. “I'll show you.”

“Henry.” You giggled, grinning and face warm.

Henry grinned back at you, finally getting you on the dance floor, and gently pulled you against him, positioning both of your and his arms properly, his arm around your waist and hand resting delicately on your lower back as you both started to gently sway to the song.

“See.” He smiled against your ear. “It's not so hard.” He teased you.

You and Henry enjoyed the rest of the night, but by the time the function was over, your feet and toes were screaming inside your heels. So, Henry had you wait at the entrance of the venue, slipping his suit jacket off and putting it over your shoulders, while he went down to the parking garage for the car, so you didn't hurt your feet anymore than they were already.

“Issy?” A soft voice whispered behind you.

Blinking, you carefully turned on your sore feet and saw the owner of the voice, a young boy in dirty, mismatched and over sized clothing, his dirty blonde hair cropped, stood meekly behind you, blinking back at you.

“Dax?” You whispered back, shocked to see him there.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” He asked, then looked you over. “Why are you wearing that?”

“I'm attending the event with someone.” You replied, becoming incredibly self-aware again. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm here with my Master.” Dax answered, looking around as if he expected them to suddenly appear. “My father sold me off to him two weeks ago.”

“I'm so sorry.” You frowned at him, empathetic. “Have you heard,” You glanced around to make sure Henry wasn't near. “Have you heard anything about Mikey?”

Dax tiptoed closer to you. “I heard he returned home not long ago. When he found out you had gone to look for him, he flipped out. But, no one knew where you went, they all looked for a long time. Still are, I'm sure.” He told you in a low voice. “Last I heard, he was going to--”

“Boy!” A voice roared and Dax flinched, like he had been struck. “What are you doing, bothering this young lady.” A portly man demanded of Dax, sallying up to you both and striking Dax on the back of the head. “My apologies, Miss.” He said, turning his red and blotchy face to you, and nodding his head politely.

“I am still trying to train this filthy miscreant.”

You floundered for a moment, unsure how to react. The man clearly thought you were one of the Uppers and treated you as such; but you were dumbfounded. “I-”

“Is there a problem here?” Henry's voice said behind you and you felt your stomach give out with relief.

“No.” You squeaked, turning towards him. “It was just a misunderstanding.” You told him, looking back to the portly man.

“Oh, High Marshal Cavill.” The portly man said, gulping at Henry, his fat neck jiggling with the motion.

“Beta Cleric Hunt.” Henry nodded his head to the man and resting his hand on your back, protectively.

“My apologies, if this stupid boy has bothered your lady.” Hunt said, all but tripping over himself to make Henry happy.

“Well, if she said it was a misunderstanding, then it was one.” Henry replied, looking at the boy, with a faint look of distaste. “Good night, Mr. Hunt.” He said, turning both of you away from them and back towards the car, parked at the curb.

You could hear Hunt berating Dax and hitting him several more times as you got into the car with Henry and drove away, your eyes burning as you did.

“Are you all right?” Henry asked after a few minutes. “He didn't hurt you, did he?” He looked you over, to make sure.

“No.” You replied, your voice weak.

“What's wrong?” He asked, seeing the tears threatening in your eyes, and became increasingly concerned for you. “What did he do? Did he say something?”

“No.” You shook your head, warm tears flowing free. “He--” Your throat closed around the word.

“He what?” Henry gently pressed, turning towards you and taking his handkerchief from his pocket, and gently dabbed at your wet cheeks. “Tell me?” He begged you, a knot twisting up his stomach seeing you so upset.

“Please.”

“He's..” You licked your lips and sniffled. “He's my...cousin.”

Henry's broad shoulders slowly melted as your words hit him. “I'm so sorry.” He whispered, crushed. “I had no idea, please forgive me.” He pleaded, feeling shameful with how he reacted to Dax and felt guilty for not ensuring that Hunt didn't do the boy any more harm for what was clearly and honestly a misunderstanding.

“He just wanted to know what I was doing there, since none of them knew what happened to me.” You hiccuped, biting into your lip as you tried to get yourself under control again.

“How does he know you were gone?” Henry frowned, shaking his head and thumbing away a tear about to drip from your jaw.

“He's only been his slave for two weeks.” You told him, sniffling.

Henry pressed his lips together and nodded, you had been gone for months, even before he had gotten to you in the raid. He dearly wished he could allow you to go home, even if it was just to let your family know you were safe and sound, but it was too dangerous, for both you and them, to risk. He had considered, on many occasions, on sending them an anonymous note on your welfare, but knew it would probably be traced back to him, no matter how careful he was. The whole situation was one mixed bag of risk, danger and complication, he tried his best to protect you, but knew in doing that, he was cutting you off from the very things you craved and needed the most in such a scary time, your family.

“Here.” He said softly, as the two of you approached the lift up to his flat.

