Sound came first; a recognisable voice that faintly repeated 'agent' over and over until I forced my eyes open, finding Barnes leaning over me, his face dangerously close to mine.

            I pressed my hand to his face and defensively pushed him backwards until he got the message I wished to send and sat down beside me, laughing.

            "Even when you're all drugged up, you resent me," he said with an amused smile. I ignored his comment, dazed as I looked around the plain and sterile pale blue room with no other furniture but a leather seat and bedside table next to the white-sheeted bed I was lying in.

            "Confused, agent?" said Barnes.
"I assume I'm in a hospital," I breathed, frowning at the canula that punctured my hand. "Did you bring me here?"
He nodded, holding a smile. "I might have."
I held his gaze, brows still knitted together. He didn't have to do that. "Sorry for passing out on you."
He waved me off. "Don't worry about it. I told you before that I'm used to girls falling for me."

            I groaned and rolled my eyes, struggling to hide the tug at the corners of my mouth.

            Barnes leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "Apparently you kicked up quite a fuss in surgery," he said quietly, watching me intently.
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to push past the blurred haze in my memory. I was in the operating room and lashed out. I almost stabbed the surgeon with... a scalpel? Scissors? A... toothpick? "Yeah," I said, huffing a laugh. "I thought I was—"

            I stopped. Anaesthetic made me verbally reckless, confessions falling from my tongue so easily. I shook my head. "Never mind."

            Barnes's face fell in expectant concern that I ignored. That was not a road I wanted to go down again – especially with him.

            I still had a mission to do, and I did not have the luxury of sitting around all evening. Knowing this, I pushed myself into sitting up, grinding my teeth at the sharp ache in my shoulder. Barnes watched me do this and I pursed my lip. I was in such a frail state, yet he still did not try to escape, even when I passed out on the street or was put under sedation while in surgery. It confirmed my suspicion that Alistair had something hanging over his head, or he imagined a cell at the agency was safer than staying outside of it. What was it? What frightened him so much?

            I moved to leave the comfort of the bed and Barnes jumped to his feet.
"Hold on! Hold on. Hold on."He sent me back down into the pillow. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To Narnia. Where do you think?" I retorted, trying again with a clenched jaw as my shoulder protested. The pain had eased massively in comparison to how it was on the train, but the aftermath of the surgery still had it aching, needing rest that I could not afford to take. It was bearable enough for travelling.
"You're not going anywhere," said Barnes. "Doctor's orders." He shoved me back on the pillow.
I scowled, getting back up. "We are going back to London. Alistair's orders."
Barnes tutted and shoved me down again. "No," he said.
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. "What did you just say?"
He hardened his expression. "I said no," he repeated. "You're injured and I'm not. That means I'm in charge now."

            With an accomplished grin, he slouched back in his chair, leaning back with regal cockiness as he swung his arms behind his head, stretching his legs out. I narrowed my eyes, shooting him an icy glare that bore in his skull.
He gulped and sat forward. "Just kidding!" He coughed. "You're in charge. Always have been. Always will be."

            I smiled at that, throwing off the bedsheets. I was clad in a thin, lightweight hospital gown that would have attracted significant attention on our way to the docks.

            I needed my clothes.

            Barnes reached and held onto my non-injured shoulder as I swung my legs over the bed to get up.

            "Can you stop?" I snapped.
"I wasn't joking when I said the doctor won't let you leave. He wants to run more tests."
I shuddered. "Screw tests! We need to get back to London."

            I ripped the cannula from my hand and jumped up. I was slightly queasy as I stood, but dashed for the pile of my clothes at the other side of the room.

            Barnes shook his head and followed.
"Nope. Nope. Nopety-nope!"

            He grabbed me by the torso and threw me over his shoulder, setting my anger ablaze.
"Barnes, you put me down right now or I'll—!"
"Taser me?" he said, a concerning volume of pride in his tone.

            He threw me back on the bed with a grunt, smiling proudly as he pinned me down by my wrists. I pushed back against him, shooting a deadly glare for his eyes.

