Sam wasn't sure exactly what had happened and how Skye ended up in his bed, but he appreciated the warmth of her sleeping body. Yes, it had been easier for him to fall asleep, but it also filled his slumber with weird dreams about wraiths rising above Niagara Falls and trying to suck her soul out.

He'd avoided his own nightmares, but he wasn't sure having hers was an improvement.

Still, when he woke up, he felt fairly well rested and eager to make sure there would be no awkwardness between them. So, he left her a note that he'd be downstairs for breakfast and did just that.

The inn had a very nice, picturesque diner on the ground floor, with dark wooden paneling and old-fashioned furniture in shades of brown and dark red. It also offered a very traditional breakfast that he gulped down in a heartbeat. It felt like all that emotional stuff had drained him. He wasn't sure he was over it, but he did feel considerably lighter, as if the massive amounts of pain had vanished, leaving behind a disconcerting hole.

As he sipped his tea, he analyzed the hole. He couldn't really gauge the depth of it or if he should actually air it out or try to fill it. The good part is that he knew why it was there. His trust, his love for Christine and Harry... They were somehow gone. Feelings that had once kept him safe and happy now left behind painful space. But should he do anything about it or just wait and hope for the best?

Right on cue, Skye slid in the seat across from him, wearing his hoodie and the jeans he'd bought her. Her hair was a messy crown of waves and she looked a little sleepy, but other wise peaceful. She wasn't the type of girl who looked unfinished without makeup on and she looked so much younger in that ensemble.

"Don't laugh at my hair," she mumbled. "I didn't actually bring a comb." She dragged her fingers through her hair as she said this, her eyes scanning the menu.

"I think it actually looks cute. Makes you seem younger."

She didn't look at him, but smiled to herself and stopped messing with her hair. "I'm not that old so you can cut that out."

The waitress came to their table and Skye placed her order before turning her attention to him.

"Did you sleep well?"

"It was weird, but I did sleep."

Her shoulders tensed. "Weird how?"

"I had this nightmare about ghosts dragging you into the falls."

Her attention returned to the menu even if she'd already ordered her food. "Fitting," she muttered.

Sam raised an eyebrow. She was obviously hiding something. "What happened here?"

She ignored him, turning the glossy pages of the booklet. "Huh, they apparently serve beans for breakfast. Anyway, how do you feel?"

Such a lousy deflection, but it was obviously a delicate subject for her, so he chose not to pry. "Okay, I guess. A little confused, a little empty."

She hummed, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them. "Do you listen to music?"

That was an odd question. "I guess..."

"As in casual listener or avid listener?"

"I don't know. Where are you going with this?"

"It might help your feelings to get lost in books, music or art. Do things alone that lift you."

She was probably thinking that he'd want to drag her around everywhere, which wasn't too far from the truth. "Okay. Music might work."

Skye nodded, rubbing her index and middle finger rapidly. He frowned, taking in her hand, the the way she was jittery. He recognized the signs all too well.

"You a smoker?" he asked, trying to sound politely curious rather than judgmental as fuck.

She wasn't fooled. Her eyes narrowed and she stopped rubbing her fingers together. "I occasionally partake. Why? Or are you one of those people who has a problem with it?"

It would've been polite to drop it, but he chose honesty instead. "Yes, I am." He hated it, even occasionally.

As if to spite him, Skye fished out a  pack of smokes out of the pouch of his hoodie and opened it. "Damn, only have one left," she said as she pulled out a slim cigarette.

"Christine used to smoke those," he said, once again trying to sound casual, but failing miserably. The thought made him nauseous so maybe he wasn't as over it as he'd originally thought.

Skye stopped with the cigarette half to her mouth. "Really?"

"Just occasionally." He paused. "Like you."

Sam wasn't sure why, but being compared to Christine seemed to get to her. She squinted at him, but ultimately chose to ignore him and stuck the cigarette in her mouth, digging inside her pockets most likely for the lighter.

There was a possibility that it really was the same type of cigarette Christine smoked, and he sure as hell didn't want the smell triggering him. Plus, cancer and everything. So he leaned across the table and took the deathstick out of her mouth.

"Hey, what gives?"

"Isn't smell supposed to be triggering? I don't want to roll on the floor in tears." It was only half true. He didn't want her to compare to Christine either for some insane reason.

She didn't answer, just pouted. "I know it's a bad habit, but when you're in med school, the amount of pressure on your shoulders is immense. Most of the students turn to smoking, because drinking messes with your focus. I technically quit after I finished school, but sometimes, especially when I'm stressed out, I feel the need for a cigarette."

"And why are you stressed out right now?" he asked, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. As much as he hated the smell of the smoke, he actually liked the aroma of tobacco.

