Davyn had learned a lot in the month he'd spent as the Counter's trainee.

For one thing, there was so much to learn in terms of language, strategy, and survival.

On the other hand, he wasn't quite as good at combat as he'd thought either. Their instructor, a middle-aged Japanese man from some god-forsaken village in the mountains, put him on his ass so much that it hurt to sit down.

"Again," Harumi Kato ordered.

Davyn sat up, rubbing the small of his back. "How do you keep doing that?"

"Tripping you when you are not looking?"

"I guess that explains it." He pushed himself back to his feet. "How am I not looking?"

Kato hummed, stroking his long black mustache. "You are..." He said a couple of words in Japanese.

Davyn wished he could understand. He was convinced that Kato was the source of a lot of wisdom as well, not just someone who knew exactly how to kick his ass. But his knowledge of English was limited, and Davyn didn't have the heart and patience to learn two different languages at once. Ancient Egyptian was hard enough.

"Your focus," Kato said. He sliced through the air with the edge of his hand. "Elsewhere. Future move, not current threat. You need to meditate more."

Meditating put him to sleep. "So there's no other possible way...?"

In the blink of an eye, Kato picked his bo staff off the floor and brought it down swiftly on Davyn's back. He hadn't expected it, so he hit the mat with a thud that knocked the air out of his lungs.

"You talk too much," Kato concluded.

"Oh, fuck off," Davyn said under his breath.

"You are only pretending to be mad."

Kato wasn't wrong, but it still got to Davyn every time. He most definitely didn't like losing. Losing often was even worse. He couldn't even tell if he was making any sort of progress.

"You talk to McLane." And Kato knocked his head back to indicate the other guy leaning against the wall.

"Good luck with that," Davyn mumbled. "McLane doesn't talk to anyone."

"That's because you're not interesting," he quipped.

Kato grinned and headed for the door, taking his gear along with him. Davyn sat up and pulled his knees in to rest his forearms on them. The muscles on his back ached from the hit as well as the tension in his posture, but he knew he needed to stretch them now or he'd be sorry later. To his utter shock, McLane didn't make himself scarce like the ghost he usually was.

"I'm not boring," Davyn said.

"Not being boring doesn't make you interesting."

"I'm sorry if I'm not a recluse like you."

"Why aren't you?"

The question sent a shiver up Davyn's spine. It was a very good one, and he'd been trying to avoid it. Truth be told, if Rachel hadn't approached him on that first day, he might have been a shadow on the wall, too. Instead, she'd pulled him inside a game in which there is a team, in which he could be someone else entirely. Not a fugitive. Not Snitch Gravel. If she hadn't, he could be keeping McLane company against various walls.

"What's it to you?" he grumbled.

"Everyone's got a story. I figured it out for most of the others, but not you."

"I thought you said I wasn't interesting."

McLane pushed himself off the wall and walked closer. "You can fight well."

"So can you."

"Better than the others."

"Again, you too."

"Yes, but I know why I can fight."

"If you think I'm going to start opening up to you, walk away now and save yourself the time it would take me to shut you down."

He didn't. Instead he sat in front of Davyn, his grey eyes searching. "Maybe you should open up to someone."

"And out of all the non-weird and creepy people here, you think it should be you?"

"Really now. Could you confess the darkness inside your heart to goody-two-shoes Rachel or innocent Simon?"

He couldn't. Davyn would rather they continued to like him. But he would never admit that to McLane. Or to Rachel and Simon for that matter. "I have no darkness inside me."

"Oh, but you do. Darkness and rage and fear." McLane leaned back on his hands and glanced at the ceiling. "I know because I'm the same way."

"Very dramatic. Is this the part where I confess?"

"It make you... Better."

That was an interesting thought. "Better at what?"

"At fighting and trying your best to do everything alone. To not need other people."

That was true. It didn't necessarily make Davyn feel any better. But, in the end, the only person he could truly be sure of was himself.

"That's why you don't trust anyone?"

McLane leaned back on his hands, staring up at the ceiling. For a few moments he was silent, as though twisting Davyn's words around his head, searching for a secret meaning. "Don't you find this place suspicious?"

"This random military barracks on the outskirts of a foreign city? Of course not."

The snark got a smirk out of the other guy. "It is a bit obvious, isn't it?"

"I'll come out and say it now. I don't care. I'm good with working in shady conditions."

"So I've noticed. The others are either very trusting or keep whispering in pathetic shushed voices."

Davyn frowned, trying to determine who was trusting and who was mildly disgruntled. Walt was definitely trusting, but that was mainly due to the fact that he didn't wish to look beyond his role as linguist. Maybe Alan was like that too, but given his particular skill set, Davyn suspected this was an escape for him as well. Harrison... Yeah, the guy was definitely trusting, which left Rachel and Simon as the mumblers. 

"You don't trust," he said carefully. "And yet you're here."

"So are you."

"The only difference is I told you why."

This silenced McLane again. For a while, none of them said anything, but the silence was somewhat comforting. Davyn had to admit that he was curious why McLane had come to him and why he was there in the first place. It was also a little odd that he was now willing to talk after a month of almost complete silence. But maybe it did get lonely in his ivory tower.

