Quinn had come home from a 24 hour shift in the morning, and was still asleep. Usually, he would burn through his magic to get through the day, and sleep for a couple of hours when he got home, but it was well past noon now. It happened sometimes, Luka knew, that he forgot to set an alarm.

Luka leaned against the wall, watching him. Quinn was one of those people who would use all the available space when he was asleep, so when he was alone in his king size bed, he would drift towards the middle, taking up as much space as possible.

"Quinn," Luka said. He didn't stir.

He neared the bed and sat down beside him. He ran his fingers through his silky hair.

"Quinn."

He made a complaining sound, and Luka smiled.

"You're not supposed to sleep all day."

It would wreck his rhythm. Even with magic, being unable to sleep at night tended to be annoying.

"I know," Quinn mumbled. "What time is It?"

"Almost two," Luka said.

Quinn dragged himself up. "Okay," he said. "I'm awake."

"Good. I need you to do something for me."

"Of course," Quinn sleepily reached out for him, his fingers brushing the short hair at the back of his neck. "Would you have let me sleep if you didn't?" He asked.

Luka shrugged. "Maybe," he said, but of course he wouldn’t have been here at all if he didn’t.

Quinn shifted into half a sitting position. Luka thought he was going to kiss him, until he remembered that he was still mad at him. “You’re a terrible boyfriend.”

"I know. Am I forgiven?" Luka asked, even if the sleepy affection might be more habit than anything.

"Hardly," Quinn muttered, but he didn't move his hand. "Now, go away. I’ll be out in a minute."

"Sure," Luka said. "I'll make coffee."

Luka slid out of his grip, and left him to wake up properly. By the time Quinn emerged, wearing sweat pants and a faded t-shirt, Luka had two cups of coffee settled on the kitchen island. Quinn yawned, as he sat down and cradled the cup. "So, what do you need me to do?"

"Remove a tracker," Luka said.

Quinn sipped the coffee. "From where?"

"My neck," Luka said. "I think."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "You think?"

"I can barely feel it, but I'm pretty sure it's in my neck." He had checked. He had checked after leaving the hospital, but hadn't immediately felt anything off, so even though he still suspected Hadley had done something, he couldn't tell what. He thought maybe it wasn't in his body, that maybe he had bugged his phone. He hadn't been terribly concerned about it. Only after leaving Garrett, had he really focused on trying to find it. There was something, near his C4 vertebrae, but it was more of a feeling than a certainty.

"Okay," Quinn said. "Take off your shirt, and sit down."

Luka complied, unbuttoning his shirt, while Quinn grabbed a knife from a kitchen drawer. He should perhaps have been concerned about the lack of hygiene, but it wasn't like he was capable of getting an infection. He shrugged off his shirt, and sat down. Quinn repositioned a chair, and sat down behind him. "Where, exactly?"

Luka reached up and touched his neck. "Maybe. Like I said, it's vague."

He felt the tip of Quinn's fingers prod his skin, and then the blade cutting into his flesh. The pain was slower to hit, and only really came, once Quinn slid his fingers into the cut. It felt like he was digging deep into his neck, and Luka braced himself on the counter.

"I found it," Quinn said. "But this thing is… I don't know. It’s fused with your flesh, Luka. No wonder you can barely feel it."

"Well, fuck. If the Academy starts being clever, where does that leave us?"

"Don't give them too much credit. This is clearly the work of their spellcaster."

"So it's a spell?"

"You're the expert," Quinn said. "But I think so. At least partly."

Luka clenched his teeth, while Quinn cut out the tracker. He dropped the bloody lump on the kitchen counter, and Luka reached for it. It was a tiny piece of technology and a whole lot of him. He supposed it was possible that it had been spelled to mimic his body, and apparently fuse itself with it in the process.

He caught sight of the red glow out of the corner of his eye, and twisted. "Quinn," he protested, remembering that he was supposed to be infected. He grabbed his wrist, keeping it away from his damaged flesh.

Quinn eased out of his grip, looking slightly put out for a second, before placing his hand gently on his neck. "Luka, it’s okay."

"No," Luka said, before Quinn could activate his magic again. "Stop."

He stood up, making space between them. "As far as you know, I'm still infected."

