Chapter 20

TWENTY

LONDON

Asher woke up in a bed, lights bright, machines beeping. The smell told him it was a hospital.

He remembered then . . .

Harry saving him. Carrying him up to safety, then crumpling to the ground.

He remembered the medic fussing over Harry, frantic, barking more orders and jabbing him with needles. They'd been carried to a helicopter. So many strange faces, so many noises.

Until there was only darkness.

And now he was here.

Not that he knew where here was.

Harry.

He needed to find Harry.

He sat up and a hand pushed him back down. "Stay there," a man said. A doctor, accent English.

"Harry," Asher tried, his voice hoarse.

The doctor smiled at him. "He's right there." Asher followed his line of sight and found a bed beside his, Harry's big frame filling the bed.

He was so still, covered in white patches, hooked up to so many machines.

"Is he . . . is he okay?" Asher asked.

The doctor smiled again. "He will be, considering he survived this far. He's rather resilient."

Asher's eyes burned with tears, and as he sagged back onto the bed, his own injuries making themselves known, but he never took his eyes off Harry.

And as the doctor asked Asher questions, checked him over, explained the extent of his injuries—fractured eye socket, broken nose, multiple lacerations, the list went on—Asher never took his eyes off Harry.

Even as the pain ebbed at his consciousness and as the chemical relief swept him under, Asher never took his eyes off him.

The next time he woke up, Asher startled, checking to see if Harry was still in the bed beside his. The nurse reassured him that Harry's condition was stable. He didn't seem to have moved a muscle in the bed next to his, just completely still. A nurse came over and checked Asher's machine.

"Everything okay?" she asked. "Your heart rate went up there."

As long as Asher could see Harry, he'd be okay. He nodded, relaxing back, and the nurse seemed to realise. She gave him a smile. "He's doing better," she said quietly. Then her smile softened. "You know, we were told not to separate you. Said the big guy wouldn't take it well if we did."

Asher half smiled, half cried. "Thank you."

She asked him a few questions about his pain level, how his face and eye felt, if he could see with his good eye. She was English too.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Royal Hospital in London."

Then he remembered . . .

"What about Yunho?" he asked.

The nurse wasn't sure at first, confusion on her brow. "Oh, the other man that had been held with you?"

Asher had no clue what Yunho's situation was. Or what name he'd been admitted under, and Asher probably shouldn't have used Yunho's real name. Hell, Asher didn't even know which name he'd been admitted under. He nodded. "Yes. He's Korean."

Her face softened again. "I can't really say, but I can tell you he made it through surgery."

Surgery.

Jesus.

"And Lucas," Asher asked. "He's English. Was he with Harry?" He glanced again at Harry's bed. He couldn't remember seeing Lucas when Harry had rescued him...

The nurse patted his shoulder gently. "I don't know who that is. But I'll see what I can find out."

"Thank you," Asher said weakly.

"You need to rest," she urged. "I'll see about bringing you some soft food."

Asher didn't care for food.

He waited until she was gone, then peeled back the blankets and crept out of bed. He was woozy, dizzy, he hurt all over, and he was so freaking tired, but he took the few steps to Harry's bed, sliding his hand over Harry's and squeezing his fingers.

Harry looked like he'd been through a shredder.

Asher's whole chest felt heavy, the burden of Harry's suffering too much to bear. He sobbed and leaned over him, resting his head on Harry's chest.

"My love," he murmured. "Please be okay."

Two other nurses were there then, urging him back to bed. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to leave him ever again.

"No," he pleaded. He didn't care if he was being pitiful. "Please let me stay. I need to be near him."

"Mr Garin," one nurse said, her gentle hand on his shoulder. "Please."

He reluctantly stood up, his fingers still laced with Harry's. "Harry," he whispered, "I'm here. I'm right here."

Harry's fingers moved, and he squeezed Asher's hand.

"He moved his hand," Asher told them. "He's holding my hand."

The nurses both stilled, watching and waiting, and Asher held his breath.

Then Harry opened his eyes.

Pain was something Harry was used to. His tolerance for it well exceeded normal levels, and he'd had some gruesome injuries in his time. He'd been able to endure pain with no more than a hiss that would have rendered other men useless.

But this felt different.

He hurt all over; bones, muscles, skin.

And he was tired .

So fucking tired.

He wanted to sleep forever. He wanted sleep to ease the pain, both sharp and dull, the stings, the aches. God, even his bones were heavy, aching and leaden. As if a weight was holding him down.

But then Asher's touch, his voice, broke through the surface.

Harry blinked awake, and then there was Asher's face. Still bruised, still swollen, but still beautiful. He sobbed and threw himself at Harry, burying his face in his neck as he cried.

"Hey," Harry croaked.

Asher mumbled something into his neck, the tears and hot breath on his skin felt so good.

