“You are such a fucking asshole.”

Justin cringed. He hadn’t been expecting a warm greeting, given his long absence, but Trace sounded incredibly steamed. He could only imagine the expression on his face.

“I swear I have an actual bona fide excuse.”

“I’d really like to hear that. Because I really can’t fuckin’ conceive of any reasonable excuse for you to go AWOL, ditch Rachael at the airport and then not call any of us for days. Fuckin’ jerk.”

The stream of expletives was not uncommon for Trace, but usually he wasn’t directing them at him. It was not pleasant, though he’d known it wouldn’t be. Still he was willing to take it just to hear somebody’s voice. His life had become reduced to the tiny apartment he was hiding in with Charmian and he couldn’t stand it. Even his quick trips out had been stopped after the demon attack. He was going stir crazy, missing his friends and his house and his creature comforts. Although the incident with the succubus had convinced him that he wasn’t safe around his friends and family until this was over (and they’d probably be safer if he wasn’t around to provide a motive for possession) he was craving normality.

“I know, and I’m sorry, but it was totally out of my hands.”

“What, somebody fuckin’ kidnapped you? Come on.”

“Actually kind of yes, so you can quit with the tone.”

“What?”

He took a deep breath in and prepared to tell the lie he’d been rehearsing for about an hour. “US fucking marshals.”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

Trace was silent for a moment. He gnawed on a fingernail as his brain processed the idea. It was ludicrous, and yet it was obvious from Justin’s tone that something was up. He flattered himself that nobody knew him better (except maybe his mother) and he could tell when the guy was struggling.

“I’m listening, and you had better not bullshit me.”

“I’m really sorry, I know it was shitty of me to disappear but they banned me from talking to anybody, said lines might be tapped or some shit.”

“What the hell’s going on?”

“They still won’t tell me much, but there was some kind of terrorist threat that involved me. They said it was credible so they just yanked me out of the house and put me in protective custody. They’re only letting me call now because it’s a secure line; I’m probably not even supposed to have told you what’s happening.”

“Please tell me this is some elaborate scheme to get you off the hook and you really just ditched us for a girl.”

Justin had to hold back a snort. In a way he supposed he kind of had. “I fucking wish. I’m going nuts. I’m bored shitless, jumping at shadows, and I’m so done. I feel like somebody’s going to come at me with a knife or something any second. I wanna go home.” None of that was a lie. He was running on a constant level of fear and sick to death of the tiny apartment.

Though Justin couldn’t see it Trace’s face had immediately paled. Now he could tell that this really wasn’t a joke. “Holy fucking shit. Well… shit, man, I’m sorry I yelled. Are you okay? Fuck… what are they doing? Are they gonna catch the guy? When do you get out of there? Why you?”

All very good questions and he wished he had answers. With Charmian cut off he had no idea how close they were to catching Anton.

“I don’t know to all of the above. I can’t leave until they’ve got whoever it is. I don’t think they’d have to be so heavy handed about keeping me off the streets if I wasn’t famous; they said I’m too easy to find. They keep saying they’re tracking him or them or whoever but whenever I ask for a timeframe they get vague.”

“Oh man… shit… I… fuck, I don’t know what to say.”

In that moment he couldn’t help feeling like a cretin. Trace sounded genuinely distressed (as well he might) and he felt awful lying to him. He never lied to Trace. That was his best friend, the person he could tell all his darkest thoughts to and know that they were safe in that room. The idea of misleading him was anathema, yet there was no way he could drag him into his whole supernatural mess even if he’d thought for a second that Trace would believe it. He still had trouble believing it and he’d cleaned demon blood off of his centuries old ex girlfriend from another life.

“Me neither. I just really wanted to call and tell somebody because I’ve felt shitty being MIA and worrying you guys. Just really wanted to talk to an actual human being.” That wasn’t a lie either. He wasn’t counting Charmian as human even after her little fall from grace.

“Fuck.” Trace was saying that a lot. “I… what can I do?”

