Chapter 9 – A Lot to Learn

Jakub spread a towel out across his short living room table. He set out his revolver, a rag, a barrel brush, solvent, and oil. Popping open the cylinder to empty the weapon was simple enough, and he corralled the bullets into a fold in his terricloth workspace. Manipulating the rag with one hand was a bit more of challenge. He managed to wrap it around the cylinder opening well enough, but in order to tie it tight he had to resort to tugging with his teeth. When he pulled a little too hard, the rag slipped from his mouth, and the gun fell to the table with a thump.

Standing across the room at Jakub’s small kitchen counter, Miklos turned his head. “Do you need any help?”

Jakub chewed his lip where the rag had rubbed as he retrieved the gun. “No.”

“Okay. Let me know if you do.”

Miklos turned back to the carrots he was dicing. For the past three days he had moved into Jakub’s apartment with him, helping him with cooking, getting dressed, running errands, and reminding him of his medication. It was the most assistance Jakub had ever accepted from anyone, and he fluctuated often between gratitude, embarrassment, and frustration. That morning he had gotten into his pants easily enough, but with his injured left arm still slung tight against his body, even undershirts were too difficult to manage without help. After a failed attempt he had decided that a blanket draped over his shoulders would do for the time being, and he leaned over his table, trying to arrange his tools as carefully and efficiently as possible.

Getting the cap off the bottle of solvent was the next challenge. The cap was too tight for him to manage one handed, and he had to brace his feet to the table to secure the bottle. But leaning forward pushed his injured arm into his thigh, and by the time he was able to open the solvent, he was sweating. As he tried to set the cap down, he was forced to try and angle his knee away, which led to the bottle clattering to the floor.

“Shit.” Jakub grabbed a rag, but when he tried to lean down his elbow complained with a head-spinning throb, and he had to straighten up to catch his breath. By the time he looked down again, Miklos had set the bottle back on the table and was wiping up the spill.

“Are you all right?” Miklos asked, patiently, as if he already knew how Jakub would reply.

“I’m fine,” Jakub mumbled anyway. He insisted on helping Miklos clean the solvent and then went right back to work, coating the barrel brush. “Thanks, I’ve got it now.”

Miklos watched from the floor as Jakub tried to maneuver the revolver closer. “Any particular reason why that has to get done now?”

“It’s dirty. It didn’t get cleaned after its last use.” Jakub took a deep breath and braced his left foot to the table again, trapping the grip of the revolver between his toes. “If I don’t do it now, it will be harder later.”

“Okay,” said Miklos, but he didn’t go back to his cooking that time. He waited, continuing to watch as Jakub ground his teeth against the pain. When Jakub’s third attempt to get the brush into the muzzle turned the gun away from him, he gently plucked the brush from him and passed him the gun instead. With a sigh, Jakub held the revolver against his knee while Miklos cleaned the barrel and its chambers.

“You don’t need to push yourself so hard,” Miklos told him. “It’s only been a week.”

“Ten days,” Jakub corrected him. “And I’ve done this a hundred times—it’s not hard.” Miklos’ faint smile made Jakub remember just how many times he’d said that over the past few days, and he cleared his throat. “It’s going to need some oil, too.”

“I’m sure you can talk me through it.”

They had finished the scouring and moved onto the oil when there was a knock at the door. Jakub’s heart went from calm to pounding so quickly he saw stars. As Miklos wiped his hands and went to answer, Jakub tilted more oil onto the work rag and began working it over the metal, glaring at it intently as if he had never had any difficulty at all. It took a great deal of willpower not to lift his head as Miklos opened the door and Cheshire’s voice filled the apartment.

“Hey, Mik! Sorry, I’m not intruding, am I?”

“Not any more than the last half dozen times,” Miklos teased. He must have known it gave Jakub the impulse to heave the revolver across the room at him. “Come on in, Jakub could use your help with something.”

“Oh, sure….”

Jakub gulped, not looking up as he listened to their footsteps approach. “I’m fine,” he said, wiping down the revolver for excess oil. “I’m just finishing.”

“I thought you were going to disassemble it to oil the trigger,” Miklos prodded.

Jakub finally raised his eyes to throw Miklos a glare, but he was caught off guard at the sight of him carrying a full paper bag toward the kitchen. “What’s that?”

“Mik said he was making up some soup tonight,” said Cheshire, so close to the sofa by then that Jakub almost startled. “So I brought you some potatoes and a few fresh loaves from the bakery. You don’t mind, right?”

“Of course I don’t mind.” Jakub swallowed his nerves and finally looked up. As had become usual there was a tense moment when their eyes met: Cheshire flinched, though he tried to hide it, and a pained expression flickered through the twitch of his lip, the crease in his brow. It was immediately covered by a fresh smile, but Jakub could still sense it curled up in the space between them.

“Thanks,” said Jakub. “But when did Miklos tell you about dinner?”

“Oh, I came by this morning,” Cheshire said with a shrug. “You were asleep.” Jakub tried to cast Miklos another hard look, but then Cheshire continued. “So what are you working on? Tuning up the old girl? You’re not planning on going on patrol tonight or something, are you?”

“No.” Jakub started moving the different tools closer together to make it look like he was cleaning up. “I just didn’t want it to go too long without a cleaning.”

“Need a hand?” Cheshire cringed at himself and then ploughed ahead. “I mean, I can help, if you—”

“No, it’s fine, I’m already finished. I wouldn’t want you to get oil on your suit.” Jakub frowned thoughtfully as he took in Cheshire’s clothing more closely: he was wearing a warm gray wool with a honey-colored tie he’d never seen him in before. “Is that new?”

“Oh, yes!” Cheshire smoothed the lapels down self- consciously. “Yeah, just got it back this afternoon. Not bad, right? I told Burke I was gonna get him one just like it but he told me to fuck off, you know how he is. You’re sure you don’t need any help?”

Jakub gathered himself up, his fingertips prickling. Cheshire was quickening pace and Jakub knew what came next. “No, it’s fine. But if you want to stay, you—”

“Oh, no, I shouldn’t, sorry.” Cheshire grinned sheepishly as he took a step back, putting himself very deliberately out of Jakub’s range. “Burke and I still have a few rounds to make. I shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Liar, Jakub thought, his throat tight. “You just brought

food,” he said firmly. “You should stick around for dinner.”

Cheshire took another step back. “I’ll just get in the way,” he insisted. “But you enjoy it, okay? If I run into any incredible spices while I’m out I’ll bring some back. See you later!”

“Cheshire,” Jakub tried again, but by then he had turned and was heading for the door. “But what about—”

“It’ll be ready at six,” Miklos called after him. “And there’s enough to share, so bring a bowl.”

Cheshire hesitated with his hand on the door. “Okay!” His smile was half manic as he waved. “Six! I’ll see you then.” And with that he hurried out.

“Fuck,” Jakub grunted, and he slumped back into the sofa, tense and angry. “That’s all he does now.”

Miklos rejoined him, handing over a slice of carrot. “Give you things, talk really fast, and then run away?”

Jakub begrudgingly accepted the carrot, snapping it loudly between his teeth. “Asshole. If it’s so hard for him to look at me, he shouldn’t bother coming in.”

“I really doubt you’d like that any better,” said Miklos, but then he lowered his voice sympathetically as he sat down next to Jakub on the sofa. “You know it’s just because he feels guilty.”

“I don’t want him to feel guilty,” Jakub retorted. “I want….” He didn’t know how to complete that thought, so he took his time while finishing his carrot, rephrasing. “I don’t want him to feel guilty—I’m sick of him apologizing. Just before it happened, I shot one of the assholes attacking him. If I’d missed, I could have killed him.” He scraped his hand across his pant leg to get the rest of the soot and oil off. “And if he had missed, I’d be dead, so how the hell am I supposed to hold it against him? I’m not, and I don’t, and he’s not listening to me.”

“He just needs some time,” Miklos reasoned. “You both do.”

But Jakub shook his head, too exhausted and frustrated to accept calm rationale. “What good is more time going to do?” he snapped. “How long has it been already? Years and years, and I can’t—”

Jakub quickly cut himself off again when he realized how closely Miklos was watching him. “I can’t,” he tried again, only to not trust himself with the rest. He sagged into the cushions with a sigh. “Stupid.”

“Jakub.” Miklos leaned closer so he could take Jakub’s hand, giving it a warm squeeze. “What is it you want him to do?”

“I want….” It took Jakub a moment to get the words out. “I want him to bring me a bottle of whiskey,” he said determinedly. “I want him to sit on this couch and have a drink with me, and tell stupid made-up stories. Like this never happened.”

Miklos smiled. “Okay.” He gave Jakub a quick kiss on the cheek and then climbed off the sofa. “Well, he should be back for dinner. I could just tell him that—”

“No,” Jakub said instantly.

“—but I know you don’t want me to.” Miklos rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling. “Can I at least give the poor thing a head start and have whiskey ready? I could use a drink myself.”

“Okay.” The thought that Cheshire might actually stay and play along made Jakub dizzy again. “Thanks,” he said, so grateful he was almost nauseous. “For everything.”

“You know, I’m sick of you thanking me, too,” Miklos replied as he gathered up Jakub’s supplies within the towel. “Why don’t you take a nap? I’m going to bum a bottle off Hannah and get back to the soup.”

Jakub wasn’t convinced he’d be able to get any sleep, but he had been learning since the accident how easily exhaustion could creep up on him, and how dangerous and potentially embarrassing it was to ignore. Without bothering to rearrange the blanket around his shoulders, he stretched out across the sofa. “Tell Hannah I’m doing fine, okay?”

“Of course.” Miklos packed the revolver and tools away in their proper drawer and then slipped into his shoes. “I’ll be right back.”

He left, and Jakub hunkered down into the cushions, hopeful that he could rest and regain his wits before Cheshire came back.

***

Cheshire bounded down the stairs two at a time to his own floor. He felt like a coward, but any shame from that was deftly overpowered by his flight instincts. There was no getting used to it. Every time he saw Jakub, so pale and still healing, his stomach crawled into his throat and it was all he could do to keep his composure. He couldn’t bare to let Jakub see that— how dare he be that selfish, when Jakub was suffering so much worse.

He didn’t much feel like retreating to his room to indulge alone in self pity, either, so he changed course at the last second. “Burke!” Cheshire called, banging his fist against the door to Burke’s apartment. “Burke, do you have any booze?”

He didn’t receive an answer, and so pressed his ear to the door, listening. He thought he heard voices, but they were muffled, even more so than through the thin doors of their building. He considered for a moment just heading to the club, only to be reminded with a squeamish feeling just how many unwanted rendezvous that could result in. He knocked again.

“Burke, I can hear you! Open up and give me some of your booze!”

The door to Cheshire’s right opened, and Burke poked his head out, glaring at him in exasperation. “What’re you doing?”

“What am I doing?” Cheshire glanced between him and the door he was in front of, reading the number over and over. “Are you in my apartment?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Burke waved for him to come in. “Get in here, we’ve been waiting for you.”

Baffled, Cheshire followed. He had been hoping for a stiff bottle, but any distraction from his embarrassing display in Jakub’s apartment was very welcome.

Two women were indeed waiting in Cheshire’s modest apartment: the first was Grace, in a long dress and an autumn pullover, her hair delicately pinned; the second was a Chinese woman Cheshire had never seen before, likely in her forties wearing a pinstripe vest and pants, a broad-brimmed hat Cheshire envied held in her lap. Instead of pumps or flats her shoes were heavy black workman boots. She fixed Cheshire with sharp, curious eyes.

“This is him, ma’am,” Burke introduced as he motioned for Cheshire toward a stool across from the women. “Cheshire Bloom.”

Burke’s tone impressed on Cheshire that this was a greeting of some importance, and it flipped all the necessary switches in him. He couldn’t have asked for a more potent distraction. “Please excuse me for not being here sooner,” Cheshire said as he offered his hand to her. “Ms…?”

“Hallorran,” the woman replied, catching and shaking his hand in a firm grip. “Yes, the Thea Hallorran.”

Cheshire’s eyebrows went up, but he recovered well by his own estimation. Thea Hallorran—owner of Hallorran Inc, one of the country’s largest and most successful producers of arms large and small, as well as a slew of other safety and security machines and devices. He cast a quick glance at Grace, wondering if she had any inkling that she had once assisted him in lifting a collection of prized Hallorran blueprints via the Foleys. Surely too many years had passed for a woman like Hallorran to still be sore about it. Certainly.

“Ms. Hallorran,” said Cheshire, mind whirling as he took a seat. “I’m sorry about the place. If I’d known you were coming I would have suggested somewhere more suitable.”

“This suits me fine,” said Hallorran, not an ounce of nonsense in her. “And I won’t be staying long. I’m here to hire you for a job, and seeing as there is a limited window for this job to be carried out, I thought that appearing in person would motivate you.”

Cheshire shared a quick look with Burke, who was trying just as hard not to look mystified by the entire affair. “I’m extremely motivated,” Cheshire assured. “How can I help?”

“I was in the Lower East just over a week ago,” Hallorran explained, and Cheshire had a brief moment of panic before reminding himself that Hallorran Inc definitely did not specialize in baked goods. “I saw some of your work, and I liked it. I’ve since then learned that you have a strong reputation for thievery in these parts. Something you earned with the help of my products, as I understand.”

Grace was smiling to herself; she wasn’t nearly nervous enough for Cheshire to believe Hallorran had arrived in person to punish him for a wrong long past. “I did,” Cheshire said, very careful despite his smile. “And I’m grateful. I wouldn’t get to brag about besting the Gremlin safe if you hadn’t made it so resilient in the first place.”

Hallorran’s lip quirked ever so briefly. “In that case, I’d like to offer you the opportunity to steal more of my products.” She reached inside her hat and removed a piece of folded paper, which she passed to him. “One of our warehouses was recently ransacked by agents of Diamondback, our competition. Our own agents were able to track the goods to a depot in Inwood, but to be frank I much prefer to outsource retrieval. It’s easier on the books if we’re not writing up accident reports for employees.”

Cheshire opened the paper and found an address in Inwood, along with a long list of serial numbers. “So you know your merchandise is there now, but you don’t know how long it’ll stay there,” he surmised. “I’m flattered you thought of me, but that’s a little beyond our territory.”

