For the sake of blending in, I made a decent effort. After a shower, I brushed and braided my hair, running the hairdryer over it to let it fall in loose waves once dry. I found a couple of pins to twist and back the front sections and let a few pieces fall free. I was no expert, but grew rather proud of what I could accomplish with no heat and constant huffing about my uncooperative locks.

I left the bathroom free for Derek to shower and change. I had no makeup with me, having only a rose-tinted lip balm left with the other free toiletries, so I had to cope with my dull, white canvas of a face that contrasted with the only attractive thing about me: the dress.

The near-shear fabric blinked with every movement, its short sleeves resting on my shoulders and pulling inwards at my chest, hugging my torso until it spilled from my waist, brushing my leg through the slit at one side. An onyx beauty of a gown.

I looked over my shoulder to observe it from behind. The injury from the crash had begun to heal, but the mark was still visible, making me frown. I parted my hair at the back and pulled it forward, softening it down to cover the long red scratch – it would scar.

"Agent." The bathroom door opened, and I looked behind me, holding my breath as I took in the image of him.

If I did not know him any better, I would have thought the suit had been tailored specifically for him. The midnight black blazer felt every contour of him, sharpening every muscle and edge generously, the white of the shirt deepening his natural tan. However, when I let my gaze fall to his neck, I noticed his tie – black to match his suit – was lopsided in a comical way that made me silently chuckle.

"What?" He frowned, his lips pursing. "What have I done now?" "You look like you've tied your tie with your eyes closed." "Well I am sorry, Miss Formal," he retorted, looking down at his neck to fumble with the fabric. "I don't normally wear things like this." "Same here," I said, watching him knot the tie even more.

I sighed, leaving my spot at the mirror to save him from strangling himself. "Let me. You're not exactly delicate, are you?" He forced a laugh, mouth parting to reply but his mind shifted at the final moment. I blinked away my stare and focussed on fixing the mess he had caused rather than looking up or down, even if his eyes did not leave my lips.

I finished swiftly and raised my head to step back, my nose brushing his chin. I shivered at the contact, swallowing. "Sorry," I said, my voice barely a whisper. He offered a comely smile in return. "No harm done." "We should..." His smile faltered and he bit his lip. "We should go," I said.

I brushed passed him, heading for the door as a sudden wave of nausea almost swept me off my feet.

"Agent." I spun around, hand still reaching for the door. "You look—" He stopped, mulling over his words. "—You look good." I smiled, feeling my cheeks bloom. "Thank you. So do you."

***

The party was to be hosted in the main ballroom of the ship. We were led downstairs by the congressing couples and swarms of formal attire, speaking no more than passive comments as the laughter and chatter of other passengers drowned us out, the heat of the corridors suffocating me.

A couple bumped into Derek, knocking him towards me. The two – dressed in matching emerald green – barely looked back as they stormed off, linking arms as they charged for the ballroom doors. "How considerate," he quipped. I bit back a response, finding a handful of passengers – men perhaps a few years older than Derek – were watching me, as if keen to see an incident spark up. This was not a young persons' party, and any entertainment was welcomed by all under thirty, but they did not deserve it.

We turned the final corner to walk through the empty dining room lined with white square tables, then a set of glass double doors opened to welcome us inside.

November's chill swept into the corridor as we were called inside by a dulcet string quartet, the white marble walls lined with gold unable to shield all guests from the crisp sea air that drifted in through the balconies. Derek and I walked side by side as the other guests dispersed, being the only ones left astounded by the image of broken shards that darted throughout the room, dancing over my exposed collarbone and face. I looked up, finding sudden warmth at the gold and crystal chandelier that twisted down towards the dancefloor like a wild but ancient willow. Every guest sparkled in their own way, the chandelier making their endless gems and jewels wink in a sultry but sophisticated manner.

Almost breathless, I said, "I will admit this is beautiful." Blinking at the blinding light of the diamond branches, I turned to Derek. His eyes twinkled with gold, seeing into me. "Yeah, it is."