Henry carefully picked you up in his arms, relieving you of the sore and painful throb of your feet and ankles, that was steadily making it impossible for you to stand, let alone walk. He held you in his arms on the lift ride up to his floor, down the hall and into the flat, then into your room. Carefully setting you down on your bed, Henry gently picked up one of your feet, resting it on his thigh as he delicately unwrapped the soft fabric from around your ankle and slipped the heel off; doing the same with the other one.

“Thank you.” You whispered, flexing your swollen toes.

“You're welcome.” He replied quietly, then left your room.

Sighing, you stood with a soft groan and slipped out of the dress, draping it over the foot of your bed before going into your closet and removing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to wear. You went out into the kitchen, finding Henry there as the coffee maker filled his cup and made yourself some tea, before sitting down on the couch.

“Thank you for going with me.” Henry said, sitting beside you, as you flipped through the channels.

“Of course.” You nodded, not looking at him.

He sighed softly, setting his cup on the table and carefully turned you towards him. You thought he wanted to talk about what happened after the event, and just as you opened your mouth to tell him you really didn't want to, he gently put your swollen feet into his lap, and started to methodically massaged them. Your foot almost vanished in his big hands, his fingers working the top of your foot, while his thumbs moved in firm circles up and down the bottom of your foot, paying extra attention to your arch and toes. You moaned at the luxurious feel of his strong fingers combined with the heat of his hands engulfing your feet, that your eyes fluttered shut, tv forgotten.

Home had never looked so beautiful to you, as you approached the worn building that housed your family's flat. It had been a year since you had gone looking for your brother and gotten kidnapped by Traffickers, then sold to Henry as a Slave, though Henry never treated you like one, he had treated you with the utmost care and consideration.

But now, it was time for you to finally return home.

You entered the flat, feeling giddy and excited to see your parents and brothers again. “Mum? Papa!” You called out, closing the door behind you. “Christophe? Michail?”

“Issy!?” Mikey's voice yelled out from down the hall.

Mickey came running into the living room, his eyes big and mouth hanging open. “Oh god, you're home!” He said, shocked and rushing you, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up off your feet. “Thank god, you're all right!” He cried into your shoulder.

“And home.” You cried back, clinging onto him and hugging him tight.

“Where the hell have you been?” He asked, setting you down and holding you at arm's length.

“It's complicated and I don't want to talk about it.” You told him, cupping his face in your hands.

“We were so afraid that you were dead or had been kidnapped.” He told you, looking you over.

“I'm fine. I'm fine.” You told him, shaking your head and so glad to see him again. “Where did you go that day?”

“I was staying with a friend.” Mikey told you, pulling you down onto the couch with him. “I'm leaving soon.”

“What?” You snapped, surprised. “Why? Where?”

“My boss's given me a better position, so I'm going to Bristol to be trained, before I can come back here.”

“Trained? Trained in what?” You frowned at him.

“He's making me an Adjutant Runner.” Mikey grinned, with such pride.

You felt your heart fall into your stomach at the news. An Adjutant Runner was easily one of the most dangerous positions as a Runner for a Crime Boss. They were higher in the hierarchy of the business, second to the Kingpin, that made and supplied the drugs, and third to the very top of the chain, the Crime Boss, that ran it all and reaped the biggest benefit, and generally worked untouched by the dirty and risky parts of the business. Crime Bosses were rarely arrested and successfully tied to the rest of the chain or the crimes, everyone below him took the wrap and consequences of the world they inhabited, even if it was openly known that he was the main man.

Countless Adjutant Runners either came up dead or ended up banished, and once someone was caught and outed, the Crime Bosses of Bristol never took them back into their employment, feeling they would be a weak point in their operations and their profit. So, the Adjutant Runners lucky enough to live and suffered banishment had very little resources to survive, no longer welcomed in London and no longer trusted in Bristol. That in itself was a death sentence.

“Michail, no.” You whimpered, shaking your head at him, crushed. “You can't do this, it's far too dangerous.”

Mikey huffed and rolling his eyes at you. “You sound like mum and dad.” He sighed, getting up from the couch, to pace. “I know the risks of being a Runner, especially for Jaxon Quinn. But, the money I can make being an Adjutant Runner for him and bring back home for you, our parents and Chris, can help us so much.”

“And when people start questioning where the money is coming from?” You argued, watching him pace. “Mum and Dad don't make enough money for us all to get by on to start with, that's with you and I working, and when suddenly that burden is lifted, but the jobs are still the same. What then?”

“We'll just have to stagger it.” He argued back.

You pressed your hands to your face, at your wit's end with him. “You sound like a lunatic!” You barked, throwing your arms out.

“None of you fucking understand how this could work out in our favor!” He roared back, facing you. “The things this could do for us!”

“And the things it can do to us, Mikey!” You screamed, jumping to your feet. “Mum and dad could lose their jobs, the flat and or get banished. Christophe will be homeless and parent-less! He'll end up like that pack of street kids that rob people or work to lure them into the dens of traffickers! If they don't banish him with our parents.” You panted, out of breath and so angry with him.

