I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture is intimate, possessive. Claiming something I have no right to claim but can't help reaching for anyway.
"We can handle hard," I say. "We've survived worse than exhaustion and proximity."
Sarah doesn't pull away. "Have we?"
"Years apart. Years of anger and grief and thinking the other was dead or gone or irretrievable. Yeah, we've survived worse." I let my hand drop but hold her gaze. "This? Working together, rebuilding what we had? This is the easy part."
"You're insane."
"Probably." I step back, giving her space. "But I'm also right. We're good at this. Always have been. The work doesn't scare me. What happens when we're too tired to keep our guards up? That's more interesting."
She almost smiles. Almost. Then her tablet chimes with an alert and the moment breaks.
"So what are you suggesting?"
"That we acknowledge reality. We're working together on a critical operation. We're also dealing with unresolved attraction and complicated history. Both things are true. Fighting the second thing while trying to accomplish the first is a waste of energy we don't have."
Sarah stares at me for a long moment. Her gaze sharpens, assessing angles and outcomes the way she would dissect an intelligence intercept.
"You're saying we just accept that this is messy and move forward anyway," she says finally.
"I'm saying we trust each other enough to work through the mess instead of pretending it doesn't exist."
"That's very mature of you."
"The years deep cover taught me that denial is a tactical weakness." I move back to my workstation. "So, we acknowledge the situation is complicated, we focus on the work, and we deal with whatever happens when it happens. Agreed?"
Sarah returns to her own station, pulling up the network architecture we were building. "Agreed. But if you distract me during a critical protocol implementation, I'll punch you like Gabe did... only harder."
"Noted."
We settle back into work. The operations center around us stays quiet except for the hum of equipment and the occasional update from Tommy's security feeds. Hours blur together as we build the new network architecture piece by piece.
By the time dawn rolls around, we've built the framework for a new external communications protocol—not complete, but functional enough to start implementing.
Reagan and Willa appear with coffee and breakfast rations, "You two look terrible," Reagan says, while Willa gives a knowing look that says she's dealt with operatives running themselves into the ground before.
"Thanks," Sarah mutters, but she wraps both hands around the cup like it's a lifeline.
"Kane wants an update soon," Willa says. "He's been coordinating with Dylan and Stryker on the Reeve operation. They're planning insertion routes and extraction protocols."
"Tell him we'll have preliminary protocols ready to present," I say.
Willa assesses us both with her medical practitioner's eye. "You're going to burn out if you don't pace yourselves."
"We'll pace," Sarah says. "After we close the immediate vulnerabilities."
Willa doesn't look convinced, but she and Reagan leave us alone with the coffee and food. Sarah immediately returns to her screens, barely touching the rations.
I grab her wrist gently, stopping her. "Eat. You're no good to the operation if you collapse from low blood sugar."
"I'm fine."
"You're running on adrenaline and caffeine. Eat something or I'm getting Willa back in here to force-feed you."
Sarah glares at me, but she picks up a protein bar and takes a bite. "Happy?"
"Ecstatic." I release her wrist and grab my own food. "We've got days of this ahead. Taking care of ourselves is part of the mission."