            "It's gone," he said.
My struggling came to a halt as my heart dropped. "It's gone?"I echoed.
He half-laughed again as he took in my reaction. "I couldn't bring a gun and a taser into a hospital, could I?"
"You—!" I swallowed, trying to diffuse the anger. "You got rid of my taser and my gun?!"
"Do you want to tell the whole street?" Barnes let go of my wrists and opened the window next to the bed. "Say it again! I don't think everyone heard you."
"You... you..." I inhaled, suddenly feeling exposed. I almost debated alerting the medical staff to ask for my own CPR just to recover from the panic that started to consume me. It settled. Slightly.

            "You just left a taser and a gun?"
"They're under a bush," he said. "They're safe."
"Under a bush? Oh well halle-frigging-lujah, Barnes! They couldn't be safer."
"Aw," he cooed. "What's wrong, agent? Do you not feel safe around me without your gun?"
"Please," I scoffed. "I could beat you in a fight with one hand tied behind my back."
He snorted. "You only won before because I let you."
"Really?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "Then how come you've only won once?"
"Because—" He stopped and blinked, his expression blank and paling. "Because I am a gentleman."

            He always had to have the last word – even if it made no sense. I sighed, shaking my head in disapproval as my gaze was directed towards the window, noting it to be only sunset, the orange light seeping into the room and emphasising the blue hues around us.

            "Der—" I choked at the last second, coughing as Barnes suddenly snapped to attention. "Barnes," I corrected myself. "How long was I out for? It looks like only the evening.
He chuckled at that.
"What?" I asked. "What's so funny?"
"It's been over a day, agent."

            He snorted at my apparently amusing fearful expression.

            I muttered a curse under my breath. "We need to go. Now!" I barked, eyes darting towards the clock on the wall: 07:22 PM. Dammit. The text from Gabby said the ferry was due to leave at 9:00, giving us not much longer than an hour and a half to get there.

            "Slow down!" said Barnes, holding back a laugh. "We don't have to—"
"The ferry leaves in less than two hours, Barnes."
He blinked, forcing a cough. "Yeah. I guess we do kind of have to go now, don't we?"

            I let out a long breath; this man's mind... it could be slow. I hopped out of bed once more, ready to grab my clothes for a quick change and bolt out of the building that stunk of iron and antiseptic.

            It brought back memories I preferred stayed buried.

            I reached for my neat pile of clothes as the door opened.
"Miss," a voice said. "Miss, why are you out of bed?"
A doctor – middle-aged and painfully plain-looking – entered, leaving the door open with his mouth hanging wide at my speedy recovery from the surgery.
"I'm leaving," I stated. "Thank you for all your help."

            I stumbled towards the door, belongings in hand, figuring I would fare better changing in a nearby bathroom to avoid being hounded, but the doctor stood in the way. I shot him a glare; I had always disliked doctors ever since my days in the lab. The power they had...

            "I am afraid we need to run more tests," he said.
"I am afraid I didn't consent," I hissed.

            I took a step around him but the doctor held up his arm, not letting me anywhere near the door. He arched his bushy brows, the early hours of sunrise behind my figure highlighting the silver threads within them and his beard. He was awfully insistent, even for a doctor, and did not have the right to perform tests I did not agree to.

            "I am afraid I must insist."

            As I frowned, my eyes captured a dark object concealed beneath his white coat, crumpling the fabric at his hip. I felt Barnes take a step towards me but held up a hand as a signal for him to stop, not taking my eyes off the weapon he was hiding: a pistol.

            The doctor furrowed his brows, following my line of sight until he spotted what I was looking at, head shooting up in fear.

            I dropped my clothes and swung.

            He caught my fist inches from his face and tried bending my arm back, but he didn't have the time. Barnes ran up from behind me and kicked him in the torso, knocking him off his feet and back out the doorway.

            I bent down beside him and, on a hunch, pulled back the sleeve of his coat. As expected, the tattoo our friend had on the train was branded into the doctor's skin, portraying the full image of broken shackles with an ignited chain that I had not been able to see in the fight the night before.

            "Who sent you?" I asked.
The doctor groaned, shaking his head. Barnes sighed from above me and jammed his foot into the doctor's leg with a snap, making him cry out in pain.
"Are you going to tell her, or do I need to do that again?" he hissed. I masked my surprise well – that was the agent within him. He had acted so casual with me that I almost forgot he was trained to kill.
"Go to hell!" the doctor spat.
Barnes sighed, looking to me as I gave a nod. "I think he's enjoying this, if I'm honest," he said. He stomped his foot down, making a crunch.

