## Chapter 1 — Death, Taxes, and O’Sullivan SAS There were very few sounds capable of making everyone in the Safehouse instinctively assume that something had gone wrong. Gunfire was one. An explosion from Brenda's workshop was another, although experience had established that the absence of a following scream generally downgraded that from _emergency_ to _Brenda_. The third was Iris saying, very quietly: “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Ace looked up from the couch. Across the common room, Mai stopped halfway through taking a drink of coffee. Shammy, curled sideways in one of the chairs with silver-white hair lying unusually calm around her shoulders, lowered the shard she had been reading. Nobody moved. From somewhere behind the closed workshop door came the brief metallic chatter of something falling onto something else. Then Brenda's voice. “I'm fine!” Nobody had asked. Ace returned her attention to Iris. “That sounded expensive.” “It isn't.” “Dangerous?” “No.” “Then why do you look like you want to kill somebody?” Iris sat at the table with three projected documents suspended above it. Her expression had progressed beyond irritation and reached the cold administrative fury normally reserved for people who submitted expense reports without receipts. “Taxes.” Ace immediately relaxed. “Oh.” Mai slowly turned her head toward her. “Oh?” “Not my department.” “You own the company.” “Amber owns the company.” Mai stared. Ace gave her a perfectly innocent look. Mai's stare intensified. “Maeve also owns the company.” “Exactly. Sounds like your department.” Shammy made a tiny choking noise and hid it behind her coffee. Mai pointed at Ace. “I want it formally recorded that when we eventually go bankrupt, I'm selling you first.” Ace smiled. “You'd miss me.” “I'd buy you back when the liquidation sale started.” “Aw.” Iris closed her eyes. “Could the married couple please postpone the financial foreplay until I've explained why we're apparently living in the nineteenth century?” Ace leaned back against the couch. “Go on.” Iris expanded one of the documents. “This is our quarterly corporate activity declaration.” A second appeared beside it. “This is the Watson cross-district operational revenue schedule.” A third. “And this is the supplemental classification statement required because some of our contracted work was billed through clients registered outside Watson.” Mai frowned. “So?” “So individually, they're all correct.” “Good.” “No. Because the revenue schedule references the classification statement, which references the activity declaration, which was electronically filed under the standard corporate services category.” Ace waited. Mai waited. Shammy waited. Iris stared at them. Ace finally shrugged. “I understood several of those words.” “The category is correct,” Iris said. “Still sounds good.” “It would be, except one of our contracts was classified as temporary specialist security work.” Mai's expression changed. “Which one?” “Doesn't matter. The work was correctly classified too.” Ace lifted one hand. “I would like to return to the part where everything is correct.” “So would I.” Iris swiped the first document sideways. “Apparently, when correctly declared temporary specialist security revenue crosses a district boundary during the same reporting period as correctly declared corporate services revenue, the electronic system requires a supplemental reconciliation.” Shammy tilted her head. “Okay.” “The supplemental reconciliation can only be submitted after the activity declaration has been accepted.” “Okay.” “The activity declaration cannot be accepted until the supplemental reconciliation has been submitted.” Silence. Ace blinked. Shammy blinked. Mai slowly put her coffee down. “That is not possible.” Iris smiled without humor. “Yes.” “No, I mean logically.” “I know.” “They created a dependency loop.” “I know.” “In a tax system.” “I. Know.” From the workshop: “Have you tried turning it off and back on again?” Iris turned toward the door. “Brenda.” “Just helping!” Ace covered her mouth. Mai caught the movement. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were going to.” “I was going to suggest fire.” “That's worse.” “Debatable.” Iris dismissed two of the projections and pulled up another. “I spent forty minutes with their automated support system.” Ace winced. “Oh, Jesus.” “It told me to submit the reconciliation first.” Shammy's eyes brightened faintly. “Did you tell it you couldn't?” “Yes.” “What did it say?” “To wait until the activity declaration had been accepted.” Ace lost the fight. She laughed. Iris looked at her. Ace stopped. Mostly. “I then requested a human.” “That still exists?” Mai asked. “Apparently. After another twenty-three minutes, I reached someone who agreed that the system was impossible.” “Progress.” “And informed me that because the electronic filing path has deadlocked, we need an in-person administrative override.” Mai stared at her. Iris stared back. “No.” “Yes.” “No.” “Yes.” “In person.” “Yes.” “In twenty seventy-seven.” “Yes.” Mai looked toward the ceiling as though hoping some merciful orbital strike would solve the problem. Ace, meanwhile, had become suspiciously interested in her own coffee. Mai noticed. “Why are you smiling?” “I'm not.” “You are.” “I have a naturally cheerful disposition.” Shammy made another strangled sound. Mai looked between them. “I hate both of you.” “We love you too,” Shammy said brightly. Iris expanded the final form. “There is one more problem.” Mai's eyes narrowed. “Of course there is.” “The override requires Administrative Operations and an authorized company representative.” Ace's smile disappeared. Mai's returned. Very slowly. “Oh.” Ace sat straighter. “No.” Mai's smile widened. “You own the company.” “Amber owns the company.” “And?” Ace pointed at Mai. “Maeve owns the company.” “Yes.” “So go be Maeve.” “I could.” “Excellent.” “Or Amber could go.” Ace looked offended. “You wouldn't.” Mai took her coffee again. “Try me.” For several seconds they stared at each other. Shammy watched with open delight. Iris looked from one to the other. “I genuinely don't care which one of you comes with me.” “Mai,” Ace said immediately. “Ace,” Mai said at exactly the same time. Iris rubbed her forehead. The workshop door opened. Brenda emerged wearing work clothes, protective glasses pushed up onto her head, and carrying a component whose purpose nobody in the room wanted explained without advance warning. “What are we arguing about?” “Taxes,” Shammy said. Brenda stopped. “Oh.” Then she turned around. “Absolutely not.” The workshop door closed again. Ace pointed after her. “See? Brenda understands boundaries.” Mai gave her a flat look. Five minutes later, the matter had somehow been settled in exactly the way Ace had wanted from the beginning. Mai was going. Iris was going. Ace was not. Ace considered this a triumph of reason. Mai considered it evidence that murder remained underused as an administrative tool. Iris simply wanted the forms fixed. By the time Mai had switched fully into Maeve's public presentation and Iris had gathered everything they might need, Ace had migrated back to the couch beside Shammy. Brenda had disappeared completely into her workshop again, apparently having decided that corporate taxation existed outside the range of problems explosives could responsibly solve. For now. Mai stopped beside the couch. “Don't burn the building down.” Ace looked up at her. “Why are you telling me?” Mai looked at Shammy. Shammy put a hand against her chest. “Why are you telling _me?_” Mai looked toward Brenda's workshop. A metallic bang answered her. “Fair point.” She leaned down first to Shammy. The kiss was easy, familiar, warm. “Good luck,” Shammy murmured. “With the tax office?” “With Iris after the tax office.” Iris, waiting by the upper door, raised one finger without looking back. “I heard that.” “I know.” Mai smiled and turned to Ace. Ace reached up automatically as Mai bent toward her. Their kiss should have been just as ordinary. It almost was. But Ace's hand settled against Mai's side, and when Mai started to straighten, Ace held her there for one heartbeat longer. Then another. Mai's eyebrows lifted slightly when they separated. Ace smiled. “Good luck.” Mai studied her for a moment. “With the tax office?” “With not killing anyone.” “That depends entirely on the tax office.” She kissed Ace once more, quick this time, then straightened. Ace let her go. Mai crossed the room toward Iris. Shammy said nothing. But her eyes had moved to Ace. The upper door opened. “Come on,” Iris said. “If we're lucky, this will only destroy the afternoon.” Mai stepped through. “If we're unlucky?” Iris followed her. “We discover another form.” The door closed. Silence settled over the common room. Ace stared at it for another second. Then she exhaled and leaned back. From the workshop came Brenda's voice. “Have fun!” A pause. “Oh. They're already gone.” Shammy slowly turned her head. Ace could feel it without looking. She picked up her coffee. Took a drink. Shammy continued staring. Ace finally glanced sideways. “What?” A faint electric-blue brightness had appeared in Shammy's eyes. “Nothing.” Ace narrowed hers. Shammy smiled into her coffee. Ace looked away. For almost a minute, neither of them said anything. The Safehouse settled around them: distant traffic through thick walls, the faint hum of ventilation, another small metallic sound from Brenda's workshop. Quiet. Private. Unexpectedly so. Ace's gaze drifted back toward Shammy. And stayed there. Shammy noticed. At first she ignored it. Five seconds passed. Then ten. Finally she lowered her cup. “…what?” Ace said nothing. Shammy's eyes narrowed. “Oh, no.” Ace's mouth twitched. “What?” “That face.” “What face?” Shammy pointed at her. “That one.” Ace looked completely innocent. Shammy stared at her for another beat. Then her silver-white hair lifted just slightly around her shoulders. “You've been thinking.” Ace smiled. And somewhere behind the workshop door, blissfully unaware of anything happening in the common room, Brenda started humming. --- ## Chapter 2 — That Face “You’ve been thinking.” Ace took another drink of coffee. It was, she felt, an entirely reasonable response to an accusation that serious. Shammy waited. Ace lowered the cup. “I think all the time.” “No.” “No?” “No. You process things all the time. You calculate things. You notice things. Sometimes you stare at people until they become uncomfortable.” “That sounds useful.” “It is terrifying.” Ace smiled. Shammy pointed at her again. “But this is different.” “What is?” “That face.” “We've established that I have one.” “Not _a_ face. That face.” Ace leaned back into the couch and crossed one leg over the other. Shammy's eyes narrowed further. For several seconds, the only sound in the common room was Brenda humming behind the workshop door. Then a power tool started. Shammy glanced toward the sound. The tool stopped. The humming resumed. She looked back at Ace. Ace had not moved. “Oh, fuck.” “What?” “You're waiting.” “For?” “Me to figure it out.” Ace's mouth twitched. Shammy put her cup down. “All right.” She shifted in the chair, turning toward Ace properly. “Work?” “No.” “Collector?” “No.” “Rogue?” “No.” “Something went wrong at the Palace?” “No.” “Something is going to go wrong at the Palace?” “Statistically?” “Ace.” “No.” Shammy studied her. “Is anybody in danger?” “No.” “Are _we_ in danger?” “No.” “Did you buy something?” Ace blinked. Shammy froze. Ace froze. Slowly, Shammy's expression changed. “Oh.” Ace said nothing. “Oh.” The electric blue in Shammy's eyes brightened. Ace raised one finger. “Quiet.” “I didn't say anything.” “You're about to.” Shammy leaned forward. “You mean—” Ace pointed toward the workshop. Shammy's mouth snapped shut. Both of them looked at the closed door. Brenda's humming continued. Ace lowered her voice. “Brenda doesn't know.” Shammy lowered hers too. “I know Brenda doesn't know.” “Then stop glowing.” Shammy glanced down at herself. “I am not glowing.” “Your eyes are.” “Oh.” “And your hair.” Shammy immediately flattened both hands over the top of her head. Ace stared. Shammy stared back. The silver-white strands around her shoulders continued to float faintly despite her efforts. “This is involuntary.” “I know.” “Then stop judging me.” “I'm not judging you.” “You have the judging eyebrows.” “I have eyebrows.” “You have several kinds.” Ace almost laughed. Shammy's hands slowly came down. Her voice dropped another level. “Is this about the rings?” Ace looked at her. And just like that, the game disappeared. “Yes.” Shammy's smile came instantly, but she managed to keep it small. Ace glanced toward the workshop again. Nothing. Shammy leaned back. For a moment, she simply looked at Ace. The amusement remained, but something warmer had settled underneath it. “You're really doing it.” Ace looked toward the upper door through which Mai had disappeared. “Yes.” “When?” “Not today.” Shammy snorted. “I gathered that.” “Good.” “Ace.” “I haven't picked the exact day.” “But soon.” Ace nodded. “Soon.” Shammy watched her carefully. Ace could almost see the questions accumulating. There had been no safe place for them at the Palace. Not really. The trip to the jeweler had been stolen out of an already crowded schedule. Ace had received the notification that the rings were ready, found Shammy, told her to come with her, and refused to explain anything until they were already well away from Mai. Shammy had discovered the truth when the jeweler placed the small box in front of Ace. And then Ace had done something Shammy had clearly not expected. She had given the box to her. _Keep these._ Shammy had stared at it. Then at Ace. _You're giving me your engagement rings?_ _Mai knows all my hiding places._ A beat. _…fair._ That had been almost the entire discussion. Because Palace life had swallowed them again. Mai had been waiting. People had been everywhere. There had always been another conversation, another meal, another meeting, another ridiculous Palace incident. And Shammy had kept the box. No questions. No mistakes. No suspicious behavior obvious enough for Mai to notice. Mostly. Now, for the first time since then, there was nobody between them and the subject. Shammy glanced toward the hallway. Then toward the upper door. Then, finally, toward the workshop. “You planned this.” Ace frowned. “What?” “Mai and Iris leaving.” “No.” Shammy studied her. “You didn't?” “No.” “This just happened?” “Yes.” Shammy's smile returned. “And the second that door closed, you thought, _finally_.” Ace hesitated. “That may have happened.” “I knew it.” “You know nothing.” “I know where your engagement rings are.” Ace pointed at her. “Which is why you're still alive.” Shammy grinned. There was a bang from the workshop. Both women stopped. A second later: “Still fine!” Shammy waited. Ace waited. Then Shammy whispered: “She absolutely isn't listening.” “I know.” “Probably.” “Shammy.” “Right.” Shammy stood. Ace watched her. Without another word, Shammy crossed the common room and disappeared toward their bedroom. Ace knew exactly where she was going. That knowledge did something strange to her stomach. She looked down at her coffee. The decision itself had never frightened her. Not once. The moment the thought had become real, it had felt almost embarrassingly obvious. Mai. Of course Mai. There had been questions about how. Questions about when. Questions about rings. Questions about whether Ace could possibly manage to surprise a woman who had spent years learning every tiny shift in her posture, every hesitation, every suspicious silence. But the question itself? No. There had never been uncertainty there. Footsteps returned. Ace looked up. Shammy came back into the common room. And in one hand was the small box. She carried it carefully. Not dramatically. That somehow made Ace's chest tighten more. Shammy returned to her chair but didn't sit immediately. She looked at Ace. Then at the box. “You know,” she said quietly, “this thing has been stressing me out.” Ace raised an eyebrow. “You've fought cyberpsychos.” “They don't live with Mai.” Ace laughed. Shammy sat down. “I'm serious.” “You've hidden things from her before.” “Not _this_.” She held the box up between two fingers. “This is different.” “How?” “If she finds out I ate the last dessert, she gets annoyed.” “She knows you ate it.” “That is unproven.” “She watched you.” “Circumstantial.” “You had chocolate on your face.” “Fabricated evidence.” Ace shook her head. Shammy looked at the box again. “If she finds this…” “She won't.” “You sound very confident for somebody who gave it to me specifically because she would find it if _you_ had it.” “That was good operational planning.” “That was cowardice.” “Operational cowardice.” Shammy laughed. Then the laughter softened. Her thumb brushed lightly across the edge of the box. “Can I?” Ace knew what she meant. She nodded. Shammy opened it. The room seemed to become quieter. Two rings rested inside. They were exactly as Ace remembered them. Exactly as she had chosen them. For several seconds neither woman spoke. Shammy looked down at them. Then at Ace. “They're still beautiful.” Ace's expression softened. “Yeah.” “You did good.” “I know.” Shammy gave her a look. Ace lasted perhaps two seconds. “Thank you.” “Better.” Shammy looked back down. “Does Mai have any idea?” “No.” “Nothing?” “Not unless I've screwed up.” “You held onto her for two extra seconds before she left.” Ace stared. Shammy smiled. “She didn't notice.” “You did.” “I know what I'm looking for.” Ace's eyes dropped to the rings. Shammy let the silence stay for a while. Then: “So.” Ace looked up. Shammy closed the box gently but kept it in her hands. “So?” “You have me alone.” “Apparently.” “Mai is somewhere downtown discovering new reasons to hate civilization.” “Probably.” “Iris is making sure she doesn't stab a tax clerk.” “Hopefully.” “Brenda is building something behind a sound-resistant door.” As if summoned by the sentence, something whined loudly in the workshop. Both