*Mia's P.O.V.*

"I missed you too." He sinks into my warmth so snuggly that I wish we stay like this forever.  It's unfortunate that the nurse has to interrupt us with hot food. Charlie shakes his head to say he'll vomit, but the relentless worker slips the tray into my fists. I accept her thanks and scoop a spoonful as soon as she leaves.

A pout is all it takes to fill Charlie's pretty mouth.

After feeding him, we sleep until Mrs Henley and two FBI agents come to speak to him in private. Their serious demeanour reminds of how it all started with  Leo's premonition that Charlie was in danger. When he told me, I was seated behind my television, watching the successful rescue of hundreds of trafficked girls make headlines.

I phoned Mrs Henley afterwards, gasping a billion questions. She couldn't answer even one. What did I expect? I didn't care for the bureaucratic propaganda impeding her. I wanted to hear that the cops located him. It was too palpable that Charlie's life was on the line - too palpable for it to make sense for the cops to be expending sweet diligence on protocol.

Not long after Mrs Henley left me agitated, my cousin texted "Hi," and I replied with the longest message of my life.

"Adiantes ... Let me see." Fourteen minutes lapsed before he added, "I know someone who can help. A friend in ... who used to be an FBI agent, ya? He owns his academy for private security personnel, all that."

"Ok?" His hesitations made me sceptical.

Now, though, I guess his friend helped. I send Anton a grateful text. He asks if they found Charlie. I mention that it was him and a badly injured guy. Anton thinks it's good since the guy can be his alibi, but no, the guy is unconscious and in critical condition.

Mia:
Do you think you can talk to your friend about the investigations going on? I don't know what is happening, but it seems like they want to arrest Charlie!

Anton:
How did he get involved with the cartel again?

Mia:
Jackson. Uncle Igor's accountant. He's dead.

Anton:
Ur... My friend might not want to meddle too much. It would be best if you spoke to him in person.

Mia:
OK. Where?

Anton:
He's in Edington.

Guess I'll have to go to the UK. At least this cheers Charlie up since he plans to leave despite the doctors' concerns. After more deliberation between the doctor and the agents, Charlie is allowed to transfer to a hospital in his home country.

I set off with him in a wheelchair. Desi joins us because she is good at manipulating him with fake tears. I roll my eyes while the girl makes us forget the agent accompanying us. Our flight winds up a little awkward, and the second we land, the agent tugs Charlie away, leaving Desi and me to journey to his place.

*

Leo welcomes us with a loud "Charlie?!"

"Yeah, he's not here -"

"Who is that?!" Sil appears suddenly.

Desi gapes at her beauty, whereas she eyes me. I can't fault her disappointed mien; everyone bears less cold but similar reactions. Their relief comes from his father, who is already at the new hospital. He lets us know Charlie is ok.

*

Our visit throws us back into worry, as Charlie's skin goes paler than the hospital walls.

Leave it to him to, however, act super vibrant, pulling his friends into tight hugs and opening up their gifts for him like it's Christmas. Leo brings a PlayStation, causing a stir of excitement and enthusiasm to play FIFA. Harry loses to Leo. Desi loses to Leo (the girl didn't even stand a chance). Sil leaves the bedspace beside her brother to challenge Leo.

Charlie gives me an inviting look.

I flush. It's one thing sitting on the chair, but beside him on the bed?!

I shift a little. Closer. Closer. Finally reaching the bed, I sit close enough for our shoulders to touch. He smiles and leans on me. I sigh. This is nice. My heart calms just from hearing him breathe. Breath is a sign of life after all; I think I deserve this reward after all the deathscares he has put me through.

"Mia." He lifts his head.

"Yeah?" Suddenly, my heart is racing to meet his gaze.

"Does my hair smell?"

What? His question catches me off guard. "No?" I sniff him a little, causing him to make a funny face. 

When it's time to leave, I neglect the others to get shampoo and hair cosmetics, returning alone. I wheel him a sink and drip shampoo all over his hair while he eyes the nurse who permitted us. She's outside the washroom, much to my delight. Her glances at us are as tense as a scandal in an owl kingdom.

I wash Charlie's hair gently, especially when massaging his scalp with the shampoo. He hums in delight - as if the sound won't burn every restraint against blushing! I cover my cheeks at a point, turning away for a pause as he hands me a towel to clean his hair.

Afterwards, I leave him with the cosmetics, to which he laments, "Won't you style it?"

Dude, I barely survived watching you with wet hair. Now, what do you want?!

"Oh, yeah, sure." I try. I am not a hair pro, so I try curling everything, but his hair is so much that I give up, try again, and mess it up via a defeated ruffle.

