Someone You Might Have Been

Fleshflutter

Summary: A J2 AU in which Jared is a secret agent and Jensen is his handler/support tech. Yeah, I know. Leave all expectations of realism at the door, please. Title from the Oysterband song.

Word Count: 106,000

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Chapter 1

Jared is tall, good-looking, has great people-skills and a huge heart. Jared is fluent in five languages, highly proficient in the use of advanced surveillance technology, an expert marksman and knows eighty-seven ways to kill a person with his bare hands in under a minute.

He also has a knee-meltingly beautiful smile.

‘Spy’ isn’t really the label he’d choose for what he is. It’s over-dramatic and faintly hysterical. It’s a loaded word. Say the word ‘spy’ and people think of James Bond and Jared knows he is way slicker than that. He prefers ‘covert operative’ or ‘government agent’. They’re both still pretty cool phrases but just a little more grown-up.

He was picked out of the ranks of army recruits when he was little more than a kid. Combine a highly interesting psych profile with some spectacular training scores, and the result was Jared’s swift relocation to a top-secret government facility, where they proceeded to train the crap out of him. There’s more information crammed into his skull than he thinks he could use in three lifetimes, but he’s not complaining because in this line of work, despite what the movies say, you can never know too much.

And eight years later, Jared is a celebrity in his field, albeit one whom very few people could actually pick out of a line-up. He prefers it like that. Excessive paranoia aside, Jared does what he can to improve the statistics for his life expectancy.

At seven o’clock in the morning, Jared gets up, showers, dresses, munches on a slice of toast while he reads yesterday’s newspaper and manages to get butter all over the sports section. Once he’s done with the paper, he leaves his apartment and heads down to the local 7/11 to pick up some milk and today’s newspaper. He chats for a while with the old guy at the counter and then leaves. He takes the long route home, through the park.

Back at his apartment, he flips his laptop open and turns to the business section in the newspaper. He logs into his inbox using the relevant figures listed on the NYSE.

There is a single message waiting for him from Cohan: a time, an address, and a photo of his new handler. Jared blinks at the picture because, although he’s had handlers before who were easy on the eyes, this guy is really something else. He’s got these eyes that are so green it takes Jared a while to stop staring and take in the rest of him, and a mouth that looks like the photographer just couldn’t help but kiss the hell out of him for half an hour or so before taking the picture.

No wonder Cohan’s signed off the message with a smiley face. She’d told him he wouldn’t mind this loan-out, and Jared should have listened to her.

Jared has been loaned out to different government agencies before. In fact, he’s been loaned out so often, he doesn’t really know who specifically he belongs to anymore. Just the US government, he guesses.

Today, he’s starting a term with a branch he hasn’t worked for before. He hasn’t heard of their acronym before but that’s not uncommon. He doesn’t know what their particular area of concern is either, but still not uncommon. He just does as he’s told, and doesn’t look at the bigger picture, doesn’t try to fit the pieces together. He’s a single player in a global game.

~*~

The address is the penthouse apartment of a pretty nice place in the city. Jared takes a moment to appraise it and catalogue in his head the process he’d use for infiltration and escape. It’s an ingrained habit and one he has no intention of trying to break. He holds the door open for a young woman coming out, flashes her a dazzling smile, and then slips inside before the door can close. Way too easy.

Having bypassed the security door, Jared notes the lack of any visible security cameras or a doorman. Clean.

It’s an impressive display of brass balls on the part of his prospective handler, to set up base in somewhere so unprotected. It’s arrogant in its vulnerability: try to break in if you dare. Either he has something much cleverer up his sleeve for protecting his own personal space, or he really believes he’s just that good.

Jared’s curious to see which it is.

Choosing the stairs over the elevator, Jared climbs to the penthouse. Light slants down from the high, airy ceiling and Jared takes the stairs slowly and contemplatively, his footfall sounding measured and even on the polished wood.

At the top, Jared inspects the door briefly and then nods to himself, reasonably impressed with the strength of the lock. Maybe it’s not so much a case of arrogance as it is a concerted attempt at keeping a low profile. Caution, he can handle.

Jared knocks on the door then leans up against the wall to wait. It’s silent in the hallway and then there’s the sound of a bolt being drawn back and the door opens.

“Hi,” says Jared, swinging round into sight. “I’m Lauren’s boyfriend. She said you had something of hers she wanted me to pick up, yeah?”

And then he grins, sweet and simple, because the guy is even hotter in person. Due to the photo being a face shot, it hadn’t included the guy’s broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs. Jared really thinks he’s going to enjoy this term.

The guy in the doorway takes a moment, looks Jared over, then nods and holds the door wide. Jared follows him in, taking his eyes off the guy’s pleasantly rounded ass just long enough to check the place for potential threats. There’s a security camera mounted on the wall, but other than that, the place seems clean.