“Nothing,” he replied miserably. “I’m just kind of stuck here until it’s fixed. Could you maybe come up with some story for everybody about why I’m incommunicado?”

“I could tell them you finally went to rehab.”

For perhaps the first time in days, he let out a genuine laugh. It might have been gallows humour but he had really missed Trace’s teasing.

“You’re an ass, Ayala.”

“Fuck, JT. Just… fuck.”

At that moment Charmian’s head appeared in the doorway – finally she’d woken up. Apparently her human self was a very heavy sleeper. Her expression was understanding yet mildly chastising, and now he had something else to feel guilty about. He wasn’t supposed to be calling anyone.

“Look, man, they’re signalling me to get off the phone.”

“What? You’ve barely got on the phone!”

Weight crushed down on his shoulders – a little more guilt, a healthy heaping of shame and a lot of hopelessness. “I know; I’m sorry. I will try to call again when I can, promise.”

He hung up before Trace could reply because he couldn’t stand hearing it. He’d been hoping speaking to somebody he cared about would make him feel a little better but now it was worse. For a heartbeat he just stared at the device in his hand, avoiding Charmian’s gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be.” She padded over and sat herself gently next to him on the couch. There was sympathy in her dark eyes. “You miss them, it’s natural. What did you tell him?”

“That line you guys gave me back at Lucas’s house, about the US marshals. I didn’t tell him about you or where we were or anything. Was only on there for two minutes in the end but I just…”

“You needed to hear somebody’s voice. It’s okay.” Her hand gently rubbed his shoulder. “Even if he’s possessed you didn’t tell him anything useful.”

He really hated the fact that his interactions with his oldest and dearest friend now boiled down to a question of enemy reconnaissance. “Do you really think he is?”

Charmian bit her lower lip. She didn’t want to upset him further but there was no point lying, either. “I don’t know. The good news is that because you haven’t been around in a while he’s less of a target, but it’s always possible that somebody’s keeping tabs on your circle hoping you’ll be in touch.”

He took her by surprise when he picked up his empty coffee mug and threw it at the wall. Between the two of them a lot of china was getting smashed lately.

“I can’t even say ‘fucking hell’ any more now I know it’s a literal place. This whole thing is just so fucked.”

She felt a little stupid sitting there, continuing to rub his shoulder, but she didn’t know what else she could do.

“Charmian, I can’t take this any more. I need my life back. We can’t sit in here forever.”

Her head bowed and she stared at the floor. Justin was right and she knew it. She was simply afraid. She couldn’t protect herself or him outside of those walls and the idea of losing him yet again because of that weakness was unbearable.

There was more.  As much as she shared his frustration, part of her kind of liked being there. It wasn’t so much the ‘there,’ it was him. As messed up as it was it had been the first time in all his lives that she had really spent so much uninterrupted time with him. With so little else to do they’d done a lot of talking. It was horribly selfish of her and she knew that. In a way she was clinging onto it because it was the only comfort she currently had. She had heard his funny stories about his career and he’d told her about his life, and she had drunk in every detail. As well as all the familiar things that she’d known so well about him previously there was something about him in this incarnation which really resonated with her.

She wasn’t sure, but she thought it was possibly something to do with him finally having reached all the potential he’d shown in his previous lives. Justin was pursuing his creativity and being successful beyond his wildest dreams at it; somehow she thought it had added an air of wisdom to him, helped smooth down some of his rougher edges. He seemed like the best version of himself that she’d come across and it really was not helping her deal with her feelings for him. His light was that much brighter and she was the same glutton for punishment moth flying towards it all the time.

Would she have learned so little if she’d been living out her various incarnations as a normal mortal? She felt doomed to repeat her past and its mistakes over and over again. It was all very well having an encyclopaedic knowledge of the world but maybe only having the one life had stunted her spiritual growth or something.

“I know. I just… I don’t know where we can go. You can’t go home and I don’t have any other safe spaces.”