of them looked toward it. Shammy corrected herself. “Moderately sound-resistant door.” Ace nodded. “Fair.” Shammy settled deeper into the chair, still holding the little box. Her teasing expression faded. “All right.” Ace waited. “Tell me.” “Tell you what?” Shammy stared at her. “Ace.” A smile threatened at the corner of Ace's mouth. Shammy pointed the ring box at her. “You dragged me across the Palace to pick these up. You made me swear not to tell Mai, Brenda, Iris, Elisa, Reyes, Kiro, Panam, Rogue, or—” “I don't remember listing everyone individually.” “You started to.” “You kept asking.” “Because I needed parameters.” “The parameter was nobody.” “Yes. Eventually that became clear.” Ace folded her arms. Shammy leaned forward. “And now you've been staring at me since Mai walked out the door with the exact expression you get when you've already solved a problem and you're waiting to see whether anyone else catches up.” Ace's smile disappeared. Shammy saw it. Her own expression became very still. There it was. The reason Ace had kept looking at her. The reason the unexpected quiet had suddenly mattered. Ace glanced once at the little box in Shammy's hands. Then back into those faintly luminous blue eyes. “I've decided how I'm going to do it.” Shammy didn't move. Even her hair seemed to settle. For one heartbeat, two. Then her fingers tightened very slightly around the box. “Okay,” she whispered. Ace leaned forward, forearms resting against her thighs. Shammy did the same. Between them, held safely in Shammy's hands, was the secret they had been carrying since the Palace. And for the first time, they finally had enough quiet to talk about what came next. --- ## Chapter 3 — The Little Box For a while, neither of them spoke. The little box rested in Shammy's hands. Ace watched her thumb move once across its edge, almost absently. Then Shammy looked up. “How long?” Ace frowned. “How long what?” “How long have you known?” “That I was going to ask her?” Shammy nodded. Ace leaned back slightly. “That I wanted to?” “Yeah.” “A while.” “That is not an answer.” “It is technically an answer.” “Ace.” Ace sighed. “I don't know.” Shammy waited. “That isn't evasive,” Ace added. “I really don't.” “When did you first think about it?” Ace's eyes moved toward the upper door again. The question should have been easy. It wasn't. Not because the answer was complicated. Because there hadn't been a moment. No lightning strike. No sudden revelation. No morning when Ace had woken beside Mai and thought something she had never thought before. It had arrived more quietly than that. Somewhere between ordinary mornings and impossible jobs. Between arguments over coffee and waking with Mai's arm around her. Between Shammy crawling into bed with them and the three of them gradually forgetting there had ever been another way to sleep. Between Safehouse dinners, Palace insanity, injuries, laughter, blood, stupid jokes, missions that should have killed them and evenings where absolutely nothing happened. Mai had simply become part of the shape of Ace's future. And eventually Ace had noticed. “I think,” she said slowly, “I knew before I knew I knew.” Shammy smiled. “That sounds annoyingly like you.” “I know.” “When did it become real?” Ace thought about that. “That was clearer.” Shammy waited. “When I started thinking about rings.” Her smile widened. “So before you ordered them.” “Obviously.” “I don't know. You occasionally do things in a strange order.” “I do not.” Shammy stared at her. Ace reconsidered. “Not important.” “Mm-hm.” Ace nodded toward the box. “Once I started thinking about what she'd actually wear, it stopped being theoretical.” Shammy looked down. “And you picked two.” “Yes.” “Why?” Ace gave her a look. Shammy's eyebrows rose. “No, I know why there are two rings. I'm not _that_ bad.” “Debatable.” “I mean why these two?” Ace was quiet for a moment. Shammy opened the box again. The rings caught the ambient light of the common room. Nothing dramatic happened. No glow. No color. Just metal, craftsmanship and intent. Ace leaned forward. “I didn't want anything huge.” Shammy nodded. “Mai would hate huge.” “Exactly.” “She'd wear it because you gave it to her.” “And complain about it every time it caught on something.” “Also true.” “I wanted something she could actually live with.” Shammy's eyes remained on the rings. “And yours?” Ace shrugged. “Same.” “No.” Ace looked at her. Shammy smiled. “You spent more time choosing yours than hers, didn't you?” “No.” “That was too fast.” Ace narrowed her eyes. Shammy's smile became delighted. “Oh my God.” “Shut up.” “You did.” “I needed to make sure it worked.” “With what?” “My hands.” Shammy looked pointedly at Ace's hands. “Those?” Ace stared at her. Shammy bit her lip. “Sorry.” “You're five seconds from losing ring privileges.” “You can't. I'm your secure storage.” Ace hated that this was true. Shammy knew she hated that it was true. The resulting grin was unbearable. Ace pointed at the box. “Give me those.” Shammy immediately pulled it against her chest. “No.” Ace blinked. Shammy blinked. Then both of them started laughing. The workshop door remained closed. Brenda's humming had stopped at some point. Ace noticed. Shammy noticed Ace noticing. They both went silent. A few seconds passed. Nothing. Then the faint sound of tools resumed. Shammy exhaled. “This is ridiculous.” “You're the one yelling about engagement rings.” “I was not yelling.” “You were emotionally projecting.” “That's not a volume.” “With you it is.” Shammy's hair lifted faintly around her shoulders again. Ace pointed. “That.” Shammy flattened it with one hand. “Fuck off.” Ace grinned. Shammy looked back into the box. The humor faded gently rather than disappearing. “So she really doesn't know.” “No.” “And you're sure?” “As sure as I can be.” Shammy considered that. “She knows you better than anyone.” Ace glanced at her. Shammy caught it. “One of the people who knows you better than anyone,” she corrected. “Better.” “But Mai is scary.” “Yes.” “She notices everything.” “Yes.” “She noticed you moved her favorite mug six centimeters once.” “She said seven.” “It was seven?” “I measured afterward.” Shammy stared. “You measured?” “I needed to know if she was right.” “Was she?” Ace looked away. Shammy laughed softly. “She was.” “That's irrelevant.” “It is deeply relevant to the problem of surprising Mai.” Ace couldn't argue with that. Shammy closed the box again. “How are you going to keep her from figuring it out?” “That part is easy.” Shammy waited. Ace said nothing. Shammy waited longer. Finally: “You have no idea.” “I have some ideas.” “That means no.” “I haven't finalized the operational details.” “You are proposing marriage, not infiltrating Arasaka.” “The distinction is becoming less obvious.” Shammy laughed again. Ace smiled, but only briefly. Then she looked at the box. “I don't want her to know.” “She won't.” “I mean before.” “I know.” “I want her to have the moment.” That quieted Shammy. Ace continued before she could answer. “Mai doesn't get surprised often.” “No.” “Neither do we.” “No.” “I want this one.” Shammy's expression softened. “For her?” Ace nodded. “For her.” The answer sat between them. Simple. Enough. Shammy looked down at the box again. “And after?” Ace's brow furrowed. “After what?” “After she says yes.” Ace stared. Shammy's eyes widened. “You haven't considered the possibility that she says no, have you?” “No.” The answer was immediate. Absolute. Shammy laughed. “Good.” “I mean, she could.” “She won't.” “I know.” They looked at each other. Neither needed to explain why. Shammy shifted in the chair. “So after she says yes.” Ace's expression changed. A little uncertainty finally appeared. Not about Mai. About the question. “I don't know.” “Nothing?” “I thought I'd probably kiss her.” Shammy deadpanned. “Bold.” “Fuck you.” “I mean, don't rush things.” Ace threw a cushion. Shammy caught it against her chest, laughing. The ring box remained safely in her other hand. Ace immediately pointed at it. “Careful.” Shammy stopped laughing. Slowly, she looked at the box. Then at Ace. “You just threw something at the person holding your engagement rings.” Ace considered this. “That may have been tactically unsound.” “Operational cowardice and tactical incompetence. Marriage is changing you already.” “Give me the cushion.” “No.” Ace reached. Shammy kicked her feet up onto the edge of the couch, using them as a barrier. Ace stopped. Shammy smiled sweetly. “Violence near the rings is prohibited.” “You invented that rule.” “I have custody.” Ace stared at her. Shammy stared back. Then Ace started laughing again. Shammy joined her. It took a while for the room to settle. When it did, Shammy placed the cushion aside. The little box remained in her hand. “So,” she said. Ace recognized the tone. There were more questions. A lot more. “Go ahead.” “Where?” Ace smiled faintly. “I know that.” Shammy straightened. “You do?” “Yes.” “Where?” “Here.” Shammy looked around the common room. “Here here?” “Safehouse.” “Okay.” “No restaurant.” “Good.” “No Palace.” “Very good.” “No Afterlife.” “Rogue would charge admission.” “She absolutely would.” “No rooftop.” Shammy looked mildly disappointed. Ace noticed. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “You thought lightning again.” “I thought _atmosphere_.” “No atmosphere.” “That is physically impossible.” “You know what I mean.” Shammy grinned. Ace looked around the room. “This is home.” The grin disappeared. Shammy followed her gaze. The common room wasn't glamorous. It wasn't designed for ceremonies. There were signs of five lives everywhere. Cups. Jackets. A piece of Brenda's equipment sitting where Brenda had been specifically told not to leave pieces of equipment. One of Shammy's things draped over the back of a chair. Mai's coffee on the table where she'd left it before changing for the trip downtown. Ace's boots near the couch. Nothing staged. Nothing impressive. Home. Shammy's eyes came back to Ace. “Yeah,” she said quietly. Ace nodded. “I don't want to take her somewhere that means less just because it looks better.” Shammy was silent. Ace continued. “I don't want fifty people watching.” “Definitely not.” “I don't want anyone filming it.” “No.” “I don't want her wondering if she has to react for anybody else.” Shammy's expression softened further. “Just you.” Ace looked at her. There was something in Shammy's wording that Ace didn't catch immediately. Then she did. She didn't correct it. Not yet. Instead she nodded slowly. “Private.” Shammy smiled. “I think that's right.” “So do I.” “Common room?” “Probably.” “Probably?” “I haven't decided exactly where I'm standing.” Shammy stared. Ace stared back. “You've thought about where you're standing.” “Yes.” “You are unbelievable.” “I need to know where Mai will be.” “You could ask her to stand somewhere.” “That would be suspicious.” “You ask her to move all the time.” “Not immediately before proposing.” Shammy considered that. “Fair.” “I want it natural.” “Okay.” “No setup she can see.” “Okay.” “No decorations.” Shammy made a face. Ace pointed. “No.” “One flower?” “No.” “Tiny flower?” “Shammy.” “Fine.” Ace leaned back. Shammy was quiet for perhaps three seconds. “Candles?” “No.” “Indirect lighting?” “No.” “Music?” “No.” “Very quiet music?” “No.” “A controlled electrical discharge that spells—” “No.” “You didn't even let me finish.” “I didn't need to.” Shammy folded her arms. “You have no romance in you.” “I bought engagement rings.” “Under supervision.” “You were not supervising.” “I was emotionally supervising.” Ace rubbed both hands over her face. Shammy laughed. Then, slowly, the laughter faded again. “All right,” she said. Ace lowered her hands. Shammy's expression had become thoughtful. “Simple.” “Yes.” “Here.” “Yes.” “Nothing theatrical.” “Yes.” “Something Mai doesn't have to share with anyone.” Ace nodded. “Yes.” Shammy looked down at the little box. Then back at Ace. “I like it.” Ace's shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. Shammy noticed. Of course she did. “You were actually worried I wouldn't.” “No.” “Ace.” “A little.” Shammy smiled. “Why?” Ace shrugged. “Because you're part of this.” The words came easily. So easily that neither of them immediately noticed their weight. Then Shammy became still. Ace saw it. For just a moment, she wondered why. Then the workshop emitted a sudden metallic crash loud enough to make both of them jump. “FUCK!” Ace was on her feet instantly. Shammy stood with her, ring box already closed safely in her hand. “Brenda?” A pause. Then: “Dropped a wrench!” Ace stared at the workshop door. Shammy stared too. “Just a wrench?” Ace called. “Yes!” Another pause. “Mostly!” Ace closed her eyes. Shammy covered her mouth. Ace slowly sat down again. Shammy followed. “Where were we?” Ace asked. Shammy looked at her. Something warm still lingered in her expression. But she let the moment go. For now. “You were explaining your extremely romantic plan involving no flowers, no music, no candles, no atmosphere and apparently precise floor coordinates.” “It needs work.” Shammy smiled. “Yes.” Ace narrowed her eyes. Shammy held up the little box. “But I think we can fix it.” Ace looked at the rings in her hand. Then at Shammy. “We?” “Obviously.” Ace smiled. And that answer, too, came easily. “Obviously.” --- ## Chapter 4 — Ace Has A Plan Shammy placed the little box carefully on the table between them. Not far away. Not casually. Exactly where she could reach it before Ace could do anything tactically unsound involving cushions. Ace noticed. “You're taking this custody thing seriously.” “Yes.” “They're mine.” “Temporarily disputed.” Ace stared at her. Shammy smiled. “Continue.” Ace settled deeper into the couch. “We already covered most of it.” “No, we covered where.” “And private.” “And your passionate hatred of flowers.” “I don't hate flowers.” “You rejected one flower.” “Because if I suddenly put one flower in the middle of the common room, Mai will know something is wrong.” Shammy opened her mouth. Stopped. Thought about it. “That is annoyingly reasonable.” “I know.” “What about flowers that are normally here?” “There are no flowers normally here.” “Then we should start putting flowers here now.” Ace slowly turned her head. Shammy brightened. “See? Preparation.” “You want me to establish a multi-week floral cover operation.” “When you say it like that, it sounds excessive.” “It is excessive.” “I prefer thorough.” “No flowers.” Shammy sighed. “Fine.” She reached for her coffee. Ace watched her. Shammy took a drink. Ace continued watching. The cup stopped halfway down. “What?” “You're enjoying this.” “Of course I'm enjoying this.” “Why?” Shammy lowered the cup. “Because you are planning to propose to Mai and somehow you've turned it into tactical doctrine.” “It needs to work.” “Ace.” “What?” “She already loves you.” Ace became quiet. Shammy's expression softened. “You know that, right?” “Yes.” “You don't have to convince her.” “I know.” “You don't have to make it perfect.” “I know.” “You don't have to outsmart her.” Ace hesitated. Shammy's eyebrows rose. “Well.” “I do have to surprise her.” “That is not the same thing.” “With Mai it might be.” Shammy laughed. Ace smiled. But Shammy had landed closer to something real than she probably knew. Ace wasn't afraid of Mai's answer. She wasn't trying to construct a moment impressive enough to earn a yes. She already knew what Mai felt. That was precisely why she wanted to get this right. Mai had spent years beside her without demanding performances. Without needing grand gestures. Without making love into something that had to be repeatedly proved. If Ace was going to give her one deliberate, irreversible moment— she wanted it to belong to Mai. Not to an audience. Not to a story someone else could tell later. Not to the spectacle. Just her. Shammy watched Ace's expression change. “You went somewhere.” “No.” “You did.” Ace looked at her. Shammy waited. Ace sighed. “I just want her to remember it.” “She will.” “I know.” “Even if you trip.” “I won't.” “Even if you forget what you're saying.” “I won't.” “Even if Brenda chooses exactly that moment to test something explosive.” Ace looked toward the workshop. Shammy followed her gaze. They remained silent for several seconds. Ace looked back. “We may need Brenda containment.” “I was about to suggest that.” “No cages.” “I wasn't going to suggest a cage.” “You thought about it.” “I thought about soundproofing.” Ace considered it. “That might actually—” “No.” Ace blinked. Shammy grinned. “Look at you.” “Fuck off.” “You were about to operationalize Brenda.” “She'd understand.” “She'd improve the soundproofing.” “Exactly.” “And then ask why.” Ace's face fell. Shammy pointed at her. “There.” “That is a problem.” “A very large one.” Ace leaned back. Brenda was not inherently suspicious. That was the good news. The bad news was that Brenda was extremely intelligent, lived in the same building and had a professional relationship with the concept of things being hidden from other people. Also, Iris existed. Iris noticed patterns. Mai noticed everything. The Safehouse was, Ace reflected, a catastrophically poor environment for secrecy. “We don't tell them,” she said. Shammy nodded. “Agreed.” “Not Brenda.” “Agreed.” “Not Iris.” “Definitely.” Ace glanced at her. “Definitely?” “If Iris knows, Brenda will know.” “Iris can keep secrets.” “I know.” “Then?” Shammy smiled. “Brenda will know that Iris is keeping a secret.” Ace thought about that. “Fuck.” “Exactly.” “And then Mai will know Brenda knows Iris knows something.” “Now you're learning.” Ace stared at the ceiling. “This is becoming a counterintelligence operation.” “You started it.” “I bought rings.” “You bought secret rings.” “They're engagement rings. They're supposed to be secret.” “Not usually from four people living in the same apartment.” “Safehouse.” “Fine. Extremely secure apartment.” Ace gave her a look. Shammy smiled. “So. Brenda and Iris don't know.” “No.” “They can be here.” “Yes.” “But not in the room.” Ace nodded. “I don't want to send them away.” Shammy's