“You don't seem so worried about yourself!” He hissed, coldly.

That cut you. But, he was right. Henry had told you as he dropped off at the gate to your home Sector, that if anything happened and you needed a safe place, to come find him and he'd take care of you again. But, that was beside the point, you weren't going to let your idiot twin destroy your parents and little brother's lives, simply because he was unhappy with the amount of money he made as a dishwasher.

“I have a job, and I can apply for a place of my own.” You growled at him, gritting your teeth.

“And be ninety percent in debt for the rest of your life, or barely making ends meet.” Mikey taunted you, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as he surveyed you.

“It's better than being dead or banished the rest of my life.” You cut him back.

“So, you won't come with me?” He asked, suddenly calm, despite the storm of his anger still below his surface.

“Fuck no!” You barked, shaking your head and looking at him, like he was crazy.

Which he was.

“Fine then.” He huffed, stomping down to his room and grabbing the bag he packed. “I'll do it for us, alone.”

“Mikey.” You sighed, trying to reel him back in.

He stopped, holding open the flat door and stared at you, before shaking his head at you and going out, the door closing with a soft click after him. You dropped heavily onto the couch and pressed your hands to your face, your shoulders hunched against as you shook.

“Honey?”

You looked up as the door opened again and the exhausted look of your mother came into view of your teary eyes. She looked more or less the same as she did the last time you saw her, but she had several more wrinkles on her beautiful face and her eyes looked a little more sunken.

“Mama.” You whimpered at her, rushing to her and wrapping your shaking arms around her, sobbing into her neck.

“Oh baby.” She sobbed back, clutching at you.

You explained as much as you dared to your mother about where you had been for the last year, ensuring to comfort her about your safety and well-being. But, a mother being a mother, Tasha knew there was something you were hiding and knew some of that secret was quite dark. But, she didn't press you on it, not wanting to darken the reunion with whatever it was.

A month after your return home, there was a knock at the door of your family home. But, when your father opened the door, no one was there, just a note on the worn door rug. Frowning at it, Tristan bent with a groan and picked the note up, before turning back inside.

“Who was it, love?” Tasha called out from the kitchen.

“A note.” He called back, tapping the screen.

“A note.” She echoed back and came into the living room, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “From who?”

“I don't know.” Tristan answered and activated the note.

You and Chris came into the living room as the electronic pad beeped and an unfamiliar and distorted voice started to speak. “I am sorry to inform you that your son, Mikey Keagan, has been found dead in Sector Fifteen of Bristol...”

You sat up with a strangled gasp of tears stuck in your throat and frantically looked about the room, not recognizing it, until something cold touched your arm and you looked into the black and furry face of Kal as he laid in bed with you.

“Henry.” You panted, taking deep breaths in and out, realizing it was all a nightmare and you were still in Sector Two with Henry.

Rubbing at your face, you dropped back against your pillow and stared up at the dark gray ceiling. You couldn't shake the fear coursing through your body from the nightmare. It had felt so real that being awake now felt like the dream.

“He's in trouble, Kal.” You whispered to the Akita, then got out of bed.

Tiptoeing down the hall, you made sure Henry was still asleep, and found him crashed out on his stomach and snoring lightly, then rushed into the kitchen. You didn't dare use Lucy's voice activation in case it woke Henry, so you used the screen in the kitchen to get what you wanted from her. Using Henry's life pin, you were able to actually get into Marshal records and found there was, thankfully, no notice on Mikey's death. Relieved in that event, you set about your next plan of action, ordering a backpack to put a change of clothes and any other supplies you might need and a mobile, so you could navigate out of London and make your trek to Bristol, hopefully in time to find and stop something from happening to him.

You flinched and froze at the soft ding of the delivery pod announcing the arrival of your things, expecting Henry to come out and ask you what you were doing ordering something at one in morning. But, he stayed asleep. You took the mobile and backpack out of the pod and went back into your room, shoving some clothes into it, got dressed yourself, then filled a water bottle and took a couple of snacks out of the cabinets, packing them as well.

“Ssshhh, Kal.” You shushed the Bear as you slowly opened the door and he whined. “I have to do this.” You told him, slipping out into the hall and quietly closed the door behind you.

Finding your way out of Henry's building by way of the stairs and out onto the street, you plugged in the headphones that came with your new mobile and turned it on, pressed your finger to the print scanner, watching the device light up and sign you into your mobile account.

“Eric?” You whispered, holding your breath as you waited for his long missed voice.

“Ms. Keagan, welcome back.” Eric's voice replied.

You laughed, and nearly cried, at the sound of his voice. “Thanks, Eric.” You smiled. “I need you to bring up a map of back ways that will take me from Sector Two back to Sector Twenty-Eight.”

“Of course, Ms.” Eric answered.