"As far as I know?" Quinn repeated. "As far as I know, you wouldn't let me anywhere near you, if there was any chance I'd get infected."

"Maybe I expected you to have some common sense."

"Did you, really?"

Luka resigned himself to the truth. Quinn could read him better than anyone, even half asleep. "So, you knew."

"I suspected. How did you manage it?"

"I found the guy. He cured me."

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They’d been over this, but of course it was never going to be that simple, and Quinn knew that.

Quinn dropped the knife, as he rose from the chair, and it clattered against the kitchen counter. "Why?"

Luka turned away from him. He needed to watch him when he told him this, but he couldn't.

"Luka, what did you do?"

"I gave him someone better. Someone closer to the Council."

"Hadley," Quinn guessed.

Luka nodded.

"So, why exactly did you stop me?"

Luka looked at him now, and was surprised to find that Quinn wasn't judging him. He didn't care.

"You're safe," Quinn explained, reading Luka's emotions perfectly. "And you will fix this. That's the important part."

"I stopped you, because you didn't know," Luka said. "You would have exposed yourself to heal a minor injury."

Quinn cradled his face. "I did know," he said, “but maybe now you'll appreciate what it's like to have a reckless asshole as a boyfriend." Luka shrugged off his touch. "You're not allowed to be stupid and reckless."

"Hypocrite," Quinn said, but he was smiling.

"You knew who I was from the beginning, Quinn. You don't get to complain." He moved back, but Quinn caught his arm.

"So, can I heal you now?"

Luka let himself be pulled back into Quinn's space. "Right," he said.

He sat back down, facing Quinn this time. Quinn remained standing, his legs grazing Luka's inner thighs, as he moved close. He traced Luka's jawline with his fingers, before sliding them towards the back of his neck, where he called his magic to the surface. His hands were gentle, but his healing wasn't. Some mages would numb the nerves around the wound, trying to make the healing as painless as possible, but it was a waste of energy. For that reason, he was glad Quinn didn't subscribe to that method, although he had to admit it wasn't an altogether pleasant experience to be healed the quick and efficient way. He winced as the magic started stinging. His hand clutched Quinn's arm, and he hissed once the wound closed and a stab of pain shot down his spine. He reached back, running his fingers over the new scar. He couldn't feel anything, except the lingering soreness, and he knew the scar would fade. Quinn was one of the best Healers he had ever seen, and rarely left marks. His other hand was still gripping Quinn's arm, and he eased off, but kept his hand on him.

Quinn carefully tipped his head up and kissed him. Blood stained his fingers, and left prints on Luka's skin. Luka slid out of the chair, and pinned Quinn against the counter. He kissed him harder, teeth grazing his soft lips and fingers digging into the flesh at his hips. His other hand was perched on his chest, grazing the embroidered logo on his t-shirt, sitting like a badge of honor beside his heart. Luka's fingers lingered on the fabric, before sliding them under the hem of the shirt, and Quinn obediently lifted his arms to allow him to pull it off. The kiss only broke for a second, and Luka's hands returned to his skin a second later, landing on his neck, before he slid them down his body, from his chest to the edge of his pants. He pulled back, dragging him towards the bedroom.

Quinn was never more transparent than during sex, and now Luka saw clearly that he wasn’t forgiven. It wasn’t that he became aggressive, or even distant, but there was nevertheless something that felt impersonal — felt like he was getting a glimpse of what Quinn was like as a one night stand. It was understandable, even justified, but Luka just couldn’t afford to fix them yet, not before he had fixed everything else.

Laying back on the bed, Luka nearly dozed off, while Quinn traced the ridges of his ribs. He ran his fingers along the new scars there, the ones he wasn't familiar with yet. "They really lack finesse, don't they?"

Luka murmured an affirmative. He knew they weren't pretty. They were thick, red lines, that were unlikely to fade. He knew Quinn would barely have left a mark. He stirred himself, and pulled his fingers through Quinn's hair. "I know I should have called you."

Quinn looked at him. "As long as you're alive," he said. He pushed himself up, restless after his six-hour nap. "What happens now?" he asked, as he started pulling on clothes.

"What?" Luka muttered, still only about two-thirds awake. He had barely slept since the coma, and hadn’t planned on changing that, but being in a bed was shifting his priorities.