But then a guy in a white coat was there, and Asher was gone. The doctor leaned over him, shining a pen light into his eyes that pierced Harry's brain.

If he could have lifted his hand, he'd have grabbed that pen and stabbed him with it.

But he was so heavy.

Morphine, Harry realised.

The doctor spoke, telling him where he was, what his injuries were, but Harry couldn't focus. He closed his eyes and let the blessed drug take him.

When Harry woke up again, Asher was sitting beside him. He'd showered, his face, neck, and hair clean from all the blood, he looked better. Still bruised and cut, but better. He grinned when Harry's eyes opened.

"Hey you," he said, gripping Harry's hand in both of his .

"Hey," Harry managed. He slow-blinked, taking in Asher's bruised face. "You okay?"

Asher nodded, then shook his head. "I'm better now you're awake."

Harry took a breath in, his lungs and ribs both protesting. "Tired."

"You need to rest," Asher said. "Your body needs to rest. You... you've been through a lot." His chin wobbled. "God, baby. I never thought I'd see you again. I thought you were dead."

Harry squeezed his hand. "I thought you were too."

"You . . . you have a lot of injuries," Asher whispered. "What they did to you . . ."

"I'm okay," Harry said, relishing in the warmth of Asher's hands. He tried to smile, even though his jaw hurt. "We made it."

They had made it out alive, that much was true. But it was only because they had outside help. That team of men almost half Harry's age. They were the reason Harry and Asher had made it.

Asher nodded, tears falling down his cheeks. "We did." Then he swallowed hard. "Yunho's okay. Well, he will be. Lucas... Lucas is in bad shape."

Harry remembered seeing Lucas in the light of that small room. His bruises, the pool of blood on the floor.

"He's MI6," Harry whispered.

Asher nodded. "And Yunho was in on it, somehow. Not with the bad guys, but he did things, Harry. Not good things." Asher sniffed, another tear escaping his good eye. "He said he'll tell me everything. But I don't... I don't know what to think or what to believe. He's not who I thought he was. Neither of them are."

Harry squeezed Asher's hand the best he could. "Baby. Let's wait to hear what he has to say. Then if you want me to kill him, I will."

Asher's lip curled into a smile and he chuckled. "You're so sweet."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. "So tired."

He felt a soft kiss on his forehead. "Sleep, my love."

Two days later, Asher was at Harry's bedside when he woke up again. This time from surgery to repair his shoulder. A complete tear of the acromioclavicular ligament, as well as a partial tear of the coracoclavicular ligaments. How Harry had even managed to move his arm at all without screaming was a testament to his pain tolerance.

How he'd carried Asher up those stairs was a testament to pure will and determination.

How he'd held up Radovic and gutted him and then crushed his windpipe was something else.

Unmatched rage and protective fury, Asher could guess.

Radovic had been one centimetre from killing Asher. He'd also been Asher's childhood tormentor and abuser. One of them, anyway.

He got the end he deserved, and Asher wasn't one bit sorry.

Asher was sitting on the edge of Harry's bed and helped him sip some water when two men came into the room. One white guy, one Asian. Both in their twenties, wearing jeans, black jackets and caps, though their boots told Asher they were likely military.

This was a military hospital, after all .

The shorter of the two, the Asian-looking guy, grinned at Harry, seeing his shoulder strapped and his arm tucked up to his chest. "Need me to get you a sippy cup, big guy?"

What the fuck?

Asher didn't care if that was one of the most bogan Australian accents he'd ever heard. No one spoke to Harry like that. He took the teaspoon off the tray and slid off the bed. He'd never stabbed anyone with a spoon before but he was about to.

The taller guy pulled the shorter guy behind him, put his hand up in a show of surrender, but he rolled his eyes and kind of laughed. "Jesus. Sorry."

Hm. Both Australian.

Harry stared at them, and the taller guy put his hand to his chest and said, "Captain." Then he pointed his thumb at the shorter guy. "Medic. Remember us?"

Harry smiled at them, so Asher relaxed, still eyeing the one called Medic.

"We look a bit different in civvies," Captain said.

"I should have recognised the attitude from the little one," Harry said, trying to sit up, wincing at his shoulder.

Asher went to him, fussing, not sure where to touch. "You gotta take it easy," he whispered.

"Told ya your shoulder was fucked," Medic said. "Next time you might listen."

Harry took the spoon from Asher and held it like a weapon. "Come closer."

Captain chuckled as he gave Medic a shove. "Christ, don't upset him."

They both stared at Harry for a long moment, probably remembering what Harry had done to Radovic. Or maybe they finally noticed every single scar on Harry's chest and arms. A decade of war, now silver lines of survival on his skin.

"We just wanted to see how you were holding up," Captain said, softer this time.

