The warmth and comfort of my apartment gives me an instant, much-needed feeling of security. Once Aiden shuts the door, it feels like nothing from the outside world can follow us here.

Aiden spreads a huge hand on my chest, gently pushes me up against the door, and puts his nose to mine. I stand on my toes, meet him halfway.

“You alright?” he rumbles, dragging his knuckles down my jaw.

“Mhm.” I take a deep breath of vetiver, then brush a kiss onto Aiden’s lips. “That was just - a lot. Are you alright?”

“Well.” He thinks it over. “There’s some snow melting down the back of my neck.”

“Oh, no.”

“And I’m kind of hungry.”

“Already? We just ate at your aunt’s house. Actually - I am, too. Should we order a pizza?”

“I’m also a little confused about how we accidentally caused a fucking burglary at City Hall.”

“You did what?” I draw my head back sharply, trying to look shocked. “Wow, that's terrible. You're probably gonna get in big trouble for that. I’m glad that I wasn’t involved in any way, shape, or form.”

“Really, Keane?” Aiden clicks his tongue, makes a wounded face. “You’re gonna let me take the fall? That’s an exceptional display of cowardice, and I’m deeply embarrassed for you. As if you weren’t right there next to me, lying to the police-”

“Um,” someone interrupts. “What the hell are you two talking about?”

Aiden and I both whip around to see Kasey standing there, wide-eyed.

“Oh, Kasey, thank fucking god.” I put a hand to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. “We need your help. Aiden basically turned City Hall into one giant crime scene, single-handedly-”

“Okay, you know what?” Aiden plants a hand over my mouth. “I’ll fill you in, Kasey. Where’s Will?”

“Taking some time alone.” Kasey narrows her eyes at us. “Don’t change the subject, Aiden. What did you do?”

“What did I do? What did we do, that’s the real question!”