            The doctor's voice broke out in a screech, echoing throughout the ward in a plethora of pain.
"Augustine!" he cried. "It's Augustine!"

            Barnes lifted his leg and the doctor gasped, groaning and crying at the same time.

            We shared a look. "That doesn't narrow it down much," I said.
"I dunno." Barnes shrugged. "I can't say I've met too many people called 'Augustine.'"

            I pursed my lip. A last name, maybe. Or a fake name. From Barnes's reaction, he did not recognise it. He said he had enemies within and outside of the agency and yet he seemed clueless.

            "He knows how to fix everything," the doctor spat. "He knows our troubles and promised to fix them but he is standing in our way!"
He glared at Barnes, who put his hand on his heart and gasped. "Well I am a god-awful human being, aren't I?"

             What had Barnes done? He was annoying, of course, but to piss off the entire Secret Service and a rogue syndicate led by an Augustine? I wouldn't have admitted it, but I found it quite impressive.

            "Why try to kill me too?" I asked. "What have I done to you?"
"You're collateral," he groaned. "Augustine says you're not needed. Just another obstacle... like the pilot."

            I bent his arm back, biting my tongue.

            "But he doesn't agree." He winced. "He said he wanted your help."
Barnes and I traded unsure glances. "My help?" I echoed. "Who does?"

            "HEY!"

            We flicked our heads up simultaneously at the shout from the end of the corridor. I let go of the doctor, backing up to my feet next to Barnes and picking up my phone as I counted the number of armed men sprinting towards us.

            Four. Four of them ploughing towards us, guns locked and loaded, ready for firing.

            Air hitched in my throat. We were forced into a corner with nowhere else to go.

            "Backwards," said Barnes, gripping hold of my wrist as he backed up.
"Backwards? There's nothing there!"
He flashed a smile of excitement. "There's a window."

            I shook my head, mouthing 'no' several times. We were on the second floor – the landing would have hurt, especially after just having surgery. Barnes's grin widened, evidently noticing my expression.
"Do you want to run towards them? Because their guns look awfully loaded."

            I angled my head towards the corridor, flinching at the shots the four hostiles fired at the doorframe, wallpaper spraying.

            I met his eyes for a second. "I hate you, Barnes."

            We ran towards the open window, covering our faces as we threw ourselves out the building, braced for landing.

            The front lawn of the hospital cushioned the fall slightly. I keeled over for a second, fighting to catch my breath as the fall winded me like a punch to the gut.

            A shadow stretched out across me. "You alright?" Barnes asked. I nodded meekly, taking a deep breath as the pain in my shoulder subsided. Barnes held out a hand that I took without question, and exhaled as I was lifted to my feet.

            An item underneath a bush winked at me; a patch of darkness beneath the green.
"Wait," I said, hurrying over. I reached under it and smiled as I pulled out the items: my gun and my taser.
"I was hoping you had forgotten," Barnes said through a sigh.
"I have already lost my clothes," I said. "I'm not losing these."

            I held onto the weapons and my phone, glancing at the hospital gown that had a severe lack of pockets. Barnes examined the outfit and snorted.
"What now?" I asked.
"You look like you've just escaped from a mental asylum."
"Agreed," I huffed, straightening my gown so it not to have it rise up my thigh.
Barnes's lip tugged into a smile as he looked over his shoulder. "I think I passed a shop not far from here. We should get you some clothes."
I raised an eyebrow. "You mean I could get myself some clothes since I'm the only one with money?"
"Precisely!" he chirped. I always kept a few notes stored at the back of my phone case for emergencies. Although not drastic, finding suitable clothes was preferable to sitting on a ferry donning a hospital gown.

            "Oh." Barnes stopped, shrugging off his coat. He held it out the collar. "Here."
I frowned, looking it up and down before accepting it, slipping it on.

            "It's cold," he said. "Can't have you dying on me again can we, agent?" He shot me a wink that made my stomach flip, and approached the pavement.

            "Coming?" he called. I blinked from my daze, reminded of how drugged on morphine I still was, and followed him to the roadside.

***

We entered the shop to a crowd of puzzled faces but were not stopped by security. I kept the weapons safely shoved deep inside Barnes's coat pockets, making a mental note to remove them before handing it back to him.

