Almost Like Sapienza

Working together, with her, is what he knows and what they're both good at. Still, it's new and exciting to do so without the ICA, and he's more than glad to have her back after all these lonely months. Something is different between them, but he can't quite put his finger on it. Maybe it's just that, they're free now, she's free to choose an approach for him without having to report to her higher-ups.
She's always been free to decide which assignments to take, in a sense, but now she's discussing them with him beforehand and allows him to weigh in, so they're making this decision as a team.

Travelling is a bit less comfortable now, but they'll make do. Having her with him in this rental car on this rainy journey outweighs the loss of his first usual class flights, and for the first time in twenty years, they can openly talk about anything.

Well, not anything, there are a few topics they tread around most carefully. They briefly talked about the neurotoxin and her parents when they reunited after their year apart and avoided this direction ever since, and they have never so much as mentioned the tango and what it may or may not have implied, back then.

He still has a hard time figuring out his emotions, but he's sure that he feels more for her than the loyalty they both relied on for so long. One year ago, he might have been sure this was mutual, but now, he couldn't tell anymore. Maybe it has been part of her plan, to line him up neatly for one of the things they will not talk about again, to make it seem like revenge for the other thing they will not talk about again. Who knows.

Does it matter? He used to be happy with what they had before the serum, before everything changed. Maybe it would be the best to go back to that and never look back.

He glanced at her, sitting in the passenger seat with her laptop on her knees, tapping away on the keyboard as she works on their target's expose. Her prim teal skirt has slid up a bit, revealing a little more of her thigh than she usually shows, and he tries not to stare. Eyes on the road, not on your handler.

Soon it's getting dark, and the rain gets even stronger, so they decide to find a place to stay for the night, before it becomes impossible to see the road ahead. Diana runs a quick online search, and it doesn't take long for her to find a motel not too far from where they are.

Another thing that got simultaneously worse and better since they stopped working for the ICA. He never cared too much for luxury suites, he has to admit they were nice. Now, he frequently sleeps in his sleeping bag again, on the floor of an abandoned house or in the passenger seat while she's curled up on the back seats of their car, but it's exciting.
They get to know each other on a whole new level, he now knows that she likes to read before bed and that she's a bit grumpy in the morning, and that she appreciates his talent to always find a place to get strong coffee for her.

They don't have an umbrella with them, so she runs ahead to get themselves their rooms while he's carrying their luggage over to the small office. It doesn't look like the worst motel he's ever been at, from what little he can judge in the light of the flickering neon signs.

He's drenched when he arrives next to her, but he doesn't mind, because she smiles at him apologetically, and his heart skips a beat. If only he could get his feelings for her under control. It's inappropriate, and it won't lead anywhere but into despair.

The porter assumes they're a married couple, and neither of them correct him. It's easier that way, and sharing a room means that he can protect her if anything goes wrong, and study her a little more if everything goes right. Deep inside he wants to pretend, believe that it's true; that she could love him enough to not only be with him, but marry him, vow to be his forever.