The city hums softly in the distance, sirens and engines muted behind the thick glass of the high-rise apartment you somehow ended up in—alone, for the first time in what feels like forever.

Harcourt sits across from you on the couch, bare feet tucked under her, eyes on the muted skyline. Her jacket is off, hair loose, and for once she isn’t scanning every shadow, every corner, every threat.

“You ever think about… not doing this?” you ask quietly.

Harcourt’s brow quirks, one eyebrow arching like it’s testing you. “Not doing what?”

“All of it,” you say. “All the missions, the lies, the bullets, the… adrenaline. Just… life outside of this mess.”

She studies you, and for a moment you catch something in her expression that isn’t caution, or annoyance, or sharp calculation. Something softer. Vulnerable.

“I think about it,” she admits, voice low. “More than I probably should.”

You lean forward. “What would it even look like? Us… somewhere else?”

Her lips twitch into a ghost of a smile. “Somewhere quiet. Maybe a small town. I make enough to keep us fed, you do… whatever you want. No one tells us what to do. No missions, no rules, no… constant danger.”

You can almost see it in your mind—a little house with chipped paint, a garden you both fight over, mornings with coffee and no alarms, nights with stars instead of gunfire.

“Could you… really leave all this behind?” you ask.

She shifts slightly, eyes distant. “I don’t know if I can. But I want to. I want to try.”

Your heart hammers. “Then we try together.”

Harcourt finally meets your gaze, unguarded, and her usual sharpness softens into something quieter, something dangerous in its honesty. “I don’t let many people in,” she murmurs. “But… you? You’re different. I’d risk it.”

You reach across the space between you, fingers brushing hers. Warm. Real. Steady. “Then it’s settled. When we’re done here… we leave. Together.”

She grips your hand firmly, a silent promise, and for the first time, the weight of all the violence feels… manageable.

“Together,” she repeats, voice stronger now. “No matter what comes next.”