A moment later, you had the extensive layout on how to get back home from where you were and set out for the first checkpoint, not wanting to waste any more time and knew that you had to get to your Sector as quickly as you could and out of the city, or almost out, by the time Henry woke up in a few short hours.

When Henry did finally wake up, just after nine, he found Kal sitting by his side of the bed and staring at him. “Hey, bud.” He said in a sleepy deep voice, patting the Bear on the head.

He got out of bed with a stretch and a yawn, then padded down the hall, scratching his tone belly as his stomach growled for breakfast. But, he made for a pit stop at the bathroom, only to pause and turn back. Your bedroom door was wide open and your bed was empty. Frowning, he called out your name as he stepped into the living room and found that empty as well. So was the bathroom and the kitchen, but the control screen on the kitchen wall caught Henry's attention, still showing the orders you made and the file you pulled up under his Marshal account on your brother.

“Fuck.” He snapped with a huff, raking a shaky hand through his disheveled curls.

Henry paced the kitchen, saying he was upset with you was an understatement, but he was also a bit impressed. Putting all that aside, Henry knew there was something up with your brother, he knew it the moment he met you. If you had just wanted to go home after what happened with your cousin at the Royal Dinner the night before, you would have just gotten the backpack and mobile and left, you knew how to get home. But no, you had specifically used his life pin to get into documents only he or any other Marshal could access to look your twin up.

For what? He wondered. What was it that you suddenly needed to know about him, that would then cause you to pack a bag and run, in the middle of the night, after almost two months with him. It must have been something illegal, if you didn't wake him to ask him for help, or at least try and convince him to take you back home, because you feared something was wrong.

“But, she has to be afraid of something.” He said out loud. “But, what?” He sighed, staring at the screen. “What are you afraid of? And, what is your twin up too?” He asked, a crease deepening between his brow.

He looked at Kal. “I'm going to have to find her.” He told the Bear. “She's not safe out there with Traffickers and Bosses looking for her.” He said, resolved to go after you.

Getting showered, dressed and making a liquid breakfast out of a cup of coffee, Henry set out to go to the first place he knew, for a fact, you would be going too. Home. It would be the prime location for you to go to try and find your brother and any leads of where he might have gone, if he wasn't there. It only took Henry an hour to get to your home Sector and about twenty minutes to find your building, then mount the stairs to your family's flat.

“Yes?” A woman frowned, answering his knock.

If it wasn't for the wisps of gray hair and soft wrinkles, Henry would have sworn it was you answering the door. It took him a moment to gather his composure again. “Hi, I'm High Marshal Cavill.” He cleared his throat and showed her the badge clipped to his belt as identification. “I'm looking for one of your children.”

“Mikey isn't here.” She told him.

“I'm not, exactly, looking for your son, ma'am.” Henry informed her with a frown. “I'm looking for your daughter.”

The woman's face changed, considerably. “She's not here either.” She said softly. “We haven't seen her in almost a year.”

Henry bit the inside corner of his lip, warring with the knowledge that this mother hadn't seen her beloved daughter in almost a year, and he had seen her only the night before.

“Do you know anything about her disappearance?” She asked, hopeful.

His mouth worked for a moment. “I've been put on the case, into it. Do you know where I could find her brother, Mikey?” He asked, wanting to know what the secret surrounding the boy was all about. “I understand they're twins.”

“Yes, yes they are.” She nodded, licking her lips nervously. “I haven't seen my son Michail in just over a month.”

“Do you know why that is?”

“My husband and I believe he became disheartened with his sister's absence and got himself into Sub-Blue down in the lower Sectors.” She explained to him, looking deeply troubled and worried.

Henry nodded his head, pressing his lips together, she didn't know anything, that much was obvious to him. Licking his lips and letting out a sigh, Henry gave her his number and asked her to call him, should she see either of her children again, then returned to his car. He drummed his fingers against his thighs as he stared out the windshield, the pattering of filthy rain fell against the angled glass and matte-black paint of the car's body.

“Where are you?” He mumbled, watching and searching each face that went by, hoping to see yours.

He wasn't sure what he would do, once he did find you again. Mostly, he just wanted to know what was going on with you, what it was about your brother that had you so worried and afraid. Henry squinted his eyes through the wet on his windshield, he watched a little boy dash across the street and into the building, knowing you had a little brother as well, but shook his head; the boy was too young to be your brother, Christophe. Grunting, Henry started the car, deciding to go to your place of work, maybe some of the people you worked with had answers.

“Where's your Supervisor?” Henry asked, flashing his badge at the first worker he saw upon entering the Sector Twenty-Eight Supermarket.

The bored and exhausted looking man at the cashier pointed to a door at the very back of the store and Henry made his way to the back, stepping into the dim and cool stock room that fed the rest of the market.

“You can't-”

“High Marshal.” Henry snapped, cutting the clearly under worked Supervisor off.

“Oh.” the Supervisor squeaked, gulping at Henry. “How-how can I help?” He mumbled, chewing on his lip, nervously.