Asher felt oddly protective of Harry. He touched his arm, the side of his face, and he smiled at him. "He's doing fine."

"They'd have had better luck trying to stop a tank, huh?" Captain said.

Harry smirked, kind of. "Maybe. Not feeling real invincible right now, I gotta say." Then he sighed. "Thank you. For everything."

"You were almost dead," Medic said. "In that room, when we found you. And in the chopper on the way here." He smiled at Harry with something that may have been respect. "Pretty sure no other man would have survived."

Harry smiled, his jaw obviously sore. He still had the molar but maybe wouldn't have it for long. "Currently held together by surgical glue, stitches and staples. And morphine."

"Not up for another mission?" Captain asked, grinning.

"Fuck no," Harry said. "I'm too old for that shit. You young pups can have it. I'm done."

Asher squeezed Harry's hand, so very happy to hear that. Growing old together had never sounded so good.

"Istomin has been charged," Captain volunteered. "He's finished. And his men, and half a dozen politicians from several countries, and officials in almost every level of government. Cops too." He gave a smile to Asher. "Your run in with the press blew the whole ZBK thing wide open. Once the media got hold of it, reporters, whistleblowers, witnesses, you name it. It's a shitshow. The UN, Nato, the EU. It's big news."

Asher was almost embarrassed. "I didn't do it to blow it open. I mean, I hoped it would. I just wanted some backup to turn up at the old compound we were going to."

"Both your faces on TV," Captain said quietly, "was the reason we got the call, just so you know. We were already watching the situation. We knew Yunho and Lucas were missing but we didn't know where they were. Then there was the murder of Rozga and his whole chapter of men." He made a face. "So we knew where you two were, and we hoped you'd lead us to find Yunho and Lucas."

It was almost as if they'd used Asher and Harry as bait as well. But Asher couldn't bring himself to be mad. They had saved them after all.

Captain smiled. "But when you plastered yourselves on every TV and newspaper across the world, we knew shit was about to go down, and we had to move."

"Our identities are blown. Names, faces," Asher said flatly. Harry would need the Australian government to get him home, but Asher didn't have any government or embassy to help him, and without Yunho's help...

"I'm supposed to be dead," Harry said. "So the whole Parrish case is probably fucked."

Captain shook his head. "No. Your friend took care of that." Asher and Harry both stared at him to clarify. "Mr Oh Yunho. With the ADF, he's been an integral part of the whole thing to bring them all down, and to clear both your names. Him and Agent Edwards."

With the Australian Defence Force?

"MI6 and the ADF," Harry whispered. "Together."

"And other agencies," Captain said. "It's a joint effort. "

"Like the Milvus Division," Harry added.

The Milvus Division.

Asher couldn't believe it when Harry had told him. It hurt to hear it from him then, like it hurt to hear from this Captain now. Asher needed to speak to Yunho. To see him.

He hadn't wanted to even think about it before now. He'd been so mad, so unsure. He wasn't ready to hear of his closest friend's betrayal. Yunho had been the only family Asher had known, and to think it'd all been a lie. Asher wasn't sure he could cope. Certainly not without Harry by his side, and before his shoulder surgery it wasn't possible.

But now . . .

But now Asher needed to see Yunho.

He needed to know. All the secrets, all the lies. He needed to know it all.

"Have you heard how Lucas is?" Asher asked. They'd had no real updates, and whether that was because it was classified or if they just weren't privy to know.

"He's alive," Medic said. "How on earth he lived through that, I do not know. He was..." He made a face. "He'll have a very long recovery, and permanent injuries aren't known yet." He put up both hands. "That's all I know."

"We need to go find Yunho," Asher said. "He's here, yes?"

Medic gave a nod. "ICU. You probably wouldn't have been able to see him before now anyway."

Asher nodded. He knew Yunho had some significant injuries. He'd seen him, beaten, drooling blood, gasping for every breath. But hearing the words ICU stung.

He turned to Harry and took his hand. "I need to see him. "

Harry gave him a smile. "Of course."

"We should, uh, we should leave you guys to it," Captain said, taking a step back.

"Thank you," Asher said quietly. "For saving us. For bringing Harry to get me."

"No problem."

Medic looked right at Harry and put his hand out as if he were stopping traffic. "No, don't get up. We'll see ourselves out."

Harry snorted, grinning, and beckoned him closer. "Come here, little man."

Medic grinned and took a bravely stupid step closer, but Captain put his arm on his shoulder and turned him toward the door instead. "Nope. Not today," he said, walking him out. He smiled over his shoulder at both Harry and Asher, keeping his arm around Medic as they disappeared through the door.

They were cute. In a not-old-enough-to-shave kind of way.

"So they're letting school kids be tactical officers now," Asher said, nodding slowly. "How old are they, exactly?"

Harry snorted. "Toddlers."

