Well, told you guys I'd be back... turns out I'm far too invested in these two to let go of them just yet, so I hope you're all prepared to tag along for the next big chapter (heh) in their lives! Hopefully this can be somewhat of a consolation prize for the week's delay with season 5.

PS, please note the rating and the warnings in the summary haha.

Enjoy :P

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Her body was on fire.

Unable to keep the whimper from escaping her lips, Remi writhed weakly, her fingers reaching out— seeking purchase, seeking control— yet finding nothing, her body all but lost without anything to anchor itself to, her shaking limbs no longer responding to her commands.

Breathing hard, she fought to hold back the scream that was rising in her throat, fought to form even a single clear thought— but she already knew that both were pointless efforts, any attempt at resistance already nothing more than a futile struggle against an inevitability. She'd always considered herself damn near invincible, her control unshakeable; but that had now been well and truly proven untrue, her weaknesses discovered and exploited so easily that she was all but powerless, left teetering on the edge of surrender, every muscle strung tight as razorwire as she finally faced the truth: that this was a fight she'd lost the moment it had begun, and there would be no saving her now.

Or, so she'd thought, at least; but then, a split second before she succumbed entirely— relinquishing all control, finally letting herself simply give in and let go— she suddenly heard it.

The loud, officious knock at the front door.

Catching her scream behind her teeth, Remi pressed the back of her head hard into the pillows, one shaking hand lifting to drag itself across her face.

"Fuck," she growled hoarsely, eyes still clenched shut. Feeling the slight shift of Weller's shoulders beneath her knees— he'd lifted his head the moment he'd heard the knock, his rueful sigh sending goosebumps over the skin of her inner thighs— she swatted at him with her other hand, her frustration boiling over.

"Put some fucking clothes on and go answer it already," she bit out, forcing her shuddering muscles to obey as she disentangled herself from him, rolling off the bed to stand on legs that were barely more than jelly. "Tell her I'm in the fucking shower."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, his tone far too fucking amused for her to be able to tolerate right now— but instead of collecting his scattered clothes, he intercepted her as she crossed the floor to the ensuite, one arm wrapping around her naked waist from behind, his lips close to her ear.

"Don't worry, I won't forget what I owe," he murmured, the feathery heat of his breath sending a fresh shiver through her. Lightly elbowing the firm muscles of his stomach, she easily escaped his grip, refusing to look back— knowing that if she did, she'd want to collect on that particular debt right this second, Mayfair be damned.

"You better not," she tossed over her shoulder instead, "Or you'll be paying some fucking steep interest."

She could hear his low chuckle as she closed the door behind her, and when she glanced up at the mirror— her face flushed, her hair a goddamn staticky mess— she was surprised to see the tiny, wry quirk at the corner of her lips, the frustrated scowl already fading fast.

Maybe it was because she knew he would most certainly pay back her loss two or even threefold the moment Mayfair was gone, his skill matched only by his seemingly unending enthusiasm. The week they'd spent in the safehouse so far had certainly attested to both; in fact, there was hardly a surface left in the house that hadn't borne witness to it, including the very couch he would probably be politely inviting Mayfair to sit on in only a few moments' time.

So, alright, maybe she could forgive her the interruption, just this once.

Turning the faucet, Remi clenched her teeth and stepped under the scalding spray, swiftly washing the scent of him— and the very evident effect he had on her— from her skin, allowing herself barely a couple of minutes before she shut off the water and reached for the nearest towel, quickly sniffing it to ensure that she wasn't about to cover herself with the smell of his aftershave and render the entire effort practically pointless.

She could only detect the faint scent of laundry detergent, though, so she quickly dried herself off, tying back her damp hair before checking her scars out of habit, making sure they were healing as the should. She'd removed both hers and Weller's stitches only yesterday, the two of them sitting facing each other on a pair of dining chairs in the brightly-lit safehouse, the moment a complete contrast to the night when the stitches had gone in.

