"Hello Mark," squeaks Ivan, and he bolts.

"Miles?" says Captain Galeni's voice instead.

"Captain Galeni?" Damn. "We found the other half of the comlink... are you alone?"

"At present. Why?" says Galeni dryly.

"How, ah, did you come by that half...?"

"Your cousin handed it to me before departing to escort a lady to the annual World Botanical Exhibition and Ornamental Flower Show."

"A flower show?" hisses Miles. "In the middle of a security crisis, you sent Ivan to a flower show?"

"I didn't. Commodore Destang felt Ivan could be spared. He's not thrilled with him. Or me, for that matter, but I'm confined to quarters instead."

"Funny thing, so am I," says Miles. "Which I suspect means there's been a breakthrough in the current operation."

"Sorry to hear that," sighs Galeni. "Damn, it's so useless, no one's ends are being served anymore, not ours or his or Komarr's...!"

"If I could make contact with your father—"

"Useless," repeats Galeni. "He's never going to give up."

"Even now, as an old man, tired, his last chance over and done...?"

"Even now. He can't quit, he has to prove himself right at any cost, he can't face the possibility that he's done as much as he has only to be wrong."

Miles sighs. "Hell. Well - I'll contact you again if I... have anything useful to say. Since at present I am prevented from getting down there to unite the halves of the comlink, there's hardly much point in turning it in."

"If you say so," mutters Galeni.

"Nothing much yet, sir."

"Damn. The Barrayarans are on to them, I've just received word."

"Damn," agrees Thorne. "And we can't just follow them either while they're meaning to shoot to kill... well, we're working on it, sir. Your brother sure is popular."

"Every ominous word, sir, who's Ivan?"

"A very important person. Where'd this originate? Another tubeway?"

"Yes. I can get a man there in six minutes, but in that time from that tubeway nexus..."

"As far as I know he should still be at the flower show."

"What's the story?" Elli wants to know.

"We have our break. With a side of complications. Galen wants a meeting, and he's taken Cousin Ivan hostage to secure it."

"I got a call," says Miles. "Do you recognize whose operational style is at work here?"

"Fuck," snarls Galeni.

"My sentiments exactly. Meet me in fifty minutes at the Thames Tidal Barrier, Section Six. Pack a stunner, at minimum, and try not to alert Destang on your way out. We have an appointment with your father and my brother. One last chance to make this right. Not a good chance, just the last one. Are you with me?"

"Recorded and ready for auto-comparison," she says, when she's scanned him.

"Good," he says again. "Am I missing anything?"

"There are, I think, still assassins after you in this uniform; if they cotton to where you're at...?"

"Call my wife and get her over here to be haut at them."

"And if somebody who looks and doesn't scan like you comes along?"

"Grab him, apply fast-penta, rescue Ivan if at all possible, then - " Miles shrugs unhappily. "Use your judgment."

"Not particularly. It's getting back in that's the trick. As for the way out, I just left through the side entrance and got on the tubeway. Conveniently, the guard wasn't under orders to shoot me."

"Which you found out in the trying," Miles guesses, and shakes his head. "So. Destang's going to know you left. Think you were followed?"

"Not immediately, not with the embassy security staff so undermanned at the moment. And I'd be hard to trace; I left my wristcom and paid cash for the tubeway."

"I could only get one."

It'll have to do. Miles leads the way, single file by necessity. The ledge follows the curve of the wall, out and back in again, so that Miles and Galeni are mutually invisible to whoever and whatever lies beyond the bulge; Miles gestures Galeni to stay back out of sight, and proceeds alone, his quiet footsteps lost in the gurgle of seawater not far below.

Galeni puts his stunner down too, smiling sharply.

"Not Barrayaran," says Mark. "Dendarii. I'm going to be Admiral Naismith. He's more fun anyway."

"Ngh!" Miles mimes tearing his hair out. He nearly feels like doing it for real. "And you somehow believe I haven't warned them too? My patrol leaders are all carrying med scanners with a baseline scan of my skeleton. You can steal my clothes, my stunner, my knife, but I challenge you to steal my bones and do anything useful with them in the time available."

Galeni chases after them too, on the grounds that Ivan is probably heavier than both of them put together and might be stunned wherever he's put. He shuts the door behind them.

There is a wordless yelp in the dark.

Miles flashes his handlight and locates Ivan's face, secures the grappler, and tosses down the harness. "Here. Come on, come up," he says, over the quiet beeping of some safety alarm probably meant to warn him that the hatch shouldn't be open so close to pumping time.

Ivan manages to sufficiently entangle himself and the harness to support his weight.