"Ow!" Charlie yelps. I chuckle, so he twists his neck to shoot me a glower. Is he seriously vexed? I reckon so as his palms snatch my head suddenly. He stops to admire his revenge of a dishevelled orange nest - a nest of my hair!

"You -" To plead my case, he took it to this length. The subsequent events escalate like a storm, from tiny slaps on our hands to running around while Charlie berates his wheelchair for not letting him catch me. Then, he gets up and falls on me. We topple onto the hospital bed, bickering.

Then, he winces. I freeze.

Silence tucks us into a shell of inner debate. Should I move? Should he?

"...Mia." His voice is a whisper. His heart beats against mine.

Another pause. A long, agonising one. And before we know it, I am balling my eyes out.

"S-sorry -"

"Shut up," I bite back, wrapping my arms around his neck. With an arm soldered to the bedrest, he rolls us into a sitting position. My brain fails to process the feeling of his knees against my butt because he keeps mumbling, "I'm so sorry I scared you."

"It's not just that. It's the fact that you don't care about yourself. You don't care about your life." I glare at him. "Why?"

He squints. "This is not about me -"

"We could have worked through whatever plan you had to rescue whoever together, but no, you want to risk it all alone. Why? Hm? To protect me?" My fist clench. "It's my choice if I want to help, not yours.  You were buried alive! Never in my darkest nightmare would I imagine you like that, and to think you still don't get it. You-you still don't mind that if you died. We would all be miserable - you don't think about that -"

"With time, you'll be fine."

"What?!" I bark. "Are you for real right now?!"

His head bows, eyes glossy, hands trembling. My hands run down my face before grabbing his to say, "Sometimes I look at you and feel everything all at once. I don't know how to describe it. Though. Urm. You get hurt, and it's is ... like getting impaled. It is so painful to watch you like this, and I love you, but -"

His eyes widen. Mine shut.

A pause.

"Yo-you," he croaks. "Love me? In what sense?"
Crap.

"Don't tell me because I almost died, suddenly you love me? How does that work?"

My brain lags, unable to fathom a response while he jerks me away from him. "Don't be throwing words like that about Mia."

Ok, chill, dude. It's just a word. You are making me feel like I punched you.
Before I can voice this out, though, his nurse arrives. He mutters something about me leaving anyway. The nurse rolls her eyes as I get up.

*

*

No one asks me why I stayed behind. Leo leaves some dinner for me while Harry gists us on what the doctor told Charlie's dad. Fortunately, there isn't severe damage to his spine, but it's best he doesn't engage in strenuous, physically tasking work until they see improvements in his stability.

"Huh, we will see how that works out." She shrugs with a mug, ready for coffee.

The boys are not as amused, and I hope Charlie sees his health matters most.

*
^
 
All night, I can't stop thinking about what I said and Charlie's reaction. I hate myself for blurting that. Of course it would distress him. Of course I would panic. What did I think will come of such a random word like 'love'.

Before my internal torture consumes  me to forget about Edington, Anton sends me his friend's address, a password, and his name, Mr Reindorf MacMillan.

By the time my taxi stops at a gated compound of bricked-storey buildings, I have butchered the pronunciation. A butler allows me entry, cradling a map to guide me around the main establishment.  My palms itch as I interact with more stuff inside. Cold air blows over me everywhere I go, like at an interview for a top-notch company. Finally, locating the man's office, I gallantly knock.

"Yes?" The door reveals a professionally dressed man. A tall, broad-shouldered, hairy man. His piercing pupils hint at not less than five years of maturity beyond me, while his muscular physique speaks volumes of the idea that one's ugliness can be sorted through wealth and a gym membership.

"To whom do I owe this pleasure of a visit?" He cheers despite his intimidating appearance.

I clear my throat. "Mia. Mr. Anton Yeltsin's cousin."

"Oh, I see." He spins to glance at his laptop. When our eyes remeet, his soften. "How is your friend? Was she found?"

"Yes. Thank you." I don't even notice he calls Charlie a 'she'.

"Well, then, have a seat."

I oblige. Mr. MacMillan sits behind his laptop. "So, your cousin told me everything, and, honestly -" He purses his lips. "I can't meddle in an investigation, especially one of this gravity."

My spirit deflates. Staring helplessly at him, I mention that Charlie tipped the cops to find several captives, and there's proof in his literal voice.

He sighs sympathetically, "That may not be considered substantial."

"Please. How do you mean?"

"Ok, Mia, don't stress yourself ... If I look into it, I will need something from you, though."

"Please, what?"