“Yeah, sit down,” I tell Kasey, my voice muffled through Aiden’s fingers. “We’ve got a lot to tell you.”

~~~~

It’s a windswept night outside, and a slushy mix of sleet and rain begins to break against the windows.

I cuddle up next to Aiden as he tells Kasey what happened. Cozy in his warmth, with his arm wrapped protectively around me, I start to feel better, calmer. Every problem seems smaller when I’m close to him like this. I tuck my head beneath his chin, feel the vibration of his voice.

Kasey sits curled up in the armchair, her chin propped on her palm, listening in rapt silence. She’s taken off her jacket and shoes, and pulled one of her shoelaces free. She used it to tie her hair up into an extremely short ponytail. This is how she always used to wear it when she’d sit in my apartment with her mountains of notes, working on her Ph.D.

Somehow that makes me feel better, too. If there’s anyone who can make sense of a ceiling-high pile of information, it’s Kasey.

“How much did you tell him?” is her first question, when Aiden falls silent. “The detective, I mean. Callejo.”

“As little as we could get away with,” I answer. “But he knows that the file is about John Botswick. He wants Aiden to email him the newspaper article.”

Kasey turns to Aiden. “You have to do it, then. It’ll look suspicious if you don’t.”

He sighs deeply, adjusting his snapback. “Yeah, I know.”

“But if you can avoid it, don’t give any more info to the cops.”

Aiden frowns at Kasey, offended.

“What do we look like, some snitches? We wouldn’t have given them shit, but we walked in with no idea of what was going on, and got put on the spot. Callejo said we actually confused him more, though, so it sounds like we weren’t that helpful. I think we got more information from him than he got from us.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that, Kase-face,” I add. “We’re not trying to get anyone in trouble. Nor do we want the police looking into what we’ve been up to. No talking to the cops.”

“Good,” Kasey says, with a firm nod. “That should be the number one rule in the Ghost Office employee manual, if we ever get down to writing one. Call that the No Bootlickers Policy.”

Aiden and I both laugh. Kasey smiles at us, then sits back in the armchair, puts her feet up on my coffee table, and lapses into silent thought.

She taps her forefinger on her lip as the wheels start to turn in her head, and I have to smile, looking at her. If the moonlight wasn’t spilling through her, it would be just like any other late night she spent at my apartment before the accident, working and researching until I forced her to take a break for food or rest.

“You think we’re in trouble?” Aiden says suddenly. “Me and Jamie?”

Kasey blinks at him, stirring from her reverie. “For what?”

“I don’t know.” Aiden fidgets anxiously with his snapback. “Probably doesn’t look good that we searched up the file right before it got stolen, right? Callejo didn’t treat us like suspects - he was nice, actually - but...”

Kasey frowns at him. “Didn’t you guys go right to Ms. Callahan’s after you left City Hall?”

“Yeah.”

“And she was with you the whole time, at her house?”

“Mhm.”

“So - that’s a rock-solid alibi, isn’t it?”

Aiden and I look at each other, then groan loudly and simultaneously.

“Why didn’t we think of that?” Aiden asks, slumping back against the couch.

“I knew you’d make us feel better, Kase-face,” I say, wishing I could hug her. “Thank god.”

“Goons,” she chuckles, then swings her feet down from the coffee table, quickly growing serious again. “Okay, here’s what I think.”

Aiden and I both sit up, listening closely.

“The Botswick murder may have happened in the 1960s,” Kasey begins, “But there’s clearly still an interested party paying attention. The first thing we need to figure out is how the thief knew that we looked up the Botswick file. It can’t be a coincidence that we searched for that name, and the very same night, the case file was stolen. So - how did he know?”

“Yeah, we’re completely lost on that,” I answer. "We didn’t tell anyone about it. Just Aunt Sarah."

Kasey thinks about that for a moment, absently trailing her fingers up and down her bare arm - then stops still.

“The arrow,” she says. “That outgoing arrow that popped up on your laptop, Aiden. You said you’ve never seen it before?”

He blinks at her, surprised by the question. “No, never.”

Kasey is having some kind of realization. Her dark eyes narrow, then get very wide. She looks up at us, lets out a dazed laugh.

“Holy shit. There’s been a breach.”

“What?” A flutter of alarm stirs in my chest. “A breach?”

“The thief broke into the archives way before tonight,” Kasey says, figuring it out as she speaks. “The digital archives, that is. He set an alert that would tell him if anyone searched for the Botswick file. You looked up the case file, Aiden, and then your computer sent something. Right away, and otherwise unprompted. Actually - oh, my god. I bet the thief deleted the scan and the transcript, too, while he was already in the system!”

This takes a minute to sink in. It sounds absurd. It’s also the explanation that makes any sense.

“But why wait until now to take the hard copy?” Aiden finally says. “Why set an alert, when he could have just stolen it right away?”

“Why break in and risk getting caught if nobody ever looks at the file?” Kasey asks, her eyes flitting to Aiden. “Who would ever be looking for that file, except for us?”

Aiden and I fall silent, absorbing this. Kasey sits back in the armchair and stares up over our heads, her eyes clouded with thought.

“Honestly… this whole thing is so elaborate,” she murmurs, half to herself. “This guy broke into the online archival system, set the alert, and deleted the related materials. He stole the file just a few hours after the alert went off. He wore an effective disguise. He knew how to avoid getting caught by the cameras. He pinched the keys right off a security guard. It sounds like he even checked the door of the archives for an alarm, before he went in.”

“He was in and out in under three minutes,” I add, picking up where Kasey left off. “And then he was able to leap the wall around the City Hall property.”

“Right. And it was just bad luck that he happened to run into Isabelle, the one guard who would know that he definitely doesn’t work at City Hall.” Kasey sits back in the armchair, folds her arms over her chest. “What does all that sound like, to you two?”

Aiden and I look at each other, considering.

“Sounds like a professional,” I say, after a moment.

Kasey nods at me. “We’re dealing with a cover-up. And not one executed by an amateur.”

“What?” Aiden looks at Kasey like he can’t tell if she’s joking. “What does that even mean?”

Kasey runs a thoughtful hand over her mouth.

“Now that I think about it,” she says slowly, “Look at the murder of John Botswick. The killer got away clean, was never caught. They removed all of his personal effects, left no evidence. They made it impossible to pinpoint his real identity. They even started dragging the body to the water, but they must have been interrupted. If they’d gotten it into the sea, it could have been a long time before Botswick was found. It would have been even harder for the cops to figure out who he was, or what happened to him. Doesn’t that sound like the work of a professional, too?”

I stare at her, then glance at Aiden, who asks the question that’s on my mind, too.

“Who the hell gets professionally trained to do that type of shit?”

Kasey nibbles her lip, thinking it over - then freezes. Some realization dawns in her black eyes, lighting them up.

“Oh - oh,” she mutters, beneath her breath. A smile sparks on her face, and she presses a hand over her mouth. “Holy shit, I think - oh, my god.”

Aiden tosses his hands up in frustration. “Jesus Christ, Kasey - tell us!”

“You guys,” she says, breaking into a wide grin. “Whoever murdered John Botswick wasn't some creepy sadistic fucker who just felt like it. It’s like we said. This is the work of a professional.”

“A professional what?” I ask, totally lost. “Killer? Thief? Identity-obscurer? Cover-up artist?”

“Yes, exactly. Come on, think. Who gets professionally trained to do those things? Especially in 1961, a particularly intense year of the Cold War?”

“What-?” Aiden stares at her, disbelieving. “You don’t fucking mean - a spy?”

“Yes, Aiden, a spy!” Kasey laughs, slapping at his shoulder. “Or - secret agent, I guess. Either way, we’re not dealing with a freak incident. We’re dealing with some good old-fashioned espionage!”

We stare at her, stunned.

“But,” I manage, “Then - who broke into City Hall tonight? He’s too young to have been involved with the Botswick murder. Why is he trying to cover up what happened? Could he be an agent, too, or-?”

“No,” Aiden says firmly. “If the government wanted that file, all they’d have to do is ask for it. There’s no reason to send somebody to steal it.”

“What was a secret agent doing in Port Sitka, of all places, in the 1960s?” Kasey asks, thinking out loud. “And what does this have to do with Guardians?”

“And if a spy killed John Botswick,” I add, “Then - why? Who was John Botswick?”

There’s a silence.

“Well, boys,” Kasey says, “Looks like we’ve still got some answers to find.”