A fact which Weller had decided to highlight by lightly coasting his hands over her bare thighs while she'd worked, and by the soft kiss he'd pressed to the outside of her thigh after she'd gotten up to allow him to remove the stitches on the back of her leg. She'd ordered him to focus, but they'd both easily been able to hear just how halfhearted it was, and when he'd stood a minute later and pulled her around to face him, she'd met his kiss with an eagerness and need that would have been embarrassing with anyone else.

But she was realizing more and more each day that for her, Weller had always been the exception.

Satisfied that the wounds still looked clean and free of infection— Doctor Scofield's meds had clearly done their job— she carefully patted them dry. They were scarring up well, and though they would always be a little jagged and uneven— something she'd already repeatedly reassured Weller had practically nothing to do with his stitching job and everything to do with the saw-toothed little sonofabitch that had skewered her— there didn't seem to be any major problems with the muscles underneath, and that was all she cared about.

Plus, it wasn't like she was a stranger to scars.

Moving back into their— her— bedroom, she suppressed a sigh at the sight of the crooked pillows and tangled sheets, then went to the closet and pulled out the first clothes she found. Mayfair had had to guess her size when giving the orders for the stocking of the safehouse, so they didn't all fit perfectly, but they were close enough— and at least they were all comfortable and practical, mostly just a small collection of tanks, longsleeve tshirts, and cargo pants.

Finding some underwear, she dressed automatically, mechanically, trying and failing not to think about the reason for this unscheduled visit, somehow all too certain that she already knew what it was.

Back in the chopper, Mayfair had told them that their time in the safehouse would purely be a temporary measure, only a matter of days, and had repeated the same at the briefing later that afternoon. Remi had accepted that; but then Mayfair's 'just a few days' had come and gone— and so had she, to tell them that she needed just a little more time.

So maybe this was it; maybe that extra time was now up, and she'd come to tell them that she'd made the arrangements for them at Quantico, that soon they would be leaving this place behind, finally free of each other at last.

Whether they wanted to be or not.

God, it wasn't long ago that she would have hated even the thought of being confined in a space like this with literally anyone for an entire week, and would have been contemplating either murder or escape— or a combination of both— from the very moment the door closed behind her.

But that was before; the carefully-controlled, deliberately solitary life that had gone up in flames with the helicopter, just like Weller's had.

Orion's goal had been to end their lives, and in a way it had succeeded; but it had also achieved the opposite.

Because the two of them had emerged from the ashes of their old lives together, and somehow— for now at least— it seemed like they were going to stay that way.

Still, being constantly by each other's side out in the desert was one thing, but some part of her had expected that to be here with him— living in this disconcertingly normal and domestic setting, their exclusion from any intel about Orion and their round-the-clock protective detail meaning that they basically had no greater concerns than what takeout to order— would be a challenge she couldn't handle.

But now, as she was faced with the idea of it coming to an end, she was forced to also face something else: that this tiny, sparsely-furnished government safehouse she'd just spent a week in had been the closest to a true home she had ever known.

Fuck.

Drawing in a slow breath, Remi made her expression carefully blank, then straightened her spine and walked out to the living room, finding Mayfair standing by an armchair with arms folded, and Weller sitting at one end of the couch, one glance at his face telling her he was also yet to learn of whatever Mayfair was here to say.

"Briggs, have a seat," Mayfair said by way of greeting, her voice serious. "I need to talk to the both of you."

The words themselves were nothing unusual, but there was something in her tone that set off immediate alarm bells; resisting the urge to flick another glance at Weller, Remi sat stiffly at the far end of the couch, leaving as much space between them as possible without it seeming deliberate.

"Alright, we're both here," Weller said, and she could hear the tension in it, his unease clearly matching her own. "What's this about, Mayfair?"

"I'm afraid I owe you both an apology," Mayfair answered, and Remi frowned slightly; whatever she'd been expecting, that wasn't it.

