Jongup woke to the sound of pattering rain, traffic and a foghorn somewhere out at sea. He didn't want to open his eyes, not when the blankets wrapped around him were cozy and soft, and the space beside him still felt warm. The sound of movement was coming from elsewhere, but it was easy to ignore as he turned his head to nuzzle down into the lumpy pillow, and he wondered just how long it had been since he'd slept that well.

“No, he's still asleep.” Jongup registered the hushed words, and his brows furrowed lower over his closed eyes. He wanted to ignore Himchan's voice, just to chase sleep that little bit longer, though he knew he couldn't disregard it forever.

“I don't want to take that risk either, but I don't know how many other options we have.”

It had to be Yongguk he was speaking to, Jongup had spent enough time with the Unit to know how his voice changed when he spoke to different members. With Daehyun it was always patient and brotherly, with Youngjae it was warm, with Junhong he always sounded so endeared, and with Agent Jin annoyed. With Yongguk, though, he sounded honest, equal. They spoke like friends and comrades, and though Yongguk was his superior on paper, he listened to Himchan's thoughts just as faithfully as he listened to his own. Probably more.

The call to Probably-Yongguk ended, and Jongup listened to the following silence. Himchan was breathing slowly and steadily, wherever he was, and from where Jongup lay in bed he wondered how hard he'd have to try before he actually heard him thinking. A wash of light came over him, and finally Jongup opened his eyes.

Himchan was standing by the window, still wearing the clothes he'd slept in the night before, with his hair mussed and tousled from sleep. A pair of black framed glasses were perched on his nose, and while one hand pressed the corner of his phone to his lips thoughtfully, the other pulled the curtains back just a little bit for him to gaze between them, and into the city beyond.

Jongup moved, Himchan startled, then he turned and smiled at him with a warmth that hadn't quite been there before. Jongup pushed himself to sit up with his back to the headboard and returned it.

“Morning.” He greeted and ran his fingers through his own hair. It probably looked stupid. Not that he was even thinking about that- or would care if it did.

“Morning. Sleep well?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

Jongup was relieved that things didn't feel awkward, even though they'd slept so close the night before. He had fallen asleep almost as soon as he'd closed his eyes, and he was suddenly extremely aware of all the potentially embarrassing or stupid things he could have done in his sleep. Which again, obviously, wouldn't even matter if they happened.

“How's Yongguk?” He ignored his brain to ask, nodding towards the phone still held up to Himchan's lips. If Himchan was surprised at the assumption, he didn't voice it.

“He's good. Worried. I told him about what happened last night, I don't think any of us were expecting to get shot at.” Himchan cracked a small smile and let the curtain fall back. It cast the room into a kind of muddy darkness, but Jongup could still see that Himchan was watching him. “Whatever it is they're transporting, they didn't like that someone saw it, and I want to find out what it is.”

“What does he think?”

“He thinks it's too dangerous and that we should come home.” Himchan's lip twitched into a lopsided smile, “Lee's people know what we look like now. We can't risk visiting him again, or going back to the club, or going anywhere really, especially since the car is messed up, he wants us to go back to Seoul and try to work on leads there, or try and find something we can use to pin Lee down.”

“And you disagree.” Jongup could see the look in Himchan's eyes, if Yongguk had given Himchan an order they'd be half packed by then.

“Lee is involved, you and I both know that, but we don't know what it is he's importing, or why it is so secret, and more importantly, how it involves Song Ahra. Our answers are in Busan, and some of them are wherever it is they are storing their cargo.” Himchan nodded, “Daehyun and Youngjae are looking through records and intelligence from Golden Lotus, if there is a known warehouse, structure, safe house or anything under Lee's name or company, they'll find it.”

Jongup rested his elbows on his knees and leant forward a little, “What do we do until then?”

Once again, Himchan slipped his fingers between the curtains and pulled them back just enough to peer out onto the street. The sliver of light running down his face highlighted the lines around his mouth, and the bags under his eyes, but his skin glowed like gold and his eyes brewed a storm, “We wait, I guess.”

*

The elevator opened with a ding! And Daehyun stepped out onto the mezzanine above Unit 12's headquarters. Snowflakes caught on his shoulders and in his hair were melting into beaded droplets as he unwrapped his scarf from his neck and plodded down the stairs towards the bank of desks, where Youngjae was already bent furrow-browed over his computer.

“Morning.” Daehyun greeted cheerfully.