expression changed slightly. “Why not?” “Because then we'd need a reason.” “True.” “And if we manufacture one, Iris might notice.” “Also true.” “And I don't want this to become some huge production where everyone secretly knows except Mai.” Shammy nodded slowly. Ace continued. “They live here. They don't need to disappear just because I'm proposing.” “So we wait until they're naturally doing something else.” “Yes.” Shammy glanced toward the workshop. Ace followed her gaze. A faint whirring sound came from behind the door. Both women smiled. “Brenda solves herself,” Shammy said. “Usually.” “And Iris?” Ace thought about it. “She spends time in there with her.” “True.” “Or they're in their room.” “Also true.” “So we don't schedule them.” “We schedule around them.” Ace pointed at her. “Exactly.” Shammy looked absurdly pleased. “I contributed.” “You've been contributing.” “I know, but that one sounded operational.” “Don't get excited.” “Too late.” A faint static lift moved through her silver-white hair. Ace sighed. “Apparently.” Shammy ignored that. “So we wait for a normal evening.” “Yes.” “Everyone home.” “Preferably.” “Brenda and Iris naturally elsewhere.” “Yes.” “Mai here.” “Yes.” “You here.” Ace stared. “That is generally required.” “I am establishing parameters.” “You've been spending too much time with Iris.” “Impossible.” Ace looked at the table. The ring box sat there. Quiet. Small. Ridiculously consequential. Shammy followed her eyes. “Do you know what you're going to say?” Ace's gaze snapped back up. Shammy smiled. “Oh.” “What?” “You don't.” “I have an idea.” “That is not what I asked.” “I don't want to script it.” “Why?” “Because then I'll sound scripted.” “You could practice.” “No.” “In a mirror.” “No.” “With me.” “No.” “I could be Mai.” Ace stared at her. Shammy immediately straightened and lowered her voice into a terrible approximation. “Ace, why are you kneeling on the floor?” Ace's expression went flat. Shammy continued. “Also, have you moved my mug?” “I'm going to kill you.” “Seven centimeters, Ace.” “Shammy.” “You thought I wouldn't notice?” Ace lunged for the cushion. Shammy grabbed the ring box and held it high. “Protected asset!” Ace stopped dead. Shammy burst out laughing. “You're abusing your position.” “I have leverage.” “You have my rings.” “Exactly.” Ace sank back onto the couch. “This was a mistake.” “No, it wasn't.” The answer came differently. Ace looked at her. Shammy was still smiling, but gently now. “No,” she repeated. “It wasn't.” Ace held her gaze. Something passed between them. Not yet the conversation waiting further ahead. But close enough to touch its edge. Ace looked away first. “I'll know what to say.” Shammy nodded. “I think you will.” “I don't want a speech.” “Good.” “I don't want to tell her our entire history.” “Very good.” “I just want…” Ace stopped. Shammy waited. Ace looked toward the door again. She could still see Mai standing beside the couch before leaving. That slight lift of her eyebrows after Ace held onto her too long. The second kiss. The easy certainty of it. “I want to tell her I want the rest.” Shammy didn't speak. Ace's voice had gone quieter. “We already have everything else.” A tiny current moved through Shammy's hair. Ace continued. “The Safehouse. Work. Stupid arguments. Palace trips. Getting shot at. Her stealing my side of the bed.” “You're tiny. You don't need a whole side.” Ace glared. “Sorry.” “She steals it.” “Of course.” “And I want all of it.” Shammy's smile disappeared completely now. Not because anything was wrong. Because nothing about the moment needed decorating. Ace shrugged, almost embarrassed by how simple the words sounded once they were outside her head. “I want to ask if she wants all of it too.” Shammy looked at her for a long moment. Then: “That's what you say.” Ace blinked. “What?” “That.” “That's not enough.” “Yes, it is.” Ace frowned. Shammy leaned forward. “You don't need a speech.” “I just said that.” “And then immediately started worrying your not-speech isn't enough.” “I wasn't worrying.” “You have worrying eyebrows too.” “I fucking hate you.” “No, you don't.” Ace couldn't argue with that either. Shammy reached across the space between them and touched Ace's knee. “Tell her what you just told me.” Ace looked down at Shammy's hand. Then back at her. “That I want her side of the bed?” “That she steals yours.” “She does.” “Definitely include that.” Ace smiled. Shammy squeezed her knee once and withdrew her hand. “There. Proposal fixed.” “We haven't even figured out the timing.” “Details.” “You were the one demanding parameters.” “I contain multitudes.” “You contain static.” “That too.” Ace laughed. Shammy sat back again. “All right. What else?” Ace thought. “No kneeling until she's actually there.” Shammy stared. Ace stared back. “Were you expecting her not to be?” “No. I'm thinking through sequence.” “You are absolutely planning floor coordinates.” “I told you.” “You did.” Ace gestured toward the open area of the common room. “If she's around here—” “You're pointing.” “Yes.” “At the floor.” “Yes.” “Where you intend to kneel.” “Yes.” Shammy looked delighted. Ace ignored her. “I don't want the table between us.” “Reasonable.” “And I don't want her sitting down.” “Why?” Ace paused. “I don't know.” Shammy considered that. “Maybe because you want her free to move.” Ace looked at her. Shammy shrugged. “If she's sitting and you suddenly kneel, she has to figure out whether she's supposed to stand up.” Ace's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “And Mai will think about that.” “Mai will absolutely think about that.” “Standing.” “Standing.” Ace nodded. “Good.” Shammy smiled. “You're welcome.” Ace continued mentally assembling the scene. “Common room. Evening. Nothing unusual beforehand.” “Right.” “Brenda and Iris somewhere else naturally.” “Right.” “Mai standing.” “Yes.” “I get her attention.” “That would help.” Ace ignored that. “And then…” She stopped. Shammy waited. Ace's eyes went to the ring box. Something still didn't fit. Not badly. Just incompletely. She could see Mai. She could see herself kneeling. She could imagine the question. But the rings— Ace frowned. Shammy noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That is very clearly something.” Ace looked at the box. Then at Shammy. Not yet. The thought wasn't fully formed. “We'll come back to it.” Shammy followed her gaze to the box. “Okay.” She picked it up again. Automatically. Protectively. Ace noticed that too. Shammy turned it once in her fingers. “So that's the plan?” “Most of it.” “Private Safehouse proposal.” “Yes.” “No decorations.” “Yes.” “No audience.” “Yes.” “No Rogue selling tickets.” “Especially that.” “No lightning.” Ace pointed at her. “Correct.” Shammy sighed theatrically. “You make love very difficult.” “You'll survive.” “I always do.” Ace smiled. Shammy looked at her for another moment. Then she asked, casually: “So what do you need me to do?” Ace's smile remained. But something behind it shifted. There it was. The question they had been approaching without either of them quite touching it. Ace looked at Shammy. Shammy looked back, waiting for instructions. Help keep Mai distracted. Watch Brenda and Iris. Make sure the room was clear. Something practical. Something useful. Ace could see every assumption behind the question. And suddenly she knew exactly what was missing from the picture in her head. Shammy. Not arranging it. Not protecting it. Not somewhere down the hallway making sure nobody interrupted. There. Ace opened her mouth. Then stopped. Too early. There was one assumption Shammy hadn't said aloud yet. Ace wanted to hear it. So instead she smiled. “We'll figure that out.” Shammy narrowed her eyes. “That face again.” “What face?” “The one that makes me nervous.” Ace reached for her coffee. “Good.” “You're a menace.” “Slander.” Shammy picked up her own cup. “You realize Mai is going to marry a menace.” Ace smiled into her coffee. “That's the plan.” --- ## Chapter 5 — I'll Get Out Of The Way For a while, the plan remained where they had left it. Mostly complete. Dangerously reasonable. Ace drank her coffee. Shammy drank hers. Behind the workshop door, Brenda had apparently moved into a quieter phase of whatever she was building, which Ace considered suspicious but not immediately actionable. Shammy turned the little box over once in her fingers. Then again. Ace watched. “You're going to wear the finish off.” “I am not.” “You keep touching it.” “Because you keep making me responsible for it.” “You've been responsible for it since the Palace.” “Yes.” “And it's still here.” “Yes.” “So you're doing well.” Shammy looked at her. “Was that praise?” “No.” “It sounded like praise.” “You're imagining things.” “I want it recorded.” “There is no record.” “Iris probably has one.” Ace glanced toward the upper door. “Not of this.” Shammy's smile softened. “No.” The box turned once more in her fingers. Then she placed it carefully beside her cup. “All right.” Ace waited. Shammy leaned forward. “If we're actually doing this here, we need to think about everyone else.” “We did.” “No, we established Brenda containment.” “We established no containment.” “We established passive Brenda containment.” “We established that Brenda likes her workshop.” “Same thing.” “It really isn't.” Shammy waved that aside. “And Iris will probably be with her.” “Probably.” “But probably isn't enough.” Ace raised an eyebrow. “You're becoming disturbingly invested in operational planning.” “I told you. I contain multitudes.” “You contain a problem.” “That too.” Shammy started counting on her fingers. “So. We need a normal evening.” “Yes.” “Mai can't suspect anything.” “Yes.” “Brenda and Iris need to be somewhere else naturally.” “Yes.” “And we need enough warning that you don't suddenly decide to propose while Brenda is walking through the common room carrying a plasma cutter.” Ace considered that image. “That would be memorable.” “No.” “You're the one who wanted atmosphere.” “Not _that_ atmosphere.” Ace smiled. Shammy continued. “I can watch them.” Ace said nothing. “Not obviously,” Shammy added. “I can just keep track of where everybody is.” Ace's expression remained neutral. “If Brenda goes into the workshop and Iris follows her, I'll know.” “How?” “I have eyes.” “So does Mai.” Shammy frowned. “Fine. I'll know normally.” “Excellent plan.” “Fuck you.” Ace smiled. “And if they're in their room, same thing. Or if they go downstairs. Or out.” Shammy was getting into it now. Ace could see the pieces arranging themselves in her head. “I can ping you if something changes.” “No pings.” “Why?” “Mai might see.” “She doesn't read your messages.” “She sees my face.” Shammy stopped. “That is annoyingly true.” “I know.” “Okay. No pings.” Shammy thought. “A signal.” Ace stared. “A signal.” “Yes.” “No.” “You don't even know what it is.” “I know you.” “That is becoming a very unfair argument.” “It keeps working.” Shammy folded her arms. “What if I just walk through the room?” “Suspicious.” “I live here.” “You walk through rooms all the time.” “Exactly.” “And if you suddenly walk through the room, look at me meaningfully and leave?” “I wouldn't look meaningfully.” “You are physically incapable of not looking meaningfully when you know something.” Shammy's mouth opened. Closed. Ace pointed at her. “Palace.” “That was different.” “You nearly vibrated through a wall.” “I had just learned you bought engagement rings.” “Exactly.” Shammy sank back. “Fine.” Ace waited. Shammy's eyes moved around the common room. “Maybe we don't need a signal.” “We don't.” “You can see the workshop door from here.” “Yes.” “And their room isn't far.” “Yes.” “And if somebody interrupts…” Ace shrugged. “I don't propose.” Shammy looked at her. “That simple?” “Yes.” “You just stop?” “If the moment isn't right.” “And try again later.” “Yes.” Shammy smiled. “I like that.” Ace glanced at her. “What?” “That you're not trying to force it.” “Why would I?” “I don't know.” Shammy shrugged. “People get weird about proposals.” Ace's eyebrows lifted. “Experience?” “Observation.” “Of?” “People.” “That was detailed.” “I am an artist. I observe humanity.” “You paint naked people.” “Humanity is often naked.” Ace rubbed her forehead. Shammy grinned. “Anyway. Good. No forced timing.” “No.” “So I watch for an opening.” Ace said nothing. Shammy continued. “I help make sure you get one.” Still nothing. “And if Mai starts getting suspicious before then, I distract her.” “How?” “I'll think of something.” “That sentence terrifies me.” “It should.” Ace almost smiled. Shammy reached for the box again. Ace's eyes followed her hand. Shammy noticed. “I know.” “Know what?” “You're checking.” “I am not.” “You check every time I touch it.” “They're important.” “I know.” Something in Shammy's voice made Ace stop. The teasing had softened again. Shammy looked down at the box. “I know.” Ace held her gaze for a moment. Then nodded. Shammy opened the box. Just briefly. The rings were still there. Of course they were. She closed it again. “I'll keep them until you're ready.” Ace's expression changed almost imperceptibly. Shammy didn't notice. Not yet. “And then?” Ace asked. Shammy looked up. “What?” “What happens when I'm ready?” Shammy blinked. “I give them to you.” Ace said nothing. Shammy waited. “That was the plan, wasn't it?” “Was it?” Shammy frowned. “You gave them to me so Mai wouldn't find them.” “Yes.” “So when you're ready, I give them back.” Ace leaned into the couch. “And then?” Shammy stared at her. “You propose.” “And you?” The question was light. Almost casual. Shammy answered just as casually. “I help.” “How?” Shammy shrugged. “However you need.” “Specific.” “Fine.” She began counting again. “I keep Mai from finding out. I watch Brenda and Iris. I make sure you get your opening. If you suddenly panic, I kick you.” “I won't panic.” “I'll remain available.” “How generous.” “I know.” Shammy smiled. “And once you've got her here and everything's right…” She made a small motion with one hand. “I get out of the way.” Ace went completely still. Shammy didn't notice at first. She was looking around the common room again, mentally staging the scene. “I can go to our bedroom. Or the kitchen. No, kitchen is too close. Maybe workshop, if Brenda's in there. Though then I'd have to explain why I'm suddenly interested in whatever she's—” “No.” Shammy stopped. She looked at Ace. “What?” Ace hadn't moved. “No.” Shammy's brow furrowed. “No workshop?” “No.” “Okay. Bedroom, then.” “No.” Now Shammy stared. Ace held her eyes. “No what?” “You're not leaving.” The words landed quietly. Shammy blinked. For a second, she seemed genuinely confused. Then she smiled, uncertainly. “Ace, it's okay.” “I know.” “I mean it.” “So do I.” “You don't have to worry about me.” “I'm not.” Shammy's smile faded. Ace leaned forward. Shammy watched her. “I thought that was the point,” Shammy said. “What was?” “Private.” “It is.” “Just you and Mai.” There it was. The assumption Ace had been waiting for. Hearing it aloud hurt more than she had expected. Not because Shammy sounded wounded. She didn't. That somehow made it worse. Shammy was simply giving them space. Naturally. Lovingly. Without asking for anything. Ace stared at her for one long second. Then another. “No.” Shammy's brow tightened. “Ace—” “You're going to be there.” Silence. The workshop seemed suddenly very far away. Shammy looked at her. Really looked. Ace could see the moment the words stopped being logistics. “You mean…” “Yes.” Shammy glanced toward the common room. Then back at Ace. “Here?” “Yes.” “When you ask her?” “Yes.” Shammy didn't say anything. Ace watched the faint blue in her eyes brighten and then settle again. Her hair lifted slightly around her shoulders. This time Ace didn't tease her about it. Shammy looked down at the little box still resting in her hands. “Ace…” “You're staying.” Shammy swallowed. “But—” “No.” A tiny laugh escaped her. “You don't even know what I'm going to say.” “Yes, I do.” “Oh?” “You're going to tell me this is between me and Mai.” Shammy's silence answered for her. Ace nodded once. “That's what I thought.” Shammy looked away. Not far. Just toward the empty place where Mai had been standing before she left. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet. “Isn't it?” Ace felt something tighten behind her ribs. She didn't answer immediately. Because this mattered. More than floor coordinates. More than timing. More than rings. More than whether Brenda happened to be carrying a plasma cutter through the common room. Ace moved from the couch. Not far. Just enough to sit closer. Shammy looked back at her. Ace rested her forearms against her knees. “No.” Shammy's eyes searched hers. Ace kept her voice steady. “I'm asking Mai to marry me.” Shammy nodded. “I know.” “But that doesn't make you someone who needs to get out of the way.” Shammy went very still. Ace could see the answer forming. The protest. The reassurance. Something about not wanting to intrude. Ace didn't let her get there. “You're not an audience.” Shammy's lips parted. “You're not helping from another room.” The blue in her eyes brightened. “You're not making sure Brenda stays busy while I do something you're somehow not part of.” Shammy's fingers tightened around the box. Ace looked at them. Then back at her. “You're going to be there.” This time Shammy didn't ask what Ace meant. She understood. And for the first time since the conversation had begun, she had no joke. No counterargument. No ridiculous suggestion. No lightning. She simply stared at Ace. Her eyes were shining now for an entirely different reason. Ace's voice softened. “Okay?” Shammy drew in a breath. Held it. Then let it out slowly. “Ace…” There was too much in the word. Ace knew that too. She reached over and put one hand over Shammy's where it held the box. Shammy look --- ## Chapter 6 — Us “I'm sure.” Shammy looked at her for a long time. Ace kept her hand where it was. Over Shammy's. Over the little box. There was no reason to rush. No silence to fill. Shammy's hair had settled almost completely now, silver-white strands resting against her shoulders except for the faintest lift near her temples. The electric blue in her eyes remained brighter than usual. Ace knew that look. Shammy had too many feelings and nowhere sensible to put them. Usually this resulted in art. Occasionally lightning. Ace hoped for art. “You don't have to say that because you think I need to hear it,” Shammy said finally. “I don't.” “I know.” “Then why did you say it?” Shammy gave her a look. Ace waited. Shammy's gaze dropped to their hands. “Because this is…” She stopped. Ace didn't help. Not because she didn't want to. Because Shammy deserved the space to find the words herself. “This is different,” Shammy said. “From what?” “Everything.” Ace's thumb moved once against her hand. Shammy looked toward the upper door. “Mai is going to be your wife.” The word hung there. Wife. Ace had thought it before. Many times. She had imagined saying it. She had imagined hearing Mai say it. But hearing Shammy say it aloud did something unexpected. A warmth spread through Ace's chest. She smiled. Shammy saw it. “Oh, fuck.” “What?” “You liked that.” Ace tried to suppress the smile. Failed. Shammy stared. “You really liked that.” “Shut up.” “Your face.” “I have a face.” “You have _wife face_.” “That is not a thing.” “It is now.” Ace's smile broke wider despite herself. Shammy laughed softly. For a few seconds the pressure eased. Then Shammy looked down again. “See?” Ace waited. “That's what I mean.” “What?” “You and Mai.” Ace frowned. Shammy tried again. “You're going to marry her.” “Yes.” “And that's…” She searched for the word. “Yours.” Ace's expression changed. Shammy noticed immediately. “Not like that.” “Then how?” “I don't know.” “Try.” Shammy drew in a breath. “Marriage is two people.” “Usually.” “You are not helping.” “Sorry.” “No, you're not.” “True.” Shammy looked at her. Then back at their hands. “I love you.” Ace's teasing disappeared instantly. “I know.” “I love Mai.” “I know.” “I love what we are.” Ace's hand tightened gently over hers. “So do I.” “And I'm not scared you're going to stop loving me because you marry her.” Ace watched her carefully. “Good.” “I'm not scared Mai will.” “Good.” “I'm not scared you're going to suddenly decide the Triad was temporary.” “Good.” Shammy gave her a tiny smile. “You could use more words.” “I was waiting.” “For?” “The stupid part.” Shammy's mouth fell open. Ace smiled. “There isn't a stupid part.” “Then we're done.” “Ace.” “There it is.” Shammy tried to glare at her. It lasted perhaps half a second. Then she looked away again. “The part I don't know how to say.” Ace's voice softened. “Say it badly.” Shammy glanced at her. Ace shrugged. “Works for me.” That earned a small laugh. Then Shammy nodded. “All right.” She took another breath. “I don't want to make something that belongs to you and Mai about me.” Ace went still. Shammy continued before she could interrupt. “I know I'm part of us.” “Yes.” “I know I'm not outside your relationship.” “Yes.” “I know all of that.” “Good.” “But you asking Mai to marry you is still you asking Mai to marry you.” “Yes.” “And I thought…” She looked down at the box. “I thought the best thing I could do was help you get there and then give you the room.” Ace understood. Completely. That was the problem. There was no hidden wound in Shammy's reasoning. No jealousy. No fear. No quiet request to be reassured. She had looked at something beautiful happening between two people she loved and instinctively decided to protect it by stepping away. Ace hated that. Not Shammy. The assumption. She shifted closer. Shammy looked up. “You're right about one thing.” Shammy waited. “I am asking Mai to marry me.” “Yes.” “You aren't.” “No.” “Mai and I will be married.” Shammy nodded. “You and I won't be.” Another nod. “And that matters.” Something flickered across Shammy's expression. Ace saw it. She kept going. “I'm not going to pretend marriage means nothing just because the three of us love each other.” Shammy's eyes stayed on hers. “It means something to me.” “I know.” “It means something to Mai.” “I know.” “And I want it.” Shammy smiled faintly. “I know.” Ace looked toward the door Mai had left through. Then back. “But none of that makes you less.” Shammy's smile disappeared. Ace spoke slowly now. Carefully. Not because she had rehearsed this. Because she hadn't. “I'm not dividing my life into the part where Mai is my wife and the part where you're allowed to exist.” Shammy inhaled sharply. Ace's hand tightened around hers. “I'm not building a new thing with Mai and leaving you standing next to the old one.” “Ace…” “No. Let me finish.” Shammy closed her mouth. Ace looked directly into her eyes. “I want to marry Mai.” A beat. “I love you.” Another. “I love her.” Shammy's eyes were shining again. “And I love us.” Ace held her gaze. “I don't want to do this without you.” Shammy went very still. Ace glanced down at the small box beneath their hands. “The rings don't change that.” Shammy swallowed. “They change something.” “Yes.” Ace nodded immediately. “They do.” That mattered too. No pretending. No easy reassurance that marriage was just jewelry and paperwork. It wasn't. Not to Ace. “They make Mai my wife.” Shammy smiled through whatever was gathering behind her eyes. “There it is again.” Ace's mouth twitched. “Wife.” Shammy's smile grew. “Stop enjoying it.” “No.” “Menace.” “Slander.” Shammy laughed, and one tear escaped anyway. Ace saw it. Shammy felt it. “Oh, fuck off.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were going to.” “I wasn't.” “You have tear-noticing eyebrows.” Ace stared. “That doesn't even make sense.” “It does emotionally.” Shammy wiped her cheek with her free hand. Ace waited. No joke this time. Shammy's breathing settled. Then Ace continued. “They change something between me and Mai.” “Yes.” “But they don't subtract something between you and me.” Shammy closed her eyes briefly. “Or you and Mai.” Her eyes opened. “Or the three of us.” Shammy stared at her. Ace felt the words arrive before she had time to make them elegant. Good. She didn't want elegant. “I'm not asking either of you to stop being us.” Shammy stopped breathing. Ace knew immediately that she'd found it. Not the proposal words. Not yet. Something else. Something she hadn't known she needed to say until it existed between them. Shammy's fingers turned beneath Ace's hand. She took Ace's hand properly now. Held it. Ace let her. For a long moment, Shammy said nothing. Then: “You really thought about this.” Ace considered lying. Shammy's eyes narrowed through the remaining moisture. “Don't.” Ace sighed. “Yes.” “How much?” “A lot.” “Before the rings?” “Yes.” “Before the Palace?” “Yes.” Shammy stared. “How long have you been carrying this around?” Ace shrugged. “A while.” “That is still not an answer.” “It is still technically an answer.” Shammy squeezed her hand. Ace squeezed back. “Does Mai know you've thought about what happens to us afterward?” “No.” “Obviously.” “She doesn't know there is an afterward yet.” “Right.” Shammy laughed softly. Then she became serious again. “What _does_ happen afterward?” Ace frowned. “We continue.” “That simple?” “Yes.” Shammy searched her face. Ace shrugged. “What do you want me to say?” “I don't know.” “We wake up.” Shammy listened. “We drink coffee.” “Dangerously romantic.” “You steal food.” “Allegedly.” “Mai steals my side of the bed.” “You're still tiny.” Ace ignored that. “You paint.” “You brood.” “I don't brood.” “You brood professionally.” “We work.” “We come home.” “We go to the Palace.” “We regret going to the Palace.” “We go again.” Shammy smiled. Ace smiled back. “We love each other.” The smile trembled. Ace continued. “Same as before.” “Except Mai is your wife.” Ace failed to suppress that smile again. Shammy laughed. “Oh my God.” “Shut up.” “You are hopeless.” “Probably.” Shammy shook her head. Then she looked at Ace for several seconds. “You know I'm going to love calling her your wife just because it does that to you.” “I'll kill you.” “No, you won't.” “No.” The answer came too warmly to carry any threat. Shammy leaned closer. Their foreheads touched. Ace closed her eyes. For a few breaths, neither of them spoke. There was nothing sexual in the contact. Nothing performative. Just familiarity. Warmth. The easy physical language they had built over time. Shammy whispered: “I love you.” Ace answered without hesitation. “I love you too.” “And I'm happy.” “I know.” “For both of you.” “I know.” “I really am.” Ace opened her eyes. Shammy did too. “I know.” That seemed to be the answer Shammy needed. She moved first. Not away. Closer. Ace opened an arm and Shammy folded into her. The chair was not designed for this. Neither cared. Shammy ended up half kneeling beside the couch, arms around Ace, face pressed against her shoulder. Ace held her tightly. One hand against Shammy's back. The other behind her head. Silver-white hair brushed Ace's cheek. A faint static tickled her skin. Ace smiled into it. “No lightning.” Shammy laughed against her shoulder. “You ruin everything.” “Apparently.” They stayed like that. Long enough that the moment stopped being reassurance and became simply affection. Long enough for Shammy's breathing to settle completely. Long enough for Ace to realize that she had needed this conversation too. Eventually Shammy pulled back. Not far. Her hands remained on Ace's shoulders. Ace's stayed at her waist. Shammy looked at her. “So.” Ace immediately distrusted the tone. “What?” “You're going to propose to Mai.” “Yes.” “Here.” “Yes.” “Privately.” “Yes.” “And I'm staying.” Ace's expression softened. “Yes.” Shammy nodded. Then she looked toward the little box. Still on the table. Still closed. Still safe. She looked back at Ace. “What am I actually doing?” Ace blinked. Shammy smiled. “I mean during the proposal.” Ace's gaze moved to the box. There it was again. The missing piece. Except now it wasn't missing. Ace could see it. Clearly. Mai in front of her. Ace kneeling. And Shammy beside her. Not behind. Not watching from across the room. Beside her. The box— Ace looked at Shammy. Shammy saw something change in her face. “Oh, no.” Ace smiled. “What?” “That face again.” “I have an idea.” “That sentence has caused me problems all afternoon.” Ace reached toward the table. Not for the box. She stopped her hand beside it. Then looked at Shammy. “I know what I want you to do.” Shammy's eyebrows rose. Ace's smile became softer. But she didn't tell her. Not yet. Shammy stared. “Ace.” “Next problem.” “No.” Ace leaned back. Shammy pointed at her. “You cannot emotionally devastate me and then end the meeting on a cliffhanger.” “I just did.” “You absolute bitch.” Ace grinned. From behind the workshop door came Brenda's voice: “Are you two okay out there?” Ace and Shammy froze. They looked at each other. Then toward the workshop. “Yes!” Ace called. “Yes!” Shammy called at exactly the same time. A pause. “Okay!” Another pause. “Because Shammy's electrical field just made one of my meters twitch.” Shammy closed her eyes. Ace slowly turned toward her. Shammy whispered: “Don't.” Ace's grin became vicious. “Emotionally projecting.” “I hate you.” “No, you don't.” Shammy opened her eyes. No. She really, really didn't. --- ## Chapter 7 — Hold These For Me Shammy lasted eleven seconds. Ace counted. Not deliberately at first. But somewhere around five, it became interesting. At seven, Shammy's left eyebrow began to twitch. At nine, her hair lifted. At eleven: “Tell me.” Ace took another drink of coffee. “No.” “Ace.” “You said I couldn't end the meeting on a cliffhanger.” “Yes.” “We haven't ended the meeting.” Shammy stared. Ace lowered the cup. “So technically—” “You are the worst person I love.” Ace smiled. “Top three?” “Currently first.” “Nice.” “That was not praise.” “I'll take it.” Shammy folded her arms. Ace waited. Shammy unfolded them. Picked up her coffee. Discovered it was empty. Looked offended by this. Ace watched the entire sequence. “Do you want more?” “No.” “You look like you want more.” “I want you to tell me what I'm doing.” “Oh.” Shammy's eyes narrowed. “That.” “What?” “That little _oh_.” “I don't know what you're talking about.” “You absolutely do.” Ace looked toward the workshop door. Still closed. Then toward the upper door. Still closed. The Safehouse remained theirs for the moment. She looked back at Shammy. “Stand up.” Shammy blinked. “What?” “Stand up.” “Why?” “You wanted to know.” Shammy immediately stood. Ace stared up at her. “That was fast.” “Fuck you.” Ace laughed and rose from the couch. Shammy stepped back to give her room. Ace looked around the common room. The plan existed differently now. Not just as words. She could see it. Mai there. Ace here. Shammy— Ace pointed. “Stand there.” Shammy looked at the floor. Then at Ace. “Here?” “A little closer.” Shammy moved. “There?” Ace considered. “Yeah.” Shammy looked around. “What are we doing?” “Floor coordinates.” Shammy's face lit up. “I knew it.” “Don't make me regret this.” “You already regret this.” “Frequently.” Ace moved into the open space in front of her. Then stopped. Shammy watched. Ace adjusted half a step. Stopped again. Shammy's mouth slowly opened. “You're actually rehearsing where to kneel.” “Positioning.” “You said you weren't infiltrating Arasaka.” “You said that.” “This is adorable.” Ace froze. Shammy grinned. “Say that again and you're leaving.” Shammy's grin vanished. “You wouldn't.” “No.” The answer came too quickly. Both of them heard it. Ace looked away. Shammy smiled. Not teasingly this time. “Yeah,” she said softly. Ace pointed at her. “Stay there.” “Yes, ma'am.” Ace stared. Shammy's expression became angelic. Ace decided survival required ignoring it. She looked at the space between them. “If Mai is here…” She indicated a place a few feet in front of herself. Shammy followed. “Okay.” “I get her attention.” “Right.” “She turns toward me.” “Right.” “And then I…” Ace stopped. Shammy waited. Ace lowered herself onto one knee. The change was immediate. Even without Mai. Even without the rings. Even without the question. Shammy went silent. Ace looked up. For a second neither woman moved. Shammy's eyes brightened. “Oh,” she whispered. Ace felt suddenly ridiculous. Not because she was kneeling. Because the reality of the thing had just arrived all at once. This was going to happen. She was going to be here. Mai was going to be standing in front of her. And Ace was going to look up at the woman she loved and ask her to become her wife. Her fucking wife. Ace smiled before she could stop herself. Shammy saw it. Her own smile appeared. “Wife face.” “Shut up.” “I didn't say it loudly.” “Still counts.” Ace remained kneeling. Shammy looked at the imaginary Mai. Then at Ace. Then around the room. “I think you're right.” “About?” “Here.” Ace nodded. “Yeah.” “It feels right.” “Yeah.” Shammy's gaze moved down to Ace again. “So where am I?” Ace pointed beside herself. “Here.” Shammy frowned. “I am here.” “No.” Ace pointed closer. “Here.” Shammy looked at the indicated spot. Then slowly stepped into it. She was now almost beside Ace. Not behind her. Not across the room. Beside her. Ace looked up. Shammy looked down. Something changed in her expression. “Oh.” “Yeah.” “You meant _beside_ you.” “I've been trying to tell you that.” “I thought you meant in the room.” “No.” Shammy's eyes flicked toward the imaginary Mai. Then back. “You really want me right here?” Ace sighed. “We just spent half an hour on this.” “I know.” “And you asked if I was sure.” “I know.” “And I said yes.” “I know.” “Twice.” Shammy's mouth twitched. “I know.” “Do I need to get it tattooed on you?” “Depends where.” Ace stared. Shammy smiled. “There she is.” “You're impossible.” “You love me.” “Unfortunately.” Shammy looked down at Ace. Then, gently: “Right here.” Ace nodded. “Right there.” Shammy breathed out. “Okay.” Ace stood. Shammy remained in place. “Now,” Ace said, “the problem.” “There is a problem?” “The rings.” Shammy looked toward the table. The little box sat beside their abandoned cups. “I give them to you before.” “When?” Shammy considered. “Before Mai comes in.” “How?” “I hand them to you.” “And where do I put them?” “Pocket?” Ace looked down at herself. Shammy followed her gaze. Both women considered Ace's usual clothing. Shammy's expression changed. “Oh.” “Exactly.” “You'll know it's there.” “Yes.” “You'll touch it.” “Probably.” “Mai will notice.” “Probably.” “And then she'll ask what you're doing.” “Yes.” Shammy thought. “Different pocket?” Ace stared. “Brilliant.” “I'm brainstorming.” Ace walked to the table. Picked up the box. Turned it in her hand. She could hide it. Of course she could. She had concealed considerably more dangerous things from considerably more hostile people. But this wasn't a hostile environment. This was Mai. And Mai knew her. The slightest change in Ace's movement. One hand protecting a pocket. A fraction of tension when Mai touched her. A glance. A hesitation. Anything. Ace put the box back down. “No.” Shammy watched. “No pocket?” “No box on me.” “So where?” Ace looked at her. Shammy's expression went blank. Then her eyes dropped to the box. Then back to Ace. “Oh.” Ace smiled. Shammy pointed at herself. “Me?” “Yes.” “I keep it?” “Yes.” “During the proposal?” “Yes.” Shammy stared. Ace waited. The faintest static stirred through Shammy's hair. “What do I do with it?” Ace walked back to the place where she had knelt. She pointed beside herself again. “You stand there.” Shammy moved into position. Ace lowered herself onto one knee again. Then looked up at her. “When I kneel…” Shammy's breathing changed. Ace gestured toward her hands. “You open it.” Shammy stared down at her. Ace smiled. “And you hold it for me.” Nothing. Shammy simply stood there. Ace could almost see the image forming in her mind. Mai standing in front of them. Ace kneeling. Shammy beside her. The little box open in Shammy's hands. The rings between all three of them. Not hidden. Not handed over before the moment. Not passed from Shammy to Ace somewhere in a hallway so Shammy could disappear afterward. There. With them. Shammy's eyes