"You have the cure. You know where the bad guy is. So, it's done?"

Luka swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and dragged his hands through his hair. "I was cured. I don't have the cure."

"Right," Quinn said. "But the cure is still there, isn't it? It didn't just cancel out the virus, it reacted to it."

Luka frowned. It should have occurred to him, but it hadn't. Because he didn't think like a doctor, not like Quinn did. "Yeah," he said. "Maybe."

He got out of bed and dressed, picking out one of Quinn's shirts, rather than returning to the kitchen for his own.

"Where are you going?" Quinn asked.

"To think," Luka responded, and was out the door. He headed for the elevator, taking it to the top floor and finding the roof access. Authorized personnel only signs didn't stop him, as he pushed open the door and found himself approximately 684 feet above street level. There was barely any sound except the wind. No distractions. The perfect place to think. He stepped off the stairs, and walked around to the other side of the entrance, where he wouldn't be immediately spotted by a maintenance worker. He lit a cigarette, and was already starting to feel jittery from the absence of nicotine. He resented the way the addiction was starting to control him. He usually kept his smoking to a minimum, so he wouldn't need it. He didn't want to be dependent on it, but he had smoked so much lately that it was becoming a problem. The two days he had spent in the hospital were only making things worse. He would have forced himself into withdrawal if not for two things: First, using this spell on himself required something like meditation, something he had never been good at. He was a lot better at it with smoke burning in his lungs. Second, he wouldn't be able to stop as long as he was in this mess. He would quit for a while when it was over. He slid down the wall, and settled on the ground. It was warm from the sun, and the heat took a moment to get used to. He closed his eyes, placed his hands on his knees, and focused.

It wasn't like he could see the structure of the spell. Not really. It was more like a feeling for the elements of it. He could see what it did, how it affected the body, how it affected magic, but he couldn't see how it was put together. With the cure layered on top, he could maybe get a feel for how to construct a cure of his own. What it needed to be able to do, what it needed to affect. There were redundancies in the cure as well, but they became more obvious when layered on top of the virus. The cure wasn't as meticulously constructed. It wasn't meant to be impossible to solve, because he wasn't really supposed to use it as a piece of the puzzle. At least, he doubted that had been Garrett's intention.

He heard the door slam, and knew it was Quinn. It pulled him out of his trance, and when he blinked his eyes open, he found that the light had shifted. Quinn appeared next to him, holding out a bottle of water.

"Here," he said.

Luka took it, and Quinn slid his fingers into his hair. It was ruffled from the wind, and Quinn carefully combed it back into place, even though it was a futile gesture.

"Making progress?"

Luka nodded. "I can do it, but it's difficult."

He cracked open the bottle of water and took a sip, wishing it was coffee.

"So, it's over." He sounded relieved, but he should know better. Luka couldn't just hand over the cure and walk away. Even if they had spellcasters, who could cure people, that wasn't the end of the job.

"It’s not that simple.“

“Isn’t it?”Quinn asked. “Because it should be.”

“I infected Alice, Quinn. I have to—”

“Be the hero? Yeah, of course you do.”

Luka forced himself to take a breath. He might not have the capacity to appease Quinn, but there was no reason to make it worse.

“I owe her,” he said instead.

“I’m sure you do,” Quinn said, quieter now, more resigned. “I just wish I didn’t see it.”

“See what?” Luka asked, even though he almost certainly didn’t want to know.

Quinn hesitated for a few breaths, before he answered. "I know who you are. I know you're…" He hesitated to add the word, "reckless," because it didn't quite fit. He wasn't reckless. He wasn't suicidal. It might be more fair to say that he was dangerously pragmatic, but reckless got the point across. “It has just never been deliberate like this, and I…” He shook his head. “Please, Luka. Don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Stay with them.”

“Stay? Quinn, even if I wasn’t on a limited contract, I’m a traitor. There is no staying. I’ll be lucky if they don’t execute me.”

Quinn puffed out an approximation of a laugh.

“What?”

“A week ago, you’d have said that you would never work for the Council.” He turned away. The wind seemed to grab his words and toss them in the wrong direction, but they were still clear enough. “Besides, you’re wrong. Executing you would be a waste, Luka. They would much rather control you.”

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that there is more than one way to be imprisoned."