Armistice: Part One

by Bayeux

"Sir, this is exceedingly unwise . . ."

"Be silent and track them."

"But sir--"

"What did you not understand? Track them!"

" . . . Yes, sir."

"I fail to see what is so difficult. We have the coordinates to their shiftship."

"Sir, the shift records have been badly damaged. There is a very good chance that a wrong position will land you thirty-thousand feet above the alternate Los Angeles."

"Do you think I'm mad? I intend to look before I step through."

"Just a precaution, sir. I think -- ah, here we go. I think I have it."

"Excellent. Send me through."

"But sir--"

"Now."

Angela Spica grinned. "That's what makes it so great," she said, dangling the little silver strand of metal in front of Jack Hawksmoor's face. "It's one fifth the size of standard endoscopes, but with twice the picture quality. Just a little something I've been tinkering with in my spare time, you know."

Jack swung his feet onto the tabletop and smiled. "Planning to market it?" he inquired, tossing his jacket onto the chair next to him. Angie took the seat across from him and set her "project" down on the table. The two were in the "War Room," as it had been dubbed; the large, circular table was ringed with cushioned chairs, the room stained a dull, pulsing red from the Carrier's current environment: the Bleed. The red wash lent an eerie, slightly surreal cast to the room as the ruby light washed through the observation windows -- a light which was completely disregarded by both the inhabitants thanks to weeks of steady exposure.

"Well, there's the problem," she said, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "I'd have a monopoly on the tech since I used my nanites to make it. It's not going to do much good to the medical community at large unless it can be mass-produced, or it'll be too expensive. Maybe in a few years . . ."

"Jenny'll be disappointed. She's always complaining about how we never get paid for this job . . ."

"No she's not."

"All right, I am. But only because it's harder to buy beer without any collateral."

"That's a little silly, isn't it? You don't need to eat or drink."

"Doesn't mean I don't like to try." Jack grinned. "That's like asking you why you still buy clothes when you spend most of your time wearing nothing but nanites."

Angie wrinkled her nose. "Not quite . . ."

"We're not interrupting anything, are we?"

The dry, British-accented voice floated into the room just before the brisk, business-like footsteps. Jenny Sparks, clad in a Union Jack shirt and white slacks, crossed the threshold with a knowing smirk on her face with the Doctor trailing behind her. Jack couldn't help but smile even as he rolled his eyes.

"Not really," he replied. "What's up?"

"Surprisingly little." Jenny took a brief drag on one of her ever-present cigarettes and exhaled, nodding her head over to the red-haired shaman. "The Doctor here's going to muck about with the Carrier for a while, just to check and see if there's anything he and Angie missed when Sliding Albion attacked. I'm here to make sure he doesn't fuck up and fall over again. That's about it."

"That was only once," the Doctor muttered. Jenny snorted.

"You turned those Gamorra bastards into trees and then fell on your arse in the middle of LA. Not quite professional behavior." She blew a smoke ring into his goggled face.

"Anyway," she continued when the Doctor failed to give any reaction beyond a scowl, "we're here. What're you lot up to?"

"Just talking," Angie replied, brushing back her raven-black hair. "I'm on my way back to New York to pick up some files. Jack's going to help me do a little moving."

"Oh, he is, is he?" Jenny's knowing smirk returned and came to rest on Jack. Jack, to his credit, contrived to look innocent.

"Has anyone seen Shen?" Jack said casually, idly flipping the subject away from his attempts at a romantic life. Jenny let it go.

"In her quarters, I'd imagine," she replied. The Doctor had wandered over to the far wall and was inspecting it minutely, as if he were expecting it to initiate a conversation. Who knew? Depending on the drugs he was on at the moment, maybe he was.

"The Dynamic Duo are off God knows where doing God knows what," Jenny continued, rolling her cigarette between her thumb and forefinger. "Who knows? It might even be something legal."

"With those two?" Jack grinned.

"Well, you never know." Jenny moved to place the cigarette between her lips, then stopped. Jack tilted his head.

"Jenny? What is it?"

"I just thought . . . hmmm." Jenny frowned and slid the damp paper between her lips. "That was a shift in the Carrier's EM field, that was."

"I felt it, too," Angie said, her skin shimmering as a wash of nanites crawled through her pores and sheathed her in sentient metal. She and Jack rose from their seats, ready for trouble. The Doctor seemed utterly oblivious, as usual. Jenny rolled her eyes and yanked him away from the wall by the scuff of his turtleneck.

