[Jack has no idea what Zev is talking about for a handful of seconds, until he puts together Zev patting at a belt-pouch and not quite looking at his eyes anymore, more off to the right and . . . oh. He reaches up, feeling the familiar shape of the earring, the little trinket of silver and gem he'd stubbornly left in his ear even after Zev had disappeared. And something happens when his fingertips remind him of the shape, because he remembers more than the present moment, more than the confusion and hurt and worry. He remembers everything else, every sleepless night and lazy afternoon and numberless moments of tumbling full-throated laughter. And it becomes unforgivable, then, that Zevran be returned to him like this.

So against all of his better judgement, against sense, he follows him. A step for a step, the tensest dance they've ever spun across this floor, the almost-smile ghosting across his expression that means determination rather than any kind of joy.]

You did. Zevran, it's me: Jack, Argento . . . bloody Gazza, come on, you can't give me all these names and not remember even a little of it-