The streetlights bled yellow onto the cold sidewalk and the glittering mica pavement. Somewhere in the distance the deep bellow of a foghorn pierced the thick wet air of the November night.† Big Ben’s face glowed high from his powering stance, the watchman of the night, staring out across London with an eye that never blinked.
Two figures stood on London Bridge, gazing down into the inky black waters of the Thames, lost in comfortable silence together.
Ryo Sanada shrunk deeper into his leather jacket and watched his breath form a thin mist. He glanced over at Cye, standing beside him with ruddy cheeks and his eyes narrowed against the breeze. He didn’t seem cold at all. He looked happy, free. Finally at peace. He was in his element again, a fish returned to the sea.
“You missed it, didn’t you?” asked Ryo.
“Yes,” Cye answered, staring straight ahead. “I never thought that five years later I’d be standing here tonight.” He broke his trance with the Thames and smiled toward Wildfire, his hand searching for Ryo’s and clasping it warmly. “With you, love, of all people.”
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