"Stop playing with the Carrier and pay attention," Jenny said dryly. The Doctor gave her a vague, wounded look and rolled his body into a semblance of attentiveness.

There were footsteps in the hallway. Jack made as if to move forward, but Jenny raised a hand, silently ordering him to hold his ground. The footsteps were heavy, slow -- male, if she wasn't mistaken. There was only one set, and whoever it belonged to wasn't making any attempt to conceal his presence. The footsteps reached the threshold, and stopped.

"Right, whoever you are, you'd better have a damn good reason for being here," Jenny said, surreptitiously drawing electricity from the deck of the Carrier and letting it flow through her body. "I haven't hit anyone for days and I'm just waiting for an excuse . . ."

"You need an excuse?" Jack murmured, smirking. Jenny glared at him.

"I am Ambassador Enrico d'Medici, late of Florence," came the prompt, uncowed reply. The accent was heavily Italian, and bore a touch of something odd. "My world is that which you refer to as Sliding Albion."

"You'll have to excuse our hostility, but last week Albion's forces took out a good part of LA," Jenny drawled. "We're going to need a little more information than that. What are you doing here? And while you're at it, step into the light. I feel like I'm talkin' to the bloody door."

"Taking you up on an offer," the answer came as the speaker stepped into the room. He was dressed simply, for one from Sliding Albion -- he wore a high-necked white shirt under a black vest, which sported the stylized golden clasps that seemed to be popular in that world, and black slacks. Over it all he wore a black duster that had certainly seen better days. The speaker was not, as Jenny had half-expected, a blue, but a perfectly normal Italian.

Jenny relaxed a fraction, but only a fraction. She sensed nothing electrical on his body, but that counted for little as many weapons did not rely on electrical charges. She kept drawing live electricity from the Carrier, just to be on the safe side.

"Speak," Jenny said. "And quickly, or we toss you into a dimension where nothing larger than a pinhead can move freely."

"Cruelty comes easily to you, doesn't it, Ms. Sparks?" Enrico said, cocking his handsome head to one side. He looked to be in his mid-forties, and sported slightly olive skin and dark hair. "Yes, I suppose it would, after the life you have led. I have heard much about you."

"I already know about me," Jenny informed him, unimpressed. "What I would like to know is how and why you are here, and what you want."

Enrico spread his hands. "Calm yourself, Ms. Sparks," he said soothingly. "I quite apologize for my tone. I fear I am becoming vindictive in my old age."

Jenny frowned. "So am I, sonny, and I'm only getting older. Get to the point."

Enrico inclined his head politely, the ghost of a bitter smile touching his thin lips. "As I was about to say," he continued, "I am from Sliding Albion, as I mentioned. We require your . . . assistance."

"For?"

"For our earth. You have destroyed our capital in England and drowned Italy. Our government has been demolished. All of Europe -- the world -- is in turmoil."

"Right. And now explain to me why this is any concern of ours."

Enrico's flawless green eyes narrowed. "Because it was you who were responsible," he replied coldly. "The blues controlled our central government, and you have succeeded in destroying most of them. Do not mistake me, I do not mourn them. They were oppressive, barbaric, and our quality of living has been in the decline since the rape camps of China were established. But now that we are free of them, we have no way of establishing order. Do you understand, Ms. Sparks? We are without center."

"And we are supposed to do . . . what?" Jenny asked, raising an eyebrow. She rolled her cigarette between her thumb and forefinger. "We gave you people a second chance. We've made the first step for you, Ambassador. We cannot afford to establish a new government for you as well. We don't do that."

"Jenny--" Angie began, distressed. Jenny raised a silencing hand.

"No, Engineer," Jenny interrupted, "let me finish. I'm sorry, Ambassador, but you and your world need to learn to stand on your own damn feet. We fixed your immediate problems, and the offer to eliminate the rape camps and blue strongholds still stands, but we haven't the time or the inclination to do what you're asking. Our concern is for this earth."

The Ambassador was becoming frustrated. "But you must! Whether you intended it or not, what became of us is your responsibility. Our civilization is dying, Ms. Sparks. Do you truly think destroying the blue was enough? We are in the midst of a global uprising that may reap higher casualties than all eleven of our world wars combined! We need help, Ms. Sparks, and we need it quickly."