filled again. “Oh, fuck you,” she whispered. Ace blinked. “That wasn't the reaction I expected.” “You knew exactly what this would do.” “No, I didn't.” “Yes, you did.” “I really didn't.” Shammy wiped quickly beneath one eye. “You absolute bitch.” Ace smiled. “You asked what I wanted you to do.” “I thought you were going to tell me to watch the hallway.” “I told you.” “I know.” “You're not security.” “I know.” “You're not logistics.” “I know.” “You're not the person helping me get Mai into position and then disappearing.” Shammy's mouth trembled. Ace's voice softened. “You're with me.” Shammy closed her eyes. Ace stayed where she was. On one knee. Looking up. Waiting. After a moment Shammy opened her eyes again. “Show me.” Ace frowned. “What?” “Exactly.” Ace understood. She nodded. Shammy walked to the table. Picked up the little box. Then returned to Ace's side. She looked down. “Like this?” “Closer.” Shammy moved closer. “Here?” “Yeah.” “Which side?” Ace considered. Then shifted slightly. “This side.” “Why?” “So I can reach.” Shammy looked at the box. “Right.” She opened it. The two rings appeared. Ace's breath caught. This time the image was almost complete. Shammy saw it too. Her hands steadied. Ace looked toward the empty place where Mai would stand. Then at the rings. Then up at Shammy. “That's it.” Shammy looked down at her. “This?” “This.” For several seconds, they held the position. Neither laughed. Neither moved. The rehearsal had stopped feeling like rehearsal. There was no Mai. No question. No answer. But the shape of the moment existed now. And Shammy was inside it. Exactly where Ace wanted her. Finally Ace stood. Shammy closed the box carefully. She held it against her chest. “I can do that.” “I know.” “I mean…” Her voice caught slightly. She cleared it. “I want to.” Ace smiled. “I know.” Shammy looked down at the box. “When?” “I don't know yet.” “Soon.” “Soon.” Shammy nodded. Then she extended the box toward Ace. Ace looked at it. “What?” Shammy blinked. “Take it.” “No.” Shammy stared. Ace didn't move. “We just established you're holding it.” “During the proposal.” “Yes.” “I mean now.” “No.” “Ace.” “Keep them.” Shammy's hand remained extended. “You're serious.” “Yes.” “But the plan is done.” “Mostly.” “So you don't need me to hide them anymore.” Ace looked at the box. Then at Shammy. “Yes, I do.” “You could hide them somewhere else.” “Mai.” “Right.” Shammy hesitated. Then tried again. “I could give them back the day you decide.” “No.” “Why?” Ace smiled. “Because I don't want you to.” Shammy went quiet. Ace gently pushed Shammy's hand back toward her. “Keep them.” Shammy looked at the box. Then at Ace. “Until when?” Ace held her gaze. “Until you hand them to me.” Shammy stopped. Ace could see the words land. Not merely storage. Not merely secrecy. A line. From the Palace. Through this room. To the moment Ace knelt in front of Mai. Shammy had received the rings before the plan existed. She would carry them while the plan waited. And when the moment came, they would enter it through her hands. Shammy closed her fingers around the box. Slowly. Carefully. “Okay.” Ace smiled. “Okay.” Shammy looked down at it once more. Then something occurred to her. Her head snapped up. “Wait.” Ace immediately distrusted this. “What?” “I have to carry these around until you propose?” “Not literally.” “You know what I mean.” “Yes.” “While living with Mai.” “Yes.” “Sleeping with Mai.” “Yes.” “Eating breakfast with Mai.” “Yes.” “Being kissed by Mai.” Ace smiled. “Yes.” Shammy stared at the box as if it had transformed into an armed explosive. “This is fucking dangerous.” Ace's smile widened. “You've survived worse.” Shammy looked at her. “No.” Ace laughed. “No?” “No. Cyberpsychos are easier.” “Why?” “They don't kiss me and then ask why my pulse changed.” Ace laughed harder. Shammy pointed accusingly at her with the box. “This is your fault.” “You agreed.” “I love you. My judgment is compromised.” “Operational problem.” “Fuck you.” Ace grinned. Shammy held the box tightly. Then her expression softened once more. “Until I hand them to you.” Ace nodded. “Until you hand them to me.” Shammy smiled. “Okay.” And this time, when she carried the little box back toward their bedroom, Ace didn't watch it leave. She watched Shammy. Because the rings were exactly where they belonged. --- ## Chapter 8 — Operation Absolutely No Lightning Shammy returned without the box. Ace noticed immediately. Not because she had been checking. She absolutely had not been checking. Shammy noticed her noticing. “Safe.” “I didn't ask.” “You looked.” “I looked at you.” Shammy stopped. Ace realized what she had said. Shammy's smile began slowly. “Aw.” “Don't.” “That was—” “Don't.” “—actually really—” “Shammy.” “—sweet.” Ace pointed toward the bedroom. “Go away.” “You specifically told me I'm not allowed to.” “Different context.” Shammy dropped onto the couch beside her. “Too late.” Ace shook her head. Shammy settled comfortably against the cushions, still smiling. Then she stretched both arms above her head. A faint static ripple moved through her silver-white hair. Ace saw it. “No.” Shammy lowered her arms. “What?” “No lightning.” “I didn't do anything.” “I'm establishing the rule.” “What rule?” “Absolutely no lightning.” Shammy stared. Ace stared back. “You think I'm going to use lightning during your proposal?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because you're you.” “That is profiling.” “That is experience.” Shammy looked offended. “I have restraint.” “You once used electricity to improve mood lighting.” “It worked.” “You shocked a lamp.” “The lamp survived.” “It flickered for three days.” “It had character.” “No lightning.” Shammy folded her arms. “Fine.” Ace narrowed her eyes. “What?” “That was too easy.” “I agreed.” “You're planning something else.” “I am not.” Ace kept staring. Shammy lasted four seconds. “Maybe just a tiny—” “No.” “You don't even know what I was going to say.” “Electrical.” “Possibly.” “No.” Shammy sighed. “All right.” Ace waited. “No electricity.” “Good.” “Can I manipulate existing lighting?” “No.” “Why?” “Because Mai will notice.” “She might appreciate it.” “She'll notice.” “Those aren't mutually exclusive.” Ace rubbed her forehead. Shammy leaned closer. “What if I dim the room very slightly?” “No.” “Five percent.” “No.” “Three.” “No.” “One.” “Shammy.” “Half a percent.” “Absolutely no lighting operations.” Shammy stared. “That is an absurd phrase.” “You made it necessary.” “I want that acknowledged in the official plan.” “There is no official plan.” “There should be.” “No.” “We need a name.” “No.” “Operation—” “No.” “You haven't heard it.” “I don't need to.” “Operation Wife Face.” Ace's head turned very slowly. Shammy exploded into laughter. “You're dead.” “It is perfect.” “Delete it.” “From what?” “Your brain.” “I can't.” “Try.” Shammy wiped at her eyes. “Oh, fuck.” Ace folded her arms. Shammy eventually managed to breathe again. “Okay.” “No name.” “Fine.” “No operation.” “Fine.” “No lightning.” Shammy sighed. “Fine.” Ace relaxed. Shammy waited two seconds. “Operation Absolutely No Lightning.” Ace closed her eyes. Shammy made a tiny triumphant sound. “That one stays.” “No.” “Yes.” “No.” “You already reacted to it. That makes it official.” “That isn't how anything works.” “It is now.” Ace opened her eyes. Shammy looked unbearably pleased with herself. Ace decided to move on before homicide damaged the proposal schedule. “We need one thing clear.” Shammy straightened. “Actual planning?” “Yes.” “I'm listening.” “Nobody else is there.” Shammy's expression changed. Not hurt. Understanding. “Brenda and Iris.” “Not in the room.” Shammy nodded. “But they're still here.” “If they're home, yes.” “And we don't manufacture some ridiculous reason to get rid of them.” “Exactly.” Shammy thought. “So we're waiting for one of those evenings where Brenda disappears into the workshop and Iris follows her.” “Probably.” “Which happens constantly.” “Yes.” “Especially when Brenda says, ‘I just need to show you one thing.’” “And then neither of them comes out for an hour.” “Sometimes two or more.” Ace glanced toward the workshop. Shammy followed. The door remained closed. They looked at each other. “No,” Ace said. Shammy blinked. “I didn't say anything.” “You were thinking this would be a good opportunity.” “It objectively would.” “Mai isn't here.” “That is a minor technical obstacle.” “Minor.” “We could wait.” “For Mai to return from the tax office?” “Yes.” “With Iris.” Shammy paused. “Right.” Ace stared. “Planning genius.” “I am emotionally compromised.” “Apparently.” Shammy leaned back. “So Brenda and Iris are naturally elsewhere.” “Yes.” “No lies.” “No.” “No sending them on fake errands.” “No.” “No asking Rogue to call Iris.” Ace stared at her. “That was oddly specific.” “I was brainstorming.” “Stop.” “No sending Panam to kidnap Brenda.” “Why would Panam—” “She'd do it.” Ace considered. “She might.” “She absolutely would if you told her why.” “And then Brenda would know.” “Probably immediately.” “No.” “Fine.” Ace leaned forward. “And nobody else knows beforehand.” Shammy nodded. “No Elisa.” “No.” “No Reyes.” “No.” “No Kiro.” “No.” “No Panam.” “No.” “No Rogue.” “Especially Rogue.” Shammy smiled. “She'd know something was happening before you finished the sentence.” “She'd charge me for the room.” “This is your room.” “She'd find a way.” “Fair.” Ace continued. “Afterward, Brenda and Iris.” Shammy tilted her head. “First?” “Yes.” “Before Rogue?” “Yes.” “Before everyone?” “Yes.” Ace looked toward the workshop door. “They're family.” Shammy's expression softened. “Yeah.” “They live here.” “Yeah.” “I don't want them finding out from somebody else.” “They won't.” Ace nodded. “And I don't want them in the room because—” “You don't need to explain.” Ace stopped. Shammy smiled. “I understand now.” Something in Ace's shoulders eased. “Good.” “It's Triad.” Ace looked at her. Shammy held the gaze. “Just Triad.” Ace nodded. “Yeah.” No qualification. No explanation. None needed. Shammy smiled. Then the smile became dangerous again. “So afterward we can tell Brenda.” “Yes.” “And Iris.” “Yes.” “And then?” Ace shrugged. “Everyone else.” “How?” “I don't know.” Shammy stared. “What?” “You haven't planned the announcement?” “No.” “You've planned where Mai stands.” “Yes.” “You've planned where you kneel.” “Yes.” “You've planned where I stand.” “Yes.” “You've established an explicit anti-lightning doctrine.” “Yes.” “But you haven't planned how you're telling anyone you're engaged.” “No.” Shammy looked genuinely distressed. “Ace.” “What?” “We need a communications strategy.” “We absolutely do not.” “We have a lot of people.” “We tell them.” “In what order?” “I don't care.” “You will.” “I won't.” “Rogue before Wakako?” Ace blinked. “Why would that matter?” “It might.” “To whom?” “I don't know yet.” “Then it doesn't.” “Victor?” “We tell Victor.” “Before or after Suzie?” Ace stared. Shammy started counting again. “Reyes and Kiro together, obviously. Panam should probably hear from us directly. Elisa definitely directly. Marco and Lena—” “Shammy.” “—and then there is the Palace—” “Shammy.” “—and if Jessie—” “Brenda.” Shammy stopped. Ace waited. Shammy frowned. “What?” “You said Jessie.” Shammy blinked. Then: “Oh.” Ace stared. Shammy started laughing. “You just cover-switched Brenda in the middle of the engagement announcement.” “I've been doing too much cover work.” “Apparently.” Shammy covered her face. “Fuck.” Ace laughed. “This is why I'm handling the proposal.” “I'm holding the rings.” “That is a controlled task.” “I resent that.” “You just forgot Brenda and Jessie are the same person.” “For one second.” “During a list involving Brenda.” “One second.” Ace shook her head. Shammy dropped her hands. “Fine. No communications strategy.” “Thank you.” “We improvise.” “Yes.” “Dangerous.” “We've done worse.” “True.” Shammy looked thoughtful again. “But Brenda and Iris first.” “Yes.” “Together?” “If possible.” “Probably easy.” Ace nodded. “And we don't drag it out.” “What do you mean?” “We're not going to sit here for three hours while they walk around unaware.” Shammy smiled. “You'll last six minutes.” “I'll last longer than six minutes.” “Mai won't.” Ace paused. Shammy's smile widened. Ace considered the woman she intended to marry. The same Mai who could keep operational secrets for months but became catastrophically bad at hiding certain kinds of personal happiness. “Fuck.” “Exactly.” “Five minutes.” Shammy laughed. Ace smiled despite herself. “They'll notice anyway.” “Probably.” “Iris definitely will.” “Probably before Brenda.” “Brenda will notice the rings.” Ace looked down at her hand. Bare now. Not later. Something warm moved through her again. Shammy saw it. “Wife face.” “Shut up.” “Engagement-ring face.” “Stop naming my faces.” “You have so many.” Ace reached for the cushion. Shammy immediately raised both hands. “No violence.” “You're not holding the box.” Shammy's eyes widened. “Oh, fuck.” Ace grabbed the cushion. Shammy bolted. Ace threw. Shammy ducked. The cushion sailed over her head and landed near the hallway. “Missed!” Ace grabbed the second one. Shammy darted around the end of the couch. “You're supposed to be small and dignified!” “Who told you that?” “Nobody!” “Exactly.” Shammy ran behind a chair. Ace followed. “You're abusing your height advantage.” “You have swords!” “Not indoors!” “Thank fuck!” Ace feinted left. Shammy went right. Ace reversed. Shammy yelped and barely escaped. A sudden noise came from the workshop. Both froze. The door opened. Brenda stood there wearing protective glasses pushed up onto her forehead, holding a wrench. She looked at Ace. Then Shammy. Then the cushion on the floor. Then the second cushion in Ace's hand. “What are you two doing?” Silence. Ace lowered the cushion. “Nothing.” Shammy nodded. “Nothing.” Brenda stared. Ace smiled. Shammy smiled. Brenda looked between them. “You know, when two people say ‘nothing’ at the same time, it's usually not nothing.” Ace's expression remained perfectly neutral. “We were discussing lighting.” Shammy made a strangled sound. Brenda looked at her. “Lighting?” “Yes,” Ace said. Shammy's eyes widened in warning. Ace ignored her. “Shammy wanted to modify it.” Brenda immediately looked interested. “Oh. What are you trying to do?” “No,” Shammy said quickly. Brenda blinked. “No?” “No lighting.” Ace nodded solemnly. “Absolutely no lighting.” Shammy stared at her. Ace stared back. Brenda looked between them again. “Okay.” A long pause. “I feel like I walked into the middle of something.” “You did,” Ace said. Shammy's eyes nearly came out of her head. Brenda waited. Ace smiled. “A cushion fight.” Brenda looked at the cushions. Then at Shammy. Then at Ace. “Right.” She clearly did not believe them. Ace could almost see the engineer in her assembling evidence. Shammy apparently saw it too. “What did you need?” she asked quickly. “My coffee.” Brenda walked toward the kitchen. Ace and Shammy remained very still. Brenda poured herself a fresh cup. She turned. Looked at them again. “Is Mai still out?” “Yes,” Ace said. “And Iris?” “With her.” Brenda winced. “Taxes.” “Taxes.” “Poor bastards.” She took a drink. Then headed back toward the workshop. At the door, she stopped. Ace's heart did something deeply unhelpful. Brenda looked over her shoulder. “If you're planning some kind of surprise for me, don't.” Ace blinked. Shammy blinked. Brenda pointed her coffee at them. “I hate surprise parties.” Then she disappeared into the workshop. The door closed. Silence. Ace and Shammy stared at it. Five seconds. Ten. Shammy slowly turned toward Ace. Ace slowly turned toward Shammy. Then both of them collapsed into helpless laughter. Shammy grabbed the back of the chair for support. Ace dropped onto the couch. “Oh, fuck,” Shammy gasped. Ace covered her face. “She thinks it's for her.” “That is perfect.” “That is catastrophically perfect.” Shammy stumbled back toward the couch and dropped beside Ace. “She just built our cover story for us.” Ace lowered her hands. “No.” “What?” “We are not using Brenda as the cover story.” “Why not?” “Because then she might start expecting something.” “She specifically told us not to.” “Exactly.” Shammy thought. “Oh.” Ace nodded. “Normal.” “Right.” “We act normal.” Shammy looked at the cushion lying halfway across the room. Then at Ace. “Excellent start.” Ace followed her gaze. “Shut up.” Shammy smiled. Ace retrieved the cushion and put it back. Then the other. She sat down. Shammy joined her. For almost thirty seconds, both women behaved impeccably. Then Shammy leaned slightly toward Ace. “Operation Absolutely No Lightning is going extremely well.” Ace didn't look at her. “I will throw you into the garage.” “That's not normal.” “It will be if you continue.” Shammy smiled. And somewhere behind the workshop door, Brenda began humming again. The secret remained safe. Probably. --- ## Chapter 9 — The Hard Part For another thirty seconds, they behaved normally. It was a new record. Ace sat on the couch with her coffee. Shammy sat beside her. Neither mentioned proposals. Neither mentioned rings. Neither mentioned Operation Absolutely No Lightning. From the workshop came the steady sound of Brenda doing something mechanical and, judging by the absence of profanity, successfully. Ace relaxed. Shammy relaxed. Then Shammy said: “I've changed my mind.” Ace didn't look at her. “About?” “This assignment.” Ace took a drink. “What assignment?” Shammy stared. Ace continued drinking. “You know exactly what assignment.” “No idea.” “The rings.” Ace lowered her cup. “What about them?” “This is inhuman.” Ace blinked. Shammy folded her arms. “You have given me an impossible job.” “You have to keep a small box hidden.” “From Mai.” “Yes.” “In the home I share with Mai.” “Yes.” “While maintaining normal behavior.” “Yes.” “For an unspecified period of time.” Ace considered that. “Yes.” Shammy pointed at her. “You see?” “No.” “You don't know when you're doing it.” “Not exactly.” “So this could be days.” “Yes.” “Weeks.” “Maybe.” Shammy's eyes widened. “Maybe?” Ace shrugged. “I want the right