Remarkably so, now Jared considers it. It just looks like a regular apartment, uncluttered and cool. Obviously not the guy’s main base then. Not common procedure but not too far off the usual to unsettle Jared. He’s had people play it this way before; some handlers just like to maintain a healthy distance from their operatives.

“Want some coffee?” the guy says.

Jared shrugs and nods as he slides into a chair at the table in the kitchenette.

“Sure, thanks.”

The guy moves past him and starts fixing coffee. It’s all very low-key and Jared wonders if the guy’s concerned about their conversation being monitored or is trying to get a read on Jared before he gets down to business. Whatever it is, Jared can be patient.

He gives the guy a smile when he sets the cup of coffee down in front of him, then he adds a couple of heaped spoonfuls of sugar. The guy’s watching him as he does it, and Jared just lets him. The spoon clinks gently against the side of the cup as he stirs the sugar in.

“You can call me Jensen,” the guy says at last.

“That’s a pretty weird name, man,” Jared tells him. “You couldn’t come up with something a little more believable?”

“It’s my name,” Jensen says, his tone is decidedly cool. He pauses, maybe politely allowing Jared a chance to apologize (which Jared doesn’t take), and then says, “Are you still currently going by Jared or is there something different you want me to call you?”

There are a ridiculous number of smart answers Jared could give to that but he learnt early on that antagonizing your handler - the one person to connect you to the government and prove you’re not some random psycho merc - is not a good idea.

“It’s my name,” he says, grinning. “I think I’ll keep it.”

Jensen nods and says, calm and serious, “For the duration of your contract with us, your codename will be Sasquatch.”

Jared sighs and pulls a face.

“Wow, you boys must have put your most creative minds to work on that one,” he mutters into his coffee.

“My codename will be Zoolander,” Jensen says. He shrugs and adds, “If it makes you feel better.”

Jared almost chokes on a mouthful of coffee. He looks at Jensen with bright, amused eyes, then nods in sincere approval. It’s a relief to know that the guy has a sense of humor after all; Jared can put up with a lot, but not humorlessness. There’s a smile tucked just into the corners of Jensen’s mouth, the slightest quirk of his lips. Not quite a smile, but getting there.

He has freckles, Jared notices distantly. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a handler with freckles before.

“Believe it or not, they’re not actually a job requirement. They don’t help me do my job better,” Jensen says, and Jared blinks, kind of stunned to realize that he’d actually said that last part out loud.

He takes a breath and frowns at what’s left of his coffee.

“Normally,” he says smoothly, “I’m much better at being subtle. I’m so subtle sometimes even I don’t get what I’m saying.”

“That’s good to know,” Jensen says. “I think.”

He’s still watching Jared, eyes crinkled at the corners as he allows the smile to grow. That first smile seems to remove some invisible barrier between them. It’s not as though Jensen suddenly transforms into some chatty, open guy, but he relaxes a little, and the atmosphere between them turns ever so slightly warmer.

It looks like Jared reaches standard or conforms to Jensen’s expectations or whatever.

“Okay,” Jensen says, squarely meeting Jared’s eyes as he rubs his hand over his mouth. “Guess we can get down to business. Your mission-” he shoots Jared a faint smirk, “- should you choose to accept it-“

“Except I don’t actually have a choice because the government would get kinda pissed about me going rogue and probably try to have me killed,” Jared puts in. He smiles in what he hopes Jensen will find a charming manner. “But other than that, go on.”

The joke hangs, untouched, in the air. Jensen gives him a look that Jared can’t really identify. Then, after a moment of silence, Jensen picks up as if nothing has happened.

“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is gonna be a pretty easy one. Just to start you off. So we can see what you can do.”

Jared leans forward on his elbows over the table and twists his smile just enough to go from charming to dirty.

“Dude, I can do plenty.”

“Uhuh,” says Jensen, unconvinced. “Well, let’s just pretend we don’t want you to strain anything, ‘kay?” He reaches into one of the kitchen drawers and retrieves a brown manila folder, which he lays on the table in front of Jared. Jared flips it open and starts to read, his attention finally switching away from Jensen.

Jensen leans up against the sideboard and watches him read, before finally offering into the silence, “I’ve prepared some insertion and exit strategies for you. And if you require further information, just let me know what you need and I’ll get it for you.”

It doesn’t take Jared long to read through it all, through the maps and the building plans, through the personnel lists and security routines. If the information is accurate - and he has no reason to suspect otherwise - then Jensen’s right: it’s easy. Almost insultingly easy, except Jared doesn’t have an ego because he’s seen too many guys go down because they’d prefer to showboat than to get out alive.

Besides, it might be easy, but it also looks pretty fun.

He flips the file shut and pushes it back towards Jensen.

“Okay,” he says. “Tell me how you’re getting me in, Zoolander.”