Miles touches the control. The spool spools, lifting Ivan up. Mark and Miles cooperate with unsettling ease, helping Ivan up over the lip of the hatch - it's like having four hands, but conscious control over only two of them. Miles detaches the harness from Ivan while Mark closes the hatch on the now-empty chamber.

Ivan's hands are a disaster; it looks like he's been continuously clawing and pounding at the wall for hours. His breath sounds hoarse like his throat is equally torn up from shouting when he catches his breath. At the first opportunity he sits and puts his face on his knees, panting.

"I hope you'll forgive me for being happy to see you," says Miles. "Just this once."

Mark hangs back unhappily.

"I can still tell," mutters Ivan, "you're differently happy. Ugh. Think I'll take up claustrophobia in my spare time."

"Whatever floats your boat," says Miles. "In the meantime, we should probably get out of here. Can you walk?"

"Yeah. I think. Just don't present me with a balance beam. I'm about fifteen percent adrenaline right now..."

"Sir," says Elli from the comm. "Cetagandans are coming at you from the direction of tower seven. I went ahead and called your wife and as luck would have it she's nearby, on her way, where do you want me to direct her specifically?"

"Uh - yes, sir," says Elli, sounding confused by something about how the voices are carrying over the commlink the same in timbre while differently located, but not making a fuss about it as long as he isn't arguing with himself.

Ivan accepts a little help from Galeni in proceeding along the corridor. Oh, look, a lift tube, antigravity will relieve him of the burden of supporting his own weight for a bit.

Linya's coming down the other way. "Turn around," she hisses urgently.

"Turning," agree Miles and Mark in unison, in their respective versions of Miles's voice. They look at each other. Mark adds, "That one's your husband," pointing down, as they both reverse course and start hauling themselves down the ladder. Miles asks, "What'd you see up there?"

"Thank you. Plainclothes bunch of people who didn't care to interact with me. Barrayaran accents. I suspect if you were going to be happy to see them they'd be in uniform, yes? The Cetagandans I can probably call off for the time being as long as only one of you is around at the time."

"Right." Linya takes point. "So where is the real Miles going to hide while Mark delivers my relayed message to confused ghem?"

Mark-as-Miles, unwilling to peep out from behind Linya for long, jumps up so his head clears the level of her shoulder for just a moment. "Hello!" he chirps on the first bounce. "Have you met my wife?" on the second. Another bounce, "Isn't she lovely?" Bounce. "Your empress gave her to me!" Bounce. "It was a very moving ceremony!" Bounce. "You might want to put away that plasma arc," bounce, "before someone gets hurt!"

"The proper form of address," bounces Miles, "is Lady Vorkosigan." Bounce. "She says she'll be annoyed if you shoot me."

"No," he says, ceasing his bounces at last and sidling out to stand by Linya's elbow. "Also, I owe Naismith a favour at the moment. His people recently rescued some of mine from Komarran kidnappers. Sorry, century-captain—" he makes this guess at rank based on the pattern of face paint. "You'd better turn around and go home. At least temporarily."

"My wife," he says, smiling at the century-captain, "suggests that since Naismith is as much an expression of my genome as I am, she could reasonably be offended at attempts on his life just as much as on mine. Perhaps you'd like to take that under advisement too."

"I'm—past that," he says a little uncomfortably, still in Lord Vorkosigan mode. "But thank you. Let's go get the rest of them before they run into trouble." He heads back down the corridor.

Linya goes with him. "Do you really need to - do that? While there's no witnesses?"

"I—I—" He shivers. "Yes. I'm sorry. I, uh." He inhales a steadying breath. "Mark shot Ser Galen. Mark had a crippling panic attack immediately afterward. Miles got me on my feet again by suggesting I not be Mark. It's working so far. I'm reluctant to mess with it too badly while there are still people nearby who want me dead. It seems like a bad time to go catatonic again."

Linya nods, once, and doesn't say anything else while they traverse the remaining distance to rejoin the others.

"Incidentally, where's that Komarran bastard who shut me up in the seawall?"

"Thank you, Mark. One of these days I might be happy to see you too."

"I live in hope," says Mark, with a smile that is very briefly his own.

"What are you going to do? Go home to Aunt Cordelia and...?"

"Cordelia is fairly pleasant to show up as an unexpected relative to," Linya mentions. "Her surroundings - vary."

The Cetagandans have been brisk about clearing out the tower of their presence. They encounter none in it. When they exit the tower, there is a ghem-lieutenant, wandering around, looking unhappy. He startles when he sees Linya, politely averts his eyes, notes Miles and Mark with bewilderment, recognizes Ivan and Galeni, and appears quite paralyzed by all of them put together.

