A/N: I almost scrapped this chapter halfway through in favor of an alternate ending to the Independence day mini-arc, partly because my romantic writing isn't that great – but mostly because this isn't a romance fic. It's just a wild guess, but I'm thinking you guys aren't reading this for the smooches. But then I reread it, and I remembered that sexual tension and humor are not actually mutually exclusive…even if the humor in question is rather juvenile. So, um, try not to spit {food/drink of choice} on your keyboard when the phrase "So tell me to come in" comes up in a (supposedly) totally unrelated conversation. And if you don't like smooches in your funnies, feel free to skim the ending. There's only two paragraphs' worth anyway. And I've already started the next chapter, so I can assure you that I really am abandoning the Serious Business and getting back to funnies next.

The ball would not end until quite late in the night, so he was safe for now. The Sorrow knew that his commander was going to come try to find him again – but he had time. Not to quietly duck out of the room, this time, but to at least put up a shield so that she would simply forget what she had come for, say good night, and go. That had proved to be the most effective strategy in recent months, as much as it taxed his psychic strength. The End was getting very suspicious, but of course the End noticed everything. It was also possible that the Fear was putting the pieces together, but he was the only other possible complication. The Fury never noticed anything at all, and the Pain still didn't seem quite at ease around Sorrow, so it was highly unlikely that he made any connections between the Joy turning her attention on the Sorrow and Sorrow suddenly going a little bit…blank. It was almost a don't notice me field, something he had worked very hard to develop back in Dachau. The guard looks at you, anger and cruelty in his face, and then he turns away, no longer quite able to think of what he had been planning to do to you today. That was a simple explanation, but the actual feat was very complex in both theory and application. As far as Sorrow could tell, it was his only power that had anything to do with influencing other people – but that was a good thing. His powers were in high enough demand from enough desperate potentates to make him very uneasy at times. But at least within the Cobras he was safe. As long as Joy didn't…

A knock came at the door. "Sorrow. We need to talk."

Sorrow pressed his lips together so that he would curse in his head and not out loud. He wasn't ready to face Joy, not now and not like this. He wasn't even sure that she was ready to face him. Christós…it wasn't that he didn't trust her to make her own decisions, of course, but –

"I know you're in there, so you can either come open the door or I'll let myself in."

"Thanks for the choice," he muttered to himself, before adding aloud, "It's not locked."

There was a pause. "So you're saying, come in."

"I'm saying if you want to come in that badly, it's not like I'm stopping you."

"That's not the same as "come in"."

"It didn't sound like you were asking for my permission, so I didn't feel the need to give it."

"Well, can I have it?"

"Have what?"

"Your permission."

The corners of Sorrow's mouth quirked a little at that request, and his annoyance melted a little. Did she really feel that reluctant to exercise her rights over him as unit commander? She just barged in on everyone else. Just like watching her run around looking for him, it meant he was failing overall at trying to mitigate his effect as a distraction to her, but…it amused him. While he was being honest with himself, he might as well admit that it was sort of flattering, too. "Why?"

Joy glared at the door. She had been through way, way too much shit tonight to deal with Sorrow suddenly getting coy with her on top of it. "Because it's the goddamn polite thing to do, that's why. So tell me to come in!"

"Mm. No."

"Is that a "No, you can't come in," or a "No, I'm not going to tell you to come in"?"

"It's whatever you want it to be."

"Give me a goddamn answer, Sorrow."

"That is my goddamn answer, Joy."

"Well…well, fuck you!" she said, throwing her shoes down in frustration.

His instinctive comeback, which luckily did not make it out of his mouth, was That would be kind of hard with the door in the way. Damn it, he was supposed to be discouraging her! "Ever the lady, I see," he substituted, blushing hard and completely failing at a sarcastic tone. Bad Sorrow. Very bad.

"Shut up. Why do you think I'm asking your permission?"

"I don't know, Joy. It's extremely out of character for you – normally you just take what you want."

"Would you just let me in!"

"I said it was unlocked."

"Fine!" The Joy wrenched the door open and stood in the doorway with her arms folded across her chest. "Can I come in now?"

The Sorrow glanced up from the book he was pretending to read as he sat stretched out on his bed, just long enough to check her expression, before returning to the pages of…what was this, anyway? He'd forgotten entirely…it was in German, so maybe it was the philosophy book the End had been asking if he was ever going to return. "The door's open, Joy. You are in."

She glared at him. "My feet are still in the hallway, Sorrow. Whether or not the door's open doesn't count if I'm not actually standing in your room."

"All right, then, so you're not in here," he said, closing his book so he didn't have to keep staring at the faint print. He probably should have just let her in to start with, as she looked madder than he'd seen her in quite a while and was probably going to punch him in the face the minute she got within an arm's length. Jób.

"Well, then?" Joy snapped. "Can I come in and talk to you, or am I just going to be yelling at you from your doorway all night?"