Chapter 2

“Hey there, Zoolander. It’s a balmy 87 here, there’s not a cloud in the sky, and I have visual on the target. ETA ninety seconds.”

Jared kills the engine on the speedboat and strips off his shirt and shorts. His earpiece snaps into life and the sound of Jensen’s voice instantly brings a smile to his face.

“Good afternoon, Sasquatch. Enjoy the weather while you can, we want you in and out of there in fifteen.” Jensen pauses, there’s the distinctive clacking of the keyboard, then he says, “Looks like a lazy afternoon on deck, buddy. You’re good to go. I repeat, you’re good to go.”

“Hear you loud and clear, Zoolander. See you in sixty.”

Standing up in the boat, Jared takes a second to appreciate the warmth of the tropical sun on his skin, the heat of the barely there breeze like a physical caress, before he dives neatly into the ocean. The water swallows him up, cool and refreshing, and Jared powers through it, swimming in the direction of the white luxury yacht.

Well within the estimated time frame, Jared has reached the ladder, hauled himself out of the water, and climbed over the side. Water is dribbling through his bangs and he sweeps his hair off his face, glancing around as he does so.

He can hear the low, mumbling conversation of the security guards but their route is taking them in the opposite direction, as planned, and Jared has a clear ten seconds in which to make it across the deck and into the lower cabins. Way more time than he needs.

Inside, Jared heads directly for the first of his checkpoints, and glances up at the security camera mounted on the wall as he passes.

“Will have visual in three, two, one,” Jensen says in his ear. “And, hello, Sasquatch. I see you and-” Jensen breaks off and Jared falters in his stride, instantly on high alert. But Jensen clears his throat and says, “I see you go for the ‘less is more’ philosophy when it comes to Speedos, huh?”

“More is more, sweetheart,” Jared mutters, and hears Jensen laugh, soft and throaty and so close Jared could pretend he was standing in the room with him.

He finds the bathrobe that’s been left for him from the cupboard, removes the flash-drive from the pocket, and leaves the room. At this stage of the game, he can slow down and can choose acting like he belongs on board over sheer speed and concealment.

“You have a clear line to the target,” Jensen says. “I see one guard at the deck door, three more in the rec area on the right of your approach.”

There’s a cocktail glass on the sideboard and Jared picks it up as he strolls by. The drink is pale blue, and there’s a cherry and a miniature umbrella bobbing around in the top. Obviously, it’s too much of a risk to even take a sip but it’s a handy prop to have in case he bumps into security.

Another ten seconds, and he’s at the master cabin. It’s an impressively large room, decked out in white, royal blue and mahogany. Somehow managing to still look spacious, the room includes a king-size bed, desk and accompanying workspace, plenty of storage, a drinks bar and an attached bathroom. The blankets on the bed are rumpled, a towel lying neatly folded on the corner, and the sound of the shower running comes through the door standing ajar.

All intel suggested the room would be empty at this time of the afternoon, but there’s never any allowing for those tiny little details that change everything, those little things like a spilt drink or a sudden headache. It’s an easy assignment but one that’s at risk now plans have been changed, so Jared wastes no time in setting his stolen cocktail down, going over to the laptop on the desk and flipping it open.

“You ready?”

“Gimme a second,” says Jensen. There’s another burst of staccato typing, and then Jensen says, “Okay, you’ve got cover.”

Jared jams the flash-drive into the port and starts the hard-drive copying. He waits by the desk, watching the progress bar build, and listening to the pounding of water in the shower. The copy is only 82 percent complete when the shower stops. Jared sighs and considers his options. Orders are he’s supposed to be ghosting this one. No one is supposed to even suspect he’s been here.

90 percent through and whoever it is is still moving around in the bathroom.

97 percent and they’re coming out.

When Jensen showed them to him, Jared did not believe that the room layout plans for the attached bathroom would figure highly in his strategy, but he had paid attention to them all the same, which kind of comes in handy right now. Two facts come to mind:

1. There’s a towel cupboard in the bathroom.

2. The next closest one is halfway down the corridor.

Hoping that his own showering habits aren’t all that different to the rest of the world’s, Jared snatches up the folded towel left waiting on the bed, and presses himself to the wall, out of sight. The person comes out of the bathroom and Jared tracks the creak of the floorboards as they move, the shifting of their shadow. They pause by the bed, curse, and head back in.

It takes seconds for Jared to remove the flash-drive, collect his cocktail so as not to leave any incriminating evidence behind, and exit the room. Most likely, by the time Jared is back at his first checkpoint, whoever it is has only just found a new towel.

One step after another, no hesitation, he follows the exit procedure Jensen worked out for him.

First, take out the thin plastic wallet and roll of tape from the bathrobe in the cupboard. Place the flash-drive in the wallet - and, acting on impulse, Jared shoves the cocktail umbrella in there as well. Finally, tape the wallet to the bare skin on his side, and return the way he came.