“I want information on one of your workers.” Henry told him, giving the Supervisor your name.

“Her? She hasn't come into work for months.” He explained to Henry, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'm surprised the Council of Daily Operations hasn't sent her a failure notice.”

“They know where she's been.” Henry remarked, he had listed her address on her life pin application as his place.

“If they know where she is, then why are you here?”

Growling deep in his chest, Henry grabbed the front of the Supervisor's uniform and slammed him into a set of stocking shelves. “Because, she's part of an important investigation and in deep fucking trouble. Do you know where she and her brother would hang out or any activity they might be in?”

“Her, no. That girl is a straight shooter. She would be the last person I'd expect to get into any kind of trouble.” The Supervisor remarked, surprised. “But, Mike.” He snorted, shaking his head. “If you ever saw that boy, you'd know he's nothing, but trouble. He used to steal off the very shelves his twin sister worked so hard to stock.”

“Hm.” Henry growled, pressing his lips together, and let the Supervisor go.

Returning to his car, Henry brought up the AI screen in front of his windshield. “Lucy, look up Mikey Keagan.” He ordered, scowling at the slightly transparent screen.

“Michail Charles Keagan. Age, twenty-three. Birthday, 4th December, 2844. Place and Time of Birth, Unknown. Height, 183cm. Weight, 86 kilograms. Place of Occupation, Daily O's Soup Kitchen, Dishwasher.”

Lucy's voice listed out as the report appeared on the screen. Henry scrubbed his palms over his face and swiped through all the documents the Councils had on Michail.

“There's basically nothing on this kid.” Henry sighed, shaking his head at the meager information. “Nothing, but some stupid offenses.” He slumped in his seat, at his wit's end already, then sighed, he couldn't give up yet. “Let's go to his place of work, perhaps his employers and equals have something to say.” He said, ordering Lucy to take the car that way.

Your feet were screaming by the time you reached the street your family lived on. You stopped and adjusted your shoes to loosen the strap to accommodate your swollen feet, with a sigh of relief. You were about to step out into the street, when you saw Henry striding along the sidewalk across from you.

“Shit.” You gasped, quickly dashing into a nearby alleyway, your heart pounding as you spied him going into your family's building.

You hadn't expected him to show up so soon, but there he was. No doubt going to your family's flat in search of you. You were glad that you hadn't gone up yet, even if you were gone again by the time Henry showed up. Henry was a good High Marshal, you had seen that in the several cases you'd witnessed him working at in the long hours at his flat, while you stayed with him. He would have been able to get the truth out of your family about seeing you and whatever other information they could give him, then been able to stop you in going to Bristol, to find your brother and stop him.

A few minutes later, you watched Henry leave.

“Hey.” You called out to a street boy.

“Yeah, what?” The boy snapped back, looking at you dubiously.

“You know my brother, Christophe, don't you?”

“I might.” He replied, folding his thin arms.

“I need you to go up to our flat and see if he, or any of my family, is there.”

“What do I get out of it?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

You narrowed your eyes back at him. “You know Jinyu's?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll take you down there, and get you something to eat.” You told the boy, seeing how thin he was, it had no doubt been some time since he had a decent hot meal.

He weighed the option, then took off across the street and into your building, coming back a moment later. “Christophe isn't home, only your mum is.” He told you.

Lan Xichen gently squeezed back, hoping to convey he was fine, that Lan Wangji did not need to worry himself further. He focused on the warmth of that hand as they shuffled towards the back of the shuttle, to sit in front of the porthole as was their habit and did not let go, even as they buckled themselves in. Neither of them said anything as the shuttle smoothly lifted from the ground and the scenery below them got smaller and smaller.

Lan Xichen could never bear to look, he focused instead on his little brother. Lan Wangji was old enough now that he didn’t wave goodbye to the white figure stuck on the ground, watching the shuttle carry them away. He knew, now that she could not see them. He only sat stiffly as the distance grew, already counting the days before their next visit. All Lan Xichen could do was coax him to lay his head on his shoulder for some rest – a gesture he knew Wangji would also outgrow soon.

It was a half an hour trip between Gusu Lan and the moon that kept their mother in seclusion, a very short trip by space standards. But the distance wasn’t what worried Lan Xichen. He counted the satellites, the asteroids and the debris all in orbit between them and their mother. So much could go wrong, so easily. The smallest collision and they would be planet bound, unable to do the short trip, and what would happen to their mother then? Who would bring her supplies? Who would visit?

When they landed, Wangji was fast asleep, exhausted from the emotional day behind them. That was fine, because Lan Xichen was not ready to let go of him just yet. He lifted him in his arms, tucking his chin on his brother’s shoulder and carried him off the shuttle.

From here, their mother’s moon was no bigger than his fist. It looked horribly lonely, and not for the first time, Lan Xichen wondered why it had been necessary to strand their mother so far away.