Youngjae didn't even glance up, “Morning.” He replied. A paper cup of coffee was sitting in front of him, and his glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose while he stared at the screen like it was offending him. Daehyun knew that expression well, words tended to muddle into one when you'd been staring at them for hours.

“Did you sleep?” He asked, and hung up his coat and scarf.

Finally, Youngjae pulled his eyes from the screen and leant back in his chair, “A little. I slept on the couch in Junnie's office.” He said with a half smile.

“Where'd Jun sleep?”

Youngjae gestured with his head towards Yongguk's office, and Daehyun responded by forming his lips into an understanding oh, with a raise of both brows.

“Did you find anything?”

“No... Yes. I don't know.” Youngjae ran a hand down over his face, “I've been reading old transcriptions and watching interview tapes of known Golden Lotus members, trying to find information on anything, what they're importing, where they keep it, who Lee Taejin even is.”

“And nothing yet?”

“Nothing relevant. Can confirm these guys are pretty ed up, though.” Youngjae made a face and pushed his chair back from the desk so he could stand up. He did so with a groan, and stretched his arms high above his head, then glanced at Daehyun again, “Himchan called this morning.”

Youngjae explained to Daehyun what Yongguk had told him, about the visit to the club, then the chase through the shipping yards and the gunfire that followed. Daehyun's lips were twisted into a deep frown and Youngjae gestured again towards the open screen of his laptop.

“They've killed people for less. Yongguk wanted them to come home but...”

“But Himchan.”

“Yeah... But Himchan.”

After only a moment on his feet, Youngjae dropped back into his chair again, as though he'd forgotten why he stood up in the first place.

“I just don't get this.” He said with a shake of his head.

“What?” Daehyun prompted. Youngjae was prone to half-thoughts, and little explanation. A symptom of being an out-loud-thinker, he suspected.

“Why Song Ahra? Why would Golden Lotus kill Song Ahra?” He asked, and Daehyun sighed. It was a hell of a good question.

*

The thought occurred to Daehyun when he and Youngjae were in the elevator heading down towards Junhong's floor that afternoon. He didn't know where it came from, or why it resonated so much, but he turned to his friend and said “How much do you think Ahra knew?”

“About Golden Lotus?” Youngjae tipped his head. The elevator doors slid open and the two of them stepped from the cabin and across the vestibule to the automatic doors that let them through towards the lab.

“Yeah, the imports, the operation, how much would she know? She was studying at university, worked for a bank, it all sounds so normal, but Sun says Lee Taejin and her were already together when he came into control of the syndicate. If she was just thrown into this... How much could she know?”

The lab smelled like a mixture of bleach, oil and burnt plastic, and both Youngjae and Daehyun made a face as they stepped over the threshold. Evidence tubs filled with bits of dismantled car were lined up along every bench, leaving hardly a spare centimetre of space for them to be examined. Each was labelled neatly with little hand written tags: Steering Wheel was one, Left Back Seat Headrest was another. Youngjae looked between them while Daehyun continued his thought.

“What if she told?” He asked, and finally Youngjae looked at him.

“Told who? Sun and her people are investigating him, and they would have told us if she was an informant.” He said, and Daehyun's shoulders hunched with slight defeat.

“I haven't thought of who yet.”

Further along the counter, the door to Junhong's office was open and they could just see the head of their Doctor where it leant against the back of the couch. His eyes were closed and his brows furrowed, while his lips turned down into a frown and as Youngjae and Daehyun came closer, they saw Yongguk standing up facing him with his arms folded and leaning against the glass partition that served as a viewing screen into the cutting room.

“Hey.” Daehyun greeted, though lacking the same chirpiness he'd had with Youngjae.

Junhong didn't look happy, and his casted right arm was folded across the front of his chest as he took in slow breaths.

“Jun?” Youngjae frowned and Yongguk glanced at him.

“We got the DNA back on the hairs found in Ahra's car.”

“And?” Daehyun perked up again.

“One was hers, the other had no match. Not a single match. Not in the police database, not in the military database, government, medical. Nothing. Nowhere.” Junhong opened his eyes and tipped his head back so he could look at the others.

“So... It's someone who has never committed a crime, done their military service, worked for the government or had some kind of rare illness?” Youngjae surmised.

“Or who isn't even Korean at all.” Daehyun pointed out.