“Two guards heading in your direction, but next six seconds gives you a clear path,” Jensen informs him.

Jared moves instantly and, at the moment when the guards pass by, Jared is sliding silently into the seawater.

~*~

It’s a pretty little town, and it turns blinding when the sunlight dazzles off the low, white brick buildings. Jared’s allowed the sunshine to dry him off, has thrown some clothes and a pair of sunglasses on, and is now very much enjoying playing the tourist. He sits outside a tiny café with a cheerful pink and green awning, and drinks a glass of viciously bubbly soda that’s a little too sweet, even for him. In front of him, he has a guidebook to the area open and is trying to choose between visiting the ruins of the ancient battlements that wall in the town, and trying to find the shrine to some obscure saint that’s hidden away in the local caves.

A shadow falls over him and then Jensen sits down in the seat across from him with an espresso cup of coffee. His hair looks blond in the bright sunlight and his freckles are the color of honey. Jared beams up at him, blinking against the sun.

“So,” he says, when it becomes clear Jensen is going to leave breaking the silence to him. “Impressed?”

Jensen snorts and leans back in his chair, glancing over to watch some kids who are enthusiastically kicking a deflated football around in the dusty street.

“Oh yeah, excuse me while I swoon at your feet.”

Jared laughs and spreads his hands, saying, “So give me something a little more challenging to do, buddy! Like, I don’t know - don’t you have any candy you want stolen off some kid? I could so totally steal candy! Just give the word!”

He pauses, considering Jensen for a moment, then grins and says, “Maybe maybe you were a little impressed by my Speedos?” The unwavering blankness of Jensen’s expression is answer enough, and Jared grins even wider, and leans in close. “Oh yeah, you were impressed. Just part of my extensive arsenal of weapons, dude.”

“Don’t you have something for me?” Jensen snaps out before Jared can go any further.

And then, because he’s obnoxious like that, Jensen refuses to be flustered by the opening his question gives Jared for yet more outrageous flirting. He simply narrows his eyes and cocks his head at him while Jared cackles gleefully and drums the tabletop.

“Any time you’re ready.”

Still grinning like an idiot, Jared slides the flash-drive across the table at him. It disappears under Jensen’s hand, vanishes into his jeans pocket. Then, watching Jensen’s face closely for his reaction, Jared opens the cocktail umbrella and drops it in his coffee.

“Picked you a little something up.” He props his chin up on his hand, and watches Jensen use a single fingertip to twirl the umbrella around thoughtfully in his cup. “I’d’ve brought you back the cocktail that came with it, but I don’t think it would’a been drinkable after the journey. So how about you call in, tell your boss you’re sticking around for a couple of hours, and we’ll find a bar? Get sensibly drunk and have non-personal conversation?”

He keeps quiet while Jensen studies him, still with that intense blankness, just carries on smiling and wills Jensen to submit to his awesome charisma and hotness.

“Bad idea,” says Jensen finally. He combs his fingers through his hair, and goes back to impassively watching the children. “You have your travel plans and you should stick to them.”

Jared shrugs with good grace and lets it go. Maybe it’s not the response Jensen was expecting, because Jensen’s eyes fix on him immediately, and there’s a hint of something in his eyes. Apparently not pushing is more likely to get a response from Jensen. It’s the kind of character trait Jared thinks he should have figured in earlier.

Maybe it’s just the ones he’s worked with, but Jared’s noticed a definite tendency in his handlers to maintain an aloof attitude. And when someone in the counter-intelligence business classifies as ‘aloof’, it’s really pretty noticeable. Jared’s pet theory is that it’s due to handlers tending to operate from a distance. They see everything from remote, including the operatives they’re handling.

What Jared has to prove, clearly, is that he is not a threat. He’s not trying to get Jensen to open up to him emotionally. And, honestly, he’s not even gonna try all that hard to get Jensen into bed. Not only are relationships between handlers and operatives frowned upon, they’re a complication Jared doesn’t need - plus, they’re one hell of a liability. Seriously, the last thing Jared needs is a relationship.

All Jared wants is to enjoy the perks of his job and flirt shamelessly with the best-looking guy a lifestyle like his regularly brings him into contact with.

Chapter 3

The fourth guy goes down without a sound, just like the first, second and third did. It’s the fifth guy who is mildly trickier and Jared has to throw in a kick to the back of the knee before he can jab the guy in the collarbone, and stun him long enough to snap his neck.

Jared doesn’t actually enjoy killing people. He’s not just saying that for decency’s sake, he really doesn’t. You can check his most recent psych analysis. It’s not like he gets torn up and angsty about it - they’re doing their job and he’s doing his job and sometimes their jobs are to try to kill each other, and it’s not Jared’s fault if he’s just better than them at his job. But if he can avoid upping the body count without putting the mission in jeopardy, then he will.