“It’s not like we’d be staking a claim,” said Burke. “They’re getting no protection from the Garden City gangs out there. No toes to step on, then.”

“Stealing from thieves,” Grace added. “Your specialty.” Cheshire glanced between the three of them, that sick feeling back in his throat. Two weeks ago he would have leapt at the opportunity, but the thought of charging into a job without Jakub by his side was a daunting one. “What’s the payout like?”

“If it’s money you want, I’m sure we can agree on a sum,” said Hallorran. “But if you’re able to retrieve at least eighty percent of the merchandise, I’m prepared to offer you one item of your choice to keep.”

Cheshire turned the paper toward her. “These are just serial numbers, they don’t tell me what’s in there worth having.”

“That’s what we call gambling, Mr. Bloom,” replied Hallorran. “But as someone that appreciates a good explosion, I’m certain you’ll find a trinket worth your while.”

Does she not know it’s magic? Cheshire wondered, but there was nothing to draw from her face. She sure seemed like she thought she was offering him a good deal. And it was— any kind of Hallorran item, useful to him personally or not, would fetch a high price on the market. It was just a matter of knowing the right buyer.

Only if they completed the job, of course. Cheshire did his best not to let show how seriously he was contemplating rejecting the offer. Only to have Burke lean forward and declare, “We’ll do it. Happily.”

“Excellent,” said Hallorran, betraying a moment of honest enthusiasm. “I can supply you with an unmarked truck to transport the merchandise in. It will be waiting with my agents at that address.”

Cheshire tried to interject, but she had already stood and was shaking Burke’s hand. He stood as well. “Um, excuse me, but—”

“I hope you’ll be able to go tonight,” Hallorran said as she gave him another firm handshake. “I just hate the thought of my things grabbed up by Diamondback. They’re unworthy of them.”

“Of…course.” Cheshire caught Grace smiling at him and couldn’t make sense of it. “We’ll take good care them. Or at least eighty percent of them.” Hallorran fixed him with a heavy stare, and he quickly relented. “Even better care of the other twenty percent.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Hallorran. “Best of luck to you.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Grace volunteered.

She hooked her arm through Hallorran’s as they left the apartment together. They had only just cleared the door by a few feet—Cheshire hadn’t even had time to drill his glare into Burke—when Hallorran laughed merrily. “Oh, that was fun!” she crowed, and Cheshire was tempted to poke his head out the door to be certain it really was the same woman. “I never get to do these things in person. How was I? Was I intimidating?”

“Oh, very,” Grace assured. “Just perfect.”

They continued to chat down the hall, and Cheshire looked to Burke with befuddlement instead of the irritation he’d planned. “Is this for real?”

Burke shrugged mightily. “She’s rich—they’re eccentric. But look, she’s the real thing—haven’t you seen her pictures in the paper?”

“Well, sure, but….” Cheshire read over the paper again, not that it offered him much in the way of clues. “These could be anything. If it’s weapons and ammunition we could be walking into arms dealers, here.”

“So? Ye’ve never worried about that kinda thing before.”

“It’s not like before, is it?” Cheshire snapped, but then he quickly reined himself in and scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never done anything like this on my own.”

Burke softened his manners a bit. “Yeah, I know. But if this is legit, it’s good for us. A Hallorran ashtray would be worth the effort.” He clapped Cheshire on the shoulder. “You won’t be on yer own, anyway. We’ll round up some boys. It’ll be good for everyone.”

“I don’t like it,” Cheshire insisted. “It hasn’t been that long since….”

Burke gave him a moment to finish, but when he didn’t, he sighed. “I know,” he said again. “But you gotta face it now, Bloom—he’s not going to be up for this sort of thing for a long time, if ever again. So there’s no point putting off a good deal. Understand?”

Never again? The thought made Cheshire ill, and just for the sake of moving past it, he nodded. “Yeah—yeah, I get it. I’ll do it. It’s good for Kozlow.”

“Good man.”

Grace reappeared in the doorway, looking awfully pleased with herself. It made her an easy new target. “Grace!” Cheshire tugged her inside and closed the door behind her. “How in the world do you know the owner of Hallorran?”

“I sing twice a week at the Olivier,” said Grace, and she fixed him with an accusatory eyebrow raise. “You know, the hotel whose truck you robbed?”

“Oh.” Cheshire grinned sheepishly and then shook himself. “Wait, what does that have to do with anything?”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Because the hotel is across the street from Hallorran’s corporate office. Thea comes to hear me sing all the time. Everyone was talking about your heist—which was nonsense, by the way—so I just happened to let slip that I know you.”

“Ye didn’t tell the hotel that, right?” Burke asked, squinting at her.

“Of course not! Come on, Chesh, I thought this was what you wanted.” She took his shoulders as she faced him, offering a more sincere smile. “Everyone is talking about you— your name is all over the city. Thea and the rest of Hallorran have real power in New York; who knows what kind of doors this could open for you?”

Cheshire returned the smile, though faintly. “You’re starting to really sound like a member of the gang.”

“I am not,” Grace protested, giving him a gentle shove. “I’m just looking out for you, you soggy egg.”

Hearing her say so put some much needed wind back in Cheshire’s sails, and he stood a little taller. “Thanks for that, brittle bacon.”

Grace made a face at him and looked ready to say more, but then Burke clapped his hands to draw their attention. “Okay, good. We’re in. Let’s go tell the boss so we can head out there.”

Cheshire immediately deflated again. “Tell the boss?”

“If we’re gonna round up the boys, we have to,” Burke reasoned. He didn’t look much pleased with the idea either. “A job with someone like Hallorran outside our normal territory? That’s definitely a call for the big boss. Come on.” He herded Cheshire out the door. “It’ll be fine, yeah?” Cheshire wasn’t convinced, but he did allow Burke to guide them into the elevator.

“Good luck!” Grace called, waving as the doors closed them in.

Once on the top floor, Cheshire stood back and let

Burke knock on the door to Kasper’s suite. His relationship to the big boss had never been bad, exactly, due mostly to the fact that it was Jakub who handled the necessary encounters. He had no idea where he now stood; Kasper had listened to him tell the tale of what happened at the auto shop then dismissed him without rebuke, his feelings over the incident entirely unknown. Cheshire shifted back and forth as they waited and tried not to speculate.

The door opened, and Cheshire was surprised to see Kasper himself. He fixed the pair of them with a steady glare, lingering especially on Cheshire. “What is it?”

“A job, sir,” said Burke matter-of-factly. “A good one.

May we come in to discuss?”

Kasper grunted, shifting his weight back. He opened the door wide enough for them to enter. “Let’s hear it.”

They did so, taking up seats on the living room sofa. Depending heavily on his cane, Kasper crossed to his armchair. Burke waited until he was settled to launch into the explanation. As usual, Kasper listened without offering much in the way of expression or comment. But as Burke was requesting a few men to join the effort, he lifted his gaze past them. Cheshire prickled with ill ease, and he glanced over his shoulder.

Barney was standing in the doorway to the office. As to be expected he was glaring only at Cheshire, his narrowed eyes heavy with hate and distrust. Cheshire gulped and faced forward again. If he was lucky, he would be able to keep up his streak of not having to speak to him.

“So,” said Kasper once Burke has finished. “You don’t know what exactly it is we’re stealing back. Only that it’s Hallorran made.”

“That’s right,” said Burke. “But we’ve been pretty familiar with their catalogue of goods. Sure would be nice to be highly regarded by folks like them, too.”

Kasper nodded, but then he went quiet for so long that it started to become awkward. Just as Cheshire and Burke started exchanging glances, he abruptly cleared his throat. “No Szpilmans,” he said. “Call Edith—bring her three girls, if they’re available.” He looked past them again. “And Barney.”

Cheshire straightened, looking again to Burke, this time for help. “Sir,” said Burke, reading beautifully, “I’m certain it’ll be tame enough that the five of us—”

“Not you,” Kasper interrupted gruffly. “Bloom, Edith’s girls, and Barney. That’s who goes.”

Cheshire’s skin crawled with an eerie premonition as he listened to Barney’s footsteps heading back into the office. Why not Burke? he thought, none of the answers he came up with very promising. Why me and not him?

“That’s fine,” Cheshire said, assuming that any further hesitation would only cost him more. “We can handle it.”

“Good.” Kasper waved at Burke. “Go call Edith and give her the address. Then ask Hannah for a whiskey. You’re going to stay here and have a drink with me.”

“All…right. I’m honored.” Burke threw Cheshire an apologetic look, to which Cheshire offered a slight shake of his head in return. Whatever Kasper was thinking, they had little choice but to go along with it.

Burke headed for the study to use the phone, on the way passing Barney heading out, who had thrown on a hat and a jacket over his rumpled dress shirt. His pistol was clearly visible beneath. Cheshire stood, expecting he would finally have to make direct eye contact and share a few words, but Barney swept past him to lean down next to his father. Kasper whispered something to him that Cheshire couldn’t make out, ending with, “You understand?”

“Yes, Dad,” Barney replied, and he gathered himself up.

He looked back at Cheshire, all surl. “You coming or what?”

“Of course,” said Cheshire, and with a deep breath to steel his courage he followed Barney out.

They didn’t speak on the elevator ride down; Cheshire adjusted his gloves over and over while Barney checked his ammunition. It wasn’t until after they were stepping out that Cheshire finally remembered telling Jakub he would come for dinner. I should have asked Burke to make up an excuse, he thought as he followed Barney reluctantly out the back. It’s not like I can go up there now with Barney. He’ll just worry if he knows what we’re doing. Maybe if this doesn’t take all night, I can bring him some dessert….

They climbed into Barney’s Plymouth and started out of town. It was still early enough in the evening that the sun was high, plenty of cars on the road full of hardworking people on their way home. It would make for an even longer drive than the company would make it already.

Cheshire sagged deeply in his seat, hoping to avoid the bulk of Barney’s ire if he looked nonthreatening. “So, um. How’s Wanda?”

“Fine,” Barney said tersely, eyes on the road.

Cheshire wasn’t expecting any better, but he continued anyway. “She’s pretty far along now, right? In another month or so?”

“Yes.”

“Think of a name yet?”

“Yes.”

Cheshire gave him a beat to offer it up, but Barney was still only staring straight ahead, scowling. Never one to pass up a bad idea, he guessed, “Is it ‘Cheshire Kozlow’?”

Barney glared at him with such vitriol that Cheshire could have sworn his sigils burned. “Why the fuck would I name anything after you?”

Cheshire gave an exaggerated flinch. “I’m just saying,

it’s a unique name. Has a ring to it.”

“Stupid asshole,” Barney grumbled, staring ahead again.

Cheshire let him be for a while, but he wasn’t one for long silences, either, especially the heavy kind. If Jakub were here, he’d be glaring at me, too, he thought as he watched the city pass by the window. At long last he took in a deep breath. “Listen, Barney. Sorry I punched you in the face.”

Barney scowled again, but he didn’t look back or comment, so Cheshire continued. “To be fair, you did punch me first,” he said. “But that was…a really terrible night. For everyone. So I shouldn’t have done it.”

Barney’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, and he looked ready to retort several times. Cheshire had no idea what was about to come out of his mouth. When Barney himself had finally decided, his expression hardened, making him look more like his father.

“I’m not going to forgive you for what you did to him,” he said. “Ever. You know that, right?”

Cheshire swallowed his stomach down. “Okay.”

“Jakub has been with us a long time,” Barney continued.

“Longer than you. He’s family, you’re not. So cut it out with the chummy chummy crap, okay? I’m in charge, and you do what I say, that’s it. Got it?”

“Got it,” Cheshire said flippantly, turning away to roll down his window. “Yes, sir.”

He was sure it earned him a glare, but he didn’t particularly care anymore. Neither spoke the rest of the drive.

***

Jakub did manage to sleep, though not for long. When Miklos returned with the whiskey he’d suggested, he wasn’t alone: Burke and Hannah were in tow, both making that same hesitantly sympathetic face he was sick of. But he sat up to greet them, combing his hair back with his fingers. He didn’t want to give anyone the excuse to ask how he was doing.

“Look who else was after the whiskey,” Miklos said, sounding a bit too cheerful. “I managed to grab us some garlic, too.”

Hannah approached, and though she was much more reliable company than Cheshire as of late, she couldn’t help herself. “How…did you sleep?” she swerved mid sentence. “Sorry we woke you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jakub said. He adjusted the blanket around his shoulders as best he could without making it look like he could use assistance. “I’ve had plenty of sleep. Are you staying for dinner?”

Hannah took seat next to him on the sofa. “If you’re offering.”

“Not me, thanks,” said Burke with a wave of the whiskey bottle. “The boss invited me up for a drink.”

Jakub frowned at each of them. Even freshly awakened he could easily pick the peculiar tension out of the room. “Then you should come back after,” he said, watching them. “Cheshire’s coming back, too.”

Miklos glanced up from his continued soup preparations, but didn’t look at Jakub—he looked to Burke. So did Hannah. They were both waiting and Jakub already had a decent idea of what he was about to say. Sure enough, Burke scratched the back of his neck and said, “Actually… Bloom’s tied up tonight.”

Jakub latched onto him with a glare. He wouldn’t say he was necessarily happy that Burke found him intimidating, but it was sometimes useful. “Where is he?”

Burke gulped, suddenly the focus of many hard eyes. “He’s out with Edith’s three girls. They’re doing a pickup job for the boss. Needed the muscle.”

Jakub pursed his lips; he couldn’t voice his immediate instinct of I should be with him, not on a loading job, but frustration made him sick. “Picking up what?”

Burke shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll be telling ye’all about it when he’s back, but it’s a ways out. I wouldn’t expect him until after dark.”

“The girls will look after him,” Hannah added.

“I don’t need you to coddle me,” Jakub said irritably. “Just tell me what he’s up to.”

“That really is it,” Burke insisted. “Loading a truck. But hey, I’ve got to get back to the boss.” He hefted his whiskey. “If ye’ve leftovers, send a pair of bowls up, will ye?”

“Sure,” Jakub muttered, and he watched Burke the entire way out, wanting him to feel it. Then he looked to Hannah. “Where is he really?”

“He’s loading a truck with the girls,” said Hannah, not without sympathy. “I’m not telling you where, because the last thing anyone needs is you running out after him, him least of all.”