Dancing was off the table, so I rotated around to find something else to preoccupy myself. I was not ready for another drink, but the empty void in my stomach longed for something else. "I'll be at the buffet." "And I the bar," Derek replied, pocketing his hands.

We strolled past each other, the fabric of his blazer tickling my arm. I skidded to a stop and touched the skin he met before shaking off the feeling to weave my way through the twirling and bowing dancers, deliberately ignoring the couples gripping onto arms, hands, waists – anywhere they could get away with in public.

I needed food – a lot of it.

Standing alone at a buffet table was a cause for startled stares among the more pompous guests, but I ignored them. The selection was amazing and made me ravenous. Savoury pastries and bread centred the table, being circled by deserts such as fruit pies and cheesecakes, with snacks and plates surrounding them. For a few minutes I plucked cocktail sticks from a dove-shaped holder, pulling the cheese and pineapple off with my teeth, suddenly regretting all my private insults towards the guests on the ship – they had taste for cheese, at least, and the pineapple was ripe and sweet.

Whispering from behind me made me hold my hand over the table as I reached for another. "How did she get on this ship?" said a woman. She was gossiping with her husband and a friend of a similar age. "They let all sorts on here nowadays," her friend replied. "At least these characters are interesting to watch." Just ignore them,I told myself. "It's astounding what a pretty face can get you these days. Who do you think she swayed to get here tonight?" "That face won't last forever. Look at the way she's eating. Girls like that stay skinny for a few years before it hits them all at once."

Bitch. Suddenly losing my appetite, I pulled back my hand, crossing my arms loosely over my torso to go for another walk rather than putting her in her place, reminding her that the authentic pearls around her neck and the diamonds squeezing her bony fingers did not grant her the authority to believe herself more important than anyone else on the ship. People such as her riled me up in a way that burned my veins. No individual was above others, regardless of money, power or status.

I cooled down by the open glass doors leading to the balcony, and leaned against the wall. The cream drapes stroked my skin, swaying back and forth to the ballroom's song, hiding me behind them.

Derek was still by the bar, slumped in a stool with his head bowed so low his hair shadowed his face. He tapped the ebony worktop as the barmaid poured a glass of whiskey, then drank it in one go, his neck tensing with a gulp.

His sigh was felt from across the room. Something was wrong with him. Thoughts crossed his mind like the chandelier's broken rays; thoughts that needed voicing if only to get him to cheer up again. But was it my place to ask? Was it impolite to pry into his business?

I cursed and pushed up from the wall, mustering all of my courage to carry myself across the dancefloor. Even if he told me to back off, I needed to know if he was okay.

An empty chair sat beside him and I made my way towards it, locking my hands together to stop them from shaking. Talking and asking about feelings was not my strongest attribute, but I was willing to try for him.

Someone else got there first. A sandy-haired young woman slipped into the chair, her glittering pink ballgown beaming when she adjusted it to sit down, curling her long, tan legs towards Derek. He noticed the way she sparkled, his irises lighting up before they landed on her bare shoulders, then her pearly smile as she began to talk.

Wounded, I backed off.

Derek's brown eyes widened as he spotted me uncomfortably lurking in the background. I swallowed, picking at the nail of my middle finger. He put his hand on the back of the stool to move but I shook my head, managing a smile to show he could talk to her if that was what he wished to do; I imagined she had been more of a pleasure to speak to in those few seconds than I had since we met.

I left the hall.

My skin was burning, and a sudden itchiness made we wonder if my shoulder's injury was misbehaving as it did on the train to the coast. Once in the outside air on the balcony, I shifted the sleeve of my dress to examine it. Considering how it had looked only days earlier, the wound was fine. It did not hurt when I touched it, so I traced the line downwards, wincing at the thought of having a deep scar from the top of my shoulder to the edge of my collarbone for the rest of my life.