Still, sometimes he’s gets a little tired of the assignments where he’s expected to not even exist, where he ghosts in and out and it’s only weeks or months later - or maybe never - that they realize that security’s been compromised. Sometimes, he has to admit, he appreciates the chance to fight his way in, do his thing and then fight his way back out.

Jensen’s his eyes and ears on this one again, but has kept mostly silent so far. Sometimes Jared thinks he can hear the sound of Jensen breathing, soft and intimate. Sometimes he finds himself thinking of Jensen, sitting alone in his hotel room over on the other side of the city, tracking Jared’s progress on the monitor, effortlessly taking tech and security obstacles out of Jared’s path before he even reaches them. Mostly though, Jared doesn’t let himself think of that, because he’s working and he needs to concentrate, and thoughts of Jensen are crazily distracting.

It’s enough just to know that Jensen’s with him. Silent or otherwise.

It’s not until Jared’s made his way through the tunnels and is up on the first floor of the communications tower, that Jensen says, “Heat readings indicate another two bodies heading your way. Estimate visual in six, five, four-“

Jared pulls the small Sig Mosquito, readies it - Three, two, one - and fires twice. The Sig spits the bullets out and the two guys go down, each with a neat little hole between the eyes. Jared steps over their bodies and takes the stairs, bounding up four at a time.

The quality of the light inside the tower is grainy and poor, and what little moonlight makes it in through the single window in the stairwell is welcome. As far as most people are concerned, the communications tower has been out of use for the last ten years. There’s debris of newspapers and assorted litter shoved into the corners, left over from the homeless folk who moved in, before the building was co-opted by an unfriendly agency. It won’t have been a bloodless renovation, which might soothe any pangs of conscience Jared were to have.

If he were the kind of guy to have pangs like that.

“Second control terminal on this floor,” Jensen murmurs, cool and calm and really kind of aurally pleasing in Jared’s ear.

There are another three guys between Jared and the control terminal. It’s done quick and efficient: Jared walks in, shoots, and the third guy’s dead before the first one’s hit the floor. No need for Jared to run or find cover. No time for the guys to realize they’re about to die. It’s the kind of neatness of execution that Jared’s renowned for - among other things.

It probably would have been tougher if any of them had even the faintest idea that Jared was coming. As it is, with them all caught off-guard, it’s almost pathetically easy.

Their blood pools out over the floor, dark and glimmering, and runs together into one large puddle, which Jared carefully steps over. Naturally, he’s wearing boots, but leaving a trail of bloody footprints is a pretty amateur thing to do and the kind of mistake Jared hasn’t made in fucking years.

Jensen’s already taken down most of the external computer-network security, so all Jared has to do at the control terminal is to upload the virus Jensen prepared and paralyze the system.

“Zoolander, are we good?” he mutters.

“Firewall’s down. Virus is disabling the secondary lock,” Jensen tells him.

He sounds distant, and Jared has a clear idea of him paying more attention to monitoring the virus’s attack than Jared’s question. In the pause, as Jensen’s mind is elsewhere, Jared finds himself wondering, ever so briefly, what Jensen’s wearing right now. He wets his lips, then glances back at the three cooling corpses on the floor to remind himself that he really should try to be professional.

“Okay, Sasquatch, we’re good,” Jensen says. He’s back with Jared now, focused on him again. “Last terminal and satellite base on the fourth floor.” He pauses, then adds, “It’s pretty hot up there. I’m reading six, maybe seven bodies.”

Explosives then, Jared thinks. Something small but flashy.

In the end, he goes for a smoke bomb, rolls it hissing and spitting across the floor, and steps in behind it, firing his Sig, and listens to the startled curses and blundering about switch to grunts of pain and bodies going down. As he empties the Sig’s clip into the room, he pulls out his Glock, and finishes the job with that.

The smoke clears and from where he stands amidst the carnage, Jared casts a cursory glance over each body - seven, as Jensen had said - to ensure nobody’s getting back up.

Same process with the control terminal takes it out as easy as the other two fell. As he waits for the disabled control terminals to unlock the satellite’s base computer, Jared rubs the pad of his thumb absent-mindedly over the muzzle of his Glock. The metal feels almost warm to the touch. In his ear, Jensen’s tapping away at his keyboard and Jared’s head is full of him again.

Jensen is in a cheap hotel room in the city, and he’ll be wearing his headset and he’ll have those little lines between his brows that he gets when he’s concentrating, and his lips will be soft and parted, and his shoulders will be hunched over ever so slightly. And maybe, when he’s thinking something through, his fingers will go to his mouth, rub his thumb over his lips, just like Jared’s doing with the Glock. It’s his own little tell, that tiny mannerism that Jared picked up on and now can’t stop noticing whenever Jensen does it.