"I see your problem, d'Medici, but I'm afraid we--"

"Jenny," Jack said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. Jenny turned around, irritated.

"Don't fuck with me when I'm trying to do my job, Jack," she growled. Jack shook his head.

"No, listen to me, Jenny," Jack said. "I've been inside their cities, remember? I know better than anyone what Sliding Albion is like. D'Medici is right, something like this can't be fixed overnight. Albion is in pain, Jenny, and it's only going to get worse. We are partially responsible."

"I agree with Jack," Angie nodded. "It's like Shen said -- when we decided we wanted to make a better world, did we really mean just ours?"

Jenny stared at the two of them for a long moment, scowling. Finally she threw her hands up in the air. "Fine. Fine. I'll be fucked if I feel like arguing with you two right now. We'll go in and play the good little clean-up crew. All I can say is that you'd better not come bawling to me when you're up to your ears in starving urchins."

"I am glad that you have seen the light of reason, Ms. Sparks."

"Shove it up your arse, d'Medici. I want to make it clear right now that I am doing this solely for the benefit of my people. I'm not doing it for you or Sliding Albion, and absolutely not because I have any approximation of a conscience in any way, shape, or form, so I wouldn't try to manipulate me that way."

"Understood."

"Grand." Jenny took a deep, calming drag on her cigarette. "I can't fucking believe I let meself be talked into this . . ."

"Thanks for not being a bitch, Jenny," Jack smiled, patting her on the shoulder. Jenny tossed her cigarette to the floor and ground it out with her shoe. She snorted.

" 'Jenny, don't be a bitch. Jenny, clean up the alternate earth. Jenny, stop putting your fags in the garbage disposal.' It's a wonder I get any bloody work done at all."

The Ambassador cleared his throat. "Ms. Sparks, before you fully immerse yourself in this tirade, may I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead, mate. Colonel Sparks is about to go off to soak her head and drown her liver. Ask while the asking's good."

"I confess to being curious as to exactly how you managed to destroy Italy without the apparent benefit of any kind of firearms or nuclear technology."

"Magic. And that's Colonel Jennifer Sparks, d'Medici. If you've read about me then you fucking well know my rank."

"My . . . apologies, Colonel Sparks. But did you say magic?"

"Yes." Jenny lit another cigarette and puffed on it distractedly. "The off-his-face lad over there with the silly goggles and bad haircut is a shaman. He held Italy down and let the ocean put it out of its misery."

"Did he indeed?"

Jenny, who had turned to stare through a nearby porthole, was only vaguely aware of a dark blur in the periphery of her vision. Before she had even turned halfway around Enrico's fist had connected with the Doctor's jaw, and his knee was already heading towards the solar plexus. Jack slammed his shoulder into the man's side and drove him to the ground before he could connect a second time.

"The fug did you do thad for?!" the Doctor screamed, cradling his broken jaw. "Shid -- fugger brog my chaw!"

"Why don't you fucking duck next time, then," Jenny retorted, but her attention was fixed on Enrico. She strode over to where Jack had pinned him to the floor by twisting the ambassador's arm and planting his knee on the small of the man's back. As if in response to this outburst the Bleed segued into a dimension of sharp, gold-shot tempests of black and purple, entities of green and orange energy thrashing violently in the Carrier's extra-dimensional wake.

"Now, before Jack here rips of your arm, do you want to tell me why you felt the need to punch my friend here in the teeth?" Jenny inquired. "Not that I can blame you some days, I'm just curious."

"Thags for the supporg, Jenny."

"Shut up, Doctor. So tell me, Enrico, why? Let me guess, 'For Italy!', right?"

"No. Nothing nearly as trite as all that. My family lived in Florence." Enrico twisted his neck around to fix his baleful gaze on the Doctor. "I . . . lost control, I confess, and I . . . regret doing so at such an inappropriate time. But I do not apologize for striking one who would so carelessly kill women and children alike to destroy their perceived enemy."

"I didn't-- AAOWW!" the Doctor began, just before Jenny cuffed him on the ear.

"Shut up and learn, and fix that jaw while you're at it," Jenny said. She turned to Enrico and placed her free hand in her pocket as she toyed with her cigarette in the other. "Now," she continued, focusing on the intruder, "It would be a right shame if you were to destroy that little deal we just arranged by assaulting a member of my team, wouldn't it?"