Jakub pulled a face, unable to retort. He could easily imagine the half-panicked smile Cheshire would flash his way if he were to show up at a job. Anxiety coiled in his stomach, and though it was foolish he had to ask, “He’s really not doing anything stupid, right? It’s a loading job?”

“As far as I know,” Hannah replied, and though she was still tense Jakub couldn’t be sure if she was lying. “Don’t worry about Bloom, he can take care of himself.”

Jakub snorted as he hunkered down in the sofa. “I know you don’t believe that.”

“Then it’s about time he learned to,” Hannah retorted. She immediately seemed to regret it, though, as she shook her head and pushed to her feet. “The girls will look out for him. Try to get some more rest—I’ll help Miklos with dinner.”

She let him be, but Jakub wasn’t about to sleep. He pushed a stool to the window and settled there, keeping an eye on the skyline for smoke.

***

Hallorran’s address led them to a long, squat warehouse down in Inwood. The surrounding businesses had recently closed for the night, and without any residences nearby the sunset roads were mostly empty. Barney parked in an alley thirty yards away so they could keep an eye out: the warehouse’s large bay doors were open, and they could see burly men and women milling about inside among large crates.

“Even with five of us and however many Hallorran sent, we’re not going to be able to just grab and run,” Cheshire said thoughtfully as he leaned against the dashboard. “I might be able to carry one myself, depending on what’s in them.”

Barney chewed on his thumb. “So how do we do it?”

Cheshire shrugged. “You’re in charge. I just do what you say.”

Barney glared at him, and when Cheshire didn’t respond he grumbled irritably. “If you don’t have any ideas, just say so.”

“Oh, are you asking me for ideas? I only have one good one, though.”

“Shit, Bloom, just—”

There was a tap on Barney’s window, and he jumped, reaching for his gun—which he couldn’t draw thanks to his seatbelt. When he realized it was only Edith’s eldest daughter Gertie at the window, he scowled and lowered it. “Yeah?”

“Our car is across the way,” said Gertie, jerking her thumb toward an alley facing the warehouse’s western wall. “Hallorran’s crew is there, too, but they’re saying they’re not helping us except to move the goods. Is that true?”

“We can handle it,” Cheshire reassured her. “There’s only half a dozen in there.”

“Yeah, but it’s broad daylight, and they’re big.”

“I’m big, we’ll be fine.”

“Bloom,” Barney interrupted angrily. “What is the plan?”

Cheshire looked again to the warehouse. Six in the warehouse, maybe more if there are others out of view. I can’t light too many fires if all the merch is in there. We can’t just…kill them all. He gulped as he looked over the various entrances and possible escape avenues. What would Jakub say if he were here?

“Is the truck Hallorran brought marked?” he asked. Gertie shrugged. “I didn’t get a good look at it.”

“Go check. If it’s clean, we can drive it right up to the bay and tell them we’re Diamondback coming to make the pickup.”

Gertie nodded and straightened up, but Barney continued to glare at him in exasperation. “We don’t even know if Diamondback is sending a pickup,” he said. “Or when they’re supposed to come.”

“So? It worked on Raptis.” Cheshire unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted his door open.

“But—” Barney scrambled to do the same. “What the hell are you going to say?” he demanded as they met in front of the hood. “How will you convince them?”

“I’ll make something up,” Cheshire replied with a shrug. “Other than blowing things up, it’s what I’m best at, don’t you think?”

Gerite had already headed across the street, and Cheshire started to follow, only for Barney to grab him by the elbow and draw him back. “What if it doesn’t work?” he persisted. “They might not believe you.”

“Then I’ll think of something else,” Cheshire said impatiently. “Like always.”

He started to leave, but he only made it a few steps before Barney again drag him to a halt. “What the hell kind of plan is that? What if they just shoot you dead?”

“Then you’ll be rid of me!” Cheshire shook him off. “Hallorran came to me and you don’t have a plan at all, so get off my back, okay?”

Cheshire turned and continued on, determined not to be grabbed again. Until he heard the click of a hammer being drawn back.

Cheshire stopped. He half expected to feel a bullet in his back, and he couldn’t move, too many incomplete thoughts jostling to his surface at once. When a beat passed and nothing happened, he looked cautiously over his shoulder. Sure enough Barney had his gun drawn and pointed at him, his face contorted in anger and fright.

“You’re always like that,” Barney snarled, even though his hand was shaking. “So damn sure of yourself. I fucking hate that about you.”

Cheshire’s gaze hopped between Barney’s face and the gun. “What are you doing, Barney?”

“We were always better off without you,” Barney went on. “I told my old man that so many times, but he never listens to me.”

“Barney…calm down.” Cheshire very slowly turned to better face him. “We’re just here to do a job, right?”

Barney shook his head fiercely. “Fuck your job! You’re not just a witch—you’re a freak and you’re gonna get every one of us killed or worse!”

Cheshire gulped, sweating into his gloves as he thought of Jakub lying unconscious in the hospital. He looked again to the gun, though now that Barney hadn’t taken the first shot it wasn’t fear for his life trembling in his chest. It would have been easy to just blow it up like everything else—to watch Barney disappear in a cloud of smoke just like in the auto shop, his fingers sheared off, flesh blistered and charred. It might have been easier still just to make Barney disappear entirely. How quick and final it would be, to do what he hadn’t had the courage to do before. There were probably even ways he could get away with it.

You’ll never be able to look Jakub in the eye again if you hurt him, he thought, and that frightened him more than the bullet.

“All right,” Cheshire said, hands half raised and placating. “Go ahead—shoot me. Go tell the boss the job was a scam and you had to kill me.” Barney’s finger tensed around the trigger, and Cheshire took a quick breath to continue. “Or you can put up with me a little longer, we get the stuff, and come back with a really expensive reward.”

Barney wavered—the gun was getting heavy. “I’m the one that’s going in,” Cheshire reminded him. “At least wait to see if they blow me away before taking that on yourself—come on, Barney.”

Barney scowled harder, but his hand was shaking too badly by then for him to even get a good shot, and with a sigh he lowered the gun. “I fucking hate you.”

Cheshire gave the moment a few beats longer before he relaxed with a sigh of his own. “Yeah, I get that.” Only then did he realize his hands were shaking, too, and he tightened his ponytail and adjusted his glasses just to give them something to do. “Christ though, Barney, if I’m as bad as you think I am, wouldn’t I have blown you up by now? Come on, let’s just get the job done.”

Thinking they had both said enough, Cheshire finally headed in the direction Gertie had gone. He could hear footsteps hurrying to follow, but didn’t think enough about it until Barney pistol whipped him in the back of his skull.

The blow sent Cheshire reeling, his glasses falling from his face. He managed not to completely fold, however, so that when Barney followed he was able to throw his elbow back. It sure felt like he hit him straight in the nose. Barney stumbled back, cursing.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Cheshire demanded. They weren’t far enough from the warehouse that they wouldn’t draw attention with too much noise, and he had no idea what Edith’s daughters would do or which side they would take in a fight. He reached for his glasses so he could at least see if anyone approached, but then Barney charged him. He was just off balance enough, and Barney just determined enough to take him off his feet, and they hit the ground in a tumble.

They grappled roughly on the cement. “I fucking hate you!” Barney yelled, but Cheshire had too much weight over him and he was soon pushed onto his back. Even then he didn’t give up, kicking and struggling, until he found a clean shot and cracked the handle of the pistol against Cheshire’s temple. Having not seen it coming Cheshire was caught completely off guard, and he slumped enough that Barney was able to reclaim the upper hand, reversing them. Immediately he tried to hit Cheshire again with the gun.

That time, Cheshire’s blurred vision caught the movement in time. He caught Barney by the wrist and dug in with his fingers, trying to force him to relinquish it. The pistol went off with an ear-ringing bang that left them both momentarily starry-eyed. Cheshire bore down until he heard the weapon hit the ground. “Are you out of your goddamn mind!? Get off me!”

“Fuck you!” Barney punched him across the face with his free hand, which wasn’t nearly as strong as it could have been, but it still fucking hurt. While still keeping a tight grip on Barney’s right, Cheshire scrambled for the other, only to get another punch that cut his lip and then a hand around his throat. They pawed and kicked and swore at each other, until finally Cheshire heard other voices shouting, and someone pried Barney off him.

“You all right?” asked an unfamiliar voice, and Cheshire gulped, allowing the stranger to help him to his feet. “Thanks,” said Cheshire once he was upright. He rubbed

his jaw and squinted into the orangey smear around him. “Um, do you see my glasses?”

The stranger pressed them into his hand, and once on he finally got a good look at the terrible situation they were in. Barney was being restrained by two of the warehouse goons, while another pair was watching him, everyone keyed up and confused. The remaining two workers in the building were going about their business. There was no sign of Edith’s daughters, the Hallorrans, or the truck.

“What the hell is going on?” asked the burly woman who had come to Cheshire’s rescue, and his brain clicked and spun, desperate for a new tactic. “Your friend here looked ready to kill you.”

“I’m not his friend!” Barney snapped, eyes wide and nose bloody. “I am gonna kill him!”

What’s the play? Cheshire thought anxiously, caught between the staring workers, the lights in the warehouse, the bloodthirsty Barney. Once again it occurred to him how swift and simple it would be to reduce all four strangers to puddles, and he shivered. No, no, there’s got to be another way to get the goods on that truck.

He glanced back to the warehouse and focused on one of the overhanging lights in a far corner. There seemed to be a stack of wooden pallets beneath it, far enough away from the crates he could only pray were what they were after. He committed it to memory, visualizing the bulb and the wooden slats beneath it.

“You okay, buddy?” the woman asked, patting Cheshire on the back. “What’d you do to piss this asshole off so bad?”

Cheshire turned back. Here goes nothing. “Ha! What’d I do?” He flashed Barney a wide, taunting grin. “I fucked his brother-in-law, that’s what!”

“You son of a—” Barney launched himself at Cheshire again, and their audience was too busy gaping to stop him. Cheshire let him hit, and once again they fell to the ground, scrambling clumsily. Suddenly they were a spectacle to root for. Once they’d each gotten a good hit or two in, certainly capturing everyone’s attention, Cheshire closed his eyes and pictured the bulb. Blow up. Blow up!

The light bulb exploded, showering the corner of the warehouse in sparks. It was loud enough that even Barney stopped, and everyone looked for the source. The pallets didn’t immediately catch fire, which would have been most helpful, so Cheshire concentrated as hard as he could to help them along. Remembering all the practice he’d had with cigarettes over the years, he lit a fire along one of the slats which quickly began to roar.

The workers shouted curses as they raced back toward the warehouse. With Barney equally distracted, Cheshire had no trouble getting one last punch on him to throw him off. “Get the truck,” Cheshire ordered as he pulled both of them to their feet. “Pull up to the bay door!”

Barney glanced between Cheshire and the fire, blank- faced. Cheshire hoped he was considering that it could have just as easily been him going up in smoke. But with another push he grabbed up his cap and ran for the far side of the street, cursing all the while.

Cheshire settled his glasses, spotting Barney’s pistol along the way. He tucked it into the back of his trousers and then started running toward the warehouse, where the workers were throwing leather tarps over the burning pile to try and douse the flames. This will work, Cheshire told himself, and just when it looked as if the blaze could be contained, he lit up the worktable nearby.

“What the fuck!?” shouted one of the men as he dragged a fire extinguisher over. “How did that—”

“Give me that,” snapped the woman, grabbing it from him. “I’ll handle this—get the crates out of here before something catches!”

She and another worker continued to battle the fire while the rest scampered to the crates. As Cheshire approached he could finally make out the round Hallorran logo branded into their sides. Thank god, he thought, and mustering his most innocent surprise, he jogged up to them. “Can I help?” he asked. “I can carry!”

“Get these crates outside the door,” instructed one, and Cheshire pasted a very concerned expression in place as he grabbed up the nearest crate. As he headed for the bay door he glanced back to the fire’s progress, and seeing that they were again close to containing it, flared another shelf on the opposite side of the burned out pallets.

“Son of a bitch!” The woman turned her fire extinguisher on it, but the pump squeaked with rust and nothing more came out. “Don’t we have another of these?”

A large truck rounded the corner, Gertie behind the wheel. She whipped it around like a pro and backed into the bay; Cheshire could have kissed her. The back door slid open to reveal her two sisters, the younger of them flashing Cheshire a wink. As the workers scurried and shouted he rushed over with his crate and handed it up into the truck.

“Get them in the truck!” he shouted, trusting that with the warehouse beginning to fill with smoke, the rest would have a hard time determining who was passing orders. “Quick, before the whole building goes up!”

One man with a crate was headed for a different exit, so Cheshire turned him around, pointing him to the truck. With hurried nods, he complied. Soon enough the others caught on, passing all the Hallorran crates up to Edith’s daughters to be crammed into the truck. They were halfway through when one paused with his arms full, looking between his peers and the girls in confusion. “Wait…where did this truck come from?”

Cheshire grabbed a crowbar off the wall and heaved it into nearby trashcan—a moment later it exploded in a fireball, and the workers jumped with fright. “Go, go, go!” Cheshire encouraged, pushing the man toward the truck. “We’re losing it!” Too startled to complain, he hurried back to work.

The last crate was loaded, and Cheshire shared a grin with Edith’s daughter before dragging the door shut between them. “Oh God, it’s spreading to the roof, get out!” he shouted, blowing a few more of the light bulbs for good measure. Then he dashed around the truck to the passenger side and hauled himself up into it.

Barney was already in the cab. Cheshire gulped, but it didn’t look like he was about to get punched again, so he yanked the door shut behind him. “Go!” he said to Gertie, and she drove off, leaving the burning warehouse behind them. He watched it grow dimmer in the side mirror and let out a sigh. “Phew. We did it, somehow.”

“What the fuck was that?” Gertie demanded. “What happened to charming them out of it?”

“Uh, we had to improvise.” He looked to Barney, no idea how they were now supposed to act. “Right, Barney?”

“Right,” said Barney, slowly, watching him like a hawk. “Well, either way, I guess it doesn’t matter,” said Gertie.

“You did it. If we follow the expressway there’s a grassy field a ways from here—we’re meeting with Hallorran there.”