My breath was audible as I leaned forward against the railing of the balcony, flinching at the cold metal. As night fell, the moon had risen in its fully glory, casting a slither of white light onto the calm black waters below.

The salted sea air drifted over my skin and through my hair, handing over the memory of Derek and I running through the coastal town again. It was a chaotic mess – I had just undergone surgery, while neither of us had the faith to truly trust each other – but we had laughed when we made it to the ferry. We were alone, then, but now someone else had stolen his attention.

I cringed, a wheeze clawing at my throat. What was wrong with me? Thinking about that beautiful woman sitting next to him, talking to him, entertaining him... I couldn't breathe. I shouldn't have cared but my heart thundered against my chest, threatening to break out. "You're alone."

I straightened up with a gasp, relaxing as Derek stepped through the billowing curtain. "I saw you leave," he said. "Do you want to talk?" "I—" I ran my tongue over my lips, unable to speak. "I did, yes. But you seemed... preoccupied." "Not to talk to you," he replied. He frowned, realisation striking him as I turned around to rest back against the iron. "Oh. That woman just sat next to me, but I wasn't interested. I was sitting there because... because I was thinking about what I wanted to say to you." I held the railing tighter, more relieved than I had the right to be. "Oh." "I—" He turned back and shut the doors, coming back to stand by the railing. "Hang on, what did you want to say?" I shrugged. "I just wanted to ask if you were okay. You looked sad." His lips parted. "I... I appreciate that." "That's not an answer," I retorted. Damned be my manners, apparently. "Sorry?" "You replied but neglected to give an answer. Tell me how you feel." Derek's eyes skimmed over my appearance, pausing at my concerned face. "I'm not so sure if I can say that. I'm not certain I know."

I tapped the railing. What now? He admitted he was conflicted – that much was obvious from his expression alone – but a problem still lingered, as did a strange air between us. Perhaps I was overthinking, and the solution to his problem was not to comb a logical plan, but to just talk.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I eventually said. He nodded, silently joining me at the railings. We both turned around to stare at the lapping waves and watchful moon. I gripped the bars, parts of me enjoying the warmth he gave while others resented it.

"I tried telling you something last night." My stomach turned. "Somehow I thought you had forgotten." His tone was monotonous. "No. I remember it all; what I said, what you said, what I was going to say. You stopped me from opening my mouth because I would have regretted it. Thank you." The conversation played out better than I hoped for. I forced a smile. "I'm not that bad sometimes." He huffed a laugh. "You can say you're a good person, you know?" I shook my head. "I'm not. After everything I've done – or haven't done – I can't be labelled as that." I glanced down at my hands. After all I had done to help Alistair, and everything I hadn't done to save Marcus's victims... Being a good person had been off the table for me since adolescence.

The quartet took a pause, then shifted their music to a lilting melody that stroked my spine. With every repeat, the song grew louder, bolder.

Both of us had turned to face the ballroom.

"You are a good person," Derek said. "I care only about a handful of people in this world, and you've become one of them so quickly." Our eyes met – a connection but a contrast between blue and brown. "Do you think I'd chose to care about bad people if that number had grown so low?"

I held my shameless eye contact, even when I felt my face warm up. Only two people ever said they cared with such bravery before: Scotty was the first.

The second was my mother.

That careful part of my brain reminded me that words meant nothing. People could lie, and so many did that every day.

But the reckless, most cordial pit of me said Derek had never done that. He proved his honesty through his words, his face, and his actions. He had saved my life more than once, provoked me into talking even when my stubborn self refused, and he laughed at my mistakes rather than judging them, always being there to help me overcome them.

Derek Barnes was not a bad person. In fact, he was a good one in my own eyes. He had made mistakes like everyone else, but I was not honour-bound into hating him for them anymore. We were no longer an agent and a target, but two individuals that cared.

I was free to view him in whatever light I wished.

"I—" cared. I really, really cared but a lifelong chain yanked me back into hiding that. "What did you want to tell me before?" "I'll tell you some other time," he said. "I was completely out of it, and just want to thank you for keeping me quiet." "You looked upset in there," I replied. "Are you sure?" He shook his head. "I am. I don't want to ruin this."