Enrico closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a few moments, then raised his head again. "Yes," he replied quietly. "Forgive me, M-- Colonel Sparks. I forgot myself. That was exceedingly unprofessional, no matter what my provocation. I hope you will accept my apology and not allow this transgression to interfere with our agreement."

"Let him up, Jack." Reluctantly, Jack released Enrico's arm. The d'Medici got to his feet, straightening his duster and vest as he did. Jenny noticed he studiously ignored massaging his abused appendage.

"Now let's get one thing straight," Jenny said, resting her hands on her hips. "We'll help you rebuild Sliding Albion on a few conditions. Are you paying attention?"

"Yes."

"Good. First of all, this is not official Authority business. This is a little side-project we have involved ourselves in, and we can and will pull ourselves out at a moment's notice if real trouble comes up, 'real' trouble being categorized as anything and everything threatening our world. We do not exist as a trans-dimensional supercop."

"Understood."

"Right. And secondly . . . " Before Enrico could blink, Jenny was abruptly nose-to-nose with him, eyes blazing with electricity. One slender hand had crept up and grasped the lapels of his duster, effectively immobilizing him. ". . . you will never, ever strike one of my people again," she growled, blue eyes spitting angry sparks. "I don't care how badly they fuck up or what weak-chinned royal they piss off, if they need a smack no one does it but me."

Enrico nodded as best he could. Jenny was impressed; the man was clearly nervous, but hid it well. "As you wish, Colonel," he answered. In his green eyes Jenny saw the reflection of her own face. Judging by its expression and previous experience, her esteem for the Italian rose a notch. Lesser men had been reduced to tears at this point. Either Enrico was exceptional, or she was losing her touch.

Jenny released the ambassador and watched him step back, again automatically brushing off his jacket; he seemed the compulsively neat type. Jenny filed this observation away for future use. She allowed the energy to flow out of her as she did so, returning it to the obliging Carrier. Odd how it always compensated for the abrupt drain without so much as a brownout . . .

"Now that that little tiff is sorted out, we'll need time to prepare," Sparks continued smoothly. She massaged her temples. "Jack, go show the ambassador here to a spare room. One that locks on the outside, mind." She smiled without humor at Enrico. "Just a precaution, you know. I'm sure you understand."

Enrico took it without flinching. "Indeed."

Jenny looked at Jack, Angie, and the disgruntled Doctor. "See this here?" she said with a smirk. "This is someone who is being what we call 'cooperative.' A pity he 'ad to be imported from an alternate earth, isn't it?"

"I live to serve," Enrico said with just the slightest touch of sarcasm. Jenny's smirk remained.

"I'll hold you to that after this little favor of ours," she replied. "Go, Jack. Flee before me. Take the man to a room, and try to make sure it has a ventilation system this time."

"Right, right." Jack gestured for Enrico to follow him. "Come on, follow me. And just remember, I can take your head off with my index finger if you so much as twitch the wrong way."

"Quite agreeable folk, aren't you?" Enrico replied with an ironic little smile. "I suppose I cannot blame you after your experiences with Regis' forces."

"That's not the half of it," Jenny snorted. "You should meet me ex-husband. Now off you go, Colonel Sparks needs her space."

Enrico bowed, briefly but gracefully. "My thanks again for tolerating my less-than-professional actions, Colonel."

"Right, right. Now get out."

Enrico nodded briefly and turned on his heel to follow Jack. Jenny took a drag on her cigarette, knitting her brows. After a few moments Angie decided to break the silence.

"Jenny, thanks for doing this," she said, glancing meaningfully towards the door. "This will give me the chance to do some of the things to original Engineer always wanted--"

"Sod off, Angie," Jenny interrupted. Angie jolted as if stung.

"But Jenny--"

"Don't but bloody Jenny me, Angie. I'm about ready to flay you and Jack for this. You don't ever undermine my authority like that again."

Angie recovered quickly. "Oh, come on, Jenny," she said, spreading her hands, "You can't tell me you didn't sympathize with that guy even a tiny bit."

"Nope, not at all."

"Then why did agree to go along with this? I may not have worked with you as long as Jack or Swift, but I know there's no way you'd give in that easily if you didn't want to do this even a little."

Jenny said nothing. Angie's smile returned.