“Good,” said Cheshire. “And great work with the truck.

I knew I could count on you to….”

Cheshire trailed off, leaning out the window to get a better look at the side mirror. Another truck had roared onto the street behind them and was speeding up, giving chase. “Uh oh. Looks like they’re onto us already.”

“You’re sure it’s not Hallorran?” Barney asked anxiously. A gun went off, and a bullet struck the side mirror, shattering it. Cheshire cringed back. “I’m pretty sure.”

“You’re gonna have to do something about it fast,” said Gertie. “My sisters are in the back.”

“I’m on it, I’m on it.” Cheshire twisted his door open. “Just try to keep it steady.”

Gripping the solid door frame, Cheshire leaned out of the cab. The truck had already caught up and was following close behind, one man with his arm out the window and brandishing a very large revolver. Cheshire was still deciding where to aim when the man fired off another shot. He jerked back—the bullet dented the door just below his arm—and lost his footing, half tumbling out of the vehicle. In a panic he reached for whatever he could, but it was Barney grabbing him under his armpit that saved him from falling straight out onto the pavement. With one hand gripping his seatbelt for leverage, Barney helped drag him back into position.

“Thanks,” Cheshire said, breathless, but Barney only scowled, so he turned his attention back to their pursuers. We can’t draw a chase out, he thought, palms heating as he took aim. It needs to end right here.

The truck’s right front tire flashed, and an instant later it exploded in a concussive blast that rocked the truck off it’s wheels. Even Cheshire was caught off guard by the spectacle of the truck careening off the highway, rolling over, windshield shattering and cab squealing. The sound was heart-stopping. And then it was over, Gertie speeding them away as Barney pulled Cheshire back into the cab.

“Did you see that?” Cheshire asked excitedly. “Damn! That’s a new one.”

“You’re nuts, Bloom,” said Gertie, shaking her head. “Nuts, but well done.” Barney was pale and didn’t reply.

They reached the grassy area that Gertie had mentioned and disembarked, heading around to the back to help the other girls out. As the three sisters began breaking open the crates to take a look at the amount and condition of the goods, Cheshire stood back, catching his breath and wiping blood from his mouth. A split lip, some scuffs, and what would surely be a decent sized knot on the back of his head—all things considered, not the worst he could have suffered. But then he looked to Barney and he wasn’t so sure.

Barney was scraping his bloody nose against his sleeve. He still looked incredibly pale, even with the sunset finally dying out. His shoulders were tense and jittery. After a great deal of internal debate, Cheshire moved closer. “Hey, Barney.”

Barney jumped and tried to glare at him, but he seemed genuinely spooked, and he couldn’t hold onto his usual scowl. “What?”

“Tell me straight,” said Cheshire, trying to look as non- threatening as possible. “Did the boss tell you to kill me?”

Barney gulped and stared straight back. Cheshire tried not to show his own tension as a silence stretched between them. It was one thing to know Barney alone wanted him out or dead, but the thought that his “home” of over half a decade being upended over what was already the deepest regret of his life made Cheshire almost vibrate with nausea. But then Barney looked to the ground and said, “No. He said….” He made a face and shoved his hands in his pockets. “He said if I was going to do it, to get it over with, or shut up about it.”

Talking about killing me that much, huh. Cheshire had told himself many times over the years not to take Barney’s hatred to heart, but that didn’t seem to be an option anymore, and he didn’t know how to react. “So, um. What’s it gonna be, then?”

“It’s whatever, Bloom.” Barney swiped at his nose again, snorting blood. “Forget about it.”

Cheshire gave him another moment to be sure and then came closer. Barney tensed as he pulled the gun out of his belt, but he offered it up handle first. “So we’re good, at least for now?”

Barney’s gaze darted between the gun and Cheshire’s face a few times before he was confident enough to reach for it. “Yeah,” he muttered, stowing the pistol in its holster. “For now.”

“Okay.” Cheshire offered a half smile. “Thanks for not letting me fall out of the truck. You saved my life.”

Barney blinked at him in surprise and didn’t know how to answer. “Okay,” he said, and that was about the best Cheshire could hope for.

“Bloom,” Gertie called from the truck, just as Hallorran’s people arrived at the field with Barney’s and the girls’ cars. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Cheshire jogged over and climbed into the back. Most of the crates had been opened and were carrying different fascinating looking firearms packed in straw. But Gertie was pointing to a long, narrow case with different markings. Her expression was tense and excited, and it put Cheshire on edge as he came to investigate.

At a glance he understood immediately, and his heart began to pound. “This is it,” he said as Hallorran’s drivers came to the back. “This is our take.”

***

The much-anticipated  soup  was  declared  ready for serving at six, as Miklos promised. Thanks to various contributions from Jakub’s well-wishers, they managed to fill the largest pot in the building. Hannah took bowls up to Burke and the boss, attracting a few curious noses along the way. Word spread quickly, and before long half the building was stopping by, ostensibly to see how Jakub was fairing. He just as quickly adapted a very successful strategy: he kept at his table the loaves of bread Cheshire had brought earlier, pre-sliced thanks to Hannah, and anyone who attempted to ask him a question was very abruptly and loudly offered some. Everyone got the hint and he didn’t have to utter a single “I’m fine” the entire evening.

He kept the whiskey, too, still sealed. No one asked for or was offered any; it wasn’t going anywhere until Jakub had Cheshire next to him on the goddamn sofa, embellishing a story about loading trucks with Edith’s three daughters.

By eight o’clock it was finally dark, and their trickle of visitors had stopped with the last of the soup. Jakub excused himself to an early bed, exhausted and yet still burning with determination. I don’t care if he shows up at nine in the morning, he thought as he burrowed into his mattress. If he comes to the door, he’s not leaving until he drinks that whiskey. He told himself that several times and finally drifted off to sleep.

Not even an hour had passed when there was a heavy knock on the door to the apartment. Jakub startled, blinking groggily, for some reason his mind going to the booze before his gun. Then he heard a very familiar voice speaking very fast, and he groped for the switch on his bedside lamp. By the time he’d flicked it on, the bedroom door was opening, and Jakub’s heart fluttered at the sight of Cheshire’s broad silhouette in the doorway.

Then Cheshire stepped closer, into the light, and Jakub’s jaw fell open: he looked a mess, bruised along one side of his face, his new jacket torn at the shoulders and full of smoke. Even so, he was grinning brightly as he thumped down on the edge of the mattress. “Jakub! Sorry, you were asleep, huh? I guess it’s kind of late now, sorry. But this couldn’t wait!”

Jakub stared at him, tempted to reach for the bruises. “What happened to you?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing.” Cheshire rubbed his jaw. “Don’t worry about it—you have to meet someone.”

“But what happened—” Jakub stopped when he realized that a second person had entered the room as well: a woman in a pinstripe suit he vaguely recognized from the newspaper. She moved around the bed to sit on Jakub’s left, and he eyed her— and the intense look she was fixing him with—with undisguised mistrust. “What’s going on?”

“This is Thea Hallorran,” Cheshire introduced, still grinning. “She’s the one who—well, I guess you don’t know anything about that, huh?”

“What?” Jakub glanced between the two of them, utterly dumbfounded. “Halloran’s owner?”

“Do you mind if I take a look?” asked Ms. Hallorran, pointing to the sling holding Jakub’s left arm to his chest.

Jakub leaned away from her, his skin crawling. It was too hard to begin judging the stranger’s motives when his mind was still so full of concern for Cheshire’s bloodied state. But then Cheshire nodded encouragingly, and swallowing his confusion, he untied the knot at his shoulder. The fabric fell away, revealing what remained of his left arm.

Everything from his bicep and below was still wrapped in gauze. Miklos had helped him change the dressings a few times since leaving the hospital, but it was still difficult for Jakub to look at, and he found himself instead watching Hallorran’s face. She didn’t seem fazed by the sight and wasn’t squeamish in reaching for him. Jakub flinched but then held still as she very gently squeezed his upper arm, then followed the muscle down to his elbow.

“Do you still have some movement below the elbow?” Halloran asked.

Jakub gulped, not feeling confident enough to demonstrate. “Some.”

“Well?” Cheshire asked eagerly. “What do you think?”

She hummed thoughtfully, and even without any idea of what was happening or what was being asked, Jakub’s heart began to pound. He glanced to the doorway and found Miklos watching with just as much excited intensity and didn’t know what to make of that, either. Then Hallorran spoke again, and he quickly shifted his attention back.

“No,” she said, her brow furrowed. “That apparatus was made to connect at the shoulder. It won’t do your friend here any good.”

Cheshire sagged, all the hope draining from his face so quickly that it made Jakub sick, and he hated her for it. “What the hell is going on?” Jakub demanded, drawing his arm away from her. “What do you want?”

Hallorran was stoic for a beat longer, still staring intently at his elbow. Then she nodded. “But I do have an elbow apparatus,” she said, and Cheshire perked up all over again. “It’s not marketable yet, but it’s being cleared.” She looked to Cheshire with a raised eyebrow. “That wasn’t part of our deal, but….”

Cheshire took in a long, slow breath. “But…?”

“But…I’m willing to pretend it was,” Hallorran finished, and Cheshire almost seemed to float up from the bed. She turned again to Jakub. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“What is…” Jakub blinked at both of them, nearly at his wit’s end. “Maybe seven. Why?”

“Did you have anything to drink? Alcoholic, I mean.”

“No, why?”

Hallorran leaned back enough that she was able to draw her left leg up onto the bed. She was wearing a heavy workman’s boot under her slacks, which Jakub found curious enough, but when she rolled her pant leg up it was clear why: in place of a normal limb of flesh and muscle, her entire leg from the knee and down was a smooth metal prosthesis, richly engraved with an elaborate collection of pistons and springs visible between overlapping plates. Jakub gaped openly, even though he wasn’t able to piece together her intentions for showing him right away; he was more drawn in by the near perfect craftsmanship, the way her foot in the boot tipped back and forth with only slight movements from her body. It wasn’t until he felt Cheshire leaning in, almost beside himself with exuberance, that it finally started to make sense.

“Your friend did a job for me tonight,” Hallorran explained. “And I offered him a handsome reward, but he’d rather it go to you, if you’re interested.” She slid her pant leg back down and put her foot to the floor. “Would you like to come in and see the apparatus?”

Jakub was still reeling; it was Cheshire continuing to stare at him so expectantly that finally squeezed his voice free. “All right.” He blinked. “Now?”

“Unless you’re busy?” said Hallorran, and she looked like she was suppressing a grin as she stood. “If you don’t mind, I’ll borrow your phone.”

Without waiting for a reply, she headed out of the bedroom, leaving a baffled Jakub in her wake. He turned to Cheshire. “What the hell is going on?”

“She’s the owner of Hallorran,” said Cheshire animatedly, as if that explained anything. “And she’s paying us for a job with…well, an arm.” Cheshire vaulted off the bed and started to tug Jakub up as well. “At least come take a look, okay? If it doesn’t fit or, you know, something else is wrong with it, at least you looked. Right?”

An arm? Jakub hugged his left closer. “But how….” Miklos intervened then, and a good thing, too, because Jakub was starting to feel faint. “I’ll help you get dressed,” he offered, steering Jakub toward his drawers. “Cheshire, why don’t you go grab his shoes?”

“Oh! Sure.” Cheshire managed to look thrilled and nauseated at the same time as he flashed them both a smile and headed out as well.

“I don’t know much more than you,” Miklos preempted Jakub’s first question as soon as they were alone. He pulled out a fresh pair of slacks and held them open for Jakub to step into. “Burke said earlier he was out on a job, but he didn’t mention Hallorran or any of the rest.” He watched Jakub closely. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” Jakub answered honestly. He rubbed the inside of his elbow where Hallorran had probed while Miklos fetched a dress shirt. “Did he really say they’re giving me a new arm?”

“He did.” Miklos helped him into the shirt, too, careful not to look too long at the stub when Jakub extended to fit it through the sleeve. “We did talk about that a little, right? That maybe you’d want something like that, once you were healed up.”

Jakub tried to remember as he let Miklos replace and retie his sling. “I guess. But not like that—did you see what she had?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

They finished and headed into the main room, where Hallorran was talking very quickly with someone on the phone, Cheshire seemed to be rearranging Jakub’s few pairs of shoes, and Barney was sitting on the sofa. Jakub stopped to stare: Barney’s face was a similar mess of bruises to Cheshire’s, a smear of dried blood on his upper lip. And he was opening the whiskey.

“Barney,” Jakub said sharply, and Barney startled, almost dropping the bottle. “What happened to you?”

“Uh…nothing.” Barney rubbed his face self-consciously and held up the booze. “Do you mind?”

Jakub glared, struggling over a response, but then Miklos answered for him. “Yeah, go ahead.” He leaned into Jakub’s ear. “I’ll get more,” he said, and Jakub started to feel foolish for it; he shook his head, through asking for answers, and moved to the door.

Cheshire had settled on a pair of shoes, which he nudged into place. Jakub stepped into them, wobbling just enough with the effort that Cheshire offered his hand; he latched on immediately, struck by the sudden, ridiculous impression that it had been weeks since they’d been close enough to touch. For once, thankfully, Cheshire didn’t try to pull away, keeping him steady until Miklos brought Jakub’s coat and wallet, and they had to let go.

“I’m afraid I’ve only so much room in my car,” said Halloran as she returned from her call. “And to be frank I can’t have so many people running about at headquarters anyway. I have patents to consider.”

“That’s fine,” said Miklos, and he gave Jakub a reassuring clap on the shoulder. “I’ll offer Barney some bread.”

“Thank you,” said Jakub, too much sincerity making his voice tight.

Jakub, Cheshire, and Hallorran left the building together, joining Hallorran’s driver at her sleek black Sedan that didn’t quite match any model Jakub was familiar with. Cheshire held the back door open for him, and once they were settling in together he realized suddenly that he’d found his chance after all. Maybe it wasn’t a sofa and he was more desperate than ever for that drink, but the close quarters meant he didn’t need any excuse to huddle close to Cheshire’s side. Cheshire kept very still at first, but once they had pulled away from the building— and Jakub made it stubbornly evident that he had found his position and wasn’t moving—he relented, stretching his arm across the back of the seat to make room for him.