moment.” Shammy stared at her in horror. “Weeks.” “Probably not many.” “That is not reassuring.” Ace smiled. “You'll survive.” “No.” “You survived the Palace.” “That was easier at the Palace.” Ace turned toward her. “How?” “I could leave the room.” Ace laughed. Shammy did not. “I am serious.” “You were living with us there too.” “In a giant space station.” “Palace.” “Exactly. It had distance.” “So does the Safehouse.” “Not enough.” Ace gestured vaguely around them. “You have an entire upper floor.” “Mai can cross an entire upper floor.” “That is generally how floors work.” Shammy glared. Ace smiled. “At the Palace, if I felt myself starting to act suspicious, I could go somewhere else.” “You did.” “Frequently.” “I thought you were painting.” “I was sometimes painting.” Ace's eyebrows rose. Shammy sighed. “Fine. There may have been tactical retreats.” “Operational cowardice.” Shammy pointed at her. “You started that.” “I know.” “And now we're using it against me.” “Also yes.” Shammy dropped her head against the back of the couch. “This is awful.” Ace looked at her. “You're enjoying it.” Shammy remained staring at the ceiling. “That is irrelevant.” “You are.” “Parts of it.” “Which parts?” Shammy's head turned. Her expression softened. “The part where you marry Mai.” Ace smiled instantly. Shammy groaned. “There.” “What?” “Wife face.” “I didn't do anything.” “You did it again.” “You said marry.” “And you immediately became ridiculous.” Ace looked away. Shammy smiled. Then the smile faded into thought. “The hard part isn't hiding the box.” Ace glanced back. “No?” “No.” Shammy sat upright. “The box is easy.” “You've spent ten minutes telling me the box is impossible.” “I've reconsidered.” “In the last four seconds?” “Yes.” “Good process.” “Thank you.” “That wasn't praise.” “I'll take it.” Ace waited. Shammy tucked one leg beneath herself. “The box stays hidden.” “Obviously.” “I don't touch it unless I need to.” “Good.” “I don't check it every hour.” Ace raised an eyebrow. Shammy hesitated. “Every day?” “No.” “Every other day?” “Why would you need to check it?” “To make sure it's there.” “Nobody knows where it is.” “I know where it is.” “You're not going to steal it from yourself.” “You don't know that.” Ace stared. Shammy sighed. “Fine. No checking.” “Good.” “The hard part is me.” Ace's expression went flat. “That is usually true.” “Fuck you.” Ace grinned. Shammy bumped her shoulder against Ace's. Ace bumped back. “I mean behaving normally.” “You normally behave strangely.” “Helpful.” “Just continue.” Shammy thought about that. “That might actually work.” “I know.” “No.” Ace waited. “There's Mai-normal and everybody-else-normal.” Ace frowned. “Explain.” “Everybody else sees me being weird and thinks I'm being me.” “Reasonable.” “Mai sees me being weird and wants to know which kind.” Ace slowly nodded. That was unfortunately accurate. “She has categories,” Shammy continued. “She probably does.” “Happy weird.” “Yes.” “Art weird.” “Yes.” “Sex weird.” Ace glanced at her. Shammy shrugged. “That's definitely a category.” “Fine.” “Electric weird.” “Frequently overlaps.” “True.” “Worried weird.” Ace's amusement softened. “Yeah.” “And secret weird.” Ace winced. Shammy pointed. “Exactly.” “She knows secret weird.” “She absolutely knows secret weird.” Ace considered. “We need a cover.” Shammy's eyes widened. “A cover?” “Not a lie.” “That's usually what a cover is.” “You know what I mean.” Shammy leaned closer. “Operation—” “No.” “—Normal Shammy.” “No.” “Operation Not Suspicious.” “No.” “Operation Definitely Not Carrying Engagement Rings.” “Absolutely fucking not.” Shammy laughed. Ace tried not to. Failed. “All right,” Shammy said. “No operation.” “Thank you.” “A behavioral framework.” “That is worse.” “A protocol.” “No.” “Guidelines.” Ace sighed. “Fine.” Shammy brightened. “Guidelines.” “Rule one: don't talk about the rings.” “I wasn't planning to.” “Good.” “Rule two?” “Don't stare at Mai and think about the rings.” Shammy stared. “How am I supposed to control what I think?” “Don't make the face.” “What face?” “The face you make when you know something.” Shammy looked offended. “I don't have one.” Ace laughed. “I do not.” “You absolutely do.” “Describe it.” “You look guilty.” “I do not.” “You look like someone has handed you classified information and specifically told you not to tell anyone.” “That is literally what happened.” “Exactly.” Shammy considered that. “Fuck.” “Rule three: no glowing.” “That is involuntary.” “Try.” “Excellent physiological guidance.” “Rule four: no sudden unexplained retreats.” Shammy groaned. “But those are useful.” “They're suspicious.” “What if I genuinely need to leave?” “Leave normally.” “How?” Ace stared. Shammy stared back. “You walk.” “That's not what I mean.” “I know.” “What if Mai kisses me?” Ace blinked. “What?” Shammy leaned toward her, suddenly deadly serious. “This is the problem.” “Mai kissing you?” “Yes.” “That happens.” “Exactly.” “Frequently.” “Exactly.” Ace waited. Shammy spread her hands. “She kisses me.” “Yes.” “I remember I'm carrying the secret about the rings.” “You aren't literally carrying them.” “You know what I mean.” “Yes.” “My pulse changes.” Ace began smiling. Shammy pointed. “Don't.” “You already predicted this.” “Because it will happen.” “She won't notice your pulse every time she kisses you.” Shammy stared. Ace reconsidered. “She might.” “Thank you.” “Then kiss her back.” Shammy blinked. “That is your solution?” “Yes.” “What if she notices?” “Kiss her more.” Shammy's mouth slowly opened. Ace shrugged. “It's not suspicious.” Shammy stared. Ace took another drink of coffee. “That may be the best operational advice you've ever given me.” “I hate this conversation.” “No, you don't.” “No.” Shammy smiled. “Actually, I really don't.” They settled again. The Safehouse remained quiet around them. Shammy looked toward the upper door. “How long do you think taxes take?” Ace checked the time. “Apparently forever.” “They've been gone a while.” “Good.” Shammy turned. “Good?” Ace immediately realized the mistake. Shammy's smile appeared. “Aw.” “Stop.” “You're enjoying having me alone.” “We're planning.” “Mm-hm.” “And Mai can't be here.” “Mm-hm.” Ace narrowed her eyes. Shammy leaned against her. Ace let her. For a few moments neither spoke. Then Shammy said: “I really am happy you told me.” Ace looked down at her. Shammy's head rested against Ace's shoulder. “About the proposal?” “About my place in it.” Ace's expression softened. “Good.” “I would have helped anyway.” “I know.” “I would have given you the box.” “I know.” “I would have disappeared.” Ace's arm moved around her. “I know.” Shammy looked at Ace's hand resting against her side. “And I would have been happy.” “I know.” “Really.” Ace squeezed her gently. “I know.” Shammy was quiet. Then: “But this is better.” Ace smiled. “Yeah.” “Much better.” “Yeah.” Shammy tilted her head enough to look up. “Thank you.” Ace frowned. “For?” “Wanting me there.” Ace stared at her. Shammy waited. Ace's expression became almost annoyed. “That's not something you thank me for.” Shammy smiled. “I just did.” “Take it back.” “No.” “Shammy.” “No.” Ace squeezed her harder. Shammy laughed. “Violence!” “This isn't violence.” “Coercive affection!” “You're ridiculous.” “You love me.” Ace looked at her. “Yes.” The answer stopped the joke. Shammy's smile softened. “Yeah.” Ace kissed her forehead. Shammy closed her eyes. They stayed there for a while. Then— **CLANG.** Both women jumped. A second metallic crash followed. Ace's arm came away from Shammy. Shammy sat upright. They stared at the workshop door. Silence. Ace waited. Shammy waited. Nothing. Ace called: “Brenda?” No answer. Ace stood. Shammy was already moving. “Brenda?” A muffled voice came through the door. “I'm fine!” Ace stopped. Shammy stopped. They looked at each other. Ace called back: “That took too long!” “I was under the bench!” Shammy covered her mouth. Ace closed her eyes. “Why were you under the bench?” “I dropped something!” Ace waited. A pause. Brenda added: “Then I dropped something else.” Shammy made a strangled sound. Ace looked toward the ceiling. “Do you need help?” “No!” Another pause. “Probably!” Ace sighed. Shammy started laughing. The workshop door opened. Brenda emerged backward, dragging a small piece of equipment across the floor. She turned. Saw them. “Oh.” Ace stared. Shammy stared. Brenda looked completely unharmed. She was also holding two different wrenches and had somehow acquired a streak of grease across one cheek. Ace pointed. “You said probably.” “I solved it.” “In six seconds?” “I realized the problem was gravity.” Shammy leaned toward Ace. “Hard to fix.” Ace nodded solemnly. Brenda ignored them. She hauled the equipment fully into the common room. “What is that?” Ace asked. “Prototype.” “For?” Brenda looked at her. “Still deciding.” Ace stared. Shammy stared. Brenda looked between them. “What?” “You built something before deciding what it does,” Ace said. “No. I know what it does.” “What?” Brenda paused. “I don't know what it's _for_.” Ace considered that distinction. “Fair.” “Thank you.” Brenda started moving the prototype toward the other side of the room. Ace watched. Shammy watched. Brenda stopped. “Why are you both staring at me?” “We're not,” Shammy said. Brenda narrowed her eyes. Ace smiled. Brenda looked at the cushions. Both were where they belonged. Then at the lighting. Unmodified. Then at Ace. Then Shammy. “You're still being weird.” Shammy immediately said: “I'm always weird.” Ace turned slowly toward her. Shammy froze. Brenda considered it. “True.” Shammy looked triumphantly at Ace. Ace mouthed: _Rule._ Shammy mouthed back: _Worked._ Ace hated that she was right. Brenda shrugged. “Carry on.” She resumed dragging the prototype. Ace watched her disappear back into the workshop. The door closed. Shammy waited. Then whispered: “Normal Shammy.” Ace pointed at her. “No operation.” “I didn't say operation.” “You thought it.” “You can't police thoughts.” “I can try.” Shammy smiled. Ace sat down again. Shammy joined her. They had barely settled when the lower access system chimed softly. Both women froze. Not the upper doorbell. Recognition. Someone authorized had entered downstairs. Ace looked toward the hall display. Shammy did too. Two identifiers appeared. **MAEVE O'SULLIVAN** **IRIS** Shammy's eyes widened. “Oh, fuck.” Ace glanced at her. “What?” Shammy sat bolt upright. “They're back.” “Yes.” Shammy looked toward the bedroom. Ace saw it immediately. “No.” “What?” “Don't check the box.” “I wasn't going to.” “You looked.” “I looked toward our bedroom.” “Where the box is.” “Coincidence.” Ace stared. Shammy stared back. Footsteps sounded faintly from below. The underground access route. Mai and Iris were coming up. Shammy's hair lifted. Ace pointed. “Rule three.” “I can't control it!” “Think normal thoughts.” “Like what?” “I don't know.” “That's not helpful!” The footsteps came closer. Shammy flattened her hair with both hands. Ace reached over and pulled one of them down. “That is worse.” “What do I do?” “Nothing.” “I am doing nothing.” “You are aggressively doing nothing.” “How do I do nothing less aggressively?” Ace opened her mouth. Stopped. “That is an excellent question.” Shammy stared. Ace stared back. Then, simultaneously, both women sat straighter. Too straight. Ace noticed. Shammy noticed. They both slouched. Too much. They corrected. Shammy whispered: “We look guilty.” “We look normal.” “We look like we're trying to look normal.” “Stop talking.” The footsteps reached the upper floor. Ace and Shammy looked at each other. Neither of them looked remotely normal. --- ## Chapter 10 — Taxation Survived The upper door mechanism sounded. Shammy picked up her empty coffee cup. Ace looked at it. “That's empty.” “I need a prop.” “Put it down.” “No.” The door opened. Mai entered first. Iris followed. Both women stopped just inside. Ace remained on the couch. Shammy remained beside her, holding the empty cup with both hands as if it were essential life-support equipment. Ace smiled. Shammy smiled. Mai looked at Ace. Then Shammy. Then the cup. Iris looked at the same things. Nobody spoke. Ace felt the afternoon's entire operational plan collapse in real time. Mai's eyes narrowed. “What did you two do?” “Nothing,” Ace said. “Nothing,” Shammy said. Exactly together. Silence. Iris closed her eyes. Mai stared at them. From the workshop, Brenda yelled: “They've been weird for hours!” Shammy slowly lowered her head. Ace stared toward the workshop door. Mai's eyebrows rose. Iris sighed. Ace decided that, compared with this, proposing marriage was going to be easy. Iris walked past Mai. “I don't care.” All three women looked at her. Iris continued toward the common room. “I want that stated clearly before this becomes a thing.” She dropped her bag beside a chair. “I do not care what they did.” Mai slowly turned. “You don't?” “No.” “They're obviously hiding something.” “I know.” Shammy made a tiny noise. Ace elbowed her. Iris sat down. “I have spent the last several hours in a municipal corporate administration office.” Ace nodded sympathetically. Iris pointed at her. “Don't.” Ace stopped nodding. “You didn't go.” “I offered emotional support.” “You laughed when we left.” “That was emotional.” “It was not support.” Mai finally stepped away from the door. Ace watched her. Shammy watched her. Then Shammy realized she was watching Mai and abruptly looked at the wall. Ace saw it. Mai saw Ace see it. Ace looked at Shammy. Shammy looked at Ace. Mai stopped. Ace smiled. Mai stared. Ace could almost hear Shammy's internal screaming. _Normal._ Ace leaned back. “So?” Mai continued staring. “So what?” “Taxes.” Mai's expression changed. Not much. Enough. Something behind her eyes died. Iris answered instead. “Fixed.” Ace blinked. “Really?” “Yes.” “That doesn't sound so bad.” Iris stared at her. Ace reconsidered. “How bad?” Mai walked to the couch. Shammy immediately shifted to make room. Too quickly. Mai noticed. Shammy noticed Mai noticing. Ace noticed both. Shammy smiled. Mai sat. Shammy's hair lifted faintly. Ace looked at it. Shammy glared at Ace. Mai looked between them. “What?” “Nothing,” Shammy said. Ace closed her eyes. Shammy realized. “Fuck.” Mai's eyebrows rose. Iris leaned back in the chair. “I still don't care.” Mai looked at her. “I do.” “Of course you do.” Mai turned back toward Ace. Ace decided offense was the safest defense. “You were explaining taxes.” “No, Iris was.” “Then Iris can continue.” Iris looked deeply betrayed. “Why?” “Because you're Administrative Operations.” “I am reconsidering every career decision that brought me here.” Brenda's workshop door opened. Everyone looked. Brenda emerged, still carrying her coffee. The grease mark remained on her cheek. She took one look at Mai and Iris. “Oh, wow.” Iris pointed at her. “Don't.” Brenda stopped. “I was going to ask how it went.” “Don't.” Brenda looked at Mai. Mai shook her head once. Brenda nodded. “Right.” She walked toward the common room. “Coffee?” “Yes,” Iris said. Brenda changed direction immediately. Ace watched her fill another cup. “So it was bad.” Iris stared at the ceiling. Brenda brought the coffee over and handed it to her. Iris accepted it with both hands. “I love you.” Brenda smiled. “I know.” She kissed Iris's forehead. Shammy glanced at Ace. Ace glanced back. A small smile passed between them. Mai saw that too. Ace stopped smiling. Mai's eyes narrowed again. This was becoming unsustainable. Brenda dropped into the chair beside Iris. “All right.” Iris took a long drink. Brenda waited. Iris took another. Brenda waited. Finally: “The original problem was exactly what I thought it was.” Ace leaned forward. “The circular filing thing?” “Yes.” “Activity declaration needs the reconciliation.” “Yes.” “And reconciliation needs the activity declaration.” “Yes.” Ace frowned. “So how did they fix it?” Iris laughed. There was no humor in it. “They didn't.” Silence. Brenda blinked. “But you said it's fixed.” “It is.” “How?” Iris looked at Mai. Mai looked at Iris. Something passed between them. Brenda became visibly concerned. “What happened?” Mai sat back. “We arrived at the office.” Iris nodded. “We waited forty-three minutes.” “Forty-seven,” Mai corrected. “Four of those were after our number appeared.” “They count.” “They absolutely count.” Brenda looked at Ace. Ace shrugged. Mai continued. “The clerk confirmed the activity declaration couldn't be accepted.” “Because the reconciliation wasn't filed,” Shammy said. “Yes.” “And the reconciliation couldn't be filed because—” “The activity declaration wasn't accepted.” Shammy stared. “Right.” Iris took another drink. “So I explained the problem.” Ace waited. “And?” “She explained the process.” “What process?” “The one we had already followed.” Brenda's brow furrowed. Iris continued. “So I explained that following the process created the problem.” “What did she say?” Iris looked at Brenda. “She explained the process again.” Ace covered her mouth. Mai pointed at her. “Don't.” Ace lowered her hand. “I didn't do anything.” “You're enjoying this.” “A little.” “You should have come.” “No.” Mai's eyes narrowed. Ace smiled sweetly. Mai continued. “Eventually Iris asked for a manual override.” “Good,” Brenda said. Iris looked at her. “The clerk said she couldn't issue one.” “Why?” “She didn't have authorization.” “So you asked for someone who did.” “Yes.” Brenda waited. Iris drank coffee. “And?” “She gave us a form.” Ace lost the battle. A laugh escaped. Mai stared at her. Ace immediately coughed. “Sorry.” “No, you're not.” “No.” Brenda was trying very hard not to smile. “What form?” Iris answered with perfect calm. “A request for administrative escalation.” Shammy's lips twitched. Ace looked at her. Shammy looked away. Brenda asked: “And you filled it out?” “Yes.” “Then?” “It required the filing reference number.” Brenda froze. Ace already knew. She could feel it coming. Shammy knew too. Mai's expression had become almost serene. The kind of serenity normally associated with imminent violence. Brenda whispered: “The filing that hadn't been accepted.” Iris