"If you want an ally, you would have to give something in return," Davyn pointed out.

"Like what?"

"What's your real name?"

"McLane is my real name."

"Your first name?"

He hesitated, then reached out his hand. "Phillip."

Davyn took it and shook. "Grant. See? You give trust, you get trust."

"Instant Karma." He grinned and it made him look a lot less intense. And younger. "Why are you here?"

"Because it seems like a good place to go. Look at all they're teaching us."

McLane hummed. "That is true. But they're not giving all of this out for free. They want loyalty."

"And they can have it until they fuck up." Davyn narrowed his eyes. "Because you're sure they will. Why don't you trust that they want to do better for the world?"

"Why do you trust that they do?"

The answer was simple. Because his father had trusted and Davyn trusted his father with his life. "I don't think they would have so many resources if they weren't legit. Criminal activity usually leaves a trail. Money leaves a trail."

"That's true. I guess hoping it would all end well is a choice, just like accepting this mission." 

"Everything in life is a choice. Either good or bad."

McLane nodded. "And you and I have made some bad ones."

Davyn didn't answer. He saw no point in denying it. After all, Phillip McLane was right. There was something about him that gave Davyn the impression that he wouldn't turn away if he found out about Snitch Gravel and the fire. He'd somehow understand. Or at least not judge. He wasn't someone Davyn could disappoint.

And maybe for that reason, he was worth to keep close.

♣️

Time was a weird, circular thing. With a fixed schedule, it seem to repeat itself, as if they were all living out the same day over and over. But there were differences. Davyn could see them clearly. His skills and speed had increased. He could actually read ancient Egyptian decently now. And talking to Rachel and Simon was now as natural as breathing. Even his interactions with Phillip had become less strained. Davyn hadn't confessed yet, but he felt he was closer to it every time they talked.

Phillip had shared some interesting things about himself as well. Like how he was originally from Scotland and had gone to military school since he was young. He liked the discipline and predictability, but the stealth and secrecy required by special operation were what kept him breathing. It definitely explained why he was there to begin with.

However, Phillip wasn't as willing to share with the others, so Davyn kept his secrets, even before Rachel and Simon who were turning into the friends he never knew he needed. It was an extra benefit that they respected his decision to leave Phillip out of their conversations.

He'd come to know the others better, too. Alan Martinez was a bit of a street rat with a reputation, and he'd taken the chance to make something of himself. Harrison Levy, on the other hand, had been drawn by potential institutionalized do-gooding. As different as they all were, Edwards seemed satisfied with their progress, so at least that was going well.

What was much harder was figuring out what to do with himself on the anniversary of his father's death.

What was left of December and January flew by in a flurry. They'd all been so entranced by their mission that they failed to celebrate Christmas and only figured out it was New Year's once fireworks erupted over Cairo. That aspect revealed something else about his teammates. They didn't have families. Not really, at least.

With some guilt, Davyn thought of Ron and even Freider and what they might be doing. Had their mother finally returned? Were they happy now, without him?

But even so, his heart twisted more at the thought of Millie. His work kept him busy, but sometimes, he missed her so much it felt as it he had a hole in his chest. He'd written to her almost every week, but the doubt whether Freider was passing on the letters killed him.

He knew she couldn't write back even if his brother didn't monumentally screw up. He never wrote down a return address or even his name on them. It made sense for it to be like this, but he'd give anything for news from her. Especially when he was once again haunted by his father's death.

The paper in front of him slid in and out of focus as he tried to morph his feelings into words. Millie would understand how hard this was for him. Her soft voice and touch could drive the demons away. And yet, he had no idea what to write to her except for the obvious.

Darling,

It's been a year. I think you know since what even without me spelling it out.

Since my father died.

He had nothing else inside him because the last three words took everything out of him. How could it still be so hard?

"What are you doing?"

Davyn jumped as he was forced back into his senses. He drew his gaze over his shoulder where Simon hovered, a small frown on his face.

"What?" Davyn snapped.

Simon didn't answer, just glanced past him. They were on the upper story of the museum's library, where tables were spread out with a view of the lower level. Rachel was down there, on her feet, leaning over a table which she'd filled with a large selection of books.

Davyn had to fight his impulse to snarl at the interruption. Simon could've admired Rachel without bothering him. But it seemed to be a bit more than that as his new friend returned his attention to him, his frown deeper. For a moment, he just glared, then he heaved a sigh.

"Look, I've been trying not to, but I have to ask. Do you... Is there something between you two?"

Davyn blinked. "Us two..."

A rosy tint colored the tip of Simon's ears. "You and Rachel."

Admitting that he cared was a good first step. Davyn was tempted to play dumb just to make him uncomfortable, but he would rather avoid the drama.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

The shade of red became brighter as Simon seemed to reconsider his life choices. But as Davyn had come to expect from him, he was much braver than he first thought.

"Well, you were staring at her and..." He nodded towards the table.

Davyn's eyes fell on his poor attempt of a letter. Shit. He quickly turned the page over.