Finally. Jakub relaxed beneath Cheshire’s arm with a long sigh. Normally he would have used a surly look or a few muttered protests to disguise how satisfying he found it to have Cheshire sheltering him. He was all out of pretenses now. After an exhausting week in the hospital, and days of restless recuperation surrounded by too many well-wishers, he didn’t have the energy left to pretend. Even the smell of magic and smoke, which should have inspired some kind of fear in him after what had happened, was too familiar for his spirits to be dampened.

“Tell me what happened to your face,” Jakub said. “Uh….” Cheshire squirmed, but he didn’t seem to be up to lying, either. “Barney happened,” he confessed, though he was quick to add, “But it’s nothing you have to worry about. He and I just needed to work a few things out. We’re fine.”

Jakub frowned; it was surprisingly difficult to imagine Cheshire and Barney entangled in any kind of fist fight, logistically. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Cheshire shrugged. “I think it was good for him,” he said, but then his tone changed, becoming more somber. “He just needed me to know…how important you are. To him, and to Kozlow.”

Jakub didn’t like the sound of that, and he vowed to address it with Barney later, somehow. “I didn’t ask him for that. I don’t need him fighting battles for me.”

“Naw, I figured. Not like you couldn’t kick my ass if you wanted to.” Cheshire hemmed a while longer. “But you know, he saved my life? Crazy, huh?” He chuckled, which was much better as far as Jakub was concerned. “I don’t know how this job would have gone down without him. And see, the whole thing was getting Ms. Hallorran back some of her tech, yeah? I didn’t know they made stuff like prosthetic arms and things like that! But there was an arm and a leg in the stuff we rescued, so I figured….”

He cleared his throat, and Jakub felt his head turn, as if trying to catch his eye even though they were too close together for that. “Well, I figured it’s worth a shot,” he finished, once again more subdued. “I know that even if it works, it’s not like…fixing it. At all. But I wanted you to know—”

“I don’t need you to fix it,” Jakub interrupted sternly. “I never blamed you in the first place.”

“I know, but….”

But he didn’t believe it. Jakub wanted to shake him but he didn’t have the strength for that, either, so he only drew closer and hoped Cheshire would understand somehow.

They were brought to Lower East Manhattan, where despite the late hour the streets were still occupied. Jakub spotted the Olivier Hotel and wrinkled his nose at it as they turned to a building across the street. After parking in a small garage around the back, Hallorran led her guests through a service door and into an elevator.

“Please don’t be put out by the presentation,” she said as they reached third floor. “You should know by our reputation that our work is second to none.”

“I hope we’re not waking your people out of bed for this,” said Cheshire. “Though we appreciate it.”

“Bed? Who said they sleep? Ah, here we are.” The door opened and she continued to lead the way, her driver splitting off as she took them down a short hall and through a door labeled LAB 4. Jakub held his breath, now that he’d had time to compose himself within the situation very curious to know what a Hallorran lab really looked like.

Hallorran opened the door, and they were immediately assaulted by the smell of oil and old coffee. The lab was filled with work benches, each well equipped with tools and machines for metalworking, state of the art to Jakub’s eye and yet the place was an utter mess. Every desk was stained and cluttered, drills left out, pieces of metal strewn about, welding helmets cracked. Only one desk was occupied: a stout, muscular woman with a bob cut was hunched over her work, her once white lab coat helplessly stained with grease.

“At ease, soldier,” Hallorran greeted, even though the woman’s posture was already terrible, and she hadn’t so much as bothered to look up as they entered. “Are you ready for us?”

The woman grunted, adjusting the magnifying eyepiece she was wearing, not unlike a watchmaker’s. “That’s really insensitive, you know,” she said, but when she finally did look up her face was concerned. “Yeah, it’s ready. As long as he’s not taller than six-three.”

She looked to Cheshire, squinting, but then noticed Jakub a beat later. Her expression quickly eased, and her eyepiece came loose—she had to fumble a bit to catch it. With that placed aside, she offered both hands to Jakub. “Let me see them.”

Jakub pursed his lips, but he accepted Cheshire’s help in removing his coat, and with a deep breath he took the woman’s hand. She gave his fingers a squeeze, maybe trying to be reassuring, as she held her other hand where Jakub’s left would have been. She fell quiet for a few moments, assessing. “Is that as far as you can extend your left forearm?” she asked.

Jakub fought against his instinct to pull back, thanks to Cheshire’s continued presence close at his side. He stretched the remains of his left arm as long as he could; for a moment he felt his hand falling into hers, and a shudder went through him. The women kept him there a moment longer and then let both her hands drop.

“Good,” she said. “How long ago did you lose it?”

“Ten days ago,” said Jakub, drawing his elbow back in. “Is that good?” Cheshire asked anxiously. “Or is that not long enough?”

“It’s good, actually,” answered Hallorran while the technician turned back to her table. “You’re still healing. Now you can get all your healing done at once.”

The technician turned back, offering up to them the promised apparatus: a human arm crafted from metal, with long plates making up the forearm, thinner segments and ball joints forming the wrist and fingers. Unlike the rest of the lab it had been buffed clean, fresh grease in the joints, every raw edge chizeled smooth. Jakub’s chest constricted as he tentatively reached out, poking at the fingertips. He had never seen such intricate machinery before, and his mind whirled dizzily.

“Obviously it has its limitations,” said the tech, picking a tool off her desk. She inserted it into the arm portion, and with a few twists of her wrist, the index finger began to move back and forth. “We only figured out toes just last year! But they sure do wiggle. It’s the same principle.”

“How?” Jakub asked. He forced himself to take a breath before he passed out. “How can the fingers move independently?” The woman made a face. “Well, it’s extremely complicated. But this part—” She tapped the flat arm edge of the device “—will attach straight to your radius and ulna. And your muscles engage the mechanism to create movement.”

She curled the index finger again, but slowly, showing off the control. “Don’t worry—there’s a manual.”

Cheshire gave Jakub’s shoulder a tight squeeze; Jakub instinctually leaned into him. “Isn’t that something? It’ll work, right?”

“How much movement he’ll get out of it will depend on the state of his musculature,” said Hallorran. “Which we won’t know until the surgeons dig in.” She looked to her employee. “Are they ready?”

“The team came in just before you did. It’ll take them a while to get ready.” The tech turned on her stool to go back to work on the arm. “Which is just as well because I’m going to have to extend the forearm a hair to make him symmetrical.”

“Great—then we’ll meet you in the theatre when you’re ready.”

Hallorran started out of the room, and it took Jakub a while to realize that she intended for them to follow. “I’d like to see more of the arm,” he said.

“You will, you will.” Hallorran waved him and Cheshire out of the lab. “But first we need to have your arm examined, so they can make sure it’ll work on you at all.” Jakub allowed her to usher him out, and as he glanced back into the lab one more time, he noticed that the technician was wearing thick black boots, just like Halloran’s.

“I’m feeling very good about this,” Hallorran declared as she brought them back to the elevator. “There was one particular item I had been hoping you’d take, Mr. Bloom. It’s so difficult sometimes to judge a product’s effect on the market before it’s…in the market, so to speak. But this is a very interesting opportunity. And opportunities are always good business.”

“I’m grateful,” said Cheshire, glancing between her and Jakub and fidgeting. “Not just…for the sake of business.”

“Hm?” Hallorran looked to Jakub and straightened up. “Oh. Shit, I am insensitive, aren’t I?” She heaved a sigh as the elevator let them out on the second floor. “I’ll work on that.”

She struck out ahead as always, and as the pair followed, Jakub lowered his voice. “Is this really Thea Hallorran?”

“I know,” said Cheshire with a smile. “She’s something.” He set his hand on Jakub’s shoulder again. “Are you doing all right? I know this is a lot at once. If you need to hold off—”

“No, I want to see everything.” Jakub stayed closer to Cheshire’s side so he would have no reason to let go. “I want it to work.”

They met with Hallorran’s surgical team in a small office with an examination table. Though clearly having been roused from their personal evenings, each regarded Jakub with interest and sympathy that evolved quickly into excitement for the challenge he represented. They unwrapped his arm for close study, clucking over the rudimentary techniques of the hospital doctors and their excessive stitchwork. His glimpse of the apparatus and wondering how it worked eclipsed his concern for their unprofessionalism, and he couldn’t take their criticisms personally. After a great deal of gentle prodding and meticulous measuring, the lead surgeon insisted that Jakub would need to bathe and change into a hospital gown before they could proceed with X-rays and other tests.

“Any further and there’s no turning back,” said Hallorran, finally exhibiting sincere gravity. “We don’t have to go through with this now if you need more time. I’m not so insensitive as to demand you do it now or never.”

Jakub clenched his fist. The doctors were watching expectantly, and so was Cheshire, covered in bruises gained for his sake. He had to admit that he felt that pressure. But more importantly, he thought of the sick feeling when learning that Cheshire had been called away on a job he couldn’t be there for. He thought of all the changes petty and devastating that had already impressed themselves on him, how desperate he was to return to normalcy. He wasn’t sure he could stay on with Kozlow at all if he wasn’t able to feel safe and capable again.

“I’ll do it,” he said, steeling his conviction. “If it can work, there’s no reason to wait, is there?” He looked to Cheshire, but it was hard to look at him with so much emotion showing in his face, and he quickly moved on to Hallorran and the surgeons. “I want to do it as soon as possible, before my arm heals too much how it is now.”

“Great!” Hallorran grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. “I’m going to need all that in writing. There’s going to be a lot of prep-work—a very long night for all of us—but since it’s off the books we can at least cut past most of the red tape.”

She tugged him away from Cheshire, and he tensed a little, not ready to feel the reassuring hand leave his shoulder. “They’ll take good care of you,” she promised as she steered him into the welcoming handshake of the lead surgeon. “You won’t regret this.”

They lead him out of the office, and as they started down the corridor, Hallorran tugged Cheshire to a halt. I want him to come with me, Jakub thought, and he could have sworn Cheshire’s face was saying the same thing, but there wasn’t time to voice that before he was ushered through another door. The last he saw was Cheshire offering a confident smile and a wave.

“Good luck!” Cheshire called, and the door was shut behind him.

***

Once Jakub was out of sight, Cheshire let his breath out in a long sigh. Though absolutely positive that he was doing all the best he could, his stomach twisted in anxious knots at the thought of what Jakub was about to go through. He was grateful when Hallorran tapped his arm hard and asked, “Want a drink?”

“Yes,” Cheshire said immediately. “Please.”

Hallorran lead him again to the elevator, which they rode to the top floor. It resembled a very normal office building at that level, with Hallorran’s at the end of a long hall. It, too, was something of a fashionable mess, statues on the shelves covered in hats and half-finished blueprints, paintings on the wall that were splotchy with indeterminate subjects, a soldering iron that looked like it saw regular use set up on the desktop. Hallorran offered him a seat and fetched a bottle of wine from a cabinet, red. She placed it, a corkscrew, and two glasses on the desk, and then to Cheshire’s surprise turned to leave.

Cheshire turned in his chair to watch, baffled. “You’re not having any?”

“I would, but I’d rather be watching the procedure,” she replied matter-of-factly. “But have as much as you like; I have plenty.”

Cheshire started to get up. “Wait—I’d like to watch, too, if you—”

“I’m afraid that’s out of the question.” Hallorran stopped at the door and turned back just enough to cast him a serious look. “Company policy prohibits spectators. But feel free to stay here until they’re finished.” She pointed at him. “Stay exactly here. All right?” And with great efforts toward intimidation, she stepped out and closed the door behind her.

Cheshire dropped into the seat once more. He suddenly wasn’t in the mood for a drink after all, but he uncorked the wine anyway and poured himself a glass. It wasn’t quite as expensive as he would have expected from a woman of Hallorran’s wealth, but its bold, sweet taste suited her perfectly. After a few sips he stripped out of his jacket and loosened his tie, settling into the offered chair to wait.

Jakub. Please, let this work. His mind cycled back to their trip in the back of Hallorran’s car, Jakub tucking himself so closely under his arm, and he reached for the wine again.

***

Jakub endured the surgeon’s tests saying as little as possible. He was given a small, sterile room with a bed, bathroom, and monitoring equipment but no windows. Following their instructions, he gave himself a quick bath and changed into the hospital gown laid out for him. Then he was escorted by wheelchair—unnecessarily—to receive X-rays, to have his vitals taken, to have his blood drawn. He waited in the room for an hour while they processed and discussed the results. Though they suggested he sleep, that wasn’t about to come easy for him in a room with only one exit and lighting that offered only white-bright bulbs or utter darkness.

So he stretched out on the bed and held his arms up in front of him, trying to picture the apparatus as he assumed the technician had been doing. He wriggled the fingers on his right hand and imagined metal and gears twitching in response where the left ought to be. He wondered over and over just how responsive the machinery could be, if he would be able to open a door knob or hold a cigarette, or if all he could hope for was a fancy-looking model barely proficient enough to knock someone’s teeth in, if only he could muster the force.

He wondered where Cheshire was, and what he was doing, and thinking, and if he had any idea what he was really offering. If Hallorran paid him for whatever this job was instead of offering him this, he thought, how much would it have been? How many suits could he have bought? He kept his mind busy with the math until the lead surgeon returned with Hallorran and the tech from earlier in tow.

“Everything is looking very promising,” the surgeon explained as they showed off their results. “You’re definitely healthy enough to go through with the surgery. And judging by the X-ray, there’s plenty of remaining musculature for the apparatus to draw from.”

“It’s almost as if you’re a perfect candidate,” the technician agreed. “Eerily so.”

“What she’s trying to say,” Hallorran said, as if she were somehow coming to rescue him, “is that fate works in extremely mysterious, and in this case, extremely fortunate ways. We just need a while longer to prepare the operating theatre and then we’ll be underway, if you’re ready.”

“I want to see the arm again,” said Jakub. “Then I’ll be ready.”

The technician agreed, and while Hallorran and her doctor returned to the preparations, she spent the next hour and a half showing him the apparatus that would soon be grafted to his body. She even opened a few of the panels so that he could get his eye on the internal mechanisms. Though Jakub had tinkered often with guns, cars, and a variety of small machines, the complexity of the appendage was far beyond him, almost to the point that he couldn’t make sense of it. The tech walked him through it patiently and promised that they would have much more time to discuss and practice once the operation was complete.