"Medic's funny."

Harry glowered at him. "He's a smartass."

"He's not intimidated by you at all," Asher said. "I like him."

"You were going to stab him with a spoon."

Asher sighed, and taking Harry's hand, he threaded his fingers. "We're too old for this game, Harry."

"I know. All I want is our little house in the woods where there are no people."

"Well, no people trying to kill us, anyway," Asher allowed. "It'd be a good start. "

Harry nodded, his blinks getting slower. "I hope we can go home."

"Same, my love." He didn't want to mention the whole passport issue and how he now didn't have one. Didn't have any chance of getting one with Yunho in hospital.

He didn't even have a country with which he could apply to.

He didn't have a clue how he even got into England. He had no clue how he'd leave.

Maybe they'd have to live here now . . .

"Hey," Harry murmured, giving Asher's hand a shake. "We'll be okay. No matter where we are. Remember how once you told me your home wasn't a place, it was me? Well, my home is you. Wherever you are, that's where I'll be."

Asher nodded, teary-eyed. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Harry's. "Wherever you are, that's where I'll be."

He blinked and struggled to open his eyes again. "So tired."

"Sleep. I'll be right here."

Harry extended his good arm. "Lie here with me."

It wasn't likely they'd fit, but Asher wasn't going to say no. He climbed up and gently pressed himself against Harry's side, his huge arm curling around Asher's shoulders.

Asher breathed him in, feeling the warm skin of his naked chest. Asher sighed, everything in this moment, if just for this moment, felt right.

He felt like home.

The next morning, Harry showered and managed some semi-solid food. His jaw still hurt, like most of him hurt, but man, a shower had never felt so good.

His lung was healing, as were all the stab wounds and cuts. His shoulder hurt like a bitch but the drugs helped. Made him more agreeable too, according to Asher.

Harry didn't like the drowsiness that came with it though. Much like he didn't like the hospital policy that he was in a wheelchair when he and Asher went to see Yunho.

Asher was happy to push him though, chuckling as Harry grumbled about it. The ICU was on a different floor and down a corridor, and Asher pushed him slowly. The fetid smell of disease and disinfectant had always made Harry uneasy.

Or maybe it was knowing they were about to see Yunho, about to find out everything.

Harry worried about Asher and how he'd take the news.

They only had a short time, prearranged with the medical staff, of course. And Harry and Asher really didn't know what shape Yunho would be in.

Maybe they wouldn't find anything out today.

Lies and deceit aside, Harry hoped Yunho would be okay. He'd always liked him, and Yunho had done a lot for Harry. And he'd helped Asher immensely over the years; he'd been like a father to him. Asher had trusted him.

And now that trust was gone.

Regardless of what they learned today.

They were escorted into the ICU by a straight-backed, no-nonsense nurse. She told them that Yunho was medicated for extreme anxiety. She gave strict instructions on dos and don'ts and led them past privacy curtains to a bed in the corner of the large room.

Asher let out a deep breath and opened the curtain.

The man in the bed looked old and small, frail. Harry briefly wondered if they'd brought them to the wrong patient, but as soon as he saw Asher, he burst into tears.

It was Yunho.

He just looked like he'd aged a decade in a few days.

It didn't help that half his face was swollen and purple, the other half banged up and bruised. His longish dark hair was unwashed, peppered with more grey than Harry remembered.

Christ, he looked so small.

And he was crying, trembling, and trying to speak but struggling with words. Harry realised then, that Yunho—with his severe anxiety and agoraphobia—had been left alone, no visitors, probably no word on any of them, if anyone had survived.

Harry tried to imagine going through the last few days not knowing if Asher was okay. They would have needed to sedate him with a tranq gun from fifty yards.

It made Harry see Yunho in a different light. Lies and deceit aside, this was a broken man.

Asher went to him, sat on the bed and hugged him, cried with him, and it damn near broke Harry's heart.

Asher pulled back and cupped Yunho's face, taking in the damage. "Is Lucas okay?" Asher asked quietly.

Yunho gave a small nod. "Alive. Barely. I've seen him one time," he mumbled, holding up one finger before sobs wracked him. "What they did to him."

Harry had seen Lucas. Not one inch of him wasn't bleeding .

"He's MI6," Asher said, remaining cool. His guard was up and Yunho knew it.

He nodded again, more tears falling. "I know, I know. I'm so sorry, Asher. I wished I could have told you. So many times."

"You were working with MI6 all these years," Asher said.

"I worked with many governments," Yunho whispered. "Many."

When it all came down to it, Harry wasn't surprised by this. But those waters were really fucking murky, and the fact Asher did Yunho's groundwork, it meant his hands were dirty too.

"I will tell you everything, my darling," Yunho said, reaching for Asher's hand, but Asher pulled his back.

"You knew my real name," Asher whispered. "?iro Savi?."