“Sasquatch?” Jensen says. “Is there a problem?”

Jared startles and realizes the satellite base is sitting open and ready for him, cursor flashing expectantly on the screen. Swearing beneath his breath, Jared gets to work and inputs the new string of commands. Once it’s discovered that security in the tower has been breached, the satellite will be shut down. It won’t be long, hours maybe. But it’ll be long enough for the new information being relayed from the satellite to do some serious damage.

It could have been done already if Jared hadn’t been busy contemplating the drag of Jensen’s lip when he smoothes his thumb over it.

Jared’s just finishing up embedding the new command sequence when Jensen says, “Movement behind you.” And Jared twists about-

-And catches the bullet in his shoulder instead of his chest.

Turns out one guy isn’t quite as dead as Jared thought. Or, more accurately, wasn’t quite as dead. Jared remedies the error pretty much immediately, ignoring the aching flare of heat where the bullet’s lodged in his flesh, and then liberally fires a few rounds into the corpses just to make fucking sure.

“Jesus,” he mumbles at them. “No need to be so fucking vindictive.”

“Sasquatch? Status report?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Fucker put a bullet in me.” He hears Jensen’s swift intake of breath, and gratifying as his concern is, Jared’d prefer to deal with it later, when Jensen can do some hands-on pampering. “Just a flesh wound. Gonna be fine. Heading for the extraction point now. ETA forty-five seconds.”

In this line of work, getting shot isn’t anything all that unusual. Jared’s been shot and beaten and stabbed and run over and tortured and even, on one memorable occasion, blown up. It stopped being awesome and pants-wettingly terrifying a good long while ago. Now it’s a nuisance and really kind of uncomfortable. Obviously, Jared can handle pain, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t very aware of the bullet in his shoulder.

It hurts and he feels stupid for not checking properly that the corpses were all actually corpses like they were supposed to be and he feels embarrassed that Jensen saw him screw up and then had to save his life. Well, not exactly saved his life; the guy had been bleeding out, hand shaky, and by Jared’s estimate, if Jensen hadn’t warned him, Jared would have caught a shot that was serious but not fatal.

Still, the guy should have been cooling meat.

“Gettin’ cocky, man,” he tells himself, as he makes his way out onto the roof. It’s a clear, starry night and the sky is huge and purple-blue above him.

“What?” says Jensen. “Are we talking about your cock again? Fuck, did they shoot you in the cock?”

“Nah, still in possession of that. Believe me, they shoot my dick off and you won’t have to ask.” He steps up onto the ledge and grins at nothing in particular. “But hey, if you’re worrying, feel free not to take my word for it.”

The breeze is chill over Jared’s cheeks and hands, the only patches of skin exposed. Black combat gear is practical, sure, but it’s also nice and warm for nights like this. Doesn’t matter where they send him, Jared’s a Texas boy at heart and he’s never learnt to like the cold.

He affixes the grappling hook to the thick stone ledge of the roof, and then shoots the other directly at the ground. It whistles through the air, descending into darkness, and then digs in way below. Jared tugs on the line, gives one look back over his shoulder to check for anyone else who might have risen from the dead and be coming gunning for him, and then drops over the edge.

Chapter 4

It’s a dismal little hotel Jensen’s set up in. There are huge, spidery cracks running through the plaster and the staircase is dark and ridiculously narrow. Outside, the wildlife rages with the sound of distant police sirens and shouting and the throb of music filtering out from the bars. Jared’s nose wrinkles at the pretty pervasive smell of urine.

Never let it be said that the government spares any expense in putting up its operatives.

Jared finds Jensen’s room and taps on the door, which is painted a really unappealing shade of green that probably hasn’t improved with age. The door opens almost immediately, held on chain.

“Hey, baby. Wanna kiss it better for me?” Jared says.

The door closes, there’s the rattle of the chain being taken off, and then Jared finds himself being hauled inside.

Without a word, Jensen pushes him up against the wall and pats him down expertly, hands moving lightly but thoroughly over Jared’s body as he searches out the wound. Jensen’s freckles and lashes stand out in stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. His face is set in taut lines. Then he looks up at Jared and tugs at the front of his long-sleeved t-shirt. The material is sticky with blood where the bullet went in.

“Take it off and come over here.”

“Thought you’d never get around to stripping me,” Jared says, while he follows him over to the table where Jensen already has a first-aid kit ready.

Jared winces as he starts working the t-shirt up, hisses out a sharp breath, and Jensen glances over at him.

“C’mon, you want me to cut it off?”

“Dude, have a little patience. You’re getting me naked, aren’t you?” says Jared. He peels the t-shirt off as gently as he can and throws it down. Then he grimaces down at the bloody hole in his shoulder. A large purpling bruise has already bloomed around it.