She raised her eyebrows as if it were obvious. Maybe it was. He'd basically kidnapped her and forced her across the country to a place she wasn't very fond of.

"Anyway," he said, veering away from deep, painful conversation. "Smoking is a bad habit which affects not only your health, but that of people around you. I don't know how you can stand that stale taste on your tongue."

"Don't get all moralizing, I know the effects of smoking too well. And how do you even know what it tastes like anyway?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "I used to hate kissing Christine after she smoked. It made me nauseous."

Skye rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Snowflake."

"Seriously, don't you sense the difference?"

She pondered on this, leaning back in her seat and bringing her knees to her chest again. "Not really, but come to think of it, I've only had boyfriends that smoked."

"Trust me, it's an entirely new experience."

She squinted at him again, and for some reason he took it as a dare to prove it. His eyes flitted to her lips, how they were reddish even if she wasn't wearing lipstick... No, ugh! What the hell?

He shook his head and looked away. What was it with him and his sudden desire to kiss every woman he spent a few moments with? Plus, it would make things so awkward. It already did, because in his head, he was starting to picture her differently and he sure as hell didn't want that.

"Plus, lung cancer," he said, to break the awkward silence, because even cancer was better than what was going through his mind.

Skye huffed. "I'm not going to die of lung cancer. Since I'm hanging out with you now, I'm either going to get shot or die of a exotic disease I'll contract on one of your many adventures."

It was inappropriate as hell, but he couldn't keep in the huff of laughter. "Honestly, we get vaccines when we go to exotic destinations. Jerry wouldn't allow us out of the house otherwise."

She smiled, and he suddenly realized what her words actually meant.

"You want to come on missions?"

"I feel like it's my duty at this point. At least until you get back on your feet."

"Why? You could easily avoid this." The danger, the constant pressure, the fear of death... Why subject yourself to that willingly?

Except just thinking about missions got him a little excited. He really missed it. What he was doing now... Yes, it was action and dangerous, but it was no longer an adventure. It had become a job.

Her eyes lit up with a crazy type of excitement that brought a flutter to his stomach. "I know, but I don't want to. As long as I can be helpful, I want to be around. Because it's exciting and adventurous and..." She hesitated and nibbled on her lower lip. "And it feels like I'm actually doing something with my life."

He had to agree, it made him feel that way, too. At least it used to, when they went searching for jewels. Now he was much better at the secret agent game and could defend himself much easier, but it also felt like routine. And routine killed everything.

"If you want to keep doing it, you'll need to start training," he pointed out. "I mean biting into that goon was cool and everything, but you need more than that. It would be nice to know that you have my back if I need you."

She nodded, the excitement in her eyes only growing. "I figured that much. You train my body and I train your mind. It's a win-win."

"You'll need to stop smoking all together, too. You'll need full lung capacity."

It was probably bullshit and she most likely knew it, but she still nodded. "It's a terrible habit anyway, so we have a deal." She reached her hand across the table.

He took it and shook firmly, wanting to show her he was serious about this. Fortunately, she looked just as serious. Because they were making a pact, not holding hands.

"What are we going to do now?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Enough lost control for you?"

He had no idea, so he just shrugged.

"The thing about losing control..." She glanced on the ceiling, drumming her fingers on her chin. "It's good for you, but it takes strength to get it back. And as much as we lie to ourselves, we do need control in our lives. Routine. That's how humans function. Going from unexpected to unexpected makes it turn into routine. So complete lack of control is an illusion just as much as complete control is. The key is always moderation."

"Where do you get this stuff?"

She smiled. "I'm a trained professional. I also read a lot and have a sense for the obvious."

"Then we're going back to Chicago." 

Because he was about to seize control and squeeze the life out of it. There was Egypt which turned out to be a mystery. There were three more jewels out there and he intended to get to them. It was true that Snitch Gravel had done most of the research for the first jewels, but he hadn't pulled the information out of his ass. If he could do it, so could Sam. And he had the feeling that picture he found by accident was the most important clue at his disposal.

He wasn't sure why, but he felt that if they got all the jewels, everything would finally be over. Snitch Gravel, the Agency, the constant danger and the public hatred.

And the idea of training Skye was strangely appealing. He so wanted to wipe that excitement off her face.

He would get better. The first steps had been made, and now it was just a matter of time.

♠️♠️♠️

I continue to successfully have backlog so yay for another update.

I'm curious what you think about the relationship between Sam and Skye at this point. They've come a long way from fighting over a closed door, haven't they?

And Sam is finally taking real steps to get better. As you can already guess, going for the jewel might pop up in the future.

Stay tuned for more. Next Wednesday brings out the first part of a VERY interesting chapter.

Hit the star if you're enjoying the story.