Yunho sobbed and nodded. "I wanted to tell you."

"Then why didn't you?" Asher was trying to keep his anger, his pain, in check, Harry could see it. "You knew what it would have meant to me. My whole damn life, I never knew who I was or where I was from. You knew what a single fucking name would have meant to me."

Yunho cried and cried, holding his arm against his side, wincing at his pain. "I'm so sorry, Asher. I was going to tell you, but..."

"But what?"

"But there was nothing left. No family, no home. Everyone was dead, killed in the war. I thought learning you had a family only to know they were gone would be too much. You had already been through so much. I wanted to protect you. I'm sorry. "

"It wasn't your decision to make," Asher said, his voice just a whisper.

"I know, I'm sorry," Yunho sobbed. "I couldn't bear the thought of hurting you. I'm so sorry, darling. I was going to tell you one day, but I was never brave enough. The longer I left it, the harder it was. And then you met Harry and you were finally happy. Forgive me, Asher, please. I'm so sorry."

Asher was quiet for a long few seconds. He didn't say Yunho was forgiven, and Yunho seemed to understand that he wasn't.

"The Milvus files," Asher said, his voice calm. "You knew what that was years before us."

"I contracted a lot of agents," Yunho said. "Kites, like Harry. I knew where most of them were at any given time, who they were working for, who they were contracted to kill."

This made sense to Harry, as harsh a reality as it was.

But that wasn't Asher's point, clearly. He spoke through clenched teeth. "You had information on Harry."

Yunho's head shot up, his good eye open wide. "Of course I did. Did you think I was going to let anyone get close to you that I didn't have a complete history on? Asher, I needed to know he wouldn't hurt you."

"He's not the one who hurt me," Asher whispered. "You are."

Yunho stared at him, then his ruined face crumpled. He sobbed, and clung to his side, his breaths ragged. "I'm sorry, my Asher. I'm so very sorry."

The nurse came back in, scowling at Asher and putting a sympathetic hand on Yunho's shoulder. "You need to rest," she said. Then her curt glare cut to Asher, then to Harry. "You both need to leave." She pressed Yunho's meds button and he calmed down in seconds.

Asher stood up and took Yunho's hand. "I'll come back and see you tomorrow," he said quietly. "I can't forgive you. Not yet. I need time, and we need to talk a lot more. But I'm not leaving you. I love you, Yunho. I'm not leaving you." He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Yunho's forehead. "I'll see what I can find out about Lucas and let you know."

Yunho blinked slowly, tears running silently down his bruised cheeks.

Asher turned and he never said a word as he pushed Harry back to their room.

Exhaustion crept over Harry and he couldn't shake it. For fuck's sake. He'd been out of bed for half an hour and was about to drop off. He couldn't imagine if he'd walked instead of using the chair.

Maybe the wheelchair wasn't so bad. Maybe the doctors knew what they were talking about. Not that Harry would tell them that...

When Harry was settled on his bed, he offered the little spoon spot to Asher.

Asher climbed up, buried his face into Harry's neck, and cried.

"You sure you want to do this?" Harry asked. He wanted to save Asher from pain at all costs. Whatever it took.

Asher gave him a sad smile. "I need to do this."

"Okay." Harry understood. He really did. Asher did need to do this. And so did Yunho. But it wasn't without pain, and all Harry could do was reassure him. "I'll be right beside you, baby."

When they arrived, Harry was surprised to see Yunho showered, his hair still damp and brushed back. He looked more put together, more like himself.

His face looked sore and battered. He was bruised and cut all over, Harry noticed. A lot like Harry's injuries. Those assholes learned the same torture skills.

"Harry," Yunho said, swallowing hard. "Sorry for not greeting you properly yesterday. You're in a wheelchair," he said. "And your shoulder..."

Harry still wore the sling, and he would for a while yet.

"I'm fine," Harry replied. "The chair isn't my idea. Are... are you okay, Yunho?"

Yunho's eyes became glassy, and he patted down his hair with trembling hands. "Well, yes... not really. I don't like it here. I want to go home, but I won't leave without Lucas."

It was pretty damn obvious that Yunho's anxiety meds were strong. The sharpness in his eyes and the clarity of his words were now dulled and slow.

At least he wasn't freaking out.

Not outwardly, anyway.

"And you, Asher?" Yunho asked quietly, nervously. "Are you okay?"

Asher sat on the side of the bed and reached out, taking Yunho's hand. "I'm fine. The least injured of all of us."

Yunho nodded, scrubbing a tear from his not-swollen cheek. "I'm just so sorry," he began. "Words cannot convey how sorry I am."

"You were taken," Asher said. "We saw the footage. We saw Narong's body. And Aranya. "

Yunho nodded, crying fresh tears. "That poor, sweet girl."