"Ghem-Lieutenant Tabor," greets Mark-as-Vorkosigan. "How's your bonsai?"

"On its way, sir," says Quinn.

"Great." Miles stands next to Mark and smiles tauntingly at Tabor; Mark looks caught between exasperation and amusement.

Tabor shuffles off in response to some quiet comm message, with half a badly-behaved glance at Linya on his way.

"It'll be taken care of," Miles says in the direction of his wristcom.

"Yes it will, sir."

"I think I'll take the tubeway myself. Try to catch the rest of that nice flower show. Miles, at some point there is going to need to be a prolonged conversation where the ceiling isn't watching, but it can wait."

"You were at the flower show?" snorts Ivan. "I didn't see you."

"Yes. Are you coming back to it too or putting in an appearance at the embassy right away?"

"I think I'd better go with Captain Galeni."

Elli snorts and lifts off. When the aircar's stable in the air she scans them both and peers at the results.

The one wearing a jacket and using the Betan accent is Miles; the jacketless pickpocket with the Barrayaran accent is Mark. As implied by their conversation.

Galeni and Ivan are here! Hurray!

"I assume you're going to write an honest report," Miles says to Galeni. "I plan to do the same."

Galeni nods. "I imagine it's going to get very, very... long," he sighs.

"I'm keeping mine as short as possible, I think. Minimize room for confusion."

"Is that why you're going to keep it short," mutters Ivan.

"Thank you for your contribution, Ivan."

Miles follows Ivan to their quarters, composes a very short report, files it, and eyes his bed. No, despite the time, he isn't that sleepy; he had his full night's rest not too long ago. He starts pacing instead.

"What are you pacing about?"

"Leftover nerves. I don't have anything practical to do, but I can't sleep, and there's a very small residual chance that someone is going to shoot me in the next few hours, and I'm worried for Galeni's career and Mark's health. And, again, can't do anything about either."

"You could have that long conversation with Linyabel in which you demonstrate to her satisfaction that you're yourself and then she's mad at you."

"Come see me at the embassy, then. It's godawful o'clock in the morning, but they'll probably let you in. And Ivan suggested I talk to you instead of pacing a hole in the floor."

"Aren't you going to be dragged away for debriefing at any moment?"

"Perhaps the commodore will find 'talking to my wife' a decent excuse. Another excellent reason to have the conversation now. Besides, he's not here at the moment."

"Well, all right, the flower show isn't particularly succeeding at holding my attention anymore anyway. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"See you then."

Miles... flops disconsolately onto his bed.

"Best of luck, coz," sighs Ivan. "You know while Mark was being you he didn't talk her up as much as you do but she came up a couple of times..."

"...And...?"

"Oh, I was moaning about Sylveth dumping me - by the way, Miles: Sylveth dumped me - and wondering how 'you' managed to hold onto her and there was something about hanging on for dear life but not being clingy and - I don't know how to translate any of it into advice but it came to mind."

"My condolences," says Miles. "Maybe you'll figure out how to keep the next one. ...Thanks, anyway, although I'm not sure how much I trust secondhand quasi-advice from Mark."

"Well, he does a good you, if it's not good advice it might at least be you advice, and Linyabel likes you."

"That's... oddly cheering all by itself."

"Good."

Linya knocks.

Miles jumps up to answer the door.

Linya comes in. She gives Ivan a look. "You can do your work somewhere else, unless you've lost the pen I gave you. Yes?"

"...Hi," says Miles awkwardly. "Um. Did you bring your medical scanner...?"

"Everyone else seems satisfied that there are only two you-shaped people. It's very tempting to just agree with their assessment and scoop you up and cry into your hair for a bit and be done with it - but everyone else, at least of the parties who are on this planet, will be more or less all right if it turns out that you're not you as long as you do both of the relevant jobs, as long as you aren't inclined to assassinate people or sabotage the work. Even Ivan doesn't seem that shaken up and he's your cousin. I'm shaken up. Convince me. Tell me - things they couldn't have turned up through elaborate detective work, and enough of them that it's vanishingly unlikely for them have got it via fast-penta before you hit upon the Bard. Tell me what color my bubble was when it wasn't white, tell me what the first mistake I made when you taught me to fly a lightflyer was, tell me - I don't know, what color my underwear was the first time we made love - convince me so that I can hold you." She swallows. "My dearest partner of greatness."

She smiles, faintly.

"I love you too. That was terrible, I'm not doing that again, I'm telling Illyan the minute I get home that he can give you clearance to hear about my job or revoke mine and let the Dendarii go to waste. I probably won't bring up option three. Unless he makes a lot of unhappy noises."