TWO

Lan Xichen numbly followed his uncle who led him to the back hills, far from the main buildings where a single escape launch pad was hidden in the grass. It was odd to see him run. It almost let Lan Xichen believe this was all just a nightmare, if not for the panic beating between his temples and the heavy, heavy weight in his arms of their sacred texts, quickly downloaded into hard drives and packed into protective pouches. Cloud Recesses was well and truly burning.

His eyes were stinging from the smoke and he had long stopped wiping away the tears trailing grooves in the soot on his cheeks. The air was so full of smoke, they were short of breath when they finally got to the launch pad but there was no time for pause. Over the roar of the flames and even from this far away Lan Xichen could hear people screaming. He desperately wanted to turn back and help, but this had to be taken care of first. He had to see his uncle and their texts off planet and then he could go help the others. 

Lan Qiren hurried to unseal the door and their precious cargo was loaded on board, but instead of climbing inside after it, he turned to Lan Xichen, holding the door open for him.

“Get in,” he said.

Lan Xichen reeled and took a step back.

“I can’t leave -”

“We don’t have a choice.”

His uncle caught him by the shoulders, squeezing tight and urging him to look up at him.

“Xichen. If Wen Xu finds you, he will kill you. For the Lan sect to survive, both you and the texts have to escape.”

His tone was measured but a tremor in his voice betrayed his worry. He gently reached up to wipe the tears off his cheek and Lan Xichen felt his resolve crumble. He swallowed against the dryness in his throat, tried to formulate one last argument for why he should stay -

“Wangji. What about Wangji -” he wheezed out instead

“Wangji is smart. The other disciples and I will protect him. You will see him when this is all over.”

Lan Qiren squeezed his shoulders one final time and, at Lan Xichen’s shaky nod, shepherded him towards the escape pod. He crawled inside, heart thumping in his chest, knees knocking on the sides and barely finding space between the bags. His uncle took hold of the door again, preparing to close it -

“Head to Lanling, it is the only place still out of reach from the Wens,” he instructed.

Then the door snapped shut and sealed itself, cutting off all sounds from the outside. Immediately, Lan Xichen fought the urge to jump out. The silence was heavy, unnatural, only a mocking echo of the quiet and tranquility of the place he called home and the small space felt horribly hot, beads of sweat already forming on his back. Still, with shaking fingers, he entered the coordinates that would take him off planet.

The last thing he saw was his uncle standing at a safe distance, surveying the area for any Wen that might come this way. Then the pod launched, the green scenery faded to white skies, then darkness. His heart squeezed even tighter when he flew past his mother’s moon, now empty.

Once in space, the inside of the pod cooled down quickly. Lan Xichen could see his own breath in the air and ice condensed on the porthole, forming spider webs of white veins. He was well and truly alone, hurtling far away from home in a pod that could be knocked off course by as little as a rock drifting too close.

But he couldn’t think about that. He had to survive, he had to protect the texts.

He forced himself to focus, double checked his course, verified all systems were functioning normally and when there was nothing left to do, curled up around his precious cargo, making himself as small as possible, and waited.  

THREE

For the first time in a long time, Lan Xichen felt sick. The ship shook around them as the engines roared to life and he squeezed his eyes shut, curling in on himself as they launched out of the atmosphere of Lanling. His mind was spinning uncontrollably and the usual pull in his guts as the ship ripped itself away from the planet’s gravity was dizzying.

“There, there, er-ge, breathe, we’re almost there.”

A-yao – no, Jin Guangyao gently hooked a finger under his chin and tilted his head back to be better supported by the headrest, his hands flying over Lan Xichen’s body to simultaneously tighten the belt and the handcuffs, and caress his hair in comfort. Lan Xichen could only cling to his sleeves and waited for the artificial gravity of the ship to take over and for the nausea to pass.

He hated himself already for this moment of weakness. Hated that, despite the revelations of the past few hours and his own kidnapping, A-Yao’s presence could still be anything close to comforting and outraged that the man still took the liberty to behave so familiarly despite his betrayal.

It only added to his disbelief. How could the same man capable of this kindness be the one behind so many crimes? How could A-Yao be so kind to him when he had so ruthlessly poisoned Mingjue? The nausea, he realised, wasn’t only because of the space travel this time. In his heart, Lan Xichen still could not connect the man he thought he knew with the one he now knew was Jin Guangyao, as if one has suddenly replaced the other.

Finally, Lan Xichen felt the ship escape the last grips of gravity and smoothly start gliding through the void of space. His heart stopped fluttering like a caged bird, leaving only the familiar and more manageable weigh of loneliness in his chest. He took a deep breath to brace himself and opened his eyes to the grey walls and flickering light of the ship’s cargo bay.

He noticed that, on top of being adrift in space, he was now securely cuffed to his seat and his spiritual power still tightly sealed within him. His stomach back flipped anxiously and abruptly he urgently wanted Jin Guangyao as far away from him as possible. Before he could make his demand, however, the other man squeezed his shoulder one last time and pulled away, standing up over him.