As they were finishing up, Jakub glanced again to her work boots. “Can I ask you something?”

“If it’s about my legs, yes, they’re fake.” The tech leaned down from her chair to roll her pant leg up and show him: her shin was made of metal, just like Hallorran’s. “Both of them, from the knee down. And if you’re wondering what the boss meant when she called me ‘soldier,’ yeah, that’s true, too.” She rolled her pant leg back down and straightened up again. “I was a nurse over there during the war. These things happen, I guess.”

“How is it?” Jakub asked, though he then struggled to find a better way to express himself. “Obviously you’re wearing them, and making more, but—”

“I’m not going to bullshit you,” she interrupted knowingly. “It’s terrible. A right kick in the keister. And it always will be, no matter how good the technology becomes. But when Hallorran and I started work on these things, she told me.” She leaned forward against her knees to impart her full seriousness. “Whatever happened to you, all you can do now is your best. And this? What we make? Is the best there is. So you might as well have it. Right?”

Jakub’s shoulders relaxed as he took her words in. “Yeah,” he said, already thinking too far ahead. “You’re right.”

At last, the stage was set. The technician wheeled him into the operating theatre—the second Jakub had ever been in, though he had no memory of the first time. It was difficult not to be intimidated by the strength of the lighting and the thick glass viewing window Hallorran—and whoever else?—had to be behind. But he reminded himself of Cheshire waiting for him somewhere in the building, and it helped to settle his nerves as he was laid on the table.

“Just breathe,” said one of the doctors, fitting a mask over his face. “By the time you wake up, it will all be finished, and you’ll have a new life ahead of you.” Jakub breathed in the gas, and within minutes was deeply asleep.

***

Cheshire waited in Hallorran’s office for hours. He went through a great deal of the wine, though not as much as he could have, if he hadn’t been counseling himself against it. He investigated the shelves for books and even tried to read a few before his eyes glazed over the technical jargon. He tried to rifle through the desk but every drawer was locked, so he ultimately resorted to rearranging the paintings on the walls. Wisely, he stopped short of attempting the soldering iron.

It was long past midnight when there was a knock on the door, and Cheshire bolted upright, his heart in his throat. But it was Grace that stepped inside, dressed in a glittery red dress, her hair curled and pinned. He stared in confusion as she crossed the room to him. “Grace? What are you doing here?”

“I just finished my show across the street,” said Grace. She was smiling at him sympathetically, and for some reason it made him feel weak. “I didn’t see Thea there so I figured she was working late and came to say hello. Her assistant told me what’s going on.” She touched his arm. “Have you heard anything?”

“No. Not since they took Jakub back for the surgery….” Thinking about it for too long had been making him dizzy over the hours, so he quickly shook his head and then motioned behind him. “Wanna help me finish off Hallorran’s wine?”

Grace sat down in the chair, and Cheshire leaned back against the desk as he poured her a glass. “Your luck is pretty incredible,” she said. “I knew about Hallorran’s leg but it didn’t occur to me that she could make something for Jakub. If not for that heist you pulled the other day I never would have thought to bring you up to her.”

“I’m grateful,” he said, sincerity creeping up on him so fiercely that it made his voice rough. He cleared his throat. “Kinda crazy that it worked out this well, huh? Maybe it’s like, fate, or something.”

Grace finished a long drink from the wine and then chuckled. “’This well’?” she echoed. “I guess so, but you look like shit.” She winced as she pushed to her feet and reached for his bruises. “Is your face okay?”

Cheshire leaned back, out of easy range. “It’s fine,” he assured her. “Thanks to the wine I barely feel it.”

Normally he would have been able to make a lie like that fairly convincing, but he was too exhausted to put the usual effort in. Grace saw right through him, and as she put her glass aside Cheshire wound tight, bracing himself for more unbearable sympathy.

“He’s going to be okay, Chesh,” she said.

He meant to respond with confidence and charm. He really did. But his hands clenched against the edge of the desk and he blurted out, “You don’t know that.”

“He’s Jakub Danowicz,” said Grace. “You know how tough he is better than anyone, and besides.” She reached out again, and Cheshire held still as she straightened his crooked collar. “If the thing doesn’t work, they’ll just take it off and he’ll be no worse off than if you didn’t try.”

“But isn’t that worse?” Cheshire pressed, struggling to maintain what little composure he had left. “To give him hope like that, only to have it not work?”

Grace shook her head. “If he didn’t want to take the risk, he would have told you to fuck off, wouldn’t he?”

She meant to be encouraging, but Cheshire had worried for too long about Jakub telling him off. Ever since watching Jakub wake up in the hospital he had expected it every time Jakub opened his mouth: the hurt and the blame he had to be hiding would come tumbling out, the resentment. He had pictured it so vividly, and so many times, that even Grace’s bare allusion to it left him cold with dread. This time, Jakub would admit that he hated him, like Barney did, like Hannah and the whole rest of Kozlow. This time for sure.

“Chesh?” Grace touched his cheek. “You okay?”

“I don’t want him to hate me,” he said quietly.

“He doesn’t,” Grace quickly reassured him, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced herself. “I’m sure he doesn’t. He just….”

Cheshire didn’t hear the rest; he couldn’t keep it up any longer. Tears welled in his eyes and he pressed his hand over his mouth, trying to fight what was already a losing battle. Days of grief and fear overwhelmed him at last, and he cried, sinking into his shoulders.

“Chesh?” Grace stood frozen for a moment, completely taken aback, before rallying herself. “Oh, Chesh, don’t,” she murmured, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him to her shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” She didn’t seem to know what to do, but she held him, stroking his hair. “Please don’t cry. Everything’s going to be okay.”

How can it be okay if Jakub hates me? Cheshire thought, and he sobbed into the shoulder of her dress, until he couldn’t anymore.

***

Jakub awoke from the anesthetic with a heavier, blearier feeling than the last time he remembered. It took several minutes for him to be clear enough to even take in the room around him, not that there was much to observe: four white walls, the bed he was laid out in, and a toilet and sink shielded from the rest of the room by a curtain. There were no windows, making it impossible to tell how long he had been unconscious or what time of day it was. Only once he had some of his strength back did he try to explore, only to discover that his left arm had been tied to the bedrail with a leather strap, at the bicep, elbow, and wrist. And he stared.

There was an arm where his arm should be. For a moment his eyes played tricks on him, and it even appeared to be his arm, flesh and bone, pins and needles pricking him all the way down to his fingertips. He blinked and the illusion shattered: it was the apparatus after all, wraps of gauze disguising the point where muscle and metal were joined. What pain there was tingled along his elbow, dull and distant like trying to glimpse a light through fog. Once his vision had cleared he looked to his bedside hoping to find Cheshire.

But the chair there was empty, and the pang of loneliness he felt at discovering as much shook him. After everything, that’s still all you care about, he thought, his throat tight. How can you keep pretending that will ever change?

There was nothing to do but return his attention to the arm. He was bound well enough that he couldn’t even begin to test the movement and weight, but he focused on his fingertips.

The fingertip connects to a cable, he recalled, piercing together his memories of the open panels and the mechanisms beneath. The cable connects to one of the mainsprings. The mainspring connects to switches in the mounting plate. He furrowed his brow. And the switches are triggered by….

Jakub moved his fingers on his right hand, concentrating hard on the tendons in his forearm and how each felt. Then he looked to his left. He took a deep breath, focused. The middle finger twitched.

Jakub let his breath out in a sharp huff of relieved laughter. It works. He took another breath, eager to try again, but then the door opened.

“Oh, you’re awake,” said the lead surgeon, and she ducked out again to wave at someone in the hall. Then she continued inside and took the seat next to the bed. “You’re probably still feeling sluggish from the morphine, but otherwise…?”

“Sluggish,” Jakub confirmed, “but otherwise, all right. I’m not in much pain.” He looked to his left arm again, excitement bubbling out of him. “I think it worked! My finger moved.”

“You shouldn’t be trying to move it at all right now,” the surgeon scolded him. “You don’t want to overwork yourself.”

“What she said,” agreed the technician as she entered as well. “Why do you think you’re tied down?”

“I just wanted to know if it worked,” said Jakub, sorely tempted to resume his attempts.

“It’s too soon to know anyway. Give it time.”

Jakub frowned; he had a little too much practice ignoring good advice, and was already planning giving it another try as soon as they were gone. I want Cheshire to see it worked, since he worked so hard to get it for me, he thought. “Where’s the man I came in with? Is he still here?”

“I think Ms. Hallorran took him to the hotel across the street,” said the surgeon as she examined Jakub’s eyes and then took his pulse. “To freshen up and have breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Jakub watched with greater interest as the technician moved to his other side to check on the apparatus. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven in the morning,” said the technician, very carefully bending and straightening each finger to test resistance.

Jakub blinked at her in surprise. “It’s been that long?” He glanced between the two. “Then, you haven’t slept at all?”

“We’re used to it,” both women said in unison, and they shared a smile before returning to their tasks.

“You’re the one who should be getting sleep,” the surgeon told him. Satisfied with his pulse, she stood. “Rest for a few more hours, and by noon we can take a better look at the results. No trying to move it before then.”

“All right,” said Jakub, though he wasn’t nearly as good of a liar as Cheshire. “Thank you, doctor. Both of you.”

“Save it for the boss,” said the technician, and the two women showed themselves out.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Jakub focused back on his new left arm. At first nothing happened, despite flexing just like he had before. He could feel something pinching in his forearm that for a moment stung fiercely. But then his index finger curled, just slightly, and Jakub’s heart pounded. For the time being, that was enough, and he closed his eyes in search of sleep. He couldn’t wait to show Cheshire what he’d already accomplished.

As promised, everyone returned at noon, including Hallorran and Cheshire. The latter had showered and changed into a new suit, and despite the bruises still healing on his face he looked to be in good spirits. He flashed Jakub the same smile he was used to as he entered with the group: hopeful and petrified at the same time. It felt like days since they had last seen each other and he couldn’t ask for anything more.

Everyone looked on, breathless, as the lead surgeon removed Jakub’s bandages to reveal her work. Cheshire made a squeamish face, but for Jakub it wasn’t nearly as nerve- wracking as his first surgery over a week ago. Rather than his arm terminating in a rounded stump, midway down his forearm was a metal plate half an inch thick, what remained of his musculature nestled inside it. The plate connected to a similar one that was part of the new arm itself. The technician unstrapped the arm from the bedrails, and being careful to support all of its weight in her lap, she nodded to Jakub.

“Slow,” she said. “And easy. See if you can make it move.”

It was harder, with everyone watching. Jakub had to reteach himself the subtle movements he had taken only a few minutes to practice. But finally, beneath half a dozen eager sets of eyes, his new metal fingers curled into a loose fist.

“Beautiful,” said Hallorran, and Cheshire looked almost misty-eyed as the doctors exchanged relieved nods. “That’s a great start.”

“Can you relax it?” asked the technician, which was actually more difficult to do, but eventually Jakub managed. “Good, very good. That’s about all we’re looking for at this point. Well done, Mr. Danowicz.”

“It’s strange,” Jakub admitted, closing the first again. He couldn’t get it as tight as he wanted. “It feels like closing a fist with my fingers flat. But they still curl.”

“That’s by design. There’s a priority put on common movements. It will take a while to get used to.”

Cheshire shifted his weight back and forth. “Is it bad, though?” he asked. “It looks really heavy.”

“No—it’s fine,” Jakub said quickly. He worked his fingers back and forth a few times to prove it. “It’s not easy, but I’ll get the hang of it.”

He lifted his head, and though he found the amount of attention on him intimidating, he was determined to face them. “Thank you,” he said with all the strength he could muster. “I don’t know what else to say, but…thanks.”

“Services rendered,” Hallorran replied strictly, though she was having a harder time hiding that her lips were trying to curl. “There’s no need to thank us. You should be thanking your friend.”

She nodded to Cheshire, who straightened up as if expecting a reprimand. “Thank you,” Jakub told him seriously. “For giving up your reward for me.”

“But I—” Cheshire gulped, and after some squirming he nodded. “You’re welcome.”

Jakub would have liked more time with him, especially alone, but it was then that the doctors declared visitation over. “We’d like to keep you here the rest of the day,” explained the lead surgeon. “So that we can continue to observe the results of the surgery. My colleague here will be explaining to you the use and maintenance of the apparatus. And we’d like to schedule a few follow up appointments so we can check in on you. If everything goes smoothly, you can leave by this evening.”

“I should pop across the river to let everyone know how it went,” said Cheshire. “But I’ll be back with some fresh clothes to pick you up. And some food! You’ve got to be starving.”

“We’ll feed the poor dear,” Hallorran assured him. “But for now, give him space!”

She began ushering Cheshire out, though he resisted long enough to ask, “Should I bring Hannah back with me? Miklos?”

“No,” Jakub called after him as he was tugged to the door. “Just you.”

“Oh—Okay.” Cheshire smiled, then winced, then didn’t seem to know what to do with his face after that. “I’ll see you later!” he said, and he at last disappeared into the hall with Hallorran.

Jakub was brought lunch a while later. It looked to have been catered by the hotel and was almost too rich for his tastes, but he ate every bite. He spent the rest of the day mostly with the technician, going over once again the entirety of the apparatus, its methods and requirements. “It will need to be wound at least once a day,” she instructed, handing over a small brass key. “Or more often, depending on how much you use it. If you forget you’ll still be able to move, but less and it’ll be harder. That’s more strain than you want at this stage, so make sure you remember.”

“I will,” said Jakub, and she walked him through the winding, demonstrating how much tension was enough. She showed him which bearings to grease, the familiarity of that chore helping him focus all the more. Only after she was confident in his memorization of her lessons did she help attached the brace that joined the apparatus to a strap around his biceps.

“To help bear the weight. Especially important while you’re healing, but you’ll want to keep it on most of the time anyway. Though for the next two weeks, keep it in the sling you were using before. No strenuous activity and especially no lifting.”

“I understand,” Jakub assured her. “Believe me, I know what’s at stake.”

