It was strange how he didn't experience the usual emptiness when a mission was over, a job well done, and all that was left was the rendezvous point. For what seemed like the first time, walking to the end point was not a cold affair where he would stand and wait and wonder nothing at all, question nothing at all. Cold and statuesque to be collected and put back on the shelf.

Instead, he walked arm-in-arm with another weapon, releasing his grip only long enough to pass some terrain and then he was back at the blond's side. His half mask was gripped in his fingers, but his attention alternated between the weapon he walked with or the cold twinkle of stars above which he had only deigned to notice before when he needed to determine his time or location.

"Perhaps if they are pleased with our mission, we will be given another operation to complete together," he agreed, perhaps more warmly than he ever had before. The problem was he craved another mission as he sometimes craved to be fed when his stomach was tightening or making angry sounds. "We won't remember," he suddenly added.

He was wiped clean between missions. There was no distractions. There was only the mission and the next and the next until the world had become the ultimate order out of the ashes of chaos. Would he remember that either?

He stopped just shy of the rendezvous point, ten feet to be exact and swung his body around to face the other weapon. His eyes studied the taller weapon, thicker of chest and broader of shoulders. "When order comes, I want to know I am there with you."