Justin slumped back into the cushions and stared at the ceiling. His brain was ticking over, hunting for a solution.

“What does it take to make one?”

“Not a lot, really.” She thought about it. “You make up this paste and then paint symbols on the walls, say the spells. I probably have everything but even if I don’t, most of it is pretty common herbs that you’d find in any spice rack. The bigger problem is keeping out avengers; that requires some mystical shit which was beyond my pay grade. Nathaniel did this place so he would know, but he’s unhelpfully disappeared.”

“I…” He paused. It seemed a little unfair of him to ask, given the threat she faced from her ex-employers. If he had to be selfish though so be it, because he really needed to get out of there. “Do you think we could do without the avenger stuff?”

Charmian’s breath hitched in her throat. The idea filled her with dread, and yet one glance at his face was enough to see how important this was to him. He looked so defeated.

“Maybe. Why?”

“I have a cabin, barely anybody knows about it. It’s my bolt hole for when I’m getting too pissed with paparazzi in LA but still need to be in reaching distance. It’s not like going home but it has my shit there and more room than this place. We’d be more comfortable and there’d be more to do, stop me climbing the damn walls.”

“When you say ‘barely anybody’…”

“My mother and maybe three of my friends. It’s the one place I have that nobody else has keys for.”

Charmian raised an eyebrow. “Very cloak and dagger.”

Justin grimaced. “I don’t use it a lot, only when shit’s getting really bad. It sounds paranoid but in my position you always have to worry about someone tipping off paparazzi, even people you should be able to rely on. If I want something to stay private then the only safe way is to not tell people. It’s not my favourite place or somewhere I’d go just for a vacation, but it takes pretty drastic measures to keep me away from the media when they’re really gunning for me.”

“That makes sense.” She nodded. “What about locals?”

“It’s in the middle of nowhere. You have to drive rather than walk to the nearest town. I never stay up there long enough to need fresh supplies so I think I’ve maybe seen the place twice.”

She didn’t speak for a moment as she pondered the possibility. Alexander was not going to love the idea. He’d spent a good deal of time planning out how they could meet without being caught or drawing suspicion, and leaving the city would kill that. The scheme he’d come up with was to try to find some kind of mystical panic button so that Charmian could stay on guard but call for him if any real threat emerged; until he succeeded they were reliant on more old fashioned methods of communication. She hadn’t even seen him in a couple of days. When last they’d spoken he had been trying to ingratiate himself with Lucas (a difficult job considering the traditional rivalry, it made Lucas suspicious of his motives).

A wry smile threatened to break out and the corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to suppress it. Not for the first time she was struck by the silliness of it all. She was the general of a team of immortal champions; the inexplicable way some random guy had become so significant that he could make her instantly cave was pretty pathetic. It was as if when he looked at her she suddenly misplaced all willpower. His new appearance didn’t help with that; Michael had always been very handsome but in his new Justin guise he had newly blue eyes which could be very piercing.

That too made her smile because it reminded her of France. When he had first begun to flirt with her in the courtly fashion of the age, she had teased him about preferring a pretty Duchess to her for her fair hair and blue eyes. He had grandly declared that “yeux bleus sont terne et ordinaire” and he favoured brown ones. Now he’d wound up with them himself.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He had expected more resistance.

“Yeah.” What the hell, she couldn’t screw up much more than she already had. “What’s the point of saving your life if you can’t live it, right? I doubt the old crew’s going to look for me there and if we can keep demons out there’s as safe as here anyway.”

Justin couldn’t help throwing his arms around her and giving her a big, smacking kiss on the cheek. “You are awesome, thank you.”

Charmian tried not to shrink away. There was no point in being off with him because she had feelings that he didn’t. He’d made another choice for this life and she was still kind of hoping that would mean a better ending for him. Unfortunately that didn’t make it any easier for her and her stupid human emotions.

She tried not to imagine what effect of being stuck out in the middle of nowhere with him would have on those.