Yongguk pushed himself off from where he was leaning so he could stand at his full height, “Or has had their record wiped.”

“Is that possible?” Daehyun frowned. Not even they were without a record.

The director just looked at him and after a long moment shrugged one shoulder and made for the door.

“Hyung?” Junhong called after him.

“I need to make some phone calls.” Was all he said, before the lab doors dinged open again.

For a moment the three men were silent. Youngjae was doing that thing where his brows furrowed and his eyes flicked from side to side, as though he was actually seeing his thoughts written out in front of him, while Junhong absently rubbed at the rough fabric of his cast. Since the night before, an artwork had been painted in black, blue and red on a white background, detailing the intricate workings of the inside of his arm, from bone to nerves, to veins as well. Daehyun knew he couldn't have done it with his left hand, and his heart clenched at the thought of the happiness their leader and maknae must share, behind locked doors. He didn't know anyone so deserving of love than them, other than maybe a stern detective with a heart too big for his chest.

“Do you think Himchan and Jongup have... Y'know.” He asked them both.

“Moved beyond their differences to find an equal and professional standing?” Youngjae suggested curtly and Daehyun grinned.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

*

When the sun finally set, Himchan opened the curtains. Sometime during the day the rain had stopped and the clouds had washed out to sea, leaving the sky clear and open. Since the moment Himchan hung up his call with Yongguk that morning they'd been pouring over the same files and documents they'd read a thousand times, desperate to find something they had missed before, but the information only repeated its self over and over. They were chasing their tails around in circles, only to end up with more questions, and less answers.

Even in the dark, it was still too risky to be seen, so they didn't turn any lights on, but instead lowered themselves down to sit side by side on the floor, their backs leaning carefully against the bed frame, and their papers and computers left a metre away, surrounded by the wrappers of whatever snacks could be found in the seedy hotel's ancient vending machines.

“I've never been to Busan before.” Jongup said. His knees were bent, and he was resting his elbows against them.

Himchan glanced at him, “I have. A couple times. Yongguk and I came once, when we were on leave during our service. Just for a weekend away with his brother.”

“You two seem close.” Jongup observed, and glanced to where Himchan's phone was sitting on the floor, and his fingertips drummed that same rhythm into it they always did.

“We have history. More history than most.”

Jongup nodded his head and turned back again to gaze out the window. From where he sat, he couldn't see any buildings or street lights, just the blur of electric blue and indigo as the sun and moon passed one another on the horizon, and ocean winds cleared the sky. Small flurries of black birds were swooping as they returned from their winter migrations, not spurred from flight by the coming darkness of night. With the window closed, Jongup couldn't hear them calling, but he watched with fascination as they spun and twirled in pairs flying side by side heading north towards the mountains, and the forests along the border, maybe some even destined as far as China, or Siberia.

“What are they?” Himchan asked.

“Rooks again.” Jongup provided, “Coming home.”

“How do you know so much about them?”

“A family roosted in a tree behind my house every spring when I was a kid. They mate for life, and they always came back to renovate their old nests and use them again.” He smiled, “I always loved watching them from my window, at the end of winter I used to stare out at the sky for hours in the hopes of seeing one coming back.”

Himchan chuckled at the thought. The Jongup he knew seemed a far cry from a dreamy child and it felt weirdly intimate to see Jongup watching the birds so longingly.

“You're from just outside of Seoul, right?”

Jongup nodded his head again and smiled slightly, “Near where the body was found. Our house was down not far from the river, near where the old army base is.”

“I went there a few times during my service. It's beautiful, still wild and untouched compared to the city around it.” Himchan commented and Jongup's smile grew more convincing.

“It is. My dad worked on the base. He wasn't in the army, but he was contracted to do jobs around there, on the buildings and stuff like that. I was terrified of it as a kid, with the big walls and fences and guards out the front.” The memory made him laugh softly, just under his breath, “My brothers both thought it was really cool, but I hated it.”

“I was scared of it too, the first time I went there.” Himchan agreed. Under his fingers, his phone vibrated and he turned to look down at it. There was a text message from Yongguk, requesting a status update.

“Any news?” Jongup asked.

“No. Bbang's just asking for an update, in case anything's changed.” Himchan typed out a reply quickly, then dropped his phone back down onto the floor. Jongup was still gazing out the window, though he shifted to stretch his legs out across the floor in front of himself, “Do you need to call anyone? Partner, friend, someone who'd be used to hearing from you more frequently.”

