As in the stable, they remained like that for a long time. Not moving, but at least holding each other this time. Jack could feel Ethan’s heart beating a mile a minute, much as his own was. Yet simply having Ethan so close eased Jack’s heart back into a normal rhythm. Ethan’s followed suit.

“Crazy bastard,” Jack whispered.

Ethan huffed. “Half right, Jack.”

“Really?”

Arms tightening for a moment, Ethan said, “If I’m crazy it’s because you drove me to it.”

Jack chuckled and, reluctantly, pulled back enough to look into Ethan’s unfathomable eyes. “You have to stop doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Testing me.”

“I don’t—”

Stopping the protest with a finger against Ethan’s lips, Jack said, “You do. You did it in the desert, and at the Office. And again, now. The desert I can understand, but the others? You have to start trusting me.”

“I do—”

“If you’re unsure of something, or just want to know something, then ask. If I lie to you, then concoct one of your elaborate scenarios to find out the truth.”

Under his pressing finger, Ethan smiled.

“Is that agreement?”

Ethan nodded.

“Good. I’m holding you to it.” Jack dragged his finger over the lovely shape of Ethan’s lips, then along his jaw to his hairline. Running his fingers through Ethan’s hair, Jack was relieved when Ethan simultaneously pushed into the touch and melted against him. “Jesus, Ethan, you couldn’t have picked a worse time for your little test.”

“I don’t exactly have a good track record for straight thinking where you’re concerned.” He cupped Jack’s face in both hands and drew him close enough to kiss. Instead, he whispered, “I am truly sorry about Harry. I know he was a good soldier and an even better man, because you wouldn’t have picked him otherwise.”

Throat closing up, Jack shook his head in the confines of Ethan’s firm hold. “I did pick him. I put him in the position to get killed.”

“It was the risk he took, Jack. Harry knew the job and he was there with you, all the way.”

He’d heard it so many times over the past four weeks, but something about the accent, the low timbre, the touch, was different, but not quite enough.

“I know, but I can’t help thinking I should have left him with the bomb. Taken you to confront Porsche and Stark. Maybe he wouldn’t have died.”

One of Ethan’s hands slipped to the back of his neck and gripped him gently. “Jack, you can’t get caught up second guessing yourself. You made the best decision you could in the circumstances. There was no plan in the world that would have prevented pure happenstance. It was simply a bad situation, no matter how you look at it.” He forced Jack to look into his eyes. His expressionless, flat eyes. “It could have just as easily been me, Jack.”

Jack shook his head mutely.

“Yes, it could have.” Ethan’s fingers tightened on Jack’s skin as he frowned. His next words were husky with pain. “It could have been you.” He kissed Jack’s jaw, his temple, his forehead, back to his jaw. Cheek to cheek, he murmured soft, soothing words into Jack’s ear.

Jack collapsed around him, all of the fragile scaffolding holding him up since Harry’s death broken away. He clung to Ethan, listened desperately not to the words, but the tone, the meaning, the intent—the support. Somewhere in the mix, he cried.

An uncertain amount of time later, Jack realised they were moving. Swaying gently, occasionally shuffling in a small circle. It was quiet but for the now placid drumming of the rain on the roof. Ethan had stopped talking and just held him, guiding their aimless steps. Not dancing. Just moving together.

“This,” Jack whispered.

“Hmm?” Ethan sounded almost sleepy.

“This is what you do to comfort me. This is what I need from you.”

After a long silence where they made another slow circle, Ethan said, “Oh. Well, this I can do.”

Jack chuckled, surprising himself. “Good to know.”

As much he would have liked to keep doing what they were doing, Jack felt a little self-conscious now he’d acknowledged it. His extraction wasn’t as smooth as he would have liked but Ethan let him put a bit of space between them, though he kept his hand on the side of Jack’s neck, thumb stroking his jaw.

“I am sorry for leaving you, Jack,” he said. “And for Harry.”

“Thanks. I think, given a chance, he would have liked you.”

Ethan shook his head firmly. “No, he wouldn’t have.”

Jack considered it for a moment, then smiled. “Yeah, he wouldn’t have.”

They stood for a moment longer, gazes locked, then Jack’s stomach rumbled.

Ethan chuckled. “It’s a trifle early, but I’ll get dinner going if you want to wash up.” He pointed out a door all but hidden behind a big walk-in pantry.