At long last, evening arrived, as did Cheshire. He had brought with him a change of clothes, but Jakub wasn’t interested in struggling with a shirt and only bothered with the pants, boots, and jacket to toss over his shoulders. They wheeled him down to the ground floor—against his protests—

and there handshakes and thanks were shared all around. “Don’t forget that you’re my guinea pig now,” Hallorran said, gripping his hand. “And I’m liable for whatever you use that arm for. I’m watching you.”

“She means, she hopes you make the paper,” said the technician. “Best of luck to you.”

“Thank you,” said Jakub, becoming embarrassed by so much unfamiliar sincerity. “All of you.”

Cheshire helped him into the passenger seat of his Plymouth, and they drove away from the Hallorran building just as the sun was setting. Cheshire’s manner was light and cheerful, but there was something slightly manic about it, and his eyes were heavy with want of sleep.

“Everyone was really eager to hear how you’re doing,” Cheshire said as he drove them toward the bridge. “Hannah was this close to jumping in her car to come see you. But Eggy talked her down—he’s really something. She really seems to listen to him. He’s a smart guy, our Eggy.”

Jakub couldn’t help but stare at him. He had been waiting for what felt like months to have Cheshire alone, and now he didn’t know what to say let alone how to begin. His throat was tight and he couldn’t stop fussing with the strap around his arm. “Yeah,” he said.

They were silent for a beat, but Cheshire couldn’t take that, and after some squirming he started up again. “Grace was there for a while, when you were still in surgery. She says she hopes for a speedy recovery. She has a place in Manhattan now, singing at the Olivier. She was going to stick around for you to wake up, but it was getting late.” He chuckled. “Or early? I have no idea what time it is anymore. Hard to believe it’s already been twenty-four hours since Barney and I were getting shot at.”

Jakub straightened. “Shot at?”

“Oh yeah, Barney sends his best, too,” Cheshire rambled over him. “It wasn’t just me, after all—that reward was rightfully part his, too, I guess. Even if he almost fucked everything up.” Cheshire made a face as if regretting saying that much and was then off again, his eyes trained with suspicious intensity on the road. “Did I tell you he saved my life? So yeah, he earned at least part of the credit. You’ll have to thank him when we get back—he was really worried about you.”

Jakub swallowed, continuing to watch Cheshire’s face even though Cheshire refused to return the look. “What about you?”

“Hm?” Cheshire’s eyebrows perked. “What about me?”

“You look terrible,” Jakub said bluntly. “You didn’t have to wait there all night.”

“Sure I did.” Finally Cheshire glanced to him, briefly, as if squinting into the sun, afraid of looking for too long. “I wanted to be there when you woke up.” He chuckled, his voice painfully thin. “You know, to make sure you didn’t hate me.”

Jakub’s heart gave a heavy thud. “Hate you?”

“…Yeah.” He laughed again, worse. “I mean, I wouldn’t blame you, if you did, after everything. I’ve fucked up a whole lot.” His expression twisted briefly, but he managed to rub it away and was smiling again. “If this didn’t work, that’d be like the last straw, right? So I’m glad it worked. I’m really glad.”

“Chesh.”

Urgency made Jakub’s voice sharper than he’d intended, and Cheshire flinched, launching him into more agitated chatter. “I’m excited to see it in action. I bet a left cross with that thing would really fuck up a man’s jaw, right? You’ve always had a mean punch. This has got to be better than brass knuckles.”

“Cheshire, I don’t hate you,” Jakub insisted.

Cheshire flinched again, and too many emotions flickered through the tilt of his brow and the pursing of his lips for Jakub to interpret them all at once. “Thanks,” he said, though there was enough hesitation in his response to make it clear he didn’t believe it. “Good—I mean, I’m glad.” He risked another glance and then devoted himself back to the road. “Do me a favor and tell that to Barney, okay? Maybe then he’ll get off my case. But speaking of Barney….”

He continued to talk on, but Jakub could only half listen. He doesn’t believe me, he thought, and anxiety simmered under his skin. I have to tell him. He drew deeper into his jacket as he tried to summon real courage. I have to tell him.

They got back to the apartment building and headed up to Jakub’s place. Cheshire barely stopped talking the entire time, as if afraid of what Jakub might say if given enough time to speak. “Home sweet home,” he declared as he helped Jakub out of his coat. “Are you hungry? They don’t have you on a special diet or anything, do they?”

“No.” Jakub kicked his boots off and headed into the apartment. He didn’t see Miklos anywhere, so he checked the bedroom. He didn’t find him there, either.

We’re alone. Jakub’s chest was already stretched tight over his ribs like the head of a drum, his entire body thrumming with every heartbeat. I have to tell him. When he turned he realized that Cheshire had followed him, so he sat down on the bed. So that he believes me this time.

“Come here,” he said. His fingertips were tingling—even the fingertips he no longer had were tingling. He removed his sling and motioned Cheshire closer. “Come get a better look.”

Cheshire gulped. “Maybe I should—”

“Come here,” Jakub insisted, though when Cheshire startled, he winced. “Please.”

Cheshire thumped down on the bed next to him. “Is… everything okay?”

“Of course. I just want to show you.”

Jakub stretched his new arm out toward him. It was still heavy and clumsy, his muscles struggling to interpret their new function. But he managed to flex his fingers, showing off the short range of movement he’d practiced.

Cheshire watched very closely. He seemed relieved, but there was still that hesitation in him that Jakub hated to see. He had already floundered in too much guilt, and Jakub ached at having not yet found a way of easing it. There had to be something he could say.

“It’s going to take practice,” Jakub said, demonstrating further. He even managed to reach down and take Cheshire’s hand, giving it a faint squeeze. “But it worked. They said it couldn’t have possibly worked better.”

“I’m glad.” Cheshire held the hand up for a better look. “It’s really something. They did a great job! I know once you’ve had some time with it, it’ll work great. You’re the toughest man I know.”

He smiled, his eyes bright and glossy with emotion that had Jakub’s heart pounding all over again. For a moment, he looked just like he had two years ago on the sofa, his full, unadulterated honesty on display. Jakub edged closer instinctually. He could see all the concern and hope meant for him, and he needed Cheshire to know it wasn’t wasted.

“I wouldn’t have it, if not for you,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

“I didn’t do that much, really.” Cheshire lowered his eyes as doubt began to creep into them again. “But I am glad it works. I bet with a little extra polish, most people won’t even be able to tell the difference. Oh! I know.”

Stop that. Jakub tried to tighten his fingers around

Cheshire’s, but he could only manage a twitch. “Cheshire.”

“I’ll buy you some gloves,” Cheshire carried on, refusing to look up. “I know a tailor—”

“I don’t need them,” Jakub tried to interrupt.

“—that will custom make them. And a matching tie!” His forced enthusiasm was heartbreaking, and Jakub reached for him with his other hand, desperate to make him stop. “He does great work. You’ll love—”

“Chesh,” said Jakub, and he drew Cheshire’s chin up. He had no idea what he was going to do until he leaned forward and kissed him.

Finally. Finally, seven years after Cheshire first dazzled him with his smile, he learned what those lips tasted like. Cheshire was too stunned to react, giving him the opportunity to linger, to indulge in the warm, long-awaited contact of Cheshire’s wide mouth. It wasn’t anything like Jakub had expected but it was still perfect, and he didn’t want to ever leave.

I don’t hate you. Jakub kissed him again, harder, as if he could convey the words lips to lips. Even when I hated you, I didn’t really hate you. He felt Cheshire’s eyelashes fluttering but was too afraid of being laughed at or rejected to risk putting any distance between them. How can you think that at all, after everything I’ve felt for you all this time?

It didn’t seem fair—how dare Cheshire not understand now. When he leaned back, shocked and speechless, Jakub couldn’t bear to let him escape again. He lurched forward, grabbing Cheshire’s shoulders to keep him still, then climbing directly into Cheshire’s lap when that didn’t seem like enough. This passion had been brewing inside him for too long and he didn’t know of any other way to make Cheshire understand it. So he kissed him again, aching and pleading, please understand.

Whether he did or not, Cheshire shivered and finally kissed him back. He was already breathless, doubtlessly confused—how dare he never have seen this coming—but he welcomed Jakub against his chest and even wrapped an arm around his waist. The strength of Cheshire’s sturdy embrace drawing him in was all Jakub had dreamed of, after a hundred nights spent curled up under his arm, and he couldn’t help the tiny, eager sounds rumbling out of him. After that there didn’t seem to be any holding back, and Jakub pressed their bodies tightly together to feel the flex of Cheshire’s muscles— he tossed Cheshire’s glasses onto the nightstand and yanked his hair tie free so he could finally run his fingers through his silky, honey-gold locks. He took fistfuls to hold him still for another kiss—another dozen kisses, some sweet and some hungry, every kiss he’d ever withheld.

“Jakub?” Cheshire said, baffled even as he allowed Jakub to help him out of his jacket. He let it fall to the floor. “Are you—”

“Yes,” Jakub said quickly, no idea what Cheshire was asking. But yes was all he had in him, and he pushed Cheshire’s back to the mattress.

Cheshire collapsed, the air rushing out of him. He stared up at Jakub with eyes wide—at first still overcome with bewilderment, then with a growing smile. A look of awe crept into his face and Jakub was sure he had never looked so handsome. Jakub leaned quickly down for another kiss, but in the process accidentally braced too much weight against his left hand. His entire arm ached, but he managed to smother his groan against Cheshire’s mouth as he lowered instead to his elbows. Cheshire welcoming him erased whatever pain remained. Gradually Cheshire abandoned hesitation for enthusiasm, and by the time Jakub was tugging him out of his dress shirt, his eager murmurs were much closer to the happy fool he had admired for so long.

Cheshire relaxed back into the mattress. “I was so sure you hated me,” he said, grinning incredulously.

Jakub dug his fingers under Cheshire’s glove and worked it off; even with the sigil, his palms had always been deceptively smooth, and he wanted them on him. “I said I didn’t,” he retorted. “I didn’t know how else to convince you.”

Cheshire laughed breathlessly as he offered up his other hand; that sing-song melody had always held a mysterious power over Jakub, and in a fit of excitement he pulled Cheshire’s other glove off with his teeth. As he claimed another hungry kiss he urged Cheshire’s hands to his body, thrilling in their groping caress down his ribs and back. He arched beneath their strong attention, and when Cheshire squirmed his fingers down the back of his pants he braced himself, positive that he would have to resist being rolled over. But Cheshire was content to fondle and squeeze, letting Jakub set the pace. He was so much gentler and more patient than Jakub expected of such an experienced and carefree lover. Having his perceptions overturned was more arousing than it had any business being, and without a second thought Jakub fumbled Cheshire’s pants open.

Cheshire followed his lead and slid Jakub’s pants down. There was some awkwardness as Jakub struggled, one-handed, to rid himself of the rest of his clothing. He tried to use his left to drag Cheshire’s pants down, but he couldn’t get his fingers to close enough for a proper grip. After a frustrating undressing Jakub hurried into another kiss for fear of disrupting their momentum; if he stopped to think for too long about what he was doing, he was sure to lose his nerve. Cheshire, too, was grinning nervously as if perched on the edge of a high ledge. This was too much, too fast—it had to be a bad idea. But it only took Jakub squeezing his hip for Cheshire to roll onto his stomach. All that broad muscle submitting so easily lit a whole new fire under Jakub’s already broiling skin, and he yanked his drawer off its tracks rushing to get a bottle of oil out of it.

Cheshire licked his lips as he watched Jakub climb back onto the bed behind him. The last of his misgivings had faded and he drew his knees up. It took Jakub a moment to get the bottle open, and he spilled some, but soon enough he was sinking two slick fingers into his waiting partner. Cheshire groaned as he was plied and stretched, but with such pleased encouragement that Jakub wasn’t patient enough to carry on for much longer. He had waited for much too long to have Cheshire squirming beneath him to delay. With only just enough time spent to coat his aching cock, he positioned himself between Cheshire’s thighs and slid deftly into him.

Cheshire arched his back and downright purred, as if he’d been waiting for this just as long; Jakub couldn’t have hoped for better, and he had to take a moment to catch his breath, trying not to be overwhelmed. Finally. His heart thudded painfully as a too many emotions coursed his heated blood. Then instinct spurred him on. He braced his good hand to Cheshire’s shoulder and began to rock, trying to find his balance and rhythm. Part of him wanted to take his time, to claim his partner in long strokes so that he could feel, with every straining inch, all those years of adoration and devotion; the rest wanted to shove him into the mattress, swift and powerful, to devour what should have long been his. He landed somewhere in between, thrusting his full length into Cheshire’s clenched ass in ragged pumps of his over-eager hips.

And Cheshire couldn’t have been more receptive. He adjusted with Jakub’s every movement, angling and bracing to take everything Jakub’s passion could offer. Moans of pleasure rumbled through him and left Jakub panting. When Jakub again made the mistake of putting too much pressure against his left side, Cheshire even reached back, helping to catch and resettle him. It was almost infuriating—how dare he make it so easy, after so many torturous years! Jakub leaned into that supportive palm and sped up, forcing him deeper into the bed with each thrust as if it were punishment. But Cheshire took that, too, reveled in it, until he was shaking and groaning, and then overwhelmed—until his body quivered and snapped tight, clenching around Jakub’s still pistoning cock.

Jakub growled low in his throat—he wasn’t ready for this to be over—he wanted this to go on for hours, for days, years. He wanted Cheshire sweating and humming beneath him to make up the entire rest of his life. But feeling Cheshire shudder with pleasure was too much for his already depleted stamina, and after only a few more desperate thrusts climax washed over and drowned him. He pressed his face against Cheshire’s back, gasping and hissing, as his pleasure was spent in pulse after blissful pulse.

And as he wound down, nibbling thoughtless kisses against Cheshire’s spine, his ears caught a quiet, rumbly chuckle from his weary friend: sleepy and affectionate and charming, the most comforting and alluring sound Jakub had ever heard. It pierced him so strongly he wasn’t sure he would ever breathe again.

They stayed that way for a while, ragged and in disbelief, until Cheshire wriggled. Jakub burrowed between his shoulder blades determined not to be disturbed, but the quiet in the room began to wear him down. Still weak, he at last sat up. Cheshire turned onto his side just enough so that their eyes could meet.

It was the perfect time for panic to set in, faced with the realization of what they’d done. He could see it trying to dig its claws into the corner of Cheshire’s lip as it twisted into a hesitant smile. But then Cheshire said, “Okay. I’m convinced.”