"Admit it," the Engineer said, crossing her arms. "You want to help them. My God, you do have a conscience. Hold on, I want to get Apollo and the Midnighter, they're never going to believe this . . ."

"Take one step and die, Angie."

"Whatever you say, Jenny."

"Excuse me," the Doctor spoke up from his place near the wall, his body wrapped in shadows, "but can I have a word with you, Jenny?"

Jenny regarded his expression. Although his goggles concealed his eyes, the rest of his face looked less than pleased. His jaw was still slightly swollen, although from his speech it was obvious that he wasn't as badly off as he had been. She shrugged.

"Fine, let's have a word then," she said. "Angie, push off. Do Engineer things. Find something to fix. I'll handle things here."

"Whatever you say, Jenny," Angie smiled, and sauntered off in the general direction of Jack Hawksmoor. Jenny snorted.

"Bitch. Now, what do you want?"

The Doctor scowled. "Jenny, I don't like being humiliated and yelled at in public," he said, forming his blue-gloved hands into fists. The song of magic, like a distant chime of ice and glass, began to ring just beyond the edge of hearing. Jenny's short bark of laughter shattered it like a hammer through a pane of glass.

"And I don't like having my people act like fucking children and coming into the job higher than Sam Coleridge on a Monday morning. What's your bloody point?"

"But--"

"I'm getting a hell of a lot of 'but's tonight, and every one of them is getting the same response, which is to shut the fuck up and get over it already. If you can't take responsibility that comes with the job you should bugger off to Amsterdam and go back to the recreational narcotics full-time."

The Doctor glared at her from behind his thick, ruby-tinted lenses. Jenny watched him impassively, one eyebrow raised.

"I don't see why this concerns me at all," the Doctor said at last. "Sliding Italy was a cancer on the land. You know how I see the world, and you know that all the other shamans were behind me. What I did was perfectly acceptable and necessary."

"I also know you're a bloody show-off, is what you are," Jenny answered sharply. "And that most of the time you're too off your face to think before you use your magic. We've beaten that dead horse before. I think it's time for you to get a little perspective on things."

"What? I've got--"

"--a millennia of experience and half a mind as old as human existence, right. Whatever. We're not talking about magic anymore, sonny, we're talking about responsibility. Cause and effect. I'm old and set in me ways, and even I can see that. I don't think you can."

The Doctor seethed. "So you're saying that this is for my own good, is that it?" he grated. Jenny nodded.

"Among other things, yes," she admitted. "Buggered if I'm mentioning it to the others, but I have to admit, I'm not altogether proud of what we did. Yes, it was necessary, yes, it was deserved, but people do all kinds of things that are both of those in war, and it doesn't make them any more right. And we are at war, Doctor, whether you know it or not."

"It sounds like you're ashamed of what we did in Sliding Albion."

"Different kind of ashamed. Albion should never have gotten to that point in the first place. If I had killed Regis when I had the chance we wouldn't have had to drown Italy . . . or we might have anyway, I don't know. All I know is that we shouldn't have had to cause the deaths of thousands." Jenny shook her head. "But I'm an old woman, and I've been around too long to think that the world -- any world -- is going to let things be that damn easy. The most I can do is try to point it in the right direction and hope for the best."

The Doctor sighed. His anger, never sustained for long, had left him now. "I'm . . . sorry, Jenny."

"For?"

"I don't know, it just sounded right."

Jenny gave up. "You'll learn. Trust me. If you don't I'll get the Midnighter to beat it into your pointy little red-head until it sinks in."

"I could always turn him into a tree."

"Apollo would rip your legs off and stuff them up your arse," Jenny smirked. "Now, are we done bitching?"

"I suppose," the Doctor muttered, a touch sullenly. He touched his jaw with one hand. "I'm going to have to come back to this later."

"Why, too stoned to fix it?"

"Leave me alone. I don't think I like you very much anymore."

"Oh, me heart's breakin' over here. Let us have a look at that jaw."

With a sigh, the Doctor lowered his hand. Jenny touched the swollen cheek with unexpectedly gentle fingers, fingertips touching the rough stubble that was beginning to fill in. She snorted derisively.

"Silly little wank," she said. "Next time duck the bloody swing."

"Sorry. I thought he was a giant grasshopper."

"Liar."

"All right, I'm just slow. But he did look a bit like one."

