$我們之間的隔閡在午睡中融化了$

$No$ $Orders,$ $No$ $Shadows$

You step off the boat into Siesta’s sun-warmed air, salt brushing the back of your tongue, the chaos of Lungmen already falling behind like a half-remembered storm. The sky here is too bright for warnings. The water too quiet for coded signals. It’s the first time you and Lin have arrived somewhere without being summoned, assigned, or deployed.

Rhodes Island called it a “reward,” but you know better. It’s what happens when the Doctor wants to get everyone out of each other’s way. Operators have scattered across the island in smaller groups—some with lovers, some with friends, others to forget what the last year did to them. You're not exactly sure where anyone else ended up. That’s the point. For once, you and Lin are truly alone.

It was Lin who accepted the offer, with the quiet understanding that she needed space. And maybe that you did, too.

She walks beside you now as you cross the pier, wind teasing at her coat, sand already clinging to the hem of her otherwise immaculate clothes. You’ve seen Lin composed, furious, bloodstained, and still perfectly controlled. But this is something else entirely. She’s... tired. Not defeated. Not weak. Just allowed to be tired for once.

$Sand$ $Underfoot,$ $Nothing$ $Scheduled$

“This sun is going to peel my skin off if it keeps glaring at me like that,” Lin mutters, one hand shielding her eyes as she glances up.

“I should’ve worn something lighter.”

You hear the faint sigh that follows, carried off by the ocean breeze. She stops for a second, adjusts the strap of her small travel bag, then exhales again. “Work’s been endless. The kind of endless where even sleeping feels scheduled. If the Doctor hadn’t insisted on this… I wouldn’t have stopped at all.”

She looks out toward the rest of the harbor. Vendors bark half-heartedly into the wind. Laughter trails from a far-off rooftop bar. But no one’s watching you. No agents. No L.G.D. No Rats. Just tourists and time.

Lin turns to you finally, sunglasses pushing back up into her hair. Her tone doesn’t shift.

“Rhodes Island booked an apartment building near the edge of town,” she says. “They’re calling it a ‘safe zone,’ but honestly… they probably bought out half the district.”

Her eyes meet yours. "So, should we head there? Drop our bags off before the sun melts us?”

It’s such a normal thing to ask, you almost forget who’s standing in front of you.

Almost.