“Bleeding’s stopped,” Jensen says. “Good. Okay then, take these -” He presses some tablets into Jared’s hand, “- and lemme get at it.”

Jared sits down heavily on the couch, Jensen’s hand on his other shoulder to steady him, and swallows the painkillers Jensen’s given him. The medical disinfectant Jensen wipes over the forceps smells acrid and powerfully alcoholic, and even after the countless times he’s been given first-aid, it still stings Jared’s nose.

Jensen’s fingers curl around the prominent curve of defined muscle in Jared’s upper-arm. It’s kind of weird how carefully Jensen’s actually tending to him. This is so not even close to the first time Jared’s been shot and he’s had people fishing bullets out of his body in worse surroundings than this. It’s not even like it’s a serious wound.

But Jensen’s touching him so delicately, shooting tightly concerned glances at Jared. And his eyes are huge and dark in his face. So all Jared can do is smile at him, and try to show Jensen that it’s okay. Jared’s okay.

“This your first time doing this?” Jared says. He frowns slightly, realizing too late that Jensen might take offence at the obvious implication, but there’s no hostility showing on Jensen’s face.

“I can just dress it for now if you’d prefer to wait for proper medical treatment,” Jensen says. “I only thought you’d want me to remove it because agents I’ve worked with before prefer to just get it done and not waste time with doctors.”

So there’s the reaction. Jared laughs at it, and shakes his head.

“No, no, it’s on you, buddy. I leave my body in your tender care.”

Jensen sighs and tightens his grip on Jared’s arm. The flesh around the bullet gives a stinging pulse of pain as Jensen works the forceps in. Jared focuses his gaze on the scuffed fabric on the arm of the couch, details the way the threads have frayed while simultaneously reviewing his performance back at the communications tower.

“I’m guessing people shoot you pretty often,” Jensen says abruptly. “I think I’d probably shoot you too, if it didn’t mean a whole shitload of paperwork from my superiors.”

Jared grins through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, man. Best thing you can do is wait until I screw up on foreign ground and then deny all knowledge of me.”

“Well, then whichever foreign government has you will have to shoot you, ‘cause I don’t think they’re gonna want you cluttering up their jails. There’s a high standard set for residuals, buddy, and you fall a little short.”

Jared’s laughter cuts off into a sharp Fuck!, because Jensen’s tugging on the bullet, and he trusts Jensen to be doing a good job of it, but having a bullet removed from your flesh hurts, no matter how skilled or careful the person is who’s doing it.

To his credit, Jensen doesn’t do anything stupid like ask Jared if he’s okay or if he wants a breather. This is part of the job and Jared totally rocks at his job.

“You should be a little nicer to me. I could’a died back there.” Which is, okay, a bit of a lie but Jared is shameless.

“I’m not that lucky.”

“Okay, maybe I couldn’t have died, but I’m still in pain.”

“Which is what I gave you painkillers for,” Jensen tells him reasonably. “You need something a little stronger?”

“How much stronger have you got?”

The bullet glides free of Jared’s flesh, silver beneath the blood, and Jensen says, “I got this,” and he leans in, and he kisses him. And it’s not some flirty little press of lips. This is a full-on proper Imma-tonguefuck-you-now-so-shut-up-and-sit-still kiss: open-mouthed and messy and kind of breathtakingly slutty from someone as tightly wound as Jensen.

It takes Jared a second to realize that this is actually happening in a real-world context as opposed to the thoroughly deviant confines of his imagination, and it’s a second too long. Jensen starts to draw back and, stupidly, Jared tries to catch him. His shoulder throbs with pain and gives Jensen enough opportunity to put some space between them.

“I need to put some antiseptic on your shoulder,” Jensen says, and it’s only because Jared can see the slick, swollen plumpness of Jensen’s lips that he believes that that did actually just happen. “Should hold off any possible infection until you can get a course of antibiotics.”

Too stunned and bewildered to do anything else just yet, Jared holds still while Jensen sweeps a cotton ball, damp with antiseptic, over the bullet hole.

“Dude, you can’t do that,” Jared says finally. “You can’t ignore me flirting with you, then kiss me, and then try to act like nothing happened.”

Jensen stubbornly ignores him. Jared catches hold of Jensen’s wrist, squeezing just hard enough to make Jensen look up at him.

“Why did you stop? I wasn’t exactly fighting you off.”

“I told you,” says Jensen. “I needed to put some antiseptic on your shoulder. If the wound had become infected-“

“I understand about the antiseptic, Jensen. I’m asking if it was totally necessary to do it then. And before you start talking about infection again, remember how easily I can kill you, ‘kay?”

Jared’s pushing. He knows that’s not usually the best tactic with Jensen. Jensen’s the kind of guy who requires careful and gradual maneuvering into position. But Jensen can’t do something like kiss Jared and then think he can avoid all discussion of it. It’s not fair, and Jared doesn’t care if that line of thinking makes him sound like a petulant thirteen-year old - he’s sticking with it.