raised her coffee. “The filing that hadn't been accepted.” Shammy made a choking noise. Ace bit the inside of her cheek. Brenda stared. “What did you do?” Mai answered. “I asked whether murder invalidated the filing.” Ace folded in half. Shammy collapsed against the couch. Brenda's mouth fell open. Even Iris smiled. Mai looked offended. “It was a legitimate procedural question.” Ace was laughing too hard to answer. Shammy had one hand over her face. Brenda finally managed: “What did she say?” Mai waited. “She gave me another form.” That destroyed the room. Ace fell sideways against Shammy. Shammy was shaking with laughter. Brenda buried her face against Iris's shoulder. Iris closed her eyes and leaned into her. Mai sat in the middle of it all, deeply unimpressed. Ace managed to breathe. “What was that one for?” Mai looked at her. “Complaint.” Ace lost it again. Mai folded her arms. “You should have come.” “I would have made it worse.” “Yes.” “That is why I didn't.” Mai tried not to smile. Failed. Only slightly. Shammy noticed. Her laughter softened. Mai turned toward her. Shammy's smile froze. Ace saw the exact moment the afternoon returned to her brain. _The rings._ Shammy's hair lifted. Ace closed her eyes. Mai frowned. “Why do you keep doing that?” Shammy stared. “Doing what?” “That.” “What?” Mai gestured toward her hair. Shammy glanced upward as if she might somehow see it. “Oh.” Ace watched the disaster unfold. Shammy lowered her hands firmly into her lap. “I don't know.” Mai studied her. Ace intervened. “She has emotional static.” Mai looked at Ace. Shammy looked at Ace. Brenda looked at Ace. Iris opened one eye. Ace realized what she had just said. Mai's expression became very interested. “Emotional static.” “Yes.” Shammy whispered: “What the fuck are you doing?” Ace ignored her. Mai shifted toward Shammy. “Why?” Shammy's eyes widened. “Why what?” “Why are you emotionally static?” Ace could see Shammy mentally searching through every rule they'd invented. No unexplained retreat. No guilty face. No glowing. Normal Shammy. Mai leaned closer. Shammy swallowed. Then, apparently remembering the single best piece of operational advice Ace had given her all afternoon, she grabbed Mai gently by the front of her shirt and kissed her. Ace blinked. Brenda blinked. Iris opened both eyes. Mai made a surprised sound. Shammy kissed her longer. Mai's surprise lasted perhaps one second. Then one hand came up against Shammy's cheek and she kissed her back. Ace stared. Shammy's hair lifted farther. Ace covered her face. Brenda looked delighted. Iris looked at Ace. Ace could feel it. She slowly turned. Iris raised one eyebrow. Ace shook her head. Iris's eyebrow rose higher. Ace mouthed: _Don't._ Iris's mouth twitched. Across the couch, Shammy finally broke the kiss. Mai looked at her. Shammy looked back. For one terrible second, Ace thought Mai was going to ask again. Instead Mai smiled. “Hello.” Shammy's entire body relaxed. “Hi.” Mai kissed her once more, shorter this time. Then looked at Ace. Ace immediately became suspicious. Mai leaned across Shammy. Ace barely had time to react before Mai kissed her too. Warm. Familiar. Unhurried. Ace's hand automatically settled against Mai's side. For a few seconds, tax offices, engagement rings and operational secrecy all ceased to exist. Mai drew back. Ace looked at her. Mai's eyes softened. “Hello.” Ace smiled. “Hi.” Shammy looked between them. Something warm moved through her expression. No static this time. Just them. Then Brenda ruined it. “Okay, that's adorable, but I still want to know how the taxes got fixed.” Mai dropped her forehead against Ace's shoulder. Ace laughed. Shammy leaned against Mai from the other side. Iris raised her coffee. “Thank you.” Brenda smiled. “You're welcome.” Mai straightened reluctantly. “The escalation clerk eventually arrived.” Iris nodded. “She had override authority.” “So she fixed it?” Brenda asked. “No.” Brenda stared. Iris continued. “She couldn't override the reconciliation requirement.” “Why not?” “Different department.” Ace groaned. Shammy whispered: “Oh, no.” Mai nodded. “Oh, yes.” “What happened then?” Brenda asked. “We went to the other department.” “In the same building?” Iris laughed again. “No.” Ace stared. Mai looked at her. “Three blocks away.” Shammy's mouth opened. Brenda looked horrified. “So you walked there?” “Yes.” “And?” Iris sighed. “They told us the reconciliation department no longer accepts walk-ins.” Ace started laughing before the sentence was finished. Mai pointed. “Again: you should have come.” “No.” “They gave us a terminal.” “Good.” “The terminal required the accepted activity declaration.” Ace made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scream. Brenda leaned against Iris. Shammy looked genuinely wounded by the bureaucracy. “What did you do?” Iris smiled. Not pleasantly. “I called the first office.” “And?” “I asked the clerk to stay on the line.” Ace's laughter stopped. “Oh.” Mai nodded. “Oh.” Iris's smile widened. “Then I asked her to explain to the second clerk why the first clerk required the second clerk to do something the second clerk's system required the first clerk to do first.” Brenda stared at her with open admiration. “You made them talk to each other.” “Yes.” Shammy whispered: “Brutal.” Ace nodded. “Effective.” Mai's expression finally warmed. “It took nineteen minutes.” “Twenty-two,” Iris said. “Three minutes were silence.” “They count.” Mai considered. “They count.” Brenda squeezed Iris's hand. “And then?” “The second clerk issued a provisional reconciliation reference.” “Which allowed the first clerk to accept the activity declaration,” Ace said. “Yes.” “And then the provisional reconciliation became valid?” “No.” Ace stared. Iris smiled. “We had to go back.” Shammy fell backward against the couch. “No.” “Yes.” “You went back to the first office?” “Yes.” “Another three blocks?” “Yes.” Mai looked toward Ace. Ace immediately held up both hands. “I am not laughing.” “You're thinking about it.” “I am.” They all waited. Ace failed. Mai sighed. Iris drank more coffee. Brenda kissed her temple. “So it's actually done?” “Yes.” “No penalties?” “No.” “No missing filings?” “No.” “No accounting issue?” “No.” “No taxes unpaid?” “No.” Brenda stared. “So the entire afternoon was spent proving to two systems that both systems already had everything they needed.” Iris looked at her. “Yes.” Silence. Brenda nodded slowly. “Cool.” Iris looked into her coffee. “No.” Brenda kissed her again. “No. Sorry. Not cool.” Mai leaned back into the couch. Ace looked at her. There was exhaustion in the set of her shoulders. Not physical. Administrative. Ace smiled. Mai caught it. “What?” “Nothing.” Mai stared. Ace reached over and took her hand. Mai's expression softened immediately. Ace pulled gently. Mai came closer. Shammy shifted naturally with her until the three of them settled together across the couch. No secret faces. No suspicious behavior. No planning. Just home. Mai rested her head against Ace's. Shammy leaned into Mai. Ace felt some tension finally leave her. The afternoon had survived. The secret had survived. Shammy had survived Mai kissing her. Technically. Across from them, Brenda looked at Iris. “So.” Iris closed her eyes. “No.” “I haven't asked anything.” “You're going to ask me to explain the forms.” “I was.” “No.” “Tomorrow?” “No.” “Next week?” “No.” “Ever?” Iris opened her eyes. “Only if I decide I hate you.” Brenda considered that. “Fair.” Ace smiled. Mai closed her eyes. Shammy looked content. For perhaps ten seconds, peace existed. Then Brenda looked toward the workshop. “Oh.” Everyone looked at her. “I forgot my prototype.” Iris stared. “What prototype?” Brenda brightened. “I know what it's for now.” Iris slowly closed her eyes again. Mai whispered: “Trade?” Iris opened one eye. “For?” “You take the proposal conspirators. I take Brenda.” Ace stopped breathing. Shammy stopped breathing. Brenda frowned. “The what?” Mai blinked. Iris blinked. Ace stared at Mai. Shammy stared at Mai. Mai's exhausted expression remained completely blank. “What?” Ace's heart attempted to escape through her throat. Iris looked at Mai. Then at Ace. Then Shammy. Then, finally, she started laughing. Mai frowned. “What?” Iris shook her head. “You said _probable conspirators_.” Silence. Mai thought back. “I did?” “Yes.” Ace resumed breathing. Shammy sagged visibly. Mai rubbed her forehead. “I hate taxes.” Brenda looked between everyone. “What the fuck just happened?” “Nothing,” Ace and Shammy said together. Again. Mai slowly turned toward them. Ace closed her eyes. Shammy whispered: “Fuck.” Iris laughed harder. And somewhere in the middle of the chaos, O'Sullivan SAS had successfully survived Night City taxation. The psychological damage remained under assessment. --- ## Chapter 11 — The Solution to Taxes Brenda did not retrieve the prototype. This was primarily because Iris still had hold of her hand. Brenda looked toward the workshop. Then at Iris. Then toward the workshop again. Iris tightened her grip. Brenda sat back. “Okay.” “Thank you.” “I wasn't going anywhere.” “You were.” “I was considering it.” “You leaned forward.” “That is not legally binding.” Iris stared. Brenda smiled. “Sorry.” Across from them, Ace had recovered from Mai's accidental attempt to kill her. Mostly. Shammy had not. She was still pressed against Mai's side, although whether this was affection or an attempt to hide her face remained unclear. Mai looked down at her. “You're warm.” Shammy froze. Ace immediately looked at the ceiling. Shammy swallowed. “Am I?” “Yes.” “Oh.” Mai touched the back of her fingers to Shammy's cheek. Shammy's hair lifted. Ace closed her eyes. Rule three had died bravely. Mai frowned. “Very warm.” “I'm fine.” “Are you?” “Yes.” Mai studied her. Shammy remembered the protocol. She kissed Mai. Mai blinked. Ace looked at Shammy. Shammy continued kissing Mai. Ace looked toward Iris. Iris was watching. Of course Iris was watching. Ace narrowed her eyes. Iris raised one eyebrow. Ace shook her head. Iris's mouth twitched. Brenda, meanwhile, had completely missed the silent exchange because she was watching Shammy and Mai. “Aww.” Shammy broke the kiss. Mai looked considerably less interested in diagnosing her temperature. The protocol worked. Again. Ace hated this. Shammy glanced at her. Ace mouthed: _Ridiculous._ Shammy mouthed back: _Effective._ Mai turned. “What are you two doing?” “Nothing,” Ace said. Shammy managed not to answer. Progress. Mai stared at Ace. Ace smiled. Mai looked at Shammy. Shammy smiled. Mai sighed. “I am too tired for this.” Iris raised her coffee. “Finally, something we agree on.” Brenda leaned against her. “You always agree.” “No.” “Yes.” “No.” “You agreed with me this morning.” “About what?” “That we needed more coffee.” “That isn't agreement. That's survival.” Brenda smiled. Iris drank. Ace settled farther into the couch. Mai remained close enough that their legs touched. Shammy was still against Mai's other side. The room had finally begun to return to something resembling normal. Then Brenda made the mistake. “So what happens next year?” Iris stopped drinking. Ace looked at Brenda. Mai opened her eyes. Shammy whispered: “Oh, no.” Brenda frowned. “What?” Iris very slowly lowered her cup. “Next year.” “With the taxes.” Nobody moved. Brenda looked around. “What?” Ace pointed at her. “You did this.” “I asked a question.” “You summoned it.” “Summoned what?” Iris stared into the middle distance. Mai's expression went blank. Shammy shifted slightly away from the center of the couch, as though increasing her distance from the tax discussion might protect her. Brenda looked at Iris. “I'm sorry?” Iris took a breath. “No. It's a good question.” Ace became worried. Iris sounding calm about bureaucracy was significantly more dangerous than Iris swearing about bureaucracy. Brenda apparently knew this too. “Oh.” Iris leaned forward. “The filing structure is the problem.” Mai nodded once. “Not the company.” “No.” “Not the accounting.” “No.” “Not the revenue classification.” “No.” Ace looked between them. “Then why do we need to change anything?” Iris turned toward her. “Because O'Sullivan SAS currently exists as one legal entity doing too many things.” Ace frowned. “We do security.” “Yes.” “Consulting.” “Yes.” “Contract work.” “Yes.” “Operational services.” “Yes.” “Occasional specialist work.” “Yes.” Ace hesitated. “Things we don't put on invoices.” Iris pointed at her. “Exactly.” Brenda raised a hand. “Engineering.” “Yes.” “Technical development.” “Yes.” “Prototype work.” Iris looked toward the workshop. Brenda followed her gaze. “Eventually.” “Fine.” Mai spoke. “Administrative operations.” Iris stared at her. Mai's mouth twitched. Iris pointed. “Not funny.” “A little.” “No.” Shammy raised one hand. “Art?” Everyone looked at her. Shammy lowered the hand. “Probably not.” Iris considered. “No, actually.” Shammy blinked. “What?” “If O'Sullivan ever formally commissions your work, licenses anything, uses your art commercially, or—” “No.” Iris stopped. Shammy shook her head. “No.” “You don't even know what I was going to say.” “I heard enough.” Ace smiled. “Smart.” Shammy leaned against Mai again. “I paint naked people. Leave taxation out of it.” Brenda nodded solemnly. “Reasonable.” Iris looked at the ceiling. “I live with children.” “You love us,” Brenda said. “Unfortunately.” Brenda kissed her cheek. Iris tried not to smile. Failed. Then the smile disappeared. “The problem is that every time O'Sullivan adds another business function, it increases the number of reporting categories, filing dependencies, liability overlaps and administrative touchpoints.” Ace frowned. “Touchpoints sounds made up.” “It is a real word.” “It shouldn't be.” “I don't disagree.” Mai looked thoughtful. “So separate the functions.” Iris pointed at her. “Yes.” Ace looked at Mai. Then Iris. “Into what?” “Companies.” Silence. Ace blinked. “More companies.” “Yes.” “We just spent an afternoon proving one company exists.” “Yes.” “And your solution is more companies.” “Yes.” Ace stared. Iris stared back. Shammy slowly leaned forward. “I like this.” Ace turned. “Why?” “Escalation.” “That isn't a reason.” “It is artistically.” Brenda was thinking. “Separate engineering.” “Yes.” “Separate operational risk.” “Yes.” “Separate asset ownership?” Iris looked at her. “Yes.” Mai nodded. “Equipment and property held away from operations.” “Exactly.” Ace looked around the Safehouse. “O'Sullivan owns this building.” “Currently.” Ace's eyes narrowed. Iris saw it. “No. Nothing changes tomorrow.” “Good.” “This is architecture.” “Corporate architecture,” Brenda said. Shammy smiled. “Can I paint it?” “No,” four women said together. Shammy looked wounded. Mai kissed her temple. She recovered instantly. Iris leaned forward again. “One operating company shouldn't directly own every asset, employ every person, sign every contract, hold every license and carry every liability.” Ace considered. “That sounds suspiciously sensible.” “Thank you.” “I don't like it.” “I know.” Brenda looked interested now. “So you build layers.” Iris nodded. “Potentially.” “One company owns the building.” “Potentially.” “One owns equipment.” “Potentially.” “Different operating entities for different contract categories.” “Yes.” Mai was following immediately. “Parent entity above them.” “Yes.” “Maybe more than one level.” Iris nodded. “Depending on ownership, licensing and liability.” Shammy looked from one woman to another. “I understand approximately twelve percent of this.” Ace raised a hand. “Same.” Mai looked at her. “You own the company.” “Amber owns the company.” Mai stared. Ace smiled. “Maeve also owns the company.” Shammy covered her mouth. Mai's eyes narrowed. Ace leaned into her. “Sounds like your department.” Mai put a hand over Ace's face. Ace laughed against her palm. Iris sighed. “We are not repeating this morning.” Brenda looked at her. “But now with more companies.” Iris slowly turned. Brenda immediately smiled. “Sorry.” Iris drank the last of her coffee. Then stared into the empty cup. Ace recognized the look. Something was still bothering her. “What?” Iris didn't answer. Mai saw it too. “What?” Iris set the cup down. “I'm thinking.” Brenda leaned closer. “Dangerous.” “Yes.” Shammy whispered: “Operation Administrative Revenge.” Ace looked at her. Shammy shrugged. “What? That one isn't ours.” Iris ignored them. “Separate operating companies reduce the circular filing problem.” Mai nodded. “Separate asset ownership reduces exposure.” “Yes.” “Separate licensing structures reduce category conflicts.” “Yes.” Brenda added: “And separate engineering means if one of my prototypes does something unexpected—” Everyone looked at her. Brenda stopped. “What?” Iris stared. Brenda reconsidered. “—which they don't.” Ace raised an eyebrow. “Gravity.” “That was expected.” “You were under the bench.” “Unrelated.” Shammy laughed. Brenda pointed at her. “You stay out of this.” Iris rubbed her forehead. “Brenda's right.” Brenda brightened. “I am?” “Yes.” “Nice.” “Don't enjoy it.” “Too late.” Iris looked at Mai. “The more I think about it, the more obvious it gets.” Mai waited. “We're trying to make one company behave like six companies.” Mai nodded. “Because it was one company when we started.” “Exactly.” “And then it grew.” “Yes.” “And nobody rebuilt the legal structure.” “Yes.” Ace raised her hand. “I would like to note that some of us were busy getting shot at.” Iris looked at her. “That does not exempt you from corporate governance.” “It should.” “No.” “Strongly disagree.” Mai squeezed Ace's leg. Ace looked at her. Mai smiled. Ace smiled back. Shammy saw it. Her expression softened. No glow. No guilty face. Just affection. Good. Then Iris spoke again. “There's another problem.” Ace groaned. “Of course there is.” “Cover integrity.” That got everyone's attention. Mai straightened slightly. Iris continued. “Amber and Maeve publicly own O'Sullivan SAS.” “Yes.” “Which means every expansion currently increases the amount of public activity directly attached to Amber and Maeve.” Mai's