Eyes shifting from one of them to the other, Mayfair went on, "I promised that you would only be stuck in here a matter of days, but I've just come from a meeting with the brass at Quantico. They want you both to be fully physically recovered before you attend, so you don't struggle in the PFT and raise suspicion. Particularly you, Weller."

Remi had had those exact concerns herself, but she'd assumed Mayfair had already found a way around them, like simply having him exempted from the initial fitness test— they wouldn't start doing any practical training until several weeks in anyway, so they at least wouldn't have to worry about that. But if the Quantico officials wanted him at full fitness from day one, then...

"I spoke with Dr Scofield yesterday," Mayfair told Weller, both interrupting her thoughts and answering them. "And she advised it would likely be another month before your knee was sufficiently healed up, and only if you were diligent with your physical therapy. I'll provide you with everything you need to get back to normal strength and function, but until then, you will be staying here."

Turning her eyes to Remi, she added, "You both will be."

For a moment, neither of them reacted. Then, Weller gave a resigned sigh, rubbing his forehead, and Remi immediately rose to her feet, a swirl of emotions filling her.

"Another month, here?" she asked sharply, pinning Mayfair with her gaze. "Do we get any say in this?"

"The decision's made," Mayfair replied steadily, completely unfazed by her intensity. "And I don't want to place one of you in another safehouse, because firstly I can't spare the amount of agents that would be required for two separate protective details, and secondly, on the very off chance Orion does manage to get someone past our people, at least you'll stand a better chance of taking them on if there's two of you."

If she had been unsure how to feel a moment ago, even just the mention of Orion had more than taken care of that.

Because now, she was pissed.

"So we're just supposed to— what?" she snapped, eyes blazing. "Spend another month pretending Orion isn't out there, that they didn't try to assassinate us? That they're not just waiting for the chance to take us out?"

She'd already allowed Mayfair and Weller to convince her to put it out of her mind for an entire week, and as enjoyable as Weller's methods of distraction were, she couldn't keep sitting here playing house while Orion was still out there, still a threat to everything she cared about.

She needed to find them, needed to destroy them— but first, she needed something else.

And, seeing Mayfair hold up a hand, head dipping in a small nod of understanding, she suspected she'd just succeeded in getting it.

"I know it can't have been easy for either of you, being in the dark here, having to sit on the sidelines as others led this fight," Mayfair acknowledged, though her eyes were mostly for Remi. "I made that decision because you'd just been through hell and I needed you rested and ready for Quantico, but obviously the situation has changed."

Giving them both a pensive look, she paused for a moment, then added, "My team will still be doing everything they can to learn who is behind Orion and bring them down. But from now on I'll make sure you're provided with everything we have, so you can keep apprised and be prepared for when you do get out of here. And who knows, maybe one of you will see something we didn't."

It was exactly what she'd wanted since the moment she'd agreed to join the FBI, and now, finally, it was being handed to her; every bit of information ever collected about Orion, a giant puzzle of seemingly unconnected pieces— and, somewhere in there, the one piece that would lead her to them, that would be the very thing she would need to bring them down.

And now, she had an entire uninterrupted month to do it.

Clenching her jaw, Remi gave a tight nod, then wordlessly turned and stalked from the room, making sure to slam the bedroom door behind her.

Blowing out a heavy breath, she leaned back against the door, giving herself a moment to recover from everything she'd just felt, finally letting the mask drop.

And then, alone in the bedroom she shared with Weller, Remi smiled.

#########

Trying not to wince at the sound of the slamming door, Weller rubbed the back of his neck, then exchanged an awkward look with Mayfair.

"I'm sorry, Weller," she said after a moment, her tone faintly rueful. "I know you two bonded after everything you went through, but living together like this can't be easy."

Except it was. It wasn't without its awkward, uncertain moments, but for the most part it was natural and comfortable in ways he'd never even dared hope for, especially not so soon— and now he would get to see what another month together would bring.