I nodded. Nothing could have ruined whatever this interaction was, but I respected his decision.

"What about you?" he asked, giving me a nudge. "How are you holding up in this state?" I shrugged. "I'm fine." He almost rolled his eyes but managed to stop himself. "I'll ask you again: are you okay?"

I pretended to look at my nails, hair falling in my face to conceal the conflict that crossed it. I had to be okay. There was a multitude of feelings pent up inside of me, threatening to burst at any given moment. I had left my whole life behind to take down the man that cared for me with someone I had not known for very long. Even worse, I cared about that person more than I would have admitted to anyone.

"Everything is just a mess at the moment," I said, brushing my hair away. "I couldn't agree more," he said, content with the reply as if he knew I would not answer the question explicitly.

We looked back to the ballroom, watching the other party guests dance around the floor, their shadows casting over us from the superficial light of the chandelier. "You up for a dance?" said Derek. "No." "Oh." He blinked. "Okay."

He folded his arms and tilted back against the railings once more, exhaling through his nose to blow away the silence. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm not keen on dancing around people." He swallowed. "It's not me that's the problem. Just the dancing?" Of course he was not the problem. He was perfect as he was. "That's all." "That's a relief." He stifled a laugh. "What do you want to do instead?" I was not in the mood for drinking, and remembered being laughed at for picking at food. "Can we stay out here? Please. Everyone in there has managed to get on my nerves." He smiled warmly in a way so genuine that he glowed, even if his lips rested together. "Of course. But I'll be one minute."

I let out a long, shaking breath as he went back inside, the hold on my chest subsiding. I was suffocating around him, but at the same time craved him in the way I needed air. My mind was tangled, contradicting and teasing itself with every minute he crossed it.

He returned with a small plate of snacks from the buffet table, already having something in his mouth.

He swallowed. "These posh brats really know where to get their food."

I smiled. I had thought the same thing, but shook my head when offered a taste.

Derek frowned. "Are you not hungry?" "I just don't want anything else," I replied, even though my tongue tickled seeing the cheese and pineapple again. "Not that I don't trust you," said Derek, holding up a cocktail stick, "but I think you're lying to me."

I held back a smile as he waved the treat in front of me so that it almost touched my nose. "Open up, Knight. You know you want to."

With a defeated laugh, I opened my mouth and took the food from the stick, dragging it smoothly off with my teeth so Derek grinned. "That's it. Tell them lot to go screw themselves!"

I almost spat the contents of my mouth, but managed to swallow them just in time. "What do you mean?" "Even from the bar I could see countless women, including you, walking away from that table when people started staring." I wiped the corners of my mouth, watching him intently. "People consumed by jealousy grow bitter in their old age. Then the ugliness starts to show on the outside." "You're not wrong," I replied. He put down the cleared cocktail stick.

"But let's not waste our time talking about other people," he said. "What does the darling Amber Knight wish to discuss instead?"

***

When looking back on every conversation we had shared since we met, the one on the balcony was by far the longest, and the most mundane. We started with simple questions; our hometowns, life at school, what we were like as teenagers. He was born further North but moved to the outskirts of London when his parents divorced. He shrugged when asked about how often he saw his father, and I took that as a sign to move on, knowing how difficult it could be to talk about them.

He was good at art in school, stating it to be the only subject he cared about doing well in. The teasing started when I admitted I was a focussed student, not to his shock. "A goody-two-shoes." He poked my arm. "I knew it." "I was not a—" I clamped my mouth shut. "Okay fine, but at least I tried." A shrug. "I had more important things to worry about." "Like?" He snorted. "Like sleeping in till noon every day." I rolled my eyes. "Of course." "I was an idiot – I'll admit it." "Was?" He shoved my arm playfully. "You're an evil woman, Knight."