“I know this was unpleasant for you, er-ge –“

“Don’t call me that,” interrupted Lan Xichen.

It was rude but he could not bring himself to care beyond the disgust provoked in him by the term. Jin Guangyao merely smiled placating at him.

“We will be at Guanyin moon in under an hour,” he continued.

Jin Guangyao urgently needed to leave this system and Lan Xichen knew this was why he had taken him along as hostage. The only possible reason he could have for the detour was for his mother’s body, but the moon was still a long way from the outer limits, so how far did he plan on dragging him along?

“And then what?” he asked, voice thin even in his own ears.

“As soon as I am able, I will set you free, uninjured.”

“Should I believe you?”

Jin Guangyao’s lips twitched up in another frigid smile.

“Do as you like. You don’t really have a choice,” he said.

He tugged one last time at the restraints to make sure they were secure and finally stepped back, heading for the door leading to the pilot’s cabin. Lan Xichen felt a spike of fear at the prospect of being left alone, but quickly crushed it down. He needed the space to think.

“Get some rest, er-ge,” said Jin Guangyao, before he stepped out of the cargo bay and sealed the door behind him with a hiss.

Lan Xichen was alone in the empty room, with nothing but the hum of the engines and the sound of his own breath, the cuffs cold around his wrists. He resolutely kept his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him, instead of the window that would give him a view of the stars flying past them.

Lan Wangji was probably aware something was wrong by now, his brother had been expecting his reply hours ago already. Lan Xichen hoped that he and Wei Wuxian had gathered enough information to guess where Jin Guangyao was headed. There was a chance they would intercept them at Guanyin moon.

In the event they didn’t make it, Lan Xichen would have to make his escape alone. He had a sinking feeling that Jin Guangyao did not intend to let him go in the near future and Guanyin moon was his best chance to make a break for it. When the opportunity came, he needed to be calm and ready.  

He forced himself to relax into his seat, closing his eyes to meditate.

He focused on the weight of the little pouch still against his breast. There was still a chance that he could get it to Nie Mingjue in time. Maybe, just maybe it would save his life, even reverse some of the effects of the poison. Maybe he could still fix his mistake –

First, he needed to get out of here.

FOUR

Lan Xichen always felt more at ease in ships rather than smaller shuttles or pods, but today it seemed he wouldn’t be able to relax. He gripped the straps of his seat more tightly, wondering if he would at least manage to fall asleep for the duration of the 5 hour trip it would take to reach Yunmeng Jiang. A warm hand dropped on top of his, drawing his attention to his neighbour.

“Are you ok?”

Jiang Cheng’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed in concern. He had unbuckled his own seatbelt to stretch the moment the ship’s artificial gravity had activated and was now leaning in his seat, head tilted towards Lan Xichen, with all the ease of a man who had been in space thousands of times already.

“Do you want to have a walk around?” He asked

“I would rather stay here, if you don’t mind,” Lan Xichen tried for a reassuring smile, but was aware it came out strained when the pinch between Jiang Cheng’s eyebrows deepened.

“You know you could have told me you didn’t feel ready yet, right?”

Lan Xichen felt warmth pool in his stomach at the concern and his smile, this time, was more genuine. When Jiang Cheng had invited him to visit Lotus Pier, Lan Xichen had been delighted. It had felt right for it to be his first trip out of Gusu and even now, despite the stress of being in space again, he knew it had been the right decision to come. He let go of the strap to intertwine his fingers with Jiang Cheng’s and squeezed, already breathing easier with this small point of contact.

“I know,” he said and meant it, “but I promise, this is nothing important.”

Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow at him, not satisfied. He was of the opinion that Lan Xichen should express his own thoughts and needs more often and so started drawing small circles at the back of his hand with his thumb in a clear sign he intended to wait him out.

“I was never really comfortable in space,” admitted Lan Xichen, eventually, if only because talking helped keep his mind off his current situation.

Admittedly, he had been better at handling it before. Lan Xichen had been required to travel often as sect leader after all, so he had managed to get his fears under control. But it seemed he was out of practice. The last space trip he really remembered had been the horrible one with Jin Guangyao. After that, he hadn’t been able to handle the stress of the trip back to Gusu and had asked the ship healer to knock him out for the duration.

“How come? Did something happen?”

“No, nothing like that. It just makes me feel… lonely. And without control. We are so small, anything could happen -”

He trailed off, bitten by sudden self-consciousness. Jiang Cheng travelled in space all the time and did not have a problem with it. Next to him, it felt very silly to get so worked up about a standard space trip, especially in this day and age where they were common and necessary.

“I suppose I never thought of it like that,” Jiang Cheng voice cut through his thoughts before they could spiral, “but then again, I was practically raised in zero gravity. My parents often brought us out on jobs so I had to get comfortable quickly.”