They were all quiet for a moment.

"I knew you would come," Yunho said. "I tried to tell you not to, I didn't want to involve you, but I knew you wouldn't listen."

"Radovic sent men to kill us in Tallowwood," Asher explained. "We were already involved."

Yunho gasped, his hand to his heart. "What? I didn't know, I swear."

"No. It was that young kid, Yixing. He hacked into your system or something. I don't understand all that." Asher sighed. "He was actually pretty smart. For a kid."

"Not too smart though," Yunho said.

"You used some kind of trip key? Or location key? That's what I heard, anyway."

"Yes, when he accessed what he thought was my finances, it tripped the satellite tracker."

"You called Istomin the bait," Asher said. "Before Harry and the rescue team arrived. You told him he was the bait."

Yunho nodded. "To bring them down. The plan was, originally, to send in one of the Milvus teams to bring him down. Before he could plant his men in the senate, and not just in his own government; he had men all over. But them kidnapping us changed the plans. Objectives change, you know this, Asher. When things go sideways, you have to adapt. But the goal never changed. To bring down Istomin. He thought capturing me was the ultimate plan to lure you in. And it worked, but Asher, you have to believe me, you were never supposed to be there. But when he found out that Radovic had you, after the press conference, he came in. He knew he could use you. His friend, Sergey Volkov, we eliminated him a few years ago. He was not a good man. He and Istomin were setting up for war. I don't know if you remember Volkov?—"

"I remember," Asher said. Asher hadn't been too concerned with the whys of it all back then. Maybe he'd been wrong for trusting so blindly. Like Harry had been with the orders he was given by his ‘government' all those years.

"But Istomin was the bait all along," Yunho said. "He was our target. Istomin and his drive for war and money."

"A new cold war," Asher whispered.

Yunho nodded. "Political unrest and fascism is never far under the surface, Asher. He got way too close."

Harry wasn't sure what he believed. Everything Yunho was saying made sense, and as crazy as it sounded, Harry knew it was possible.

Asher did too.

He nodded slowly. "Was I the bait?" Asher asked. "In all the years I've known you, did you ever use me as bait?"

"No."

"But you did this time," Asher whispered. "To further your ties with the Australian government, with Lucas and MI6. You did use me. And I can live with that. But you used Harry, like he was a fucking pawn in some fucked-up game," Asher said, his voice a little shaky. "And I'm not sure that's something I can ever forgive."

Oh god. Harry didn't want to be the reason Asher pushed Yunho away.

"Asher," Harry murmured.

Before Asher could say anything, Yunho shook his head. "I did it for you," he replied. "For both of you."

"Bullshit," Asher replied sharply. "What did you get in return? What did they agree to for your help, Yunho? Did you have a price? How much was I worth?" Then he spoke through clenched teeth. "How much was Harry worth?"

"I did it for your freedom," Yunho said, crying now. Tears streaming down his face. "And mine. But yours first. Freedom. Citizenship for you, Asher. Your names cleared, for it all to be over so you were free to live as Harry and Asher. No looking over your shoulders. Full government absolution. That was my asking price. For you to be free."

Holy shit.

"I knew my time doing this was coming to an end," Yunho said. "The Milvus Division was up and running, the counsel in place. They know everything we know about the fascist movements. Not just in Europe, Asher." He sighed. "Lucas's work with MI6 was almost over. We were going to hand it all over, everything, every bit of it. Then retire and live out our days on our island."

"You should have told me," Asher said quietly. "You could have told me that, at least."

"We couldn't. Until it was over. But we planned to," Yunho murmured. "When Istomin was behind bars. But he took us first." He let out a shuddering breath and recomposed himself. "I wanted to surprise you when it was all over. So you could use your name. Get married using your real name." His eyes welled with fresh tears. "I knew how much you hated going by the name Joshua Hill and how much you wanted documentation with your real name."

"My real name," Asher whispered. "?iro. The sun god. Is it not my real name?"

Yunho deflated. "I'm sorry. Whichever name you want, the Australian government will do it. It was my request. For both of you." He looked at Harry then. "I'm sorry, Harry. "

"You said your freedom as well," Harry said. "What did you mean? Were you not free before?"

"When Istomin learned of me, he threatened to inform my government. He said that he'd hand me back as a gesture of good faith to a dictator. Another piece to his political puzzle." He patted his hair down nervously. Then he whispered, "North Korea and Russia don't play to the same rules as the rest of the world. And like Asher, I have no country. I have no government to protect me."

Asher stared at him for a long moment. He inhaled deeply and processed it all. "Why not England?" he asked eventually. "With Lucas?"

"Because Australia held the bargaining chips," he said weakly.

"They plan to use you, don't they," Harry said. It wasn't a question. "To wrap up the Parrish case, and to use the Milvus Division."