            The two of us made our way to the feminine section, brushing passed a group of boys – each of them around eighteen years old – that chatted by the lingerie rack like the mature young men they were. They spotted us, sharp brows knitting together at the same time. One of them fired an enthusiastic wink my way while the more confident member threw a wolf whistle my way, clearly admiring the ravishing hospital gown I was sporting.

            I did not react. That was what they wanted, after all, even if I was desperate to kick a wheeled rack of clothes in their direction and knock them into the lingerie they were eyeing up.

            I swiftly broke off from Barnes to scan the contents of the racks, hoping to find something cheap and suitable to wear back to London. I examined the racks, sighing at the screeching of hangers being moved to one side. All they seemed to have was the same lace-trimmed cardigan in several colours and neon bodysuits trimmed with... tassels?

            I scoffed in disgust and shoved the top to the end of the rack.
"Fighting the battles of shopping, I see," said Barnes from behind me. I groaned.
"I hate this. I've always hated it," I grumbled, swiping through the clothes with resentment.
"Well I think, Miss Knight, that this outfit would suit you very nicely." He grinned, dark eyes smiling with his mouth.

            He balanced the hook of the hanger on one finger, swaying it back and forth in front of me. It was a dress; plunging V-neck and deep tacky red with delicately laced sleeves threaded with sequins. I scratched my arm just looking at it.
I drew a breath. "Barnes—"
"I'm joking!" he insisted, slamming the atrocity on a random hanger before holding out his other hands to show me a collection of items hanging from his index finger. "Can't have you dressing like a prostitute while trying to be discreet, can we?"
"Yes, because a hospital gown says discreet," I retorted.
"And your new outfit says gorgeous so put it on," he said, letting the pile fall in my arms. I inspected the layers: simple, black and leather. Good.

            I forced a half smile and made my way to the changing rooms, barely taking a step before I stopped, freezing in place.

            Your new outfit says gorgeous.

            "Barnes did you just—?"

            Barnes turned around, swinging his arm to the back of his head, rubbing it anxiously, whistling as he strolled away. I pursed my lip, subconsciously shaking my head at his reaction as I continued my trek towards the changing rooms, shooting an oblivious smile to the perplexed stare from a middle-aged woman as I walked by.

            Once locked inside the cream-painted changing room, I hung up the rack of clothes and Barnes's coat then pulled the string that tied the hospital gown, slouching it off, my shoulder straining awkwardly.

            Barnes chose well. With a long-sleeved hugging black top, dark jeans and a leather jacket lined with brown and white faux fur, I was sure to keep warm.

            I adjusted the jacket, angling the collar and examining the size and length. It was good. The bottom reached down to my hips and rested there nicely, the fur gently stroking my neck in a way that did not irritate nor tickle my skin.

            Barnes drummed his hand on the door, startling me.
"Hey, agent. Catch!"

            A pair of black boots fell from the ceiling. One of them landed on my head, giving a small hint as to what it felt like to have your skull crushed.

            "Thanks, Barnes," I groaned, soothing the top of my head.
"Oh," he said. "You're welcome!"

            I rolled my eyes, picking up the pair of boots. They were fairly plain and made of black leather that matched the jacket, but the laces at the front gave them more character. In fact, they were fairly similar to the pair I wore to the Alps, only less sturdy.

            A thought struck. "Barnes," I said, trying to project my voice over the door without shouting.
"Agent," he replied.
"How do you know my shoe size?" I asked, letting myself smile; he couldn't see me through the door.
"A talent of mine," he said. "I'm good at working out measurements just by looking at them."
I frowned, pondering the extent of this talent. "Like what?" I asked.
"Well, it could be used to determine your br—you know what? Never mind."

            I bit my cheek so not to laugh – at least he kept that comment to himself – and took the jacket off.

            A bang interrupted me.

            The sound of a gunshot had me freeze in my position, the jacket dropping to my elbows. I ignored the slight chill across my collarbone, staring at nothing in particular as I peeled my ears to listen to the commotion outside the changing rooms.

            Another gunshot echoed from the main area of the shop, followed by a crack and a sprinkling of dust.
"A man and a woman came in here," growled a threatening voice.

            I drew a breath, holding back a curse – they had found us.

            Slowly I lifted the jacket back over my shoulders, as though the brushing of fabric could alert our pursuers in the other room. We had maybe a minute before they checked the changing rooms and found us.

            We needed a plan.

            "Barnes," I whispered.

