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Ieyasu didn't trust himself to hope. It was a dangerous thing, after all. Too much of it would almost certainly bring his mood crashing down in the face of the inevitable. Too little of it meant not enough action in the first place. Instead, he steeled himself to cold calculation and focus.

In spite of all that, he also knew what his stupid jackrabbit heart was doing. Those little words: TOKUGAWA IN CUSTODY, GOOD HEALTH meant absolutely nothing... except to his stupid, desperate heart.

"Do you think they mean...?" She began.

"I don't know." He snapped back harder than he meant. She fell silent instantly. Remorseful, he softened his tone. "Maybe. But my dad is also missing. I don't hold out a ton of hope that it's specifically her."

But he did. Oh, he hoped so much it hurt. It wasn't that he didn't love his father (and he did, what little memory he still had of the man), but seeing her pinned like that in the tape made him want it to be her. And then there was his uncle to consider–the real one. Where was he?

But he kept these questions to himself and silently thanked the universe that she was so understanding. She didn't press him with hopeful what-ifs. They arrived back at his apartment in D.C., and she returned to the same grindstone he applied himself so intensely to. Some nights he walked by the office and saw her bent over the keyboard, blinking wearily at notes she'd scrawled on Post-Its and scouring databases.

"You should sleep," he announced one night, scaring her without meaning to. She leaped half from her chair and stared owlishly at him. "Sorry. But you should."

"I'm alright."

He stared down his nose as her yawn betrayed her. "No, you're not. Go to sleep."

"I–" She hesitated a moment. "I can't."

Now that was different. He paused, running his fingers in a staccato rhythm against the doorframe. "What's up?"

A beat. Her eyes roved over the desk for an out, anything to avoid the question, anything at all–but he saw it there anyway. A quiet unease she so carefully stowed away simmered beneath her skin.

"I just don't sleep well lately," she shrugged. "That's all."

"Nightmares?"

A pause. "Yeah."

And all this on his behalf, no doubt. He ground his teeth together and wondered if she might sleep better if he'd never come into her life at all. "I mean, I'm assuming you've tried the usual stuff."

"Mmm. Google has been exhausted, Doctor Tokugawa."

He flushed despite himself. "Listen here, you."

"I'm listening."

No cute follow up quip hopped into his mouth, so he tried to cover for it. "I mean, if you–if you really can't sleep, I can't have you just walking around tired. It's not good for the mission and all that."

She set her glasses down on the glass top desk and stared at him, the ghost of a smile flirting on her lips. He wondered if his mouth worked the same way over hers. "Ahuh."

"Yeah."

"And what are you suggesting?"

"I'm–" What was he getting at? Ieyasu pushed ahead. "If you really really can't sleep, then you could join me in bed."

Both of her brows cocked. HIs face felt like it might melt off.

"Anyway! Good night." He turned on his heel to flee.

"Wait, you can't just invite me to bed and then run–"

"You didn't answer fast enough."

"You ass!"

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