Jakub dropped onto the bed and kissed him again. With the lust clearing from his brain there were so many worries threatening to bubble up from their usual hiding places, but he let Cheshire’s tired mouth ease them away. They stretched out face to face in bed and searched each other’s eyes for a way forward.

“Now what?” Cheshire asked.

Jakub had no idea, but he didn’t want to admit as much. “I’m exhausted,” he replied instead.

Cheshire laughed quietly. “Me, too.” He glanced away. “I should—”

“You should stay.” It was too dangerous to look Cheshire in the face for much longer, so Jakub rolled to his other side and drew Cheshire’s arm over him. “I think we’re both too tired to move.”

“Okay.” Cheshire tensed briefly, but he saw the merits of Jakub’s suggestion very quickly, and with a sigh he relaxed against Jakub’s back. “You’re probably right….”

Jakub closed his eyes, relishing the warmth of Cheshire’s body draped over his. He listened to Cheshire’s breath until it had slowed with slumber. He would have liked to count each breath against the back of his neck for hours until dawn, but he had been too right after all: he was exhausted, and he too quickly fell asleep.

***

Jakub awoke late the next morning to sun streaming through his window. He was sore and still very tired, a taste of medicine at the back of his throat. But he was warm and rested, and it took him a long time to realize that the tickle to his bare shoulder was actually fingernails skating across his skin.

Jakub froze. The events of the night before rushed back to him and at last the panic set in as he thought, What the hell did I do?

Cheshire was leaning against his back. He hummed a quiet, aimless tune as he drew his fingertips over Jakub’s skin.

Eventually it became clear that he was tracing the lines of Jakub’s tattoo, and Jakub’s breath caught in his throat. This was a moment he had dreamed of: waking up in Cheshire’s arms, protected, a sweet voice meant only for him. It was terrifying, and his heart began to pound wildly, his fingers going numb.

“You awake?” Cheshire asked, tracing each feather in the eagle tattooed across Jakub’s shoulder. “Sorry if it was me.”

Jakub tensed, fight or flight warring in his chest. He tried to answer, but he could barely get in a full breath before his throat choked up, and he didn’t dare risk speaking when he didn’t know how his voice would sound. His eyes stung with unexpectedly fierce emotion, as if years of secrets were piling up against his tongue.

“I’ve always wanted to ask you about this,” Cheshire continued, looping his fingernail along the bottom edge of the tattoo. “It’s Polish, I get that. But I haven’t seen the rest of the gang with them.” He chuckled, and what should have been so charming threatened to rattle Jakub apart. “So it must be real special.”

He leaned down and kissed Jakub’s shoulder—it was too much. It was too much. Jakub threw his hand up involuntarily, intending to urge him back for a moment of clarity and space, only to realize too late that it was his left hand. His metal knuckles smacked Cheshire in the nose with a painful thunk.

“Ow!”

Cheshire slumped back, reaching for his face, and like a fuse reaching its end Jakub vaulted out of bed. “Sorry,” he said, but that was all he could manage. Without looking back he dashed into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

What the hell did I do? Jakub leaned his back against the door; he couldn’t stop shaking and he wanted to vomit. Why did I do that? How could I be that stupid! The burning in his eyes and throat overwhelmed him, and he had to clap his hand over his mouth to staunch the terrible sound threatening to wrench itself free. He remembered Cheshire smiling up at him with such affection, but for some reason that only made it hurt worse. He wasn’t prepared for any of this—was too exhausted to process—and he was shocked and appalled to realize there were tears on his face.

“Jakub?” Cheshire called from the next room. “You okay?”

Stop, stop. Don’t let him see you like this. Jakub forced himself to take a breath and hurried to the sink. Hopefully the rush of water would help disguise the roughness of his voice. “I’m okay!” He won’t understand. He thought you hated him last night—he has no idea how you feel. He wasn’t sure how he felt himself: unsteady, thrilled, mortified. His heart was tied in knots. “It’s…the morphine, made me sick.” He splashed water over his face and prayed that would be enough to clear his head. “I’m okay.”

“Oh! Okay, take it easy.”

Jakub strained his ears; he could hear Cheshire getting out of bed. He waited for a while, washing and re-washing his face, until sure that he’d moved out of the bedroom. Don’t say anything stupid, he instructed himself firmly as he finished with a piss and then finally wiped his dick off. See what he says. At least now he can’t avoid you.

Jakub emerged from the bathroom and pulled on a fresh pair of underwear and pants. Even though his left arm was sore and he wasn’t able to move the fingers as well as before, just having something to hold the waist of each open was a remarkable improvement. He took a few moments to catch his breath and rearrange his expression into its usual ease before venturing into the living room.

Cheshire had redressed in his shirt and pants, though both were unbuttoned. He was holding a handkerchief to his nose while trying to drink from the whiskey bottle Barney had opened earlier—days ago?—but he quickly stopped when Jakub approached, his smile boyish and guilty. It was exactly like him, both comforting and foundation-rattling, and the room was quiet for a long moment while Jakub reasserted his composure. “Sorry,” said Cheshire sheepishly. He gave his nose one last wipe. “You don’t mind?”

“Go ahead,” said Jakub. “I wanted us to drink it together anyway.”

He hadn’t meant to admit that much, but Cheshire’s smile growing warm sent his pulse fluttering, making it worth it. “Then come have some,” Cheshire said, offering the bottle. “Though we’d probably both be better off with some coffee.”

Jakub came closer. Each step felt like a marathon. By the time he accepted the bottle he was afraid his hand would shake, but he took a long gulp and then set it on the table without spilling any. “Coffee sounds good. Maybe we can… get breakfast? Across the street?” He smoothed his hair back. “After we’ve both cleaned up.”

“Yes,” Cheshire said eagerly, and then he laughed at himself. “Yes, that sounds…perfect.” He grabbed the rest of his clothes off the sofa. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay.”

They both lingered a while longer, awkward as teenagers, before Cheshire finally laughed again and showed himself out. Jakub closed the door behind him and his knees almost gave out.

Just don’t say anything stupid, he thought determinedly as he headed back into the bathroom. It’ll be okay. It has to be okay.

***

Taking the stairs was a mistake; Cheshire’s knees wobbled the whole way down, and he gripped the handrail tight as his mind raced in an endless loop of, Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

He let himself into his apartment—which was curiously unlocked—and leaned back into the door, trying to catch his breath and his wits. But it was no use—he couldn’t get a single usable thought through his brain. Oh my god, what the hell did I do? He honestly worried his head was about to spin off his shoulders, only to realize he wasn’t alone in the room.

Miklos was asleep on his bed, tucked under a blanket. He didn’t seem to have been disturbed by the intrusion, so Cheshire kept quiet, staring at him and trying to make sense of it. No use—no thoughts were left. On tip toes Cheshire set his shoes, jacket, and tie over a chair and fetched his toiletries, then headed to the community bathroom the lower floors were restricted to.

How did that even happen? Cheshire scrubbed vigorously beneath the shower spray as he fought to put his brain back in order. He sounded so angry, but then…. He gulped, flushing with the memory of Jakub crawling on top of him. Could it be… he’s thought about all that before? Maybe even planned for it? The thought made him dizzy, and he braced his palm to the wall as he rinsed shampoo out of his hair. No, no, that can’t be. He’s had plenty of chances. He tried to think back, but suddenly all he could remember was the heat and urgency behind every kiss, that heavy, dangerous look in Jakub’s dark eyes just before striking.

What do I do? Cheshire took a deep breath and hurried through the rest of his normal routine. If Barney finds out, he’ll kill me for real. Hannah, too. He gulped. But it’s not like we can pretend that didn’t happen. Right?

Cheshire dressed in a fresh shirt and pants but decided to skip the usual accessories—he was nowhere near composed enough to settle on a necktie. He dashed back into his apartment and there stopped dead: Miklos was awake and helping himself to a hairbrush.

“Oh, hi,” said Miklos as if it were a very normal morning. He finished and set the brush down. “Are you all right? You look pale.”

Cheshire tried to make a normal, friendly face. He really did. “Oh, hey Miklos. Um.” He put his things away and moved to his drawer to find fresh socks. “What are you doing here?”

“You said you were going to pick up Jakub last night,” said Miklos, his tone searching. “I figured the two of you had… some things to talk about.”

Cheshire stopped with only one sock on and turned toward him. Watching Miklos watch him with such curiosity tightened his stomach. “Did you know?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Miklos straightened up, a stripe of green rippling through his lavender hair. “Know what?”

“That we….”

Cheshire had no idea how much he could admit, and didn’t get the chance to anyway. Even with that much Miklos seemed to glow, his eyes wide, a grin hesitating around the corners of his mouth. “You did know,” Cheshire accused.

Miklos lowered his voice but his intensity was fierce. “What happened?”

Cheshire began to sweat. But Jakub and Miklos, they…. He shook himself and went back to putting a different color sock on. “Nothing!” he chirped. He stepped into the closest shoes and pinned his damp hair up. “Jakub and I are meeting across the street for coffee and breakfast. You’ve got to see how the surgery went! It’s incredible.” He grabbed a jacket on his way to the door. “Come on over when you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay,” Miklos replied, and Cheshire wasn’t sure if he liked that secretive smile of his one bit.

As soon as Cheshire made it into the hall, Burke’s door opened, and a head of familiar brick-red hair popped out. “Oy, Bloom,” Burke said upon spotting him. “What happened to Danowicz? Is he—”

“Across the street!” Cheshire called, not breaking stride in his beeline toward the door. “Breakfast! Join us!”

The September sky was a chilly gray, and the morning air struck hard, Cheshire shivering as he took a deep breath. He hadn’t even remembered his gloves, but lucked out when he found a pair stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He slipped them on as he crossed the street to the familiar corner diner. Jakub was already inside and picking out a booth, and though cowardice nipped at Cheshire’s heels, he tightened his coat and hurried inside.

“Hey,” Cheshire greeted as he slipped into the booth across from Jakub. He was probably grinning like an idiot but there was no helping it. “You feeling better?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Jakub had cleaned up as well, shirt buttoned and jacket tight. He had his left hand braced against the table and was moving his index finger back and forth. “I’m fine. I just need some food.”

“Yeah, you must be starving. You’ve been through a lot.” Blushing, Cheshire couldn’t help but look to the arm again. “Didn’t Hallorran’s doctors say no strenuous activity? Ha!”

Jakub snorted, but then a peculiar thing happened: his lips quirked, just faintly, in a shy smile. It lasted so briefly Cheshire might not have believed it at all, if not for the flutter in his chest that accompanied it. Then a waitress approached, and it was gone.

“It’s a little sore,” Jakub admitted once she had poured them each a mug and moved on. He worked his finger back and forth a few more times. “They told me to ice it if there was any swelling. And I still have some painkillers left from the first surgery.”

“Good.” Cheshire sipped his coffee, praying it would help clear his thoughts. “You really should take it easy, now. I can—”

“I don’t want you to buy me more things, all right?” Jakub interrupted. “Like you have the last week.”

Cheshire leaned back. “Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure. Sorry, I just thought….”

Jakub gave him a moment, but he didn’t know what he thought, and couldn’t finish. “What I mean,” Jakub rescued him, “is I’d rather you just come by and tell me how things are going. I want to….” He made a face down at his coffee. “I don’t want you to avoid me anymore.”

“I wasn’t,” said Cheshire, but when Jakub’s eyes flicked back to him, his heart skipped. “I was,” he confessed. “I didn’t think you really wanted to see me anyway.”

“I told you a dozen times, I don’t blame you for what happened,” Jakub said firmly.

“I know!” Cheshire squirmed; he wasn’t equipped to deal with Jakub at his most intimidating, not when the entire world already seemed off kilter. “I know, I’m sorry.” He sank deeper into the booth as he dumped a packet of sugar into his coffee. “I just…didn’t know what to do.” He risked a glance up at Jakub and gulped. “What do we do?”

Jakub sagged a little, too, giving the question all due seriousness. “I think…we shouldn’t tell many people,” he said. “About last night.”

Cheshire nodded even as his heart sank into his gut. “No, you’re right.” He stirred his coffee over and over. “Barney would literally kill me.” He offered a weak half-smirk. “They’d probably be lining up, actually. Don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone.”

It was only what he should have expected. It made sense, after all. It’s not like anyone wants to be seen with me anyway, he thought, trying to wash down the sour taste in his mouth with the coffee. Let alone him.

“But I don’t want you to pretend it didn’t happen, either,” Jakub continued, and Cheshire perked up again. “Because I can’t.”

He caught Cheshire’s gaze and held it with his, as intense as Cheshire had ever seen him. It was kind of terrifying at first, and Cheshire was frozen, at a loss for how to interpret. But then it occurred to him that he had seen this face before— many times before. He had been on the receiving end of Jakub’s soul-stealing glares plenty of times, but only then did he start to notice the stiff tilt of Jakub’s shoulders that accompanied it, the shallow and eager tempo of his breath. The longer he forced himself not to turn away or retreat into chatter, the more it dawned on him that he had misjudged those dark, piercing eyes of his friend after all. Maybe he had a lot to learn. He had so, so much to learn.

“Me, neither,” he said, and watching Jakub relax felt like victory.

The bell over the door jingled. Cheshire glanced up and spotted Miklos heading into the diner, but he wasn’t alone: Burke, Hannah, and even Barney were with him. Without a word Jakub stood up, and Cheshire worried he was about to be abandoned to a whole lot of questions he couldn’t answer, but then Jakub moved around the table and pushed on his shoulder. Confused but obedient, Cheshire scooted deeper into the booth so Jakub could sit beside him.

The others joined them, Miklos and Hannah taking the booth while Burke and Barney pulled up stools from the counter. Everyone was full of curiosity and excitement for Jakub’s new appendage, and he answered their questions with as much openness and ease as Cheshire had ever witnessed. He stayed out of it at first, until Jakub prompted him to corroborate his tale of the eccentric Thea Halloran and her unique employees. From then on, everything was back to normal: Cheshire beaming through the tale, everyone groaning and teasing along, Jakub gradually sinking deeper into his side and under his arm. Just as it should be.

And none of them suspected just how much had changed, and how much was left to come.