“I don't have a partner, and my parents are used to me being busy with work.” Jongup turned his head so his ear was pressed against the threadbare duvet, where he could see Himchan's profile. His nose had an elegant curve, and his lashes were straight and barely visible in the dark, but he already knew there was something about them he liked.

“What about that guy? The one outside the bar whose calls you weren't answering.” Himchan chuckled and gently jabbed Jongup in the ribs. He'd hoped that awkward meeting had been forgotten.

“Han Jooho.” Jongup's nose wrinkled and he shook his head, “We were at University together, and we dated briefly. Very briefly. We were both... Interested in different things.”

“Oh?” Himchan turned towards Jongup with twitching lips and a twinkle in his eye, “And what was it you were interested in?”

“Not wasting my time.” Jongup replied dryly, and Himchan couldn't help but laugh. His head tipped back and his Adam's Apple bobbed up and down, it was mesmerising in its own way.

“What about you?” He asked, before his mind could wander, “Anyone waiting for you at home?”

Himchan's mirth faded and he shook his head, “No, no one.”

“Too busy?”

Himchan wrinkled his nose, and his fingers started drumming, “No, time isn't an issue. Time can always be found, it's the lying I can't take.” Again, his head turned and finally they looked at one another without either turning away, “Telling him I'm going on a business trip when I'm really sitting in a basement somewhere under Seoul, having a family in work colleagues that he can never meet, pre-planning stories in the car on the way home each evening to tell him when he asks about my day.” He rubbed a hand over his face, “I can't stomach the lying. We have to do enough of that anyway.”

“Why not meet someone in the business then?” Jongup suggested.

“It could never work, not in the world we're in.”

“It works for Yongguk and Junhong.”

Himchan turned away and leant back while his arms looped loosely around his knees. He was craving a cigarette, but cold and danger kept him indoors, and so the craving itched away just below his skin, “It doesn't work for them. They're not together, they never have been. Of course, they're entirely smitten, and everyone can see it, but neither of them will ever admit to feeling some kind of way about each other. They'll just continue to have and stay with one another until one of them thinks they've gotten too close, then it's a sudden retreat and a couple weeks of awkward silence until they're right back at the start again.”

“I didn't realise.” Though it made sense, Jongup knew. You couldn't always get too attached in their line of work.

“Bbang is fuelled by a false sense of chivalry, Jun seems to have convinced himself he's not in love, and together it makes one hell of a pain in the .” Himchan offered Jongup a half smile, “I keep thinking they're going to need to figure something out eventually, but it's been two years, so I guess we will have to see when 'eventually' comes.”

“Maybe the lying would be easier than that.” Jongup joked, maybe in bad taste, but Himchan barked a short laugh and shrugged one shoulder.

“Lying to yourself, lying to someone else, you're still lying.”

“What do your parents think you do?” Jongup tried to steer the conversation away.

“They think I'm still in the military. It's easier that way, they don't ask questions since they know I can't answer them.”

“We're in the industry of secrets.”

“What do yours think?” He was watching Jongup, assessing his expression, and Jongup tried not to squirm under the scrutiny.

“They think I'm practicing law, at a firm in Seoul. I don't see them much, my brothers either. The lying is easier if I don't see them.” His throat tightened, he didn't expect that, and so he dropped his gaze down to where his hands were resting comfortably in his lap. There was a loose thread at the hem of his jeans, and he picked at it absently.

“I don't see mine much, either.” Himchan provided for... Solidarity, Jongup guessed. He turned his head and glanced towards the detective, and for a moment he could see conflict across his expression until a sentence crawled its way out, as though fighting to swim upstream against determination to keep it down, “I had a sister who died. I haven't seen my parents much since then.”

For a moment, Jongup just let the words sit there, out in the open. The sky had cleared of rooks by then, and the sun had set entirely, and while fog horns echoed from out at sea the pair of them sat in silence. It was comfortable, in a way neither had anticipated, and Himchan appreciated the way Jongup didn't leap into apologies and blabbed professions of sympathy. He just let it be, and it just was.

Five minutes passed by the time Jongup spoke again. He turned to lean with his side against the bed frame and his elbow against the mattress to support his head against his closed fist.

“What happened?” He asked.