"I seem to recall you saying that you were going to come in whether I wanted you to or not," he said, getting up and turning his back to her to put the book up on the shelf. "So –"

"Irritated" was no longer the proper term for how the Joy was feeling right now. Neither was "angry". Was this what the Fury felt like all the time? If so, well then God, no wonder he was so messed up. Well, invited or not, she was going to get this over with now. She stormed in, letting the door swing shut behind her, and then grabbed the Sorrow by the upper arms and spun him around to face her in one movement. "Stop avoiding me."

"It's kind of hard to, when you're holding on to me this tightly," he said, staring down at her with a strange look on his face.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" she snarled. "I'm not going to hit you, I like your face too much."

"Yes, you do," he said, still holding that look. She couldn't pin it down. There was anxiety in it –audacity - and as always, a touch of sorrow. He never could let go of that. She wanted him to let go of that sorrow, just for a minute. "I think you like the rest of me too much, too."

"So what if I do?" she said, an angry flush coming to her cheeks. "That's my business."

The Sorrow shook his head. "It's everyone's business. Joy, you have to be impartial. You've been letting yourself get distracted by your feelings, and if you –"

"Sorrow," Joy hissed, shaking him hard, "we are the god damned Cobras. We are our feelings. We don't hide them, we use them to become more powerful than the enemy could ever imagine. And that includes you, Mr. Don't-Let-Me-Distract-You." She was starting to see how this had all started. Everything was falling into place. "Just admit it, why don't you?"

"Admit what?" he said, his pale face going even paler.

The Joy yanked him down by the arms and crushed her lips against his. He was right about one thing – if she wanted something, sooner or later it was going to be hers. Preferably, sooner. Then she felt him try to pull away, and the twenty-year-old girl in her who had been dominant for most of the evening suddenly began to panic. Maybe she had miscalculated. Maybe there was something she had missed. And besides, there were probably about a hundred reasons she shouldn't be doing this at all…none of which she really cared about except that maybe he didn't like it. After that first terrifying second, however, his resistance softened and he folded his arms around her carefully, like a girl with a porcelain doll. She softened her grip too, relief washing over her. At the very least, he didn't mind.

The Sorrow was shocked more than anything else when she kissed him. That, he had somehow not seen coming. His first instinct was to jerk back from it - this was all wrong, they shouldn't be getting involved like this – but she was right. She was always right. Joy had trained the Cobras to weaponize their feelings and their emotions, and this…was at least part emotion, wasn't it? She would find a way to use that if anybody could. So he could accept this, at least for this one moment. She slipped her arms around his neck and he adjusted slightly as well, tasting her lipstick and taking in the rare smell of something that wasn't gunpowder, mud, or grease. It tempted him toward the fantasy that she was not his commander, that he'd never been shoved into the army at all, and that this was going to be the fulfillment of his mother's dreams that her only son would grow up and marry a lovely girl and have about nine or ten children to continue his father's disappearing family line. But, let's face it – he didn't even know her name. And he probably never would. Sorrow…that was what he felt, and was, and would always be.

Joy pulled away at what felt like icy water running down her back. "Idiot boy," she said, glaring at him. That was your emotions that I just felt. "Why won't you let me love you?"

"You can't call me a boy, dévochka," he said, hoping to use her frustration to make her forget she'd even asked the question. "I'm years older than you."

"I'm your commander and I'll call you anything I want," she said, kissing him again, hard, angrily. "And call me a little girl again, and as much as it pains me to injure something so pretty, I swear to God I'll pop you in the face."

That sounded more like the Joy he was used to, and it made him smile. "Understood, Madam Commander."

"Good." She pulled out of his arms and walked away, picking up her stockings as she went. "Oh, and get yourself packed, Sorrow. They finally remembered I'm still here, so the Cobras are back in business. Breakfast at 600 hours and then we're shipping out."

"Where to?" he asked – not that it mattered. They would follow her to hell if they had to, and he knew that she knew it.

"Italy. Some resistance party's gone and got themselves in a jam," the Joy said, all business again despite the considerable damage her composure had just taken. "Honestly, I don't know what the Allies would do without us."

Sorrow sighed darkly. "I'd rather not find out. Take care of yourself, won't you?"

"It's not me I'm worried about," she said, almost tripping over her shoes before she remembered to reclaim those too. Like she'd said yesterday…she did not need rumors floating around. "Get some sleep. You look like you've been dragging yourself through hell."

The explanation of how close she had just hit to the truth could wait. "All right, all right. You too."

Joy turned at the door and poked her head back in before she finished closing it. "Oh, and we are not done with this conversation. Just so you know."

"Warning duly noted."

She dragged herself back to her own room and fell into bed, tired from the pretenses of the ball and still trying to think of everything she had to get in place before tomorrow. A jumble of words was running through her head – she couldn't seem to keep them straight. A gun manual she had been reading last week, the exact wording of the assignment the commander had handed her just an hour before…oh, and that stupid Helen Forrest song, the one they had played about a thousand times because it was some lonely heart's favorite. I had the craziest dream last night…

The Joy was starting to wish it had just been some crazy dream, but Alexandra wanted it to be true with all her heart.