            The lights went out. From the next room, I caught faint whimpers from a woman, with a louder, angry voice snapping at her to be quiet.

            "I'm here," Barnes finally replied, his voice steady.
"What do we do?" I asked, remaining still as my mind went blank.
"You're relying on me a lot today aren't you, agent?" he quipped.
"Shush," I hissed. "You're speaking too loud."
"And who spoke first? Oh fu—"

            I tightened as Barnes was cut off. Despite my concern, however, I remained still, my eyes glued to the small gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. My heart was beating in my ears, stomach tingling in apprehension as I feared those outside could hear it.

            Footsteps congressed in the doorway, sending half a dozen silhouettes crawling through the gap at the foot of the door, their shadows running across my face. Barnes must have been elsewhere, hiding in another cubicle. It occurred to me that this was another chance for him to escape but, based on his past behaviour, I had a feeling he would not take it.

            "I don't see 'em, sir," said a voice. There were around twenty cubicles in this room; they were towards the back of it.
"Then open the bloody doors!" barked another. "Apparently I only signed on idiots."

            I stood on top of the stool to hide my feet, wincing as a door was thrown open. It hit the wall with a great force, cracking the edge of the stall. I gently removed the gun I had left in Barnes's coat that I had left on the hanger, arming myself for the fight that was to come.

            Another bang followed. Then another. Another. And another.

            Someone shouted and was thumped violently, making me immediately think of Barnes.

            "You're a big lad, aren't you?"

            Definitely Barnes.

            Flesh and bone collided with one another, followed by a gunshot that made me flinch.

            I sighed as Barnes breathed out a witty comment about the hostile's inability to hit a target. Loading my gun, I threw the cubicle door open, firing a shot at Barnes's opponent, striking him through the shoulder as he stumbled back. It was a clumsy shot, but enough to keep him down. I didn't have the bullets to spare.

            There was already one on the floor, knocked out by a blow to the head from Barnes. The one I had struck slumped beside him, Barnes staring, contemplating the face.

            "Barnes," I said, warily stepping towards him.

            He glanced in my direction as he bent down, grabbing the gun from the immobile body of the man he concussed. He needed arming but the sight of him with a gun should have made me at least slightly nervous.

            And yet I wasn't.

            We weren't done. Movement from behind made me flip around to send a bullet in the hostile's way.

            He was already keeling over by the time I stroked the trigger, blood gushing from the left of his ribcage. I turned around swiftly to meet Barnes's lazy salute.

            While caught off guard, I was barged to one side.

            I fell into one of the stalls, my head hitting the wall with a thud. The hostile that shoved me growled, gripping my neck with tight fists as his veins sickeningly popped out of his hands.

            He lifted me up. If I moved my hands away from his, I would choke. My body was pinned against the wall, only my legs and feet free to fight back.

            Barnes saw me. He shoved someone off him and held a cubicle door open, gesturing towards it like an air hostess. I nodded, one side of my mouth curling into a smile as I tightened my grip around the hostile's hands, shifting myself further up the wall with my legs.

            "Whatchu smilin' at?" he spat.
I strained to answer. "This."

            Mustering all strength, I donkey-kicked him hard in the chest. Winded, he let go of me, staggering back. I heaved as he fell into the cubicle opposite me, and Barnes slammed the door shut. I scrambled to grab my gun as the door hovered open, noting he was still conscious.

            He only needed to flinch for me to shoot between the eyes.

            All hostiles were eliminated. It was over for now.

            Barnes sighed in relief, running a hand through his dark hair. "That was dramatic," he said, frowning at the five men left either dead or unconscious on the ground. I nodded, shoving the gun into the back of my jeans and putting the taser safely in the shallow pocket of the jacket.

            "Oh." Barnes held out his gun. "Can't have me armed, right?"
I looked between him and the weapon. "Keep it," I said. He opened his mouth. "At least until we get to the ferry. We don't know who else might take a shot at us."

            He smiled a little at that.

            "Come on," I said, gathering ammo from the leftover weapons. There wasn't a lot, but it was better than nothing. All I had brought to France with me was left in my clothes back at the hospital. "We should go."

            Barnes grabbed his coat and followed.

            The same customers stared at us as they did when we first walked in, only fear shone in their eyes rather than confused amusement. I forced a smile at the cashier. "Hi," I said. "I can't take the outfit off, so do you mind if I just pay for it like this?"