"I wasn't staring at her. More like through her. I had no idea she was even there."

"Oh. Then... Um..." Simon swallowed. "Do you have someone? I saw you writing letters a lot, but I always assumed they were to your family."

"We all missed Christmas being a thing. Why would you even think I had a family?"

"I don't know. Because you're the only one except for Walt actually writing letters. And we do know he has a family."

Fair enough. It was honestly a breath of fresh air that he was no longer surrounded by idiots. He was starting to get used to it, and it was surprisingly comforting.

But the thought of talking about Millie still made him sick, and not because he didn't trust Simon or thought he'd have a weird reaction. It mostly due to how thinking about her made him feel in general. Lost.

"I..." Denying it wouldn't be of any use either. Simon could already guess the truth. "Well, yes."

"Oh." Simon walked next to his table and leaned his forearms against the banister, looking down into the depths of the library. "I have no idea why that didn't cross my mind before. But to be fair, I'm awful at these things."

Davyn abandoned his pathetic attempt at a letter and joined Simon. "You're actually awful at something?"

He huffed. "I'm sure you've noticed I'm awful at most things."

"You're actually not awful at the things you do put some effort into."

Simon didn't disagree. He didn't have false modesty, and Davyn appreciated that about him.

"There are things I'm simply not good at."

Davyn quirked an eyebrow. "Like what?" Flirting was one thing Simon sucked at, but Davyn wanted him to say it.

"Like social graces. I mean, it was so obvious you had someone and I missed it."

"How was it obvious?" He didn't like this. While he didn't mind Simon or any of his other friends knowing this, the thought of Edwards finding out and potentially using it against him made him sick.

"Look at you! You're the kind of guy who definitely attracts women." Simon's voice died on the last word.

Davyn wasn't sure if to laugh or pity him. "I don't attract all women." And now was the time to turn into a wingman. "For example Rachel is clearly not impressed by my dashing good looks."

"Really?" There was so much hope in Simon's voice, it was hilarious.

"Yeah, I think she's secretly into computer needs."

"What? Really? Did she tell you anything? Did she--" He halted as if he realized he'd given himself away completely.

Davyn grinned. "Come on, Simon. There's nothing wrong with liking her. I mean, she's pretty amazing."

"That's true. She kicks my butt when we spar together."

She kicked everyone's butt but his and Phillip's, which was very impressive. "So it's only natural that you'd be attracted to her. All you have to do is tell her."

The color seemed to drain from Simon's face. "I can't tell her that. She'd just laugh at me."

"Then maybe just show her."

He pondered on this, drumming his fingers on his chin. "How did you do it? Though, I think it would be socially required for me to ask you her name first."

Davyn wanted to laugh, but the thought of the past had him choking on it. "Look, it's a bit complicated."

"To say her name?"

"Maximilliane."

"Wow, that's a mouthful."

"She's half-French."

"Ah, that explains it."

"I call her Millie."

"That's cute."

The conversation was strangely liberating as Simon took everything in stride.

"How long have you two been together?"

Davyn had to think really hard on this one since he wasn't sure if it started when they first kissed or she'd forced the boyfriend status on him.

"Eight months," he said as a compromise.

"Do you... Um, have any tips?"

This really made Davyn laugh. "Trust me, you don't want tips from me. We started out loathing each other."

"Oh." Simon bit on his lower lip. "That's... interesting."

"No, you wanted to say it's so like me."

"True."

They stood in silence for a few moments, both of them watching Rachel as she moved from book to book, noting things down.

"You know, if you want things to work, you just have to be yourself." Davyn said. "She either likes you, or she doesn't."

"That's true..."

It had been true for him an Millie. Everything had only started to fall apart once he'd started lying. First because he wanted to protect her. Next, because he wanted to surprise her. All around because he wanted to keep her. Live his own fairytale romance, like his parents.

Which brought him back to his father and his entire being shattered. His breath rattled as he took it in, and his temples began throbbing. For a moment, he was back in the morgue, the cold tiles freezing his feet. Vomit climbed up his throat.

Then, something magical happened. A hand grasped his shoulder and squeezed tightly. It wasn't gentle. It was grounding.

His vision cleared and he was back in Cairo, with Simon next to him, resting his hand on Davyn's shoulder. Just being there, not judging. And surprisingly, it was enough. He could breathe again.

So he did, and watched Rachel. In a corner of the room, he spotted Phillip, sticking to his shadows. Except this time, he was looking at his and Simon, and as their eyes met, Davyn saw concern in them.

It would have usually annoyed him. But on the day of the anniversary of his father's death, the concern only gave him strength. Even if they had no idea what was going on with him, the support made it bearable.

♣♣♣

OMG, is Davyn capable of sincere emotion and actually making friends? He's getting so close to people and actually managed to be the object of McLane's interest. Now most of you have figured out where you've seen him before. And you get to meet another familiar figure! Who missed Kato?

Time has passed and we're in February, so you all know a wedding is coming up.

Stick around for the last stretch before the mission begins and Millie messes up her life. Thanks for reading and for your support!