He pondered a question for a long while, then questioned how I came to live with Alistair. I kept all knowledge of Marcus reined in, covering it with the truth that my mother passed away while my father made himself an enemy of the agency. Orphaned, Alistair took me in. Derek apologised for judging my loyalty, and confessed he never knew the man had a heart. When asked how old I was when I joined the agency, he almost fell over the balcony. "Sixteen?" I shrugged. "Three years of private training with Alistair allowed me to join to programme early." "I'm just shocked you knew what you wanted to do with your life at that age. Why become an agent?" "I... wanted to be like Alistair." I scratched behind my ear. After finding out his true nature, it felt almost illegal to say that. "He saved me from a dark place both mentally and physically. I thought if I could do that for others, then... I thought I'd—" My voice broke. It all seemed pointless now, so I laughed bitterly. "I wanted to be a bloody hero." The waves crashed a little louder before he spoke. "Like it or not Miss Knight, but you are a hero." I forced a laugh crueller than the last. "Don't be daft. Every heroic act served the agency – served Alistair." He sighed. "Don't say that about—" "You're one of Alistair's bitches."His neck flared as he gulped. "You said that to me. It bothered me for a while because I was convinced you were wrong. I thought I had my own mind, that my morals were my own and not Alistair's, but you were right. Everything I have ever done has been through the will of someone else. The truth is, I am nothing more than a weapon – a tool to be used – I'm—" I expelled a gasp, reality crushing me. "...I'm nothing."

I slumped back against the railing, a weight releasing my body but letting it fall simultaneously. I was free but lost; a weapon without a wielder. Before, I was trapped with Marcus and controlled by Alistair, but at least I had directions. Their goals were once my goals, my life a shadow of theirs

"Damn," I whispered, lifting a hand to cover my quivering lips as they refused to stiffen up. No tears fell – not a single one – but they battled at my eyes to come out. I would not allow anyone the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

Though tears did not fall, my vacant expression said it all; I was nothing anymore.

Velvet contact at my hand spurred every nerve to come alive. My initial instinct was to flinch away but I welcomed the touch, feeling at ease as Derek took his second hand to blanket mine, his thumb stroking my palm. I curled my fingers around the hand below mine, resisting the urge to smile while still pushing back the tears.

His voice gravelled, "You are not nothing." I seized a breath, eyes flitting to his lips. "You are not a robot, a tool, nor a dog made to be used or commanded. I have no doubt that everything you have ever done has been completed with the belief that you were doing the right thing. So what if Alistair told you to do it?" "But—" "Circumstances and coincidence don't matter. What's truly important is that you acted with the wholehearted belief you were shedding even a little light on this dark place. You can say that's not enough, you can argue against it but for others – for me – you are a rarity.You set out to do good, and that's a treasure in this shit-tip of a world so don't you daretell me that you are nothing because you're something." He laughed. "You really are something."

There were no words. Nothing that could have explained the gratitude and astonishment that wiped away my empty tears without a single touch. All I could manage was a broken laugh.

I ran the tip of my tongue across my lips to soften them, Derek watching the movement in a way made me pause. Cosmic wonder crossed his beautiful eyes; he craved for a response I was unsure whether to give, his chest pulsating mere inches away from mine while I stayed completely still, unable to breathe – not daring to. The profound drumming of my heart was all I could focus on. Not the waves that caressed the boat, not the judgemental chatter, and not even the delicate strumming of the string quartet inside. Just my heart... and his.

He was handsome in the ballroom, skin shining with gold, but outside he was different. In the new, pure moonlight he was breath-taking. All the stars scattered amongst the night could not compare to his effulgent beauty.

He let go of my hands, the tips of my fingers coiling around his to hook him back in. A hand swept up my arm slowly, stealing a gasp as he reached my jaw. Derek's eyes looked into mine, aware but not of anything beyond the balcony, as he angled himself to reach the height of my lips, stroking my cheekbone.