So honestly, he was pretty fucking ecstatic right now.

Not that he could tell her that.

"She can be… a challenge," he acknowledged instead, his tone careful, his face having to work hard to suppress the stupid smile that desperately wanted to spread across it. But then Remi's words came back to him, and he immediately sobered, his breath escaping on a sigh. "I think it's just hard for her to feel so powerless. Hopefully the files on Orion should help. And if you have any prep material for Quantico, I'd appreciate that too."

"Good thought," she said, nodding, then favored him with a small smile. "I don't think either of you will need any extra help, but it can't hurt. I'll have some coursework delivered tomorrow."

Grateful, he smiled up at her. "Thanks, Mayfair. We both appreciate everything you've done for us."

As he said it, he saw her eyes flick towards the hallway that Remi had disappeared down, but she didn't comment— not that he needed her to. He knew the risk she'd taken, sticking her neck out to get Remi a place at Quantico with no more than some Navy performance records and his word to go by. And hell, if she or the FBI ever learned that she'd endorsed the paramilitary-trained daughter of a potential terrorist...

But they wouldn't. Remi had assured him that her past was buried deep, and given her years of unblemished service with the Navy, he believed it. He would just have to make sure no one ever had any reason to dig deeper, especially until she'd had the chance to prove herself, to show them all exactly where her loyalties lay. And if they doubted her, turned their back on her, then he would turn his back on them.

She hadn't chosen her upbringing, but she had chosen the path she would follow, just as he had.

And no matter what happened, they would walk it together.

"Dr Scofield sends you both her best wishes, by the way," Mayfair said, breaking the brief, thoughtful silence between them. "And I had word from that village you holed up in, too. Everyone is fine. Orion's men searched the village but didn't find anything to suggest either of you had ever been there, and no one admitted to knowing anything about you, so they eventually left."

"Oh, thank God," he breathed, shoulders slumping in relief. They'd been trying not to think about it too much, but he knew they'd both been waiting for news for days now, desperate to know that everyone was okay, that they hadn't condemned the people who had sheltered and aided them to torture or death at Orion's hands.

"The village elder also passed on a message," Mayfair added after a moment, one eyebrow lifting curiously. "He said that he sends his love to his grandchild. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Yeah, it does," Weller answered with a grin. "It means a lot. Thank you for passing it on."

For a moment she just looked at him, eyebrow still raised, then shook her head slightly.

"Alright, I've got to get going," she said briskly, then glanced again towards the hallway, adding quietly, "Good luck."

Giving her a wry look— one which hopefully gave the impression that the news about their continued living arrangements had been somewhat of a blow for him, too— he stood and walked her to the door, thanking her again and returning her farewell nod before closing the door behind her.

Locking it, he let out a slow breath, then forced himself to linger in the living room for a couple of minutes, just in case. Mayfair still seemed to have no idea about the true nature of his and Remi's relationship, but that didn't mean he didn't have to watch himself, didn't have to ensure he didn't do anything that might raise her suspicions. Personally, he didn't care at all if she knew— hell, he would have happily announced it to literally anyone who would listen if he could— but that didn't matter, because Remi did care.

He knew all too well just how much she hated anyone knowing anything about her, and how intensely she protected the more personal aspects of her life, because it wasn't long ago that he himself had been stuck on the outside of those defences, desperately wishing for a glimpse of literally anything that lay beyond them. Back in the desert, though, that wish had been granted— and then it had been granted again, and again and again, and then suddenly somehow he was one of the things behind those walls, one of the things she guarded more fiercely than almost any other.

So if she wanted what was between them to stay a secret, then that was completely fine by him.

And really, given the fact that they barely saw or interacted with anyone aside from each other— not to mention that their previous careful habits and her long-term birth control had saved them from having to ask their detail for an awkwardly large supply of condoms— it was a pretty easy secret to keep.