"...Exception for if I strongly suspect we are under hostile observation and have to tell you something that isn't true to throw off whoever it is. And I'll correct myself as soon as I get you properly alone, which I will attempt to do as expeditiously as possible," he says. "There are unfortunately way too many reasons a covert agent might have to lie. But 'to make sure my wife doesn't find out what I'm really doing on ninety percent of my quote unquote courier missions' is now no longer such a reason. I declare it so. I am done lying to you."

"Yes, exception granted. If the ceiling is watching you may say what the ceiling needs to hear." Snuggle.

Snuggle. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She kisses his forehead. And then tilts his head up and kisses his lips.

He kisses back.

And there is a knock on the door. "I'm really sorry! It's Destang!"

"Quote, 'Vorpatril, if he is with anyone short of Simon Illyan himself then he can bloody well interrupt it to talk to me', end quote."

"Alas, Linya can't pass for Illyan. Too tall," says Miles. "Fine, I'm coming."

"Should I wait?"

"If you want to. I can make no promises about how long I'll be or whether or not I'll be arrested when it's over."

"I'll wait for a while, anyway."

That is indeed the place. Ivan hovers nervously.

"So that's me either saved or dropped into a hotter kettle in a few weeks," sighs Ivan, following Miles out. "When do you ship out?"

"I'm going to go with 'immediately'," says Miles. "Saving only the time it takes me to change my clothes, kiss my wife, and read my orders. Nasty hostage situations don't tend to age well."

"Right then. Back to the nice non-emergency daily grind for me, I suppose."

"Have fun with that."

"I will do my best. I'll go find somewhere else to be while you break the news to Linyabel." He takes a turn that does not lead to their quarters.

So Miles proceeds back to their quarters alone. And is his wife still there?

"Good news: I'm not going to be arrested. Bad news: Only because I just received urgent orders from Simon Illyan to ship out with the Dendarii and deal with a hostage situation in Sector IV. So this is me changing my uniform for the umpteenth time, reading my orders, and then heading topside to gather my mercenaries and go. If Bel Thorne hasn't already cancelled its contract to transport your neuroscientist, it will soon. And I'll be a minimum of a month getting out and back, even if all we do is show up, knock some pirates' heads together, and turn around again the same day."

"Will I get a refund on my retainer?" she sighs. She waves her med scanner at him and then, satisfied that he hasn't been replaced in the last fifteen minutes, scoops him up for a quick hug.

"Was it in your contract?" he inquires, kissing her on the cheek.

"The wording was actually a little ambiguous on that point, which I suppose was a mistake. I can spare the money if Captain Thorne opts to make a fuss about it."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather my Dendarii keep it. Although if we do swing back through Sol system on our way out of Sector IV, I wouldn't object at all to splitting off the Ariel for a nice safe mission to Komarr. I could even ride along. So if you're still convincing him in a month..."

"I don't expect it to take that long. I caught him packing some things last week."

"He took the credit chit I'd planned to give him anyway when we were getting into the aircar, and taunted me about it immediately afterward, and with everything else going on I didn't even remember he hadn't given the knife back, but come to think of it he wasn't wearing it when he got out to get on the tube..." Miles shakes his head. "Hell. I hope we get to see him again someday."

"Sure, that would be nice under some circumstances... hopefully it won't be via this little thing chirping at me," she says, patting her scanner.

"I'm reasonably confident it won't. I mean... what did he say to you in your interrogation, anyway?"

"A variety of things... He said he was looking for a better way to die than becoming emperor of Barrayar. I wound up suggesting we throw him at the assassins after Naismith. It didn't take, as you probably noticed."

"He was still puzzled about that by the time he talked to me. I told him that if I weren't tied to a chair I would hold out a hand in his direction and see what he'd do with it. He wound up untying one to make the experiment, and he looked at me like I'd electrocute him and dithered about how to react, then shook my hand. And then I had one hand untied for most of the rest of it but didn't think of anything clever to do with that."

"Yeah. I don't know. He seemed... very aware of his position as Fake Miles, when we were all down in the seawall - do you know what I mean?"

"I'm not sure if I do."

"Well. 'That one's your husband', for example. And, I don't know, the way he acted around you in general."

"He put on a convincing act for the ghem we spoke to. And I was glad for the pointer to which of you was which. Ivan seems to be able to tell - I need this." She gestures at the scanner.

"Ivan can apparently tell by the fact that Mark seems to like him more than I do."

"I have the impression that you and Ivan have decided that amongst yourselves a sufficient level of trust completely obviates the need for actual affection."

"That's one way to put it."

"Anyway. You have things to do that aren't listen to me analyze the relationship between you and Ivan."