Yunho's tired gaze met his, and he nodded. "To an extent. My access, my contacts, my satellite system. Data mining is the future..." He let out a shuddering breath. "But I'll be free. No more hiding. No more secrets. No more operatives, no more governments, no more murder. That was my asking price."

Jesus fucking Christ.

All three were quiet for a long time, letting the dust of truth settle over them.

Needing to touch Asher, to remind him he was there, Harry got out of the wheelchair and stood beside Asher, putting his good arm around his shoulder. Asher leaned against him heavily.

Had Yunho kept information from Asher?

Yes.

Was he obligated to tell him ?

No.

As his friend, maybe. As his informant? If Asher wasn't on the ground and directly involved, then no. Asher might not like that answer but it was the truth.

Did it all make sense?

Harry was beginning to think it did, yeah.

"Where will you live?" Asher asked eventually. "Your island..." He shook his head and grimaced. "What about the police in Thailand? You can't go back there."

"No. I can't. There's a place," he said quietly. "In Far North Queensland. An island..."

Asher snorted and shook his head. "Are you serious?"

Yunho nodded and tried to smile, but his chin wobbled. "If Lucas..." He cleared his throat. "If Lucas lives. If he doesn't make it, I don't think I'll need it." He shook his head, scrubbing away the tears and wincing when he clearly touched his swollen face too hard. "I can't live without him."

Asher reached over then and took Yunho's hand. "Yunho," he whispered.

Yunho shook his head and let out a teary laugh. "You know, he was planted by MI6. All those years ago. They found me, with help from the Indian government, of all places. He was planted as the project manager of the construction job for my house. That much was true. He was the construction manager. But we fell in love. He confided in me; he told me everything. And he was going to quit, to defect if he had to. I suggested we fake his death, as I had done. But I couldn't leave my island." He shook off more tears. "So we came up with a plan for him to stay. A deal."

"Information," Asher deduced.

Yunho nodded. "Intel. He was still agented. But he could stay with me if he helped the British ops on the ground. Like I did with you."

"The Milvus files," Harry said. "Managing kites from a bunch of different governments."

Yunho sighed. "It's what we did. It's what we still do." He shrugged and winced again. "Well, it's what we did. Until Istomin and his little Yixing found us."

Harry wondered what would happen to Yixing. He was too good a weapon to put in jail, and there was no way in hell the Australian or British governments would hand him back to the Chinese.

Yunho noticed Harry, and he gave a nod. "The British have him," he whispered. "I can see you're wondering."

Asher looked between them both. "Yixing?"

Harry sighed, it all making more sense now. "And the Australian government gets you."

Yunho gave a nod. "In exchange for immunity, for protection. For me, but also both of you. It didn't all go to plan, but here we are."

Beaten, tortured, left for dead. But alive.

"Come on," Asher said, getting off the bed. He pulled back the blankets to reveal Yunho's legs. His bruised, bandaged legs.

Oh god.

"They had to operate to fix my knee," he said softly in explanation.

"I'm sorry," Asher murmured. "You're like this and I was mad at you, adding to your pain."

Yunho shook his head. "Don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong. I should thank you for coming to rescue me."

Asher put his hand gently to the ruined side of Yunho's face. "Of course we did. I love you, Yunho. "

Yunho smiled with a teary laugh. "My sweet boy."

Asher gave him a gentle hug. "We'll be okay," he whispered. Not completely forgiven, but certainly on the way.

"Can you get out of bed?" Asher asked him. "Would you be okay leaving your cubicle?"

"What for?" Yunho asked, his eyes wide with fear. His hands trying to claw into the mattress and sheet.

"We'll go find Lucas. You can use Harry's wheelchair."

Yunho gasped, frozen for a second before he nodded. "Yes, please. Yes."

Asher helped him off the bed, Harry did too, with his one arm, and they eased him into the wheelchair, his IV beside him. Asher fixed the leg prop and Yunho settled back, a film of sweat on his brow at the exertion.

Harry pulled back the curtain and his nurse stood there, arms crossed. "He needs to see Lucas Edwards," Harry said. "We can look into every cubicle, but we'd really appreciate if you could show us the way."

Yunho was trembling. "Please, Sue. Please."

Sue grumbled about how him being well enough to go see Lucas meant he was well enough to be on a ward, which was probably true. She disconnected one of his other machines and led the way to a private room. She knocked quietly, and a male nurse came to the door.

They exchanged a quick conversation, he looked them all up and down, noting Yunho in particular. His injuries, the way he was shaking. He opened the door and held up two fingers. "Two minutes."

Lucas was... dear god. He was barely recognisable. The blankets were held up off his legs by a frame. His face was bandaged, one eye completely covered. He was covered in tubes and monitor pads, bandages.