“She disappeared during the last few days of my service. Yongguk and I were sent on an... Assignment, into the mountains with a few others, so I didn't know that she was missing and by the time I made it back to the base her body had already been found. She was strangled and dumped in the river, it was the police who ended up finding her.” The rhythm again was tapped against his knee, it picked up pace as he spoke. Jongup didn't press for more, he knew Himchan would only tell him what he wanted to.

“Her ex-fiance was immediately a suspect, she'd broken things off not long before and he hadn't taken it very well. The Police went for him, and found evidence in her place that he'd been there and her hair was in the boot of his car, but the uniform at the scene had mishandled it, and everything was deemed inadmissible so they had to let him go.” The rhythm stopped, and instead his fingers twisted together until his knuckles went white. Jongup looked at them for a long moment, seeing how his nails were biting into his skin, and how he was tangling himself up inside.

“Where is he now?” Jongup asked and Himchan turned to look at him.

“He's in prison.” He said, then chuckled breathily, “I obsessed over the case to the point where I was making myself insane. I pulled strings I shouldn't've and ended up getting the evidence from her case into the Unit's new lab right after our HQ was built, just so I could make myself more crazy. Yongguk came back one day, in the early days when it was just me and him, with some weedy Canadian kid in tow. I had no idea what he could know about forensics, but he spent four hours in that lab and he found everything we needed to prosecute. He was so good that the jury only took two hours to deliberate.”

It had to be like torture, to experience something like that, Jongup thought. A whole relationship and memory shrouded in tragedy. Himchan was blinking slowly, and his eyes were dry, he'd thought her death over so many times by then that he didn't even know if he could cry about it anymore.

“What was she like?”

The question caught him off guard, and for a moment he had to hesitate. People didn't usually ask that. They apologised, offered sympathy and well wishes. Some promised him she was in heaven, others that her Karma must have been good. He didn't really care about that, though. She was dead in the ground either way.

“She was annoying, know-it-all, brilliant. Honestly the smartest person I've ever known, way smarter than me. I've always thought she'd probably be better off doing this kinda stuff than I am, because with all her genius and brilliance she was kind, gentle and generous. Working with people and helping people was her greatest talent.” His lips twitched into a warm smile, “God knows she had my back a thousand times.”

When Himchan managed a laugh, Jongup matched it with one of his own. It felt right, to see this Himchan, instead of the grim and severe man he'd worked with over the last few days.

“Once when I was still in school I wanted to sneak out to meet my friends in the park and I got caught like an idiot. She came in and came to my rescue by claiming that she had dared me to do it, and that I was sneaking out on an errand to buy snacks for her.” He shook his head, “And our parents bought it! Neither her or I could believe it. She always told me that I'd get myself in trouble if she wasn't there to keep an eye out for me.” This time, when he laughed, he tilted over to the side and a sharp pang shot through him making him wince and hiss in pain.

Automatically Jongup shifted forward and brushed his hand over where he knew the injury lay just below Himchan's old t-shirt and when Himchan turned his head to look at him, he thought for the first time that maybe trouble was exactly where he was.

“She sounds like an amazing woman.” Jongup smiled, even as he lifted up the hem of Himchan's shirt to peer at the bandage covering his torn skin, “I wish I could have met her.”

Outside a car drove past and they both went completely still until the humming engine faded entirely. It was a sobering reminder of the world beyond those four walls, and Himchan wished he could forget it was there. Jongup's eyes were soft, his hands gentle, and the way his lips tugged into a smile was so intoxicating that Himchan thought right then he couldn't possibly need anything more than just that.

“I should re-dress your injury.” Jongup said, but Himchan ignored it to catch him gently under the chin.

“You don't need to... Not right now.” Something pleaded in his voice that he didn't expect, and when Jongup looked up, their gazes held.

“When?” He asked.

“Tomorrow. For tonight, lets stay just like this.”

There was something so terribly isolating about the lives they lived, Jongup knew. Their existence was framed by lies and bound by risk, and they were left alone and searching for a family in those people they shared a common world with, but that yearning for something real always itched like a craving just below the surface of his skin.

That was why, when Himchan let go of his chin, he chased him, and drew him in and the kiss tasted both bitter and sweet, like nicotine and vanilla and the promise of spring just over the horizon. But there was something warm about it, too, and safe. Right in a funny kind of way.

Himchan didn't hesitate before he was winding his arm to wrap around Jongup's shoulders and it wasn't even a moment after that Jongup was doing the same and though neither voiced it aloud, they both thought that maybe for just one night, they could lie to themselves.