Deciding that it was now safe to assume Mayfair was well and truly gone and not about to knock at the door again, he ceased his pacing and headed straight for the bedroom, equal parts eager and apprehensive.

Slipping unobtrusively into the room, he found Remi standing by the window, arms crossed and face averted as she stared out through the slitted blinds.

"Hey. You okay?" he asked quietly, hovering by the doorway, already prepared to step back out and give her space.

"Yeah, Weller. I'm okay," she answered, still staring out onto the street, her voice equally quiet. Then, she looked over her shoulder at him, one brow arching slyly. "So... think she bought it?"

Shaking his head slightly, he let out a relieved chuckle. "Jeez, Briggs. You better thank me in your award speech."

Having spent enough time with her to easily recognize her unspoken invitation, he took a few steps closer and sat down on the end of the bed, still leaving her plenty of space over her side of the room. What he really wanted was to go to her and simply wrap her up in his arms— which, to be fair, was what he wanted pretty much all the time— but he didn't want to crowd her, especially given the news that they would now be in each other's space for a lot longer than either of them had ever expected.

For him, Mayfair's pronouncement had been a better gift than he could have hoped for, but that didn't mean it was the same for Remi. Some— or even most— of what she'd said back in the living room may have been an act, but he'd been able to tell there was truth in it, too.

And that was okay. When she was ready, she'd talk to him about it— and right now, for the first time since the crash, there was no ticking clock looming over them, no countdown that they were racing against.

Finally, they had time.

In those few short days out in the desert, he'd come to know her more than he'd ever dreamed he would, had somehow gotten past her walls and had been allowed to see who she really was underneath. But there was still so much more to learn, and though this last week had proved to be a steep learning curve— of more than one kind, every single one of which had delighted him— he knew that even another month here with her wouldn't even bring him close to knowing all of her.

Honestly, he'd be more than happy to dedicate the entire rest of his life to that particular endeavor— not that that was something he'd be telling her anytime soon, of course. She already knew how he felt about her; had undoubtedly known for sure ever since the cargo plane, and had probably suspected well before that, even though he'd been careful never to say it in so many words.

But this was a first for both of them, he knew, and he didn't want to rush anything, didn't ever want her to feel pressured or trapped.

So he would wait, for as long as it took. For this, for her, he could be patient.

Which was exactly what he was doing now, really; unbothered by the silence in the room, he simply sat quietly on the bed, content for them both to be alone together with their own thoughts.

Eventually, though, he heard her give a small sigh, her eyes still fixed on the street outside.

"Orion is still out there, Weller. And as long as they are, those targets are still on our backs."

"I know," he said simply, not needing to say anything more. They'd had this discussion before, multiple times, and it always came back to the same place: no matter how much they wanted to take down Orion, there was nothing that they could do that the team at the FBI wasn't already doing. They'd passed on everything they'd ever known about Orion at their initial briefing, and had added in the names of the mercenaries they'd encountered on the road to Khiratalam, as well as Roman's intel about a mole inside Orion— though the latter had involved some careful editing, given that the full truth would only lead to some awkward questions that neither of them particularly wanted to face.

Even so, though, they'd given Mayfair and her team everything they could— and that was about as far as their usefulness had extended.

But now, who knew; maybe one of them would see something in the case files Mayfair was going to bring them, and they'd make a connection that no one else had. Or hell, maybe Orion had somehow even discovered that they were now working with the FBI, and assumed that they had already spilled everything they knew, meaning there was no point in eliminating either of them now.

Not very likely, but hey, he could dream.

With another sigh, Remi turned from the window and crossed over to him, his knees automatically shifting to allow her to step between them, her eyes unreadable as she gazed silently down at him.

Staring up at her, he suddenly flashed back to that morning a week ago, when Mayfair had brought them to the safehouse and deposited them there with a brief set of instructions and an even briefer farewell, her departure leaving them standing alone in the living room, both staring wordlessly at the door.