"His ankles needed pinning," the nurse said. "They re- set his broken fingers, but they couldn't save his eye. He has moments of lucidity but the sedation helps him heal." He gave a smile. "They didn't expect him to survive, but he's a fighter."

Yunho sobbed, his hand to his mouth, shaking as he tried to stand up on his one good leg. Asher helped him step closer to the bed, holding Yunho up so he could take Lucas's hand. "My love," he cried. "I'm here. I'm not leaving without you. I love you." He sobbed and sobbed, leaning down and lifting Lucas's knuckles to his forehead, to his cheek, to his lips. "I need you. You can't leave me. Take all the time you need to heal but you come back to me, you hear?"

A tear rolled down Asher's cheek and Harry rubbed his back. "Yeah, Lucas," Asher said, sniffling. "You do as he says. Don't make me send Harry in."

Harry snorted quietly, and he waited for Lucas's machines to beep, signalling a reaction or some awareness, but there was nothing. Only Yunho's soft crying.

But then Lucas's lips parted a fraction. "Yunho," he breathed, barely a whisper.

"Yes, yes, my love. It's me," Yunho sobbed, holding his hand to his face. "I'm right here."

Now his machine beeped and he breathed a little harder, but said nothing else. Yet it was somehow enough. It was definitely a positive sign and Harry felt hopeful.

"Okay," the male nurse said, fussing over a machine. "He's had enough. Time to go."

Sue pushed the wheelchair closer to Yunho, and they got him back to his cubicle, and back into bed. He cried as he drifted off to sleep but he was mumbling about seeing Lucas again tomorrow.

"We'll take you again," Asher told him. "I promise."

Harry and Asher moved to a different ward that afternoon. Their own private room, two uniformed guards outside the door.

Harry wasn't sure if it was for their protection or to protect others. Probably both.

The next morning, they were visited by some brass. Two XOs from the Australian army and two uniforms behind them, standing at attention. And a familiar guy leaning against the wall, smirking at them.

Captain. He didn't have Medic with him, and Harry was almost disappointed.

Almost.

What Yunho had told them about the deal was basically what the XO's regurgitated to them. The Australian government were taking them both back, officially, when Harry's lung was given the all-clear to fly.

There was no mention of passports to return with, so Harry assumed it was still under a military operation.

Which name Asher would use for his newfound citizenship was still undecided. He wasn't ready, and Harry understood that. He'd only just found out his true name. He needed more time to process, to adjust.

"There's a box in a storage shed in Thailand I want brought back to Australia," Harry said. He hoped he'd never need the weapons but he didn't know if or when Yunho would ever be able to supply them again, and Harry wasn't taking any chances. He'd never leave Asher unarmed again.

The first XO frowned. "We'd need to verify its contents?—"

"I don't give a fuck what you have to do," Harry said flatly. "I want the box, and its contents, delivered to my house."

The XO schooled his expression and gave a nod. Behind him, Captain smiled.

"And Yunho?" Asher asked.

The second XO replied. "He's staying until Agent Edwards is well enough to be transported."

Asher breathed out a sigh of relief. But still. He didn't trust easily. "We have your word on that?"

The XO cut him a cold stare with a curt smile. He clearly didn't like having his integrity checked. Before he could speak, Captain pushed off the wall and walked over. "You have my word," he said. "He and Agent Edwards will be under our protection."

Harry wasn't sure why, but he was relieved to hear that. He trusted Captain. Whatever his name was. It didn't matter.

Harry trusted him.

He gave him a nod. "Thank you."

Then Medic entered the room like he owned the entire hospital and everyone in it and handed a takeout coffee to Captain. "Aw, sorry," he said cheerfully to Harry. "I asked about those supplement drinks for you, you know the ones for the elderly, but they said no."

The two XOs baulked and the two uniform guards alerted as if Harry was about to go nuclear, but Harry couldn't help it. He snorted.

"I know I shouldn't," Asher said to Harry, "but I do like him."

Medic grinned. "Everyone likes me."

"No they don't," Harry grumbled, snarling at him.

The little fucker grinned some more .

The first XO cleared his throat. "Transport on doctor's clearance. We'll be in touch."

Harry gave a nod. "Understood."

Captain gave Harry a mock salute, and he smiled at Asher. "We will see you in the wonderful land of Oz." He turned for the door, his arm sliding around Medic's waist—those two were far too touchy-feely to be just friends—and escorted him out. "Stop pissing him off. You know he doesn't need a weapon to kill you."

The little punk laughed. "It's why I do it."

The door closed, leaving Harry and Asher alone, the silence like a breath of fresh air. Harry took Asher's hand, threading their fingers. "Ready to go home, baby?"

Back to their little house in the woods. Back to their quiet life. Their quiet, boring, and wonderful life.

Asher nodded, his eyes warm and smiling. "So ready."