“They say that home is where the heart is…”

I wake up when it’s dark outside. It becomes a part of your routine as you join the agency. “Night is our ally,” that’s one of the first things I’ve learned and accepted, even though I’ve preferred dawns. I had enough nights in my life, spending 22 years without any sunlight. I click my fingers to check the time - 4 am. I sigh. Twelve more hours till meeting with Erin.

I lean back to the soft pillows. I could use some sleep. Late arrival, exhausting getaway, jet lag. I thought I’ll sleep like a baby for a good twelve hours straight. I was dreaming about that, but my brain had a different plan. It always has. Speeding when I don’t need it to. Habits…

I wipe the rest of the sleep from my eyelids. It was a pleasant one, it was about Eric. It always is once I turn off the focus mode after the mission, even though I’m not supposed to. But come on, we are humans, not robots, even if we pretend to be so.

Mon York has always been a hard place for us. Headquarters and base of National Agency, where we spend a huge amount of time between missions, living a fake life for a cover story, reloading and preparing for the next missions. We saw each other more often than usual, but it’d better if we didn’t. It’s an exquisite torment: to see the person, every part of you is craving for, and not being able to allow yourself so much as an additional glance. Secret meetings and stolen minutes of precious time together aren’t helping, just leaving you craving for more. Once you feel the glimpse of possible happiness you don’t want to let it go. It’s like holding your breath after you discover the pleasure of oxygen in the air. You become greedy, you want all of it. This drives me crazy every time, nudging to get out of this city that suffocates me as soon as possible.

This time is different though. Haven’t seen Eric for a couple of month, due to the circumstances of our latest missions, I’m willing to accept even the exquisite torment. The desire to simply see him prevails. My brain circles back to our latest encounter in Mon York as I’m making myself some morning coffee. Ground bitter mocha. That’s how I feel. I take a sip. Yeah, that’s it. I dive into its taste, allowing my memories to surface.

I was taking the subway from the agency, waiting for the train on the empty platform as usual, when I felt his eyes smoldering my back. I know the feeling. I wouldn’t mix it with anything else.

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“What are you doing here?” I called out, feeling him ungluing from the wall, leaving just a shadow on it. It’s so reckless and mind-blowing at the same time. Always that edge.

“Making sure you get home safe, nothing more.” He approached leaving only a few feet’s between them, tickling my inner goosebumps as the hair in my arms goes up

and hushing my voice of reason as he always does.

“I can’t be seen with any man, you know.” I did a weak try to withstand this charm.

“I know.” He’s just two feet behind me. “I’m just waiting for a train here, just like you.” His breath reached a strip of bare skin on my neck, warming it, tickling its sensitive nerve endings.

“We are just a man and a woman, waiting for the train. Nothing more.”

I tried to keep my gaze straight, despite the arising temptation. The signal of approaching train chimed in just in time. Not sure how much longer I could have fought it. It’s stronger than me, some carnivore parts of myself, encrypted in my DNA, which ignite in a blink of an eye in Eric’s presence.

I got on the train and took the seat on the left. Eric took the one seat behind me. Just the safe distance to make it seem as an ordinary man and an ordinary woman. I turned away to the dark window, managing to catch a glimpse of his reflection. Handsome as always. Exhausted as always. The bruises under his eyes seemed to become bigger though. When was the last time he had a proper sleep? He could probably had a good one that night, but followed me here. Traced me like a predator, ignoring all the precautions for a few hours with me.

I lean over the kitchen counter like he did it with me. His warm torso pressing me into the marble coldness. Forgotten sensations run through my body. I fantomly feel his fingers brushing against my spine, his lips getting lost in my messy hair, his hot intermittent breathing tickling my earlobe… I swallow, clenching my fingers, trying to ignore the urge arousing inside. Not the time.

The whistle from my security system confirms that.

“Breakfast delivery, miss,” reports Linda, which oversees the smart home system in my apartment.

I examine the data of the drone, flying towards my balcony. Ours. The automatic scan confirms the content of the package – blueberry pancakes with banana milkshake. Good morning message from Carl, my boss. I would wonder how he knew that I’m awake at 5 am, but I know the answer. The biochip inside me automatically shares my healthy data with the agency. Not a lot of privacy but it turns out to be not that significant when it can save your life and it did, a couple of times.

I press my palm to the window, letting the package inside.

“Enjoy, your breakfast, Miss Moore,” announces the drone flying away.

I put pancakes on the plate, looking for the note on the bottom of the box. It’s pretty short: “6 pm, Grand Boutique opening, sleepover.”

I bring the note to the sink and put it under the hot water stream. The note disappears in a few seconds. One of a few valuable inventions of ecologists. I sit at the table, staring at the pancakes. Not much of appetite even though I really missed them in the desert. The note is to blame for that.

Carl doesn’t usually endorse spending time with other agents and here he goes, offering a sleepover at Erin’s. Something’s not right. He wouldn’t suggest it if it wouldn’t help some mission and there’s none it could help, at least those I know about. That’s what alerts me. The unknown unknowns don’t bother us but the known unknows do and suddenly the unknown unknown became a known unknown.