expression changed. Ace's did too. That mattered. Iris saw it. “More contracts. More registrations. More filings. More permits. More interactions with agencies. More records.” Brenda frowned. “More places for someone to start connecting things.” “Yes.” Mai nodded slowly. “So compartmentalization isn't only financial.” “No.” “It's identity protection.” “Yes.” Ace's humor disappeared. Now she understood. “That I like.” Iris looked at her. “I thought you might.” Shammy glanced between them. “So the public sees pieces.” “Yes,” Iris said. “Not the entire machine.” Brenda smiled. “Now you're speaking our language.” Iris sighed. “I have always spoken your language.” “You complain while doing it.” “Because your language is exhausting.” Brenda kissed her again. Iris accepted this as compensation. Mai looked thoughtful. “How many?” Iris frowned. “Companies?” “Yes.” “I don't know.” “Three?” “Too few.” “Five?” “Possibly.” Ace stared. “Five?” Iris ignored her. “Depends on how aggressively we separate asset ownership from operations.” “Six?” “Maybe.” Shammy looked delighted. “Can they have names?” Ace pointed. “You are not naming the companies.” “Why not?” “Because you'll call one Operation Absolutely No Lightning Holdings.” Brenda's head snapped toward Shammy. “What?” Shammy froze. Ace froze. Mai turned. Iris looked up. Silence. Shammy stared at Ace. Ace stared at Shammy. Brenda frowned. “Absolutely No Lightning Holdings?” Shammy's brain visibly failed. Ace intervened. “Art joke.” Brenda looked at her. “What art joke?” Ace had nothing. Shammy had less. Mai watched them both. Iris's mouth began to twitch. Ace saw it. _Help._ Iris understood. She did not help. Traitor. Shammy suddenly pointed toward Brenda's workshop. “Your prototype.” Brenda turned instinctively. “What about it?” “What does it do?” The diversion worked instantly. Brenda brightened. “Oh!” Ace almost sagged with relief. “It stabilizes variable-load tool mounts.” Iris frowned. “You said you didn't know what it was for.” “I didn't. Now I do.” “What changed?” “I dropped it.” Everyone stared. Brenda smiled. “It gave me an idea.” Mai slowly nodded. “Of course it did.” Shammy leaned toward Ace. “Saved.” Ace whispered: “Barely.” Mai looked at them. “What?” “Nothing,” they said. Not quite together this time. Progress. Brenda began explaining the prototype to Iris. Iris listened. Actually listened. Ace watched them for a moment. Then looked at Mai. Mai had relaxed again. The danger passed. For now. Mai caught Ace looking. “What?” Ace smiled. “Nothing.” Mai studied her. Then smiled back. Shammy watched both of them. This time, when the secret rose behind her eyes, she controlled it. Almost. Only the faintest electric-blue brightening appeared. Mai didn't notice. Ace did. Shammy saw Ace notice. Neither reacted. Better. Iris eventually escaped Brenda's prototype explanation by raising one finger. “One problem at a time.” Brenda stopped. “Fine.” “Corporate structure first.” “Tonight?” “No.” “Tomorrow?” “No.” “When?” Iris looked at her. “When I can think about corporate registration without wanting to set fire to a government building.” Ace raised her eyebrows. “That might take a while.” “Yes.” Mai leaned back. “We don't need to solve it tonight.” “No.” “We need a proper structure.” “Yes.” “Then we design one.” Iris nodded. Ace looked suspicious. “You're both enjoying this now.” Mai glanced at her. “No.” “You are.” “No.” “Corporate architecture.” Mai's mouth twitched. Ace pointed. “There.” Mai caught her finger. Ace smiled. Mai held it. Iris watched them. Then looked toward the empty coffee cup. Something hardened in her expression again. Brenda noticed. “What now?” Iris didn't answer immediately. She looked at Mai. Mai waited. Then Iris sighed. Deeply. The kind of sigh produced only after several hours of encountering systems designed by people who would never personally use them. “We need shell companies.” Ace blinked. Shammy stopped moving. Brenda's eyebrows rose. Iris continued. “Multiple levels of shell companies to get rid of this idiocy.” Silence. Everyone looked at Mai. Mai considered the statement. Once. Then she simply nodded. Ace stared at her. “That was fast.” Mai looked at Ace. “I spent my afternoon walking between two offices so one computer could receive permission from another computer to acknowledge information both computers already had.” Ace considered. “Fair.” Shammy leaned forward. “How many levels?” Iris looked at her. “I don't know.” “Can one be called—” “No,” Ace said. “You don't know what I was going to say.” “Yes, I do.” “Probably.” Brenda was smiling now. “Shell companies.” Iris pointed at her. “Do not sound that happy.” “I like structures.” “You like building things.” “Companies are things.” “Not your kind.” “Still things.” Ace looked at Mai. Mai looked at Iris. Iris looked exhausted. Brenda looked fascinated. Shammy looked as if corporate nesting structures had suddenly become conceptual art. Ace sighed. “This is going to become a project, isn't it?” Four faces turned toward her. Ace immediately regretted asking. Iris answered. “Yes.” Mai nodded. Brenda smiled. Shammy's eyes brightened. Ace looked toward the ceiling. “Fuck.” Mai leaned over and kissed her temple. Ace relaxed. “Not tonight,” Mai said. Ace looked at her. “Promise?” “Yes.” “Tomorrow?” Mai smiled. “No promises.” Ace groaned. Shammy laughed. Brenda started asking Iris whether companies could own companies that owned other companies. Iris made the mistake of answering. Mai listened. Ace stopped listening after the third layer. And somewhere between corporate liability, cover compartmentalization and Brenda trying to determine whether a company could technically own a workshop, O'Sullivan SAS began acquiring an entirely hypothetical corporate structure complicated enough to make future bureaucrats regret asking questions. Nothing was decided. Nothing was filed. Nothing was changed. But the idea existed now. And, judging by the look on Iris's face, Night City taxation had just created its own worst enemy. --- ## Chapter 12 — Our Secret By evening, nobody was allowed to say _shell company_ anymore. Iris had made the rule. The exact wording had been: “If anyone says _shell company_, _corporate structure_, _holding company_, or _tax optimization_ before tomorrow morning, they are personally responsible for implementing whatever idea follows.” Nobody had tested her. Not even Shammy. Especially not Shammy. Brenda had lasted seventeen minutes before retreating into her workshop. Iris had followed shortly afterward with two coffees and the expression of a woman who intended to make absolutely certain Brenda did not accidentally create another corporate entity before bedtime. The workshop door had closed. The Safehouse had gradually settled. No more taxes. No more planning. No more suspicious synchronized declarations of _nothing_. Just home. Ace stood beside the couch looking at Mai. Mai was reading something on her tablet. Shammy occupied the other end of the couch with a sketchpad balanced against one leg. Mai noticed Ace. Looked up. Ace didn't say anything. Mai waited. Ace continued looking at her. Mai's eyebrows rose. “What?” Ace stepped closer. “Move.” Mai looked around herself. There was plenty of room. “Where?” Ace pointed at her lap. Mai's expression changed immediately. “Oh.” Shammy glanced over. Ace climbed onto the couch. Then into Mai's lap. The reaction was automatic. Mai's arm went around Ace's waist before Ace had even finished settling herself. Held her there. Close. Secure. Familiar. Mai's other hand disappeared beneath the waistband of Ace's shorts. Ace's eyes closed. A soft, thoroughly pleased sigh escaped her. Shammy smiled at her sketchpad. Mai kissed the side of Ace's neck. “Better?” Ace settled back against her. “Much.” Mai smiled. Nothing about the movement had interrupted the evening. That was the point. There was no question. No negotiation that needed words. No surprised reaction from Shammy. Ace had climbed into Mai's lap. Mai had responded exactly as Mai responded. Home had continued around them. Mai picked her tablet up again with the hand around Ace's waist. Ace rested comfortably against her chest. For several minutes, nobody spoke. Mai read. Shammy sketched. Ace enjoyed being exactly where she was. Every so often Mai's touch shifted beneath Ace's shorts. Ace's breathing changed with it. Small sounds of pleasure escaped her occasionally, quiet and entirely unselfconscious. Mai never stopped reading. Shammy never stopped drawing. Ace smiled. This, too, was normal. Eventually Shammy looked up. Her eyes met Ace's. Ace was visibly comfortable. Very comfortable. Shammy's mouth twitched. Ace narrowed her eyes. Shammy looked back down. Ace knew that expression. “Don't.” Mai glanced away from the tablet. “Don't what?” “Her.” Shammy looked innocent. “I didn't do anything.” “You were about to.” “I was drawing.” “You were thinking.” Mai looked between them. “Dangerous.” “Thank you,” Ace said. Shammy looked offended. Mai returned to her tablet. Ace relaxed against her again. The Safehouse remained pleasantly quiet. Something metallic moved behind Brenda's workshop door. Iris said something. Brenda laughed. Then: “No, seriously, look at this.” Iris's muffled response came through the wall. “No.” “But—” “No.” “It's actually really clever.” “That is exactly why I'm saying no.” Shammy laughed. Ace smiled. Mai shook her head. “They're going to be in there all night.” “Probably,” Ace said. “Good.” Ace froze. Shammy's stylus stopped. Mai looked down at Ace. Ace looked up. Mai's eyes narrowed. Ace smiled. “What?” “You said good.” “Did I?” “Yes.” Ace considered attempting denial. Rejected it. “Peaceful.” Mai continued staring. Ace gestured vaguely toward the room. “It's peaceful.” Mai looked around. Then back at Ace. “Mm-hm.” Ace kissed her. A simple solution. Mai accepted it. Quite happily. When Ace drew back, Mai's suspicion had not disappeared entirely. But her attention had become considerably less investigative. Ace smiled. Mai smiled back. Shammy made a tiny amused sound. Ace turned. “What?” “Nothing.” Ace pointed at her. “That word is banned.” “It is not.” “It should be.” Mai looked between them again. “You two have been strange all day.” Ace sighed. “We're always strange.” “No.” Shammy looked up. “No?” Mai considered. “You have different kinds.” Shammy's eyes widened. Ace felt her entire body go still. Mai continued. “Art strange.” Shammy looked at Ace. Ace refused to look back. “Work strange,” Mai said. Ace kept her expression neutral. “Palace strange.” Shammy's lips twitched. “That's a broad category,” she said. “Very.” “Fair.” Mai looked at Ace. “Trouble strange.” Ace frowned. “That sounds judgmental.” “It is.” Shammy laughed. Mai looked at Shammy. “Electric strange.” Shammy's silver-white hair lifted almost on command. Mai pointed. “That.” Shammy flattened it. “Rude.” Mai smiled. Then: “And secret strange.” Silence. Ace felt Shammy stop breathing. Mai's hand remained comfortably at Ace's waist. Her other hand remained where it had been since Ace climbed into her lap. Ace was suddenly extremely aware of both. Mai looked at Shammy. Then Ace. Ace met her eyes. Mai waited. Ace knew that look too. Mai wasn't demanding. She wasn't interrogating. She was simply telling Ace: _I know you._ Ace smiled. Mai's eyes narrowed slightly. Ace kissed her again. Mai accepted that one too. When they separated, Mai whispered: “Secret strange.” Ace touched her cheek. “Maybe.” Mai studied her. “Bad?” Ace answered immediately. “No.” Something in Mai relaxed. Not completely. Enough. Ace smiled. “Definitely not bad.” Mai watched her for another moment. Then nodded. “Okay.” That was all. No demand. No attempt to pull the secret apart. No operational analysis. Mai simply picked up her tablet again. Ace stared at her. Mai noticed. “What?” “You're not going to ask?” “You'll tell me.” Ace felt warmth move through her chest. “Yes.” “When you're ready.” “Yes.” Mai kissed her forehead. “Then I'll wait.” Across the couch, Shammy's eyes softened. Ace caught it. So did Mai. Mai pointed at her. “And you're involved.” Shammy froze. Ace closed her eyes. Fuck. Shammy opened her mouth. Closed it. Mai waited. Shammy finally said: “I refuse to answer on the grounds that Ace will kill me.” Mai looked down at Ace. Ace opened her eyes. “Reasonable.” Mai laughed. The danger passed. Mostly. Shammy looked down at the sketchpad again. Her hair settled. Ace rested her head against Mai's shoulder. Mai continued reading. Her touch continued too. Unhurried. Familiar. Ace's eyes drifted closed again. A pleasurable shiver passed through her. Mai felt it. Of course she did. Her lips brushed Ace's temple. Ace sighed. Shammy's stylus moved quietly over the page. Minutes passed. Ace stopped thinking about secrets for a while. Stopped thinking about rings. Stopped thinking about kneeling. There was only Mai's body beneath hers, the arm around her waist, familiar pleasure moving warmly through her, Shammy nearby, and the sounds of their home around them. Mai knew Ace's responses too well to need guidance. Ace trusted her too completely to need words. The pleasure built naturally. Ace's breathing deepened. Mai glanced down once. Ace opened her eyes. Mai smiled. Ace smiled back. No words. None needed. A little later, Ace's body tightened briefly against Mai. She exhaled in a soft, satisfied sound and went loose against her again. Mai kissed her hair. Ace stayed exactly where she was. Shammy glanced over. Ace saw the warmth in her expression. Not watching a spectacle. Just seeing someone she loved happy in the arms of someone else she loved. Ace smiled lazily at her. Shammy smiled back. Then returned to drawing. Mai's hand remained beneath Ace's shorts. Ace made absolutely no effort to encourage its removal. Quite the opposite. Mai noticed. Ace felt Mai smile against her hair. “Greedy.” Ace opened one eye. “Problem?” “No.” “Good.” Mai kissed her temple. Ace closed her eye again. Time became pleasantly unimportant. Eventually the tablet ended up abandoned beside Mai. Ace remained in her lap. Shammy remained with her sketchpad. The room grew quieter. Mai's touch had coaxed more than one satisfied release from Ace before finally becoming still, her hand resting comfortably against her while Ace melted against her chest. Ace looked thoroughly unwilling ever to move again. Shammy studied her. “You alive?” Ace opened one eye. “No.” “Should we call Victor?” “No.” “Funeral arrangements?” Ace considered. “Leave me here.” Mai laughed softly. Shammy smiled. “Very dignified.” “Fuck dignity.” “Strong position.” Mai tightened the arm around Ace's waist. Ace sighed again. Not from pleasure this time. Contentment. Deep and complete. For a while, that was everything. Then Shammy shifted. Ace looked over. Shammy had turned the sketchpad slightly away. Ace frowned. “What are you drawing?” Shammy smiled. “Nothing.” Ace stared. “We just discussed that word.” Mai laughed. Shammy looked down. Ace watched her for a few seconds. Then: “Show me.” “No.” Ace's eyebrows rose. Mai looked interested. “Now I want to see.” Shammy looked betrayed. “You're supposed to support me.” “I do.” “Then don't.” Mai held out one hand. Shammy stared at it. Mai waited. Shammy sighed. “Fine.” She turned the sketchpad. The drawing was rough. Quick lines. Nothing finished. Three women on a couch. Mai in the middle. Ace curled comfortably in her lap. Shammy at the other end, sketching. It was the room exactly as it existed. Almost. The drawing made it somehow softer. Not prettier. Truer. Ace studied it. Mai smiled. “I like it.” Shammy relaxed. “It's rough.” “I still like it.” “I might paint it.” “You should.” Ace kept looking. Something about the image pulled at her. Then she understood. Mai's hands were visible in the drawing. One around Ace's waist. The other suggested rather than shown, disappearing naturally where it had disappeared in reality. Shammy had captured the familiarity of it. Not the act. The relationship. Ace looked at Shammy. Shammy met her eyes. And then Ace saw something else. Mai's hand. Bare. No ring. Not yet. Shammy's expression changed by barely anything. She had seen Ace notice. Ace looked at the drawn hand again. Then at Mai's real one. Mai was studying the sketch. Completely unaware. Ace imagined the same scene later. Same couch. Same Safehouse. Same Shammy. Same Mai. Same hand around Ace. But with a ring. Her ring. Ace smiled. Shammy saw it. Her electric-blue eyes brightened very slightly. Not enough for Mai to notice. Ace looked at her. Shammy looked back. _Soon._ No word spoken. None needed. Mai lowered the sketchpad. “What?” Ace immediately looked at her. “What?” “You're doing it again.” “Doing what?” Mai stared. Ace smiled. Mai sighed. “Secret strange.” Shammy covered her mouth. Ace kissed Mai's cheek. Mai turned toward her. Ace kissed her properly. Mai accepted it with a quiet laugh. When Ace drew back, Mai looked at her. “I'll wait.” Ace's expression softened. “I know.” Mai touched her cheek. Ace leaned into the touch. Across from them, Shammy watched. Ace glanced at her. Their eyes met. Another tiny smile. Mai missed this one. Behind the workshop door, Brenda suddenly laughed loudly. Iris said: “That is absolutely not what I meant.” Brenda laughed harder. Mai smiled. Shammy smiled. Ace settled back into Mai. Home. Nothing staged. Nothing perfect. Nothing needed to be. The proposal would come. The little box would leave its hiding place. Shammy would stand beside Ace. Mai would finally understand every ridiculous moment of this afternoon. But not tonight. Tonight Mai held Ace in her lap. Shammy drew them. Brenda and Iris made noise behind a closed workshop door. And a small box waited quietly in their bedroom. Ace looked at Mai once more. Then at Shammy. Shammy was already looking at her. No joke this time. No _wife face._ No Operation Absolutely No Lightning. Just the secret. Their secret. For a little while longer. Ace smiled. Shammy smiled back. Mai's arm tightened around Ace's waist. Ace closed her eyes. And nobody needed anything else. ----