Jenny smiled. "I swear, I'm going to have to leash you just to make sure you don't wander off and get yourself sprayed across the Mediterranean. Come on, let's get you some ice or some other damn thing for that jaw."

"I can make ice myself, you know . . ."

"I meant without the benefit of weed. And see if I ever try to get fucking maternal with you ever again . . ."

"Guilt-ridden," Angie replied airily.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Jenny? Jenny Sparks? Really?"

"Well, maybe not guilt-ridden, but she's feeling guilty," Angie confessed. "I had to read between the lines a little."

"If you got guilt out of Jenny then there must have been enough space between them to wedge in a dictionary," Jack chuckled. The entered the observation chamber, the great arching hall of windows and junctions. Outside a swarm of phantasmagoric nightflits kept pace with the Carrier, their iridescent wings glittering against the emerald sky. The two stopped in front of the central window to watch them. "How are you?"

"Truthfully? I'm not really sure." Angie leaned against the smooth metal wall, the nanites receding back into her skin. Jack automatically threw her his jacket, but not before collecting a discreet eyeful. "I mean, at first I just wanted to try out some of the things the original Engineer wanted to do -- end hunger, sickness, war . . . well, you know. But I don't know . . . it's starting to get to me now."

"You mean you changed your mind about helping?"

"No, that's not it at all. I mean . . . I don't really know what I mean. The more I think about it the more I have to wonder about what we did. I wasn't all that comfortable with it in the first place, but now there's someone here saying we killed his family for Christ's sake . . ."

Jack sighed. "Yeah, I know. I felt the cities die, remember? But like Jenny said, it was necessary . . ."

"I know, I know," Angie said, shaking her head. "But it's . . . I don't know. I mean, intellectually I know it was the thing to do, but emotionally I'm still having some problems coming to terms with it. I mean, it's a little different for me. I'm Italian. Watching Italy sink like that was . . . I don't know. Like I was betraying my heritage."

Jack frowned. "I thought you born in America," he said.

"I did, but it still feels . . . weird. It'd be like if you" she struggled to find a parallel while being fully aware that 1) she hadn't the faintest idea of Jack's ethnic background and 2) his body was partially composed of extraterrestrial organs "if you had to watch Sliding New York be bombed into the ground."

Jack nodded. "I can understand that . . . and really, I felt a similar way about watching the cities of Italy drown. I'm sorry I can't relate any better . . . I never exactly had time to get in touch with my roots, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah. Sorry." Angie sighed and shook her head, pulling Jack's jacket a little tighter around herself in a vain attempt to ward off the chill of the Carrier. "It's just . . . it really is our fault that man lost his family. Even if Jenny gave the order and it was the Doctor who did the actual dirty work, we were all a part of it."

The city-walker was silent for a moment. "Sometimes we all have to do things we aren't proud of," he said at last. "Even if it is only standing around and watching others do all the horrible things that you're afraid of doing yourself. Trust me, I know."

"I know you do. But . . . I'm a scientist, not a soldier. Not really. And if this is what it's going to be like I'm not sure I want to be one, either. I don't want to lose my values just because it's the expedient thing to do. They're part of who I am."

Jack chuckled. It was an empty, humorless sound, so much of a change from the man she had come to know that her muscles tensed. When he looked at her with those deep, soulful brown eyes she saw something she truly had not expected to see in Jack: the pain of innocence lost.

"You'll survive, Angie," he said quietly. "I think you're strong enough to keep your values and still do what's right. Some of us . . . weren't quite so lucky."

"Jack?" Angie said, concerned. "What . . . what is it?"

"Nothing, Angie," he replied, averting his eyes. "Just . . . some memories came back to me, is all. Don't worry about it." He squared his shoulders and turned back to her, once more his old self. "But the thing to focus on now is not what we did to Albion the last time we were there, but how we're going to help them now. Don't let the past bog you down -- it's not worth it. Isn't that what the Authority was made for -- working towards the future?"

He smiled at her, and Angie felt her face responding in kind. "Yes," she agreed after a long moment of searching his eyes for some hint of that old pain, and failing. "You're right. Of course you're right." She pulled away from the wall and shook her head. "Walk me back to my quarters?"

"Always." Jack offered her his arm, and she accepted. Arm-in-arm, they walked through the Carrier. And for the moment, that was all they needed.<

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