THE COTTON CANDY was exactly the way I had left it. Everything was —my livelihood; my human teenage guest; and the customers I came back to find.

It did not concern me how easily and immediately I then slipped back into a sense of normalcy —how the journey to the Beta Plane and then facing Magenta had not hindered my performance in any way. Perhaps I was undifferent in that way.

The experience had changed me only a little; maybe I would have more confidence now that I knew that I was capable of more than just what was expected of me. That did not take away from my instinct to hide and be unnoticeable, however.

Magenta may have let me slip away, but she would not pardon what transpired —I knew that well.

That was a concern for another time —now it was time to rest, and reorientate ourselves.

Unlike me, my companions were quite drained. Georgia had spent a good few hours with the Flame Lily Coven when she had come from Winfrost, and she had not hesitated to describe the tension that had hung thick over them until Adam and I emerged.

It seemed that the Wytches had yet to grow a little more tolerant of humans —specifically of the ones which I knew. Georgia had sat stiffly in their steely presence, wondering if they were going to grab her out of nowhere and mount her severed head on a spire.

I assured her that Wytches were not so medieval.

She still complained, and insisted that she never be left entirely alone with their kind ever again.

Adam was not saying much, and keeping his distance. I was tempted to ask him what the matter was, but I had a crowd milling outside of the shop.

Not having the heart to turn everyone down, I altered my appearance to female, changed, and served my customers all throughout the afternoon.

Seeing the smiles on their faces —knowing that I was bringing them a small joy amidst the barren darkness of the world outside —made me realise why it had been so imperative that I came back.

It made me realise why life was worth living...no matter how long the Weavers allowed it to exist.

As evening then set in when I closed, I noticed that frost had already encrusted itself on the glass windows, reminding me that I had certainly not missed the London winter. When the weather harshened, the visits and sales proportionally dropped.

I also feared that it would be too cold for Georgia to sleep in the back room, but she seemed unbothered. Her concern, was the actual idea of sleeping at all.

"I'm too tired to set up my sleeping bag," Georgia declared, parading around and still in her Elf disguise.

"You do not look too tired," I sighed, frowning.

I was then ignored completely, much to Adam's quiet amusement. I gave him a look.

His sigh was relenting. "...Why don't you two come and stay at my house tonight?" he then uncharacteristically offered. "It'll definitely be warmer."

The teenager and I both blinked rapidly in disbelief.

"What?" he quipped. "I'm being generous."

"Oh we know," I said, speaking for the both of us. "That is the problem. You do not let strangers into your home —especially of the female variety."

"She doesn't count," he pointed out, referring to Georgia. "And I do not think that we are strangers. We have traversed worlds together and been in mortal danger —I think that 'friends' would suffice."

I glanced at my shoes and almost smiled.

I had never really had friends before —not as a child, and certainly not when I had reached maturity. I had had companions with whom I could talk incessantly; but never people to whom I could bare my soul.

Farmer Patrick had been an important person in my life, but I did not know if I would classify him as a friend. We had not spoken about much else besides work, dreams and his late wife.

Adam caught my eye as I then looked back up. Breath did not reach my lungs. Did we fall into that category? Were we friends as well?

I did not receive an answer, as Georgia became excited at the prospect of hot running water and a bed, and she insisted that we leave immediately.

After packing a few overnight essentials and locking up the Cotton Candy again, we set off. I tried not to think of the irony of us walking another sizeable distance after the events of the days before, but warmth and sleep seemed to be good enough of a motivator.

Sleep.

I stumbled slightly on a piece of debris, distracted by the thought. Adam noticed, and inquired as to whether or not I was all right. I debated telling him right then and there —under the harsh starry sky.

Perhaps I would wait until he tried to sleep again; only to find that he cannot. I could not assume that I would be there to do as I had done before, and that he would want me to share his bed. His house was already a sacred enough space —and we had not yet confirmed the status of our agreement.

"It is nothing," I answered the soldier, realising that I had been quiet for longer than that which was acceptable. "I simply misstepped."

Adam frowned. "I don't believe that." Then he paused, seemingly engaging in his own internal debate. "...Maybe you can tell me later, in my bed."

I drew a breath, momentarily stunned by his words. So he had been serious. I had not anticipated it happening this soon, though. "Are you sure?" I whispered.

"Yes," he murmured, before sheepishly averting his gaze. "It...it's a new one."

I did not need to confirm why he would mention that. I already knew the reason. I did however, frown slightly, to his confusion.

"Well..." I quipped. "That is the same thing that you mentioned to me in that dream I had last night."

He raised a brow. "Now I'm curious."