“It’s still silly, I know, I promise it doesn’t usually hit me so badly -”

“It’s not silly,” said Jiang Cheng, firmly, “Tell me what I can do to help.”

He squeezed his hand again and gave him a smile, one that lit up his whole face and softened his eyes and never failed to make Lan Xichen weak in the knees.

“This already helps,” he said, gesturing to their joined hands, delighted at the slight blush that powdered Jiang Cheng’s cheeks, “but mostly I just try to sleep or distract myself.”

He was amused when Jiang Cheng seemed to consider the issue very seriously. Then it was his turn to blush when the other man lifted the armrest between them and pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around him and guiding him to tuck his head on his shoulder.  

“There, sleep.”

The embrace was warm, it felt safe. Lan Xichen’s stomach fluttered with that happy feeling again, all thoughts of the void outside forgotten. He nuzzled Jiang Cheng’s neck and let himself be lulled to sleep by soft fingers threading through his hair.

+ ONE

The satellite was the Nie sect’s latest creation and Nie Mingjue’s very own pet project, his first since he’d come out of his coma. Of course, Lan Xichen insisted he wanted to be there when Nie Mingjue announced it was finally ready for a visit. Satellites were still outside of Lan Xichen’s comfort zone, but this was important. He wanted to be there to show his support and he didn’t want either of boyfriends to worry about him, so he swallowed down his anxieties and declared himself more ready than ever for a jaunt in space with them.

Up to this point, he’d had no reason to regret it. It had actually been a pleasant walk around. He was still slightly on edge, of course, but that had been effectively drowned out by the waves of fondness he felt for the two men accompanying him.

Nie Mingjue kept pointing out all the different sections in excitement. The hundreds of docking stations along each leg leading up to a large central module, the diurnal cycle of the lights, the silent mechanisms of the doors and even the thrusters to correct orbital trajectory when they were visible from a window. Jiang Cheng was listening intently, obviously indulging him since the Jiang sect had done a significant portion of the engineering work. His expressions cycled from amusement, to fondness to exasperation when he noted something not quite up to spec.

Most of the explanations went over Lan Xichen’s head, but he loved watching the both of them. By the time they got to the central module he was actually excited along with them and relaxed enough to fully appreciate the breathtaking view waiting for them.

The roof was paneled with windows, giving them a direct view of the lush green surface of Qinghe Nie. Just beyond it, Lan Xichen could even see Gusu Lan shinning in the distance and right opposite of that, Yunmeng Jiang. The sight made Lan Xichen smile, as if seeing all three planets together made the distance between them seem not so unsurmountable.

He was just about to tell Nie Mingjue how beautiful it was, when there was a ring and the automatic voice of the satellite’s computer interrupted. Artificial gravity malfunction.

One moment, he had both feet firmly planted on the ground, the next he was slowly floating upwards. He shivered with discomfort when at first his body could not find its balance and his hand only met air when he tried to catch himself, heart jumping in his throat when he realised he was not equipped to be sucked out into space.  

But now was not the time to panic. Lan Xichen had been enjoying himself and was determined to see this through, gravity or not and a quick look at his boyfriends’ more annoyed than worried expressions told him they were in no real danger. He forced himself to relax into this new weightlessness and smiled reassuringly at Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng.

At first, he tethered himself next to them, holding on to both their belts, but they quickly got into a heated discussion about the gravitational engines, most of which was incomprehensible technological babble to Lan Xichen so he allowed himself to drift away for a look around instead.

He never minded floating in zero gravity, and he’d been doing more and more space trips lately, his composure came to him more and more easily. And if there was anyone he trusted to get them out of trouble, it was Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng. It still surprised him sometimes, how much he adored them without restraint. There had been a time he didn’t think he would ever be able to trust himself again.

He took the time to admire the view, mostly the one of the two men below him, looking very handsome in their respective purple and dark green space suits. Jiang Cheng eventually seemed to give up and with one graceful kick floated up to Lan Xichen’s level, mirroring his earlier gesture by catching his belt to pull himself close.

“It really is quite a view, no?” He said, nodding at the stars.

“Mn, beautiful,” replied Lan Xichen, clearly still looking at him.

He laughed when Jiang Cheng flushed in surprise and when he retaliated by pulling him even closer and dropping a kiss on the tip of his nose. Just when Lan Xichen leaned up for a proper kiss, Nie Mingjue caught them both by the ankles and pulled them down to him, stealing a kiss of his own and wrapping one arm over both their shoulders.

“Nothing too bad, but artificial gravity won’t get fixed today,” he announced, “so we can go back planet-side if you want.”

Nie Mingjue had had the forethought of tying himself to a cable so they could pull themselves back down. They were flying suspended together like a balloon tied down against the wind and Lan Xichen was being held between the two loves of his life. There really was nowhere he’d rather be.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, smiling brightly, “I’m good here for now.”

___