"Listen." He takes off his glasses. "I work to keep people safe. Dabbling in complicated cases like this is costly -"

I don't hesitate. "I will pay -"

"No, no. I don't need money. I only need your support. You see -" He stands. "I hope to expand my academy beyond the confines of this location - perhaps a branch in Russia. The land my eyes are set on is up for auction, and many tycoons also want it. Even your family."

"Oh. Okay."

"So you don't mind helping me -" A smirk darkens his gaze. "Beat them?"

"Sure." It's not a bad deal at all. He offers me a file with more details, which I skim over so it doesn't seem like I'm resistant. I thank him, but he chimes in, "You have to return the file after signing the agreement. I'll pay for your trip and accommodation. I don't want you to agree without a careful understanding of how your part will be of benevolence to the cause, so urm, you don't mind a tour of the academy, do you?"

My head shakes. He clicks his tongue and takes the lead. He walks fast. I speedwalk, trying to keep up.

*

Mr. Reindorf's academy is behind the main block. It's not as large as I expected, though the classrooms feel modern enough to attest to the money he put into it. We arrive at the swimming area when he chirps, "Anton said you are a good diver."

"Ya, no." I chuckle. "Maybe back in middle school."

"You stopped?" He frowns.

"My father was like a coach to me. After he died, I lost interest entirely," I say.

Reindorf pats my shoulder. "Sorry."

"It's ok." I laugh. "What else did Anton tell you about me?"

He laughs, "He didn't tell me you were funny."

"I have not said any joke."

"Your facial expressions." Reindorf points out. "Especially when we got the shooting range."

Well, that was because the students we met were hitting bullseye consecutively. I could never.

"You know how to shoot? Martial arts?"

"Yo, what? I mean- pardon me?" My brows jolt.

Reindorf leans against the wall. "How about a crash course?"

"Woah." Now is my turn to laugh. "You jump into deal mode pretty quickly."

"Mm, you are right." He says, "Think about it, though."

"Ok." I look at my watch.

*
^
*

Harry will look at his watch, too. By then, his mind will set an urge to go home fast. He spent half the day with a quiet Charlie and the other half hovering around the cemetery. Jackson has already been buried. The Yeltsins' money is written all over the wreaths.

Harry would almost have, if not for a sudden SUV. He will watch it till a heartbroken Joe steps out, a whiskey bottle in one hand, a bouquet in the other. She will stumble to Jackson's gravestone and lash it with the bouquet before tumbling. Her fall will echo, much to Harry's surprise. Unsure of what to do, he won't move. A minute will lapse. He will then move because of Joe's whimpering.

"Hey, are you hurt?" He will lift her, causing the woman to lean on him. Struggling for stability, he will support her back into the car, where he will snatch the bottle and grunt at its emptiness. He won't be able to leave her like that, regardless of his disdain for her. As she starts the engine, Harry will beg himself to at least get her to safety.

"Urm, where do you stay?"

"Take me to Jackson's."

"We are at Jackson's. He is there." Harry will motion yo the gravestone. Shaking her head, Joe will slap Harry's chest and scream, "Take me to his place! Take me to his place! Take -"

"Ok. Ok!" He will oblige. Hours later, they will find themselves at Jackson's house. Joe will collapse on the living room floor while Harry will fight memories, trying not to think he entered the house and left to its owner's demise.

He will admire what he didn't notice his last time there. He will reach Jackson's study and glance through the man's belongings until something will catch his eye - a faile hanging precariously on a book marker. It will reveal a contract as though Harry was a magician to have picked that file over all the others. Reading the contract, his heart will pound.
He will dial Leo instantly, but yo no avail. Resorting to Sil's holiness, he will let out a great exhale.

"Sil, please tell Leo that Charlie signed a contract to give Jackson all the money in a certain account for... IGOR'S FRIEND! Oh, my. Charlie had title to the guy's wealth since when? Imagine how that will look like to the feds! "

"Ur, like my brother is part of their criminal dealings?"

"Possibly."

"Well, then what are you waiting for?" Sil will groan. "Burn the contract."

However, it will take more convincing for Harry to abide. Harry will reconsider while setting up a chimney fire. He will cut the call to concentrate on the words of the contract.

Words dance above him, taunting him. One look at the fire, and he will relent until Joe will awaken.

She will stumble up to him, sending back in a shriek of fear. Harry will turn quickly with the contract in hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he will reply.

Joe will stare at him, turn to the fire, imagine pushing him into it, and -

"Why are you coming closer to me?" Harry will interrupt her thought. Blinking, she will draw back, forward, and then kiss him.