Blush crept up my cheeks. I clamped my lips shut, and walked after Georgia when she called out to us having realised that we had fallen behind.

Adam's house was a strange familiarity. Even in its preserved stiffness, there was comfort in the decor, furniture and ordinariness.

I could not begin to comprehend Georgia's excitement as she explored the bungalow with awe. And when she discovered the bathing room —she declared that she might be in it for an hour.

Adam and I settled in his disorganised study in the meantime, hyper aware and unsure of our movements. Neither of us knew what to say.

Though the soldier broke the silence after a while, tired of it. "...I am glad you're alive," he began, "and that you chose Earth instead."

"It was not a choice," I breathed. "I told you before —that place was not a home. I simply went with what I wanted for the first time; and I wanted this."

He nodded. "Does that include me?" he smirked.

I scoffed. "You just happen to be here."

Amusement lit up his eyes for a moment, before they dimmed again. "...I know that this will sound strange, but I came back because I felt as though a part of me would die if you were killed."

I inhaled shakily. I knew what he meant, but it sounded painfully tragic. I kept my expression as blank as possible. "...Usually those bound by Fate can feel the sensation of the strings between them sever."

"So I would have reverted to my old self?"

"Maybe," I admitted, glancing at a pile of books. "Or you might have finally given into a deeply buried desire, and gone with me."

I had not meant to go so dark, but Adam understood. And that was darker in itself.

Fate was cruel this way. Not only were our destinies linked, but every choice one of us made effected the other. Every action, and every want.

"I just didn't want to...lose someone else," he confessed, leaning back on the mahogany desk and staring intently at the time machine.

I did not say anything, nor give an indication of a response —I did not know how to. What did he expect me to say —that I understood?

Truthfully, I felt nothing for the people I had once called my family; my household.

That notion was unfathomable to me.

"...If I had not come for you, would you have accepted death?" Adam then asked tightly.

I stiffened, having dreaded this moment. My heart was beating wildly —it was physically painful. Would he hate me for this afterwards?

No. It was not about me. He needed to know.

"...At first," I began quietly. "I was going to choose death. But I realised something that made me choose life instead. Something that...you are not going to like."

"What do you mean?"

I swallowed. "Adam, I do not know how to properly explain this to you, but...I do not think that the Icen blood cured your curse."

He went still, his brows furrowed.

"I have the ability to make people sleep," I stated. "I did it once with the soldiers, and again with a Wytch —though the spell did not last long."

"Are you saying," he murmured, "that instead of the Icen blood allowing me to sleep, it was you?"

He did not seem angry. Only disbelieving.

I bowed my head. "I believed Edva blindly," I admitted. "When I thought about it at the trial, I realised that I had never read about Icen blood having those healing capabilities —not to a magical extent."

"Purple, that doesn't make any sense," he said firmly, turning to face me completely. "That sleeping spell is a defence mechanism —isn't it?"

"That is what I thought as well," I insisted. "But if I can do it consciously —willingly —I might have done that to you." It was then quiet for several seconds before I blurted out, "...I am so sorry."

Adam stared at me. "For what?"

I stumbled through my answer. "For being so...trusting and desperate that...I did not think to question —"

"If what you're saying is true," he said calmly, gently —and for the life of me I could not understand it, "then you turned something you only used when you were threatened into a gift. You gave me a gift."

I gasped, my mouth agape but nothing else coming from it, as he came to stand in front of me. There was nothing but compassion in his eyes, simmering and smouldering. I winced, utterly dumbfounded.

The spell was still there. He still could not sleep.

"Why are you not upset?" I rasped. "Why are you —"

"Purple, it isn't your fault," he told me, reaching to slide his hand along my cheek. I flinched slightly, not having expected the gesture. "...And you know what? I kind of like that the only reason I got to sleep last night is because you wished for it."

I closed my eyes, balling my hands into fists. It was not fair how understanding he was being.

"But I —"

"I don't like the Faerie's deception either," he continued, not wanting to hear my profuse apologising. "I am sure that he had some sort of reason. But I don't see how this could have been malicious."

"Stop making sense," I begged, pushing him away. "Do you not get it? You are still unable to sleep on your own —and it is my clouded judgement at fault."

"I know," he said.

I paused. "...What? Does it not anger you?"

"I could feel that something wasn't quite right when I woke up," he sighed. "Remember when you asked me why I wasn't overjoyed? I think that was the reason. I knew deep down, that nothing had changed. I just didn't know why —until now."

"You are so frustrating," I stated, shaking my head. "I cannot believe that you did not make a bigger deal out of it. Why did you not tell me?"