~~~~

“You’re in a good mood,” Aiden murmurs, his voice dropped to an intimate purr.

He’s flat on his back in my bed, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger.

“Of course I am,” I tell him. “We made a breakthrough! And I’m glad that we’re not going to jail. Good thing we have an alibi, right?”

“Oh, god.” Aiden lets out a helpless laugh. “Hell of a thing to say. You know, sometimes I wonder - wonder if - if-” He makes a sharp hissing sound, sinking his fingers deeper into my hair. “Fuck. Sorry, it’s - kinda hard for me to think while you’re doing that, man.”

I’ve got his shirt pushed up, and I’ve been nibble-kissing my way down his muscled torso, but now I stop, lifting my head.

“Oh, I mean - you don’t have to stop,” Aiden says quickly, and I smile down at him.

“Cool, because I was just about to do this.”

I tug his shirt up further, and Aiden laughs. He lifts himself slightly, lets me pull it up over his head, then settles onto his back again. I move my mouth to the hard curve of his solar plexus, paying it slow, loving attention. Aiden strokes his fingers through my hair, then drifts them down the nape of my neck, his breaths growing heavier.

I give him a gentle bite, and feel his pulse spike beneath my lips. “What were you gonna say, babe?”

“Um - shit, what was I gonna say?”

“Sometimes you wonder…”

“Oh. Just - sometimes I wonder if I’ve made your life too complicated, bringing all this Guardian stuff into it.” Aiden props himself up on one elbow, curls his knuckles beneath my chin. I pause in what I’m doing, looking up at him. “I hope I’m not dragging you into anything that’s too much for you,” he says earnestly. “It’s my fault that Kasey is trapped in Ketterbridge. I’m the one responsible for finding a way to let her out.”

I smile at Aiden, then climb up to sit on him. He’s a living collection of all my favorite sights and sensations. His messy chestnut hair, the soft fullness of his mouth, the deep blue pools of his eyes. The heat of him beneath me, which feels twice as good when there’s sleet battering against the windows. His low voice, somehow both honey-smooth and deliciously rough.

“You’ve made my life into a fucking circus, Callahan, but I wouldn’t change a thing about it.” I bend down, kiss his nose. “Besides, I’d do pretty much anything, so long as I get to do it with you. Unless that thing involves bears.”

“I don't understand how you decide what you are and aren’t scared of, dude,” Aiden laughs, his breath a sweet rush against my lips. “You’re not afraid of investigating a cold case that might actually still be hot, one that involves secret agents and murder, no less, but you are afraid of b-?” He stops abruptly, blinking up at me, then smiles, suddenly shy. “Oh. I’d, um. I’d do anything with you, too.”

I graze my thumb over Aiden’s lips, parting them with the movement. Then I lean closer to him, and slip my tongue into his mouth. His breath catches, his fingers tangling in my hair.

When I break off the kiss, Aiden stares up at me with dazed blue eyes. He moves suddenly, flips me onto my back. I land on the soft nest of blankets, laughing as he climbs over me, enjoying the havoc I’ve caused.

“So I guess we’re done discussing theories?”

“Correct,” Aiden says, his hand sliding up my shirt. “Work is over. Playtime starts now.”

I laugh again, and lock my arms around him. Tip my head to the side, so more of my neck is exposed for him. My eyes land on the window, and I blink in surprise. Pale pink light is glimmering through the downpour. 

Sunrise.

We probably should have gone to bed hours ago, but instead we stayed up until dawn, debating case theories, making out, and reading Wikipedia pages about Cold War-era spies. And now Aiden is slowly stripping my clothes off of me, stopping to bite my inner thigh, to kiss my wrists, to whisper in my ear…

Yeah, we’re definitely not going to sleep anytime soon. But I’m not complaining, not at all. I meant what I said.

I wouldn’t change anything, not one single thing, about what it is to love Aiden.