Through the door, Jack found a tiny room with a toilet and sink. He peed, washed his hands and splashed a bit of cool water on his face. Wiping away the dried tears, Jack eyed himself in the small mirror. He looked tired. Bloodshot eyes, shoulders slumped, hair carelessly rumpled. Tired but, for the first time in weeks, content. Grief and guilt still curled through his guts, and would for a long time yet, but at least the sharp edges had been dulled.

Despite his constant assurances he wasn’t a good cook Ethan turned out a very edible pan-seared barramundi and noodle salad for dinner. After Jack did the dishes, they settled onto a couch that faced the huge window and killed a bottle of sav blanc while watching the rain. In bare words, Jack told Ethan about the inquest after the ISO job.

“I don’t know exactly what he said, but Tan covered your part in it.” Jack swirled the last couple of mouthfuls of wine around his glass. “After that, they stopped bugging me about it, thankfully.”

“Hmm, I guess Director Tan has his uses.”

“Yeah. Hate to admit it, but I was grateful. I was starting to run out of excuses for why you would help us.”

Ethan sipped at his wine, then said, “You could have said an anonymous third party had paid me to do it.”

Letting his head drop back, Jack stared at the exposed rafters. “I know you think we’re as hopeless as toddlers in a dark room, but we can and do find out stuff other people wish to keep secret. If I’d said you’d been hired on by someone else, they would have discovered it wasn’t true.” With a pained grimaced, he clarified with, “Eventually.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Ethan said, smirk evident in his tone if not on his face.

“Really? Um, okay. Lichtenstein.”

Ethan snorted. “I wasn’t even trying for subtly.”

Jack put a mark on his imaginary scoreboard. “Just between us, why did she buy a ticket on you?” What he really wanted to know was what Ethan’s note—This is what revenge looks like – EB13—meant, but that felt like pushing it. An instinct proved correct with Ethan’s answer.

“An old slight that means nothing now,” Ethan said, softly but with a finality about it.

Curiosity not even mildly appeased, Jack knew not to pursue it. Instead, he steered the conversation to something safe.

“Any new cars in the harem?”

“Harem?”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it’s not a harem,” Jack challenged mockingly.

Which Ethan couldn’t without laughing and things just devolved from that point on. Fifteen minutes after that, Jack finally had Ethan where he wanted him. On his back on the couch, shirt half unbuttoned and gasping as Jack hit all his sensitive spots between neck and navel.

“Jack.” Ethan fisted his hand in Jack’s hair and hauled his head up. “Wait, please.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jack took a moment to catch his breath. “We should take this to bed.”

“Hmm, yes, but perhaps first, a shower. You smell of aeroplane and horse.”

Levering himself up, Jack took a sniff of his own armpit. “True. Join me? You’re no bouquet either.”

Ethan chuckled. “You go on up, Jack. I’ll join you once I’ve locked up down here.”

“Really?” Jack looked around as he stood. “What’s left to lock?” There was precisely one door into and out of the fortress, and Ethan had locked it when they first arrived.

A socked foot landed on Jack’s hip and pushed him away. “Go wash. I’ll be along shortly.”

“Fine. Just remember where we left off.”

Ethan’s throaty “I will” followed him as he trotted up the stairs.

The loft was nothing surprising, given the rest of the house. A big bed with a carved mahogany headboard and hand-painted silk spread. It sat in the centre of the space but there was enough room left to have a pair of plush chairs by the window, a wardrobe against the brick wall and a fairly generous bathroom with a tub/shower combo, toilet and freestanding basin. There was another of the landscapes on the wall behind the bed, a beach at sunset, judging by the use of flaming orange, glowing red, and golden yellow.

Jack found his gear stowed in the wardrobe and after going through it for a minute, he realised he didn’t need any of it. Stripping right there, he went into the bathroom and stepped into the shower. He faffed around for a while, waiting for Ethan to join him and wanting to keep the fun stuff for then, but eventually he started washing. When that was done, he lingered under the warm water, still waiting. Finally, he turned off the water and got out. Towel wrapped around his waist, he wandered out and peered over the edge of the loft.

Contrary to his promise to be along shortly, Ethan stood at the window, staring out into the dark night. Arms crossed, he was perfectly still. Jack could sympathise. They’d talked through some pretty heavy stuff and even Jack was feeling a bit uppity. Jack’s method of dealing was physical—punching or sex. Ethan’s was to think and think and if he couldn’t see an escape route, then he’d make one. As Jack watched, Ethan seemed to come to a conclusion. Slowly, he turned and walked to the kitchen, picked up the remote and, with a soft clank and whir, the shield gently dropped over the window. Taking that as a good sign, Jack dropped the towel and draped himself decoratively across the bed.