That tug again – that damned tug – made me turn to one side. The sea stirred as I looked towards it, almost whimpering at the brush of Derek's lips against my ear as he sighed.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice deadly quiet. It was not anger, but frustration; the same kind I directed towards myself. "I... can't." I cringed at myself. Pathetic. "Tell me why," he said.

I couldn't. Every moment. Every single moment where I allowed myself to lose control was always snatched – the reins taken by someone else. If I let myself have this, I would have been made vulnerable. I learned my lesson years ago and was forced to face to consequences. Never again, I promised myself.

And here I was.

He still held onto me as if nothing was wrong – as if the moment could be saved. The air was too dense now, and he gulped as I reached for his hand to distance it from my face. I braved looking up, and let go of him completely. I had hurt him less in our first encounter.

Even after gripping the bars to steady myself, every inch of my body twitched and roared in protest. I wanted to let go so badly but the fear was too much, having so much to gain, yet so much to lose. It was a choice between drowning with anticipation or burning with regret.

"You're not—" He coughed. "You're not seeing someone, are you?" "What?" I blinked. A silly question after everything that had happened, but it was valid. "No." "Then tell me what's wrong!" "I can't!"

If I struggled to understand what went on in my own head, how could he? He had shown himself to be kind, observant, stubborn and hilarious – everything I could have ever wanted. But everyone I let into my life kicked and shattered my loyalty without remorse. Trust was foreign soil to me. I was terrified of it. Of all the lies, the twisted truths and broken promises. If my own father was worse than any monster under the bed, what potential did that leave for anyone else?"

Derek groaned, his jaw clenching. "Seriously, Amber!" He backed off, running his hands violently through his hair. "Why do you keep doing this?" My own voice stayed quiet. "Doing what?" "You let go," he explained. "You let go for a moment, acting like you really care, like you feel something, but then you just... back out. Like a switch just flips." "I know." He shook his head, biting his lips into a line before releasing them. "Do you want to know what I was going to tell you last night?" "Derek, you don't have to—" "I care about you." I sucked in a breath. "I care about you a lot. And I don't care if you know now because holding this in is getting hard." He needed to know where I stood on the matter. His cards were laid out before him.

His tone calmed. "I trust you, Amber," he promised. "But you need to trust me too. If it istrust issues you are dealing with, believe me when I say that you can only move past this and be happy when you take a leap of faith now and then." He took a few steps towards the door, not taking his eyes off me. "Just let me know when you do, okay, because this? This just fucking hurts."

A shadow flitted across his face as he reached for the door. I had broken him. I took his trust and crushed it beneath my feet as I feared he would do to me. It was selfish to lead him on. I had leaned into my own feelings without considering the consequences for both of us. He didn't know my past – hell, I didn't know his – and expecting him to understand was a fool's move.

But he was willing to understand. He did not dismiss me like others had in the past. He wanted to learn and adapt rather than run.

He trusted me... and I trusted him. I had been betrayed by important people in my life, but I never opted for them to enter it. I had not chosen Marcus for a father, nor Alistair for a saviour, but Scotty was my choice for a friend and he had never failed me.

I could choose again. And I chose Derek Barnes.

"Derek."

His hand hovered over the door handle. I was not one to beg, but I straightened up, ready to fight for him to stay. Fog clouded on the glass with a single release of air, all inhibitions going with it.

He spun around and bolted for me, fiery panic surging through me as he drew me in by the crook of my arm and kissed me with the strength of the waves beneath and the stars above us.

The frozen fear melted into a laughable thought as I shut my eyes, embracing him wholly. I locked my arms around his warm neck, drawing his lips in closer with a sharp inhale to taste the musk he wore. His grip on me tightened at the sound and I was forced back, stumbling into the railing.

His lips parted mine while he chuckled. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" He laughed harder at my vulgar curse, all humour vanishing when I pulled him back in by his tie. We smiled together into the kiss, Derek glowing with pride at my newfound confidence.

We broke apart when a shattering crash, followed by a shrill scream, erupted from inside the ballroom.