            I could take the jacket off, so I held it out in front of her, ready for the tags to be removed. She paled, hazel eyes popping from her skull with her entire body quaking in fear. Strands of her mousy hair had fallen from the ballerina bun atop her head, and bounced as she shook her head at me.
"Go! Just go!" she yelled, her voice a shrill cry of fear. I blinked, biting my bottom lip.
"If you say so," I muttered. "Can I just...?" I reached over, making the cashier stumble back, and swiped the jacket over the counter, cutting off the magnetic tag. "Thank you," I said.
"Go!"

            I turned around to leave, nodding for Barnes to follow as I put the jacket back on.
"Well in that case..." he said, strutting towards a nearby mannequin.

            I rolled my eyes as he undressed the plastic model, almost making it topple over as he took the waterproof bomber jacket.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, catching the mannequin.
"Really?" I asked, watching him prop it back up. "You're just going to take it?"
"You're getting an outfit for free. Why shouldn't I get a jacket?" he argued, pulling it on to admire himself in a nearby full-length mirror.
"You have a coat," I reminded him.
He shrugged, tossing it over a rack. "It's old."

            Barnes turned, posing in the mirror. "Damn, I look good," he said, straightening the jacket. "Knight!" He turned around, ignoring the cowering civilians behind the racks: the whistling boys from before. "Don't I look good?"
He was stubborn and would not have left until I agree with him. The civilians poked their heads over the racks, all eyes on me as if I were the deciding vote on the finale of their favourite talent contest. I held a blank expression as I folded my arms. "Like a princess. Can we go now?"
"Sure," he said. "Just one moment."

            Barnes brandished the stolen gun from his back pocket to inspect it, stirring up the surrounding civilians.

            "Relax, guys," Barnes assured, raising it in the air. "The safety's on. See!" He fired a test shot to back himself up, ironically shooting a hole in the ceilings, dust trickling down like snow as the customers screamed.

            He frowned, checking the safety. "Oh." He clicked it on. "There we go. All safe now!" he said with a smile.

            I closed my eyes, counting in my head. "Barnes!" I snapped.
"I'm coming."

            He huffed, irritated that I was rushing him. I raised my brows as a reminder of who was in charge and he soon cleared up his exasperated expression, rushing out the door.

            "Same time next week?" he called to the civilians behind him. I caught up with him at the door, remaining as silent as the customers in the shop.
Barnes shrugged. "Thought not."
"I'm starting to see why Alistair kept you at arm's length," I confessed. Barnes only smiled as if I was complimenting him.

            We made our way to the docks, eyes alert and scanning the surrounding area for any signs of other hostiles tailing us.

            Someone known as 'Augustine' had sent them. I had never seen the name crop up in agency files before. It could have been a first or a last name, but I was unsure. From what I had gathered so far, this was a rogue group with followers whose loyalty stretched further than a pay check. What concerned me, however was that the doctor said 'he' thought I could help them. Who was he?

            "What are you brooding about now?"
My brows knitted together at him speaking through a laugh. "Me?"
"Yes, you – the one that's always brooding."
"I am not always brooding," I retorted.
Barnes laughed. "Yes you are! Every time I look at you, you're brooding about something. Is it the weather, my dear? Are the levels of humidity this evening making you question the meaning of life?"
"You're exaggerating," I sighed, turning away to look at the road.
"And now you're looking away from me to hide your broody expression. Are you ashamed?"
"No. I am not ashamed because I am notholding a broody expression. I am perfectly content right now!"
Barnes laughed again. "Darling, if you were a type of weather, you would be a storm cloud. No thunder. No lightening. Just a storm brewing in a grey sky. A brooding grey sky."
Dick. "I would not because I don't brood!"
Barnes shrugged. "Okay," he said. There was a pause before he coughed, muttering, "Liar."
I mimicked his cough. "Am not."
"Petty," he coughed.
"Childish," I coughed again.
"Boat," said Barnes.
I frowned. "You didn't cough."
"No." He put his index finger underneath my chin, tilting it upwards to show the source of the gigantic shadow cast over the cobblestones.

            There, floating amongst the gentle, rolling waves of the North Sea that beat against the dock, was a magnificent white ferry that beckoned us on.

            That was our way back. That was my way home.

            Barnes's throat bobbed. "Boat."