When he woke up, his implant informed him it was 0452 the next morning. The wine and travel had taken its toll and he’d slept deeply, feeling refreshed as he stretched. Under a cotton sheet, his feet encountered solid muscle and sparse, curling hairs; Ethan’s calf, ending in his socked foot, lying close to Jack’s legs.

The house was dark. The sort of dark that could only be found in rural areas, where light pollution wasn’t a thing and the sun hadn’t yet risen. So, Jack explored by touch, finding Ethan properly asleep and unresponsive to his touches.

Jack pressed his face into Ethan’s shoulder. He’d showered the night before, as well, no longer smelling of animal but clean and warm skin. Jack breathed in deep, filling his senses. After a long time during which Ethan didn’t move, Jack kissed his collarbone then rolled away. As much as it might be nice to wake Ethan up with a blowjob, Jack decided against it. Ethan had avoided sex the night before, so it wouldn’t be right to surprise it on him now.

Working by feel and memory, Jack got out of the bed and found his gear in the wardrobe. He was used to dressing in the dark from years of surprise night drills in the army. In shorts and shirt, with a tiny torch he packed for just these sorts of situations, he went downstairs. The torch’s narrow but bright beam guided him to the kitchen and the small coffee machine he’d spied the evening before. It was fresh out of the box, the instruction manual on the counter beside it, along with a sampler of different flavoured pods. While the least-offensive-flavoured pod was chuffing away in the machine, Jack studied the remote Ethan had used to open and close the window shield. After a second’s hesitation, he hit the button labelled ‘door’. At the far end of the house, a narrow section of the shield retracted upward. Coffee mug in hand, Jack went over and found a door cut into the glass. It must have unlocked when the shield went up because Jack could push right through.

The air outside was crisp and cool, carrying a hint of moisture from the wet night that promised to turn into uncomfortable humidity when the sun got to blazing. A faint glow on the eastern horizon heralded dawn and Jack settled onto one of the deckchairs to watch. It was stupidly relaxing, lying back on the soft cushions, sipping a smooth blend and watching the world slowly resolve itself out of the shadows. First in shades of grey, then in slow revelations of green, brown and blue. An invisible hand painted broad strokes of pink, purple and gold on the horizon like one of the paintings inside. There were no sounds other than the gentle sway of the leaves, the first whistles and caws of birds and the fading chatter of night’s insects. No human voices, no traffic, no dogs barking. It was breathtaking and peaceful, and the very last measure of tension seeped out of Jack and vanished into the cool air.

“Good morning, Jack,” Ethan said softly.

Jack twisted his neck enough to watch Ethan approach. He carried a cup of steaming tea and wore only a pair of loose, grey pants, his sunglasses hooked over the elastic waistband. His hair was still sleep tousled, inviting fingers to run through the disarrayed locks.

Unable to help a sappy smile, Jack managed a distracted, “Hey.”

Ethan sat on the other chair. “I trust you slept well.”

“Incredibly. Sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“For falling asleep before you got to bed.” Jack eyed him for a response, hoping to find out why Ethan hadn’t wanted to fuck the night before.

“It’s perfectly fine.” Ethan put down his cup and stretched, back arching up off the deckchair, legs flexing. The soft touch of dawn’s light slid over his toned abdomen, catching in the dips, gilding the planes. “You needed the sleep, Jack.”

Jack’s dick awoke with a spasm of appreciation. “Apparently.” He took a slurp of coffee to give himself an excuse to swallow.

“Is the coffee satisfactory?” His hips wiggled, searching for a more comfortable position.

“Coffee’s good.” It could have been mud, for all that he tasted it.

Ethan made an appreciative sound. Whether it was for Jack’s response or because he was smoothing down the material of his pants to the point of outlining his semi-hard dick was a mystery. Whatever had held Ethan back last night didn’t seem to be a problem now.

“I’m pleased,” Ethan said. “I worry because I’m not a coffee aficionado and as such I’m never quite sure—”

“The coffee’s good,” Jack interrupted, tone as firm as his dick was getting. “I was in the army for nine years. You don’t have to worry about offending my coffee tastes, trust me.”

Ethan looked over, eyes wide. His innocent expression was, however, belied by the way his hand rubbed over his lower abs, just above the waistband of his pants.

“Jesus, Ethan.” Jack stood and stepped around the small table between them. “Didn’t we talk about this before? If you want to fuck, just say so. Legs up.”

“Jack, I—”

“No. Do you, or don’t you?”