"For the same reason that you waited to tell me now," he admitted. "I didn't know how to say it."

I relented, letting all of the tension in my muscles ease.

I halfheartedly hit my fist against his chest. "...You are a fool sometimes," I said softly.

"I know," he murmured. Then his hands settled on my waist, and I jolted. It only worsened as one hand ran upwards along my spine, dragging out a soft moan from me. "...And don't worry," Adam continued, sure to do the same with his merciless teasing, "until we find a real cure, you could always just share a bed with me."

"I doubt that would get you a lot of sleep," I breathed.

He raised a brow, and tugged me right against him. "It wouldn't. But you are at that discretion."

My head tilted to allow his nose to brush against mine, but I hesitated to let him come any closer.

"...Are you still sure that you want to keep our agreement?" I asked. "Especially...here?"

"Where else would we keep it?"

I pressed my lips into a line. "Good point."

"Purple...if you're still worried about my acceptance of your male appearance, there's no need," he smirked. "I find no issue with it. In fact," he mused slyly, "it will make things interesting."

"It is not that," I quipped. "I just...I do not want to intrude in your family home."

Adam tensed and glanced elsewhere, just as I had anticipated. In fact, he completely stepped away from me, and began pacing the room.

Well —I had definitely managed to ruin the mood.

"This place hasn't been a home since I came back from my service," he informed me. "There's a reason I didn't touch anything —that I couldn't bear to move things around, as if it was a confirmation that they were gone. But now I'm trying to let go."

"I know you are."

"Then why are you still bothered?" he demanded.

"I...I do not know," I answered uncertainly.

He huffed, before going quiet for quite some time. It was hard to decipher about what exactly he was thinking as he fell into a pace again; his brows knitted and his jaw locked. He was unbelievably tense. After a minute, he found the strength to speak again.

"...There was a time when I felt like nothing at all could dull the pain," he said. "As though I could never recover, and go back to life before. But you...what you did for me that day when you broke the barrier made me feel something for the first time."

I blinked rapidly as he met my gaze.

"I felt hope, Purple," he told me. "I wanted to live."

"Adam," I rasped, my feet taking two steps forward. I felt the warmth again —the one that drew us to each other in a way that was not plainly sexual.

"Believe me when I say that I am trying," he said thickly. "And that a part of me constantly yearns for what you make me feel."

I drew a breath at that confession. It was part of what I wanted: to be needed and significant.

"...Okay," I murmured. It was all that I could manage.

"That's okay?" he half-smiled, turning to face me.

"It is," I assured. "The issue is...that being here and knowing that it still only makes you think of them —I do not want to be the one to take that from you."

"You wouldn't be doing that," he frowned. "There's no love, remember? There is no need to feel like it's a betrayal. You are not tainting the memories of them. And they are not coming back, Purple —I know that. What we're doing isn't wrong."

I bit down on my lip, evaluating his words.

It was not wrong? I struggled to define the black and white of the situation. Legally, there was no issue with us. But morally, all I cared about was Adam's mental state. I did not want him to feel guilty when he was with me. I wanted him to think of only us in the moment —nothing else but each other.

And maybe that made me awful and selfish, but more of the reason was that I could not bear to cause him pain by indulging his desires.

"...Did you think of them our first time?" I asked.

"No," he answered, coming to a standstill. "Actually, my mind was completely blank until I thought of you. You were the only thing of which I could think."

And so my selfish wish was granted.

I drew a breath, before gathering the courage to walk across to where he was. I did not say anything, but I was relieved at the confession. He turned and accepted my advance, letting me step into his arms and run my hand along his forearm. He stiffened at the touch.

It was difficult to fully comprehend how we effected each other so wholly, so irrevocably. When my skin brushed his, it set off magic in my veins.

"...What are you thinking of now?" I whispered.

He roughly tugged my hair back to be away from my face, and leaned in close. "Hm. How beautiful you would look sprawled on my sheets, at my mercy."

I imagined it.

My insides ached painfully, and I whimpered. His approval of the sound was kissing the corner of my mouth, the pressure too light and lasting far longer than normal. I could feel how much he was holding back from me —knowing that time was limited. The desire magnified, bringing forth another moan.

Danger.

I craved it; chased it. Facing death had been void and cold —daring to live set me aflame.

Adam kissed the spot below my ear, the verbal effort of his weakening control vibrating against my skin. I knew that he wanted more —preferably to heft me up onto that mahogany desk —but I had to pull back.

We would get the opportunity to give in and forget the rest of the world —later.

I returned his frown with a smirk.

"Unfortunately, you will have to wait," I murmured. "I believe that Georgia's hour is up."