James only read aloud until he realised that Siena had fallen asleep, long before the part in the Little Mermaid's adventure they decided to visit first.

A strange warmth spread through his body like wildfire, starting in his heart and travelling fast through his veins. It took absolute trust to fall asleep like this, next to a virtual stranger, trust which he would never betray. Without disturbing her sleep, his fingers never leaving her long, smooth and shiny hair redolent of jasmine and orange blossoms like the rest of her, he finished reading the tale, then lifted her as gently as he could and carried her into her room.

She would skip dinner if he let her sleep, but at least she would get the much needed rest, he mused, depositing her softly on her bed, adjusting the blanket she was still wrapped in around her, then adding another, remembering that she had been feeling cold. He sat down next to her and watched her for a long while, thinking about how exhausted and emotional she was because of their first quest.

James wasn't indifferent to the events of their adventure either, but he didn't feel as moved as she did. Knowing that they had sent the Little Prince on his way home was a satisfying ending to the story for him. Siena had a great heart, the loving, trusting, and forgiving sort that could break easily. He would look out for her, he couldn't bear the idea of ever seeing her hurt, James promised to himself, finally standing up as the early, rainy twilight filled the bedroom, putting a fullstop to another day. They didn't have much time left. Only a few more days, and then he wouldn't see her until Christmas...

He walked to the window and drew the curtains, then cast a last glance at her figure hidden under the blankets, with her long hair fanned out around her on the pillows as she lay perfectly motionless, apart from her chest oscillating with her soft breathing, making her glowing pendant pulse in tune with her heartbeat. James exited the room, leaving her door ajar, so that he could still see her from his own bed where he settled with his computer, resolved to start working on his next article. If he wrote it now, he wouldn't have to close himself in to work, leaving her alone when she would be awake. But first, he would sketch her, he resolved, walking towards the wardrobe where he kept his luggage, to search for the sketchbook and pencils he had brought. The painter in him had been itching to draw her ever since he saw her in the airport.

He checked on her once before he finally went to bed himself, hours later, but she still lay in the same position, too deeply asleep even to stir. Smiling, questioning the weird happiness her closeness made him feel, James finally settled for the night, too. Could this be... love? He didn't know. He had never felt like this about any other woman before.

He was up first in the morning and the full English breakfast he had prepared lay on the table when Siena exited her bedroom, yawning, still dressed as the day before, her honey coloured hair floating around her in a wild disarray.

It took all James' will to suppress the urge to run his hands through those soft strands and pull her in for a kiss, crushing her body against his...

"Good morning," she said, scattering his fantasy, her bemused smile making him realise that he must look pretty silly, staring at her, the pan where he had cooked the eggs, bacon and sausages still in his hand.

"Morning, did you sleep well?" he asked nonchalantly, turning around, placing the empty pan back on the cooker, removing the browned slices of bread from the toaster even as they popped up. "The breakfast's ready," he added, turning back to her, placing the toasts on the table.

She nodded, then walked into the bathroom, returning a few moments later, her hair restrained and gathered into a messy bun on top of her head.

"It looks delicious." She smiled at him, observing the multitude of dishes set on the table between them as she sipped at her coffee. "But you are making me feel guilty. It was my turn to cook."

"This is not our last meal together, you'll cook the next time," he replied, hoping that the pang of melancholy he felt at the thought of the very few days they had left, did not show in his eyes.

It must have showed however, because he saw it reflected clearly in her caramel orbs before she looked away, pretending that the marmalade she was spreading on a piece of toast required her undivided attention. "I don't remember walking to bed... You carried me, haven't you?" She ventured, changing the subject, after a long, silent moment.

She looked at him then, and he was suddenly afraid that she would mind, that she would tell him not to do it anymore and pull up the crumbling wall between them again.

"Thanks, James. I really mean it," she said though, setting his heart at peace.

"My pleasure," he replied, heart soaring. "Now let us finish the breakfast. We need to find a smaller copy of The Little Mermaid upstairs before Jake comes; he should be here in a couple of hours. But knowing Christopher..."

Siena giggled. "He'll be here half an hour early, at least. And I need to get changed too, and pack our costumes to carry them to Alicia. I'm afraid they would get ruined if I washed them here," she explained, pouring herself another cup of coffee. "But at first, I'll do the dishes. Off you go, relax, it's my turn to do some work here. You are spoiling me, Mr Boyd." She concluded, finishing her toast, waving her hand in the general direction of the sofa and the door of his bedroom beyond.

And I'm really enjoying it, James almost said, biting his tongue at the last moment, afraid to scare her off by admitting that trying to please her had become almost as important as breathing for him.

"Why don't we just do things together today?" he proposed instead. "Let's clear the kitchen first, then we'll go up into the library and find our book, and after that, I'll help you with the costumes. There are some large garment bags in the wardrobe in my bedroom. If we fold down your gown neatly, it's bound to fit one of them."

"All right," she agreed easily.

James caught a glimmer in her eyes, there and then gone, suggesting that she too had realised that their time together in this pocket-sized world of their flat, where they existed as if they had always been here, as if they had been meant to happen, two powerless characters produced by a writer's vivid imagination like those whom they were trying to help, was running out. In a week, they would be banished to their real lives for months on end.

Their hands kept finding reasons to touch as they rinsed the dishes and filled the dishwasher, and their bodies brushed more than was strictly necessary within the confines of the kitchen, as much from Siena's as from James' will and intent.

"Shall we find the book now?" James proposed once the kitchen was in order, and Siena looked up at him, nodding, taking his hand in hers before he could reach out with the same intention.

She knew that she shouldn't. Friends didn't hold hands, definitely not when they were feeling like she felt about James, hovering too near the invisible border between friendship and more, she mused, pressing her cool free hand to one warm cheek. But this was their reality, and if they decided that this was friendship, then so it would be. Until they would agree to call the feeling by its real name and, maybe, follow it where it wanted to take them.

Siena just exited her room, dressed for the day, a paperback copy of The Little Mermaid under her arm, when someone rang the doorbell.

Spotting James by the door of the flat, ready to leave and waiting for her, two large plastic garments bags filled with their costumes on his arm, she smiled at him.

"Jake," they said in unison, while James looked at his watch. "It's ten twenty. Christopher must be really curious," he added.

"Well, I can't blame him. I'd be curious too, in his place, I suppose," Siena said, reaching him by the door, holding on to him while she slipped into her shoes. "Let's go then."

She exited the flat when James opened the door for her, then locked the door behind them, repeating the action as they walked out of the house. "Hi, Jake," she greeted the driver who was waiting for them by the car, as she pushed the keys into the pocket of her jeans, missing her handbag she had left in the Society's Headquarters yesterday.

"Siena, James," he replied, opening the car's door for her while James, after exchanging a few words with the friendly man, climbed in on the other side.

"It's early. Christopher must be quite impatient," she couldn't help saying, smiling at Jake as she settled inside.

"You have no idea. I'd be here at seven if it wasn't for Lady Alicia."

Siena giggled as he closed the door, storing the new information into her mind for later. Was Alicia a real lady?