He found her on the rooftop.
Aria sat on the low concrete ledge, legs dangling, a bag of chips resting beside her. The city wind tugged at her hair, cool and steady.
Noah stopped a few steps back. Old habits.
"You always pick high ground," he said.
"Bad knees below," she replied without looking. "Good views up here."
He smiled, then sobered. "I talked to them."
"I figured."
A pause. Then, carefully, "I'm not asking you to go back."
That got her attention. She glanced sideways.
"I know," she said. "You wouldn't."
He took a breath. "I want to stay."
The words came out steadier than he felt.
"Not as an agent. Not as backup. Just… here. With you. I'll find work. Disappear if you want. I just—"
He stopped himself.
"I don't want to chase the past anymore."
Aria studied him for a long moment. The kid she'd dragged out of fire. The man who'd learned when to stop asking for permission.
"You sure?" she asked. "I don't do rescue missions anymore."
"I'm not asking to be saved."
She nodded once.
"Then you stay," she said. "But on my terms."
Relief hit his face so fast he didn't bother hiding it.
She tossed him a chip bag. "Rule one?"
He caught it automatically. "Eat if offered."
She smirked. "Good start."
The city hummed below them, uncaring.
For the first time, Noah felt like that was okay.