He honestly had no idea who'd turned to who first, but he knew that less than a minute after Mayfair's exit, Remi had been in his arms, her mouth hot and insistent against his, their bodies locked together as they'd stumbled through the living room and into the hallway, collecting fresh bruises as they blindly bumped into furniture, doorframes, and walls, their clothes dropping to the floor like a trail of haphazard breadcrumbs that had led right here.

When they'd hit the end of the bed, she'd torn away from him and shoved him back onto it, leaving him sitting almost exactly as he was now— only far more breathless and significantly less composed— his eyes never leaving her as she'd wiggled free of the black sports bra and sensible black briefs that the doctor had provided for her, sure he'd never seen a hotter sight in his entire life.

Then, her hands had pushed at his shoulders, laying him back, her eyes meeting and holding his as she tugged his own underwear off of him, and he'd come to the abrupt and incredible realization that his list of hottest sights was only just getting started.

"What?" Remi asked suddenly, eyebrows drawing together in a faint frown, her voice pulling him abruptly back to the present.

"Nothing," he said lightly, hands curling around the backs of her thighs as he gave her a small, crooked smile. "I was just thinking of the morning we got here, that's all."

God, she could read him so easily; the frown vanished immediately, her gaze turning heated as her hands lifted to his chest, her palms sliding over his pecs and up to his shoulders before curling around the back of his neck, her nails scraping lightly over the soft skin at the base of his skull.

"Is that so?" she asked softly, eyes dropping to his lips and lingering there.

"Mmmhmm," he hummed in response, letting his own hands start to wander, enjoying the faint shivers they left in their wake.

"My memory is a little hazy," she said, the words slow and deliberately seductive, a spark of mischief lighting in her gaze as she lifted her eyes back to his. "Maybe you should remind me."

Shrugging slightly, he played along, just barely holding back his grin as he studiously feigned nonchalance. "It's the least I could do. Plus, I do owe you."

"Yeah, you do," she agreed huskily, leaning in— and then just as her lips almost brushed his, she abruptly let him go and stepped backwards, putting herself just out of his reach. "Now pay up, Weller."

It was a challenge he would never dream of refusing; in under a second, he was on his feet, and barely two seconds after that he had her pressed up against the wall, lips greedily covering hers, her body responding eagerly to his touch as her hands yanked at his clothes, clearly just as desperate for him as he was for her.

And as he lost himself in it, in her, there was something that he was suddenly and completely certain of.

It was going to be a fucking good month.

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Oh boy. So how are we all feeling about this new dynamic, and new setting? As you saw, I figured I'd start us off with a bang (lol), and set the tone for the rest of the fic... bc ngl, while FTA had what I would consider a fairly clear plot, this sequel is legit just going to be like thirty chapters (seriously, I have an outline already) of absolute shameless self-indulgence which will follow an overall plotline in much the same way that an overexcited dog goes for a walk without a leash. Like, we'll get where we're going eventually, but there's definitely going to be a lot of stopping to sniff stuff (aka as many tropes and cliches as possible) along the way haha.

That said, I'll tell you right now that none of tropes will be shitty ones like major character death or cheating, because those suck, and I'm here to have a good time and be happy, goddammit. Also, as you no doubt got a bit of an indication of already, there's gonna be a fair helping of smut in this story, which is not at all my usual thing (like... ever), so please be nice to me haha.

Also, an important note! The downside to the huge length of this fic is that my posting schedule might be a little slower once we get further down the track, considering I've only written about 11 chapters so far and I will now have to both edit the upcoming chapter and write new ones within the same week (and also you know... go to work... and sleep... etc). The upside is that because the story isn't fully written yet, if there is a particular plot/trope/idea etc that you would love to see, feel free to mention it in a review and I might even write it into the story! Let's get all interactive up in this business :P

Anyway that's enough from me. So once again, welcome back, and I really hope to hear your thoughts!

Thanks for reading x