With as much dignity as possible, Jensen tries to extract his wrist from Jared’s grip. Jared tightens his grip. Jensen shoots him a frustrated glare, which Jared meets with a pretty impressive one of his own.

“I remembered what a really bad idea it’d be,” Jensen says. “We have to work together, and our line of work doesn’t exactly reward personal connections. Now, can I please finish dressing your shoulder?”

Jared lets him. He considers Jensen speculatively, while Jensen pretends not to notice Jared’s gaze on him and finishes up with the bandage. He even keeps quiet while Jensen goes about removing all obvious traces of their presence in the room.

“Who says it’d be a bad idea?” he says at last.

“I do,” Jensen says without a moment’s pause. “You have no idea what a fucking epically bad idea it would be.”

“Dude, are you really that bad a lay?”

The satisfaction of actually flustering Jensen, of making him flush and frown and fidget, is immense. Jared likes the sensation very much indeed. It doesn’t last long; Jensen regains his composure and turns his face away to the window, though the view is pretty shit, nothing but the gloomy sprawl of the inner-city at night. He looks pale and painfully pretty in the half-light. The pad of his thumb drags over his lips, which is a mindless, unintentional taunt as far as Jared’s concerned.

“It’s my job to ensure that you are functioning to the best of your abilities in the service of the agency. A relationship of any kind, beyond professional, would be counterproductive. I don’t know if you’ve had this kind of relationship with your previous handlers-“

Jared has the fleeting mental image of trying anything like this with Lauren and has to fight the instinct to protectively cover his crotch.

“No,” he breaks in. “Just you. Guess you inspired the idea in me. Why d’you suppose that is?”

“-But it’s not going to happen with me,” Jensen finishes, ignoring Jared’s interruption aside from raising his voice enough to drown him out.

Seriously, Jared needs to stop pushing. The sum of his knowledge of Jensen is basically that the pretty bastard is fucking fantastic at his job, totally joyless at times, and stubborn as holy hell. He should really stop pushing, but it’s so hard to stop when Jensen’s right there, all big green eyes and kiss-swollen mouth and tightly controlled demeanor.

So instead, Jared finds himself crowding Jensen up against the wall, and the only reason Jensen gives ground when Jared moves in on him is because Jared’s not stopping, and it’s backing up or ending up pressed chest to chest into Jared.

Jensen’s back hits the wall and his jaw clenches furiously. His lips part to protest, but Jared tilts his face down to his, mouths so close they’re sharing breath, and Jensen goes mute. Jared leans in closer, changing his angle as if to better catch Jensen’s mouth, and - dazed, instinctively - Jensen sways a little towards him before he can help himself.

Jared doesn’t kiss him, doesn’t move back. Jared isn’t even touching him but Jensen is as good as pinned there.

“You’re seriously saying you don’t want me to kiss you?” he says. “You don’t think you’d like it if I kissed you? I’m talking about me kissing you, not you laying one on me while I’m not even paying attention. You don’t wanna see what that’s like?”

Jensen’s lashes flutter as he blinks, coming back to himself. The pink tip of his tongue flickers over his lips, and Jared thinks he should have kissed him when he had the chance. Determinedly, Jensen turns his face away. His eyes fix blankly on the bandage on Jared’s shoulder.

“What I want and what I will allow to happen aren’t the same thing,” he says, and his voice is so quiet Jared can barely hear him. He takes a small breath and then looks Jared straight in the eye. “You need to put a shirt on and leave.”

If Jared were to push, right now, he could make Jensen give in to him. It wouldn’t take much at all. Jensen wants Jared to kiss him, it’s in the way he’s looking at Jared, so fucking hot and desperate.

But Jensen’s saying no, and Jared’s not that kind of guy. He gives Jensen some space, turns away to find a shirt. There’s one crumpled at the bottom of his bag and he pulls it on gingerly. Last thing he needs is to set the bullet wound bleeding again. If Jensen touches him again right now, then Jared will not be held accountable for his actions.

“See you next time,” he says, as he heads for the door.

“Jared.”

Jared stops, seriously debates not looking back, gives in and turns around. Jensen gives an awkward little smile and tosses the misshapen bullet at him. Jared catches it one-handed, examines it in his palm. It’s skin-warm from how tightly Jensen must have been holding it.

“If you gotta bring me back a souvenir,” says Jensen, “I liked the cocktail umbrella better than the bullet.”

Chapter 5

The name on Jensen’s security pass is ‘Jensen Teague’. Of course, the majority of the official records regarding Jared list his name as ‘Jared Forrester’, so it’s not exactly like Jared’s finally broken the mystery of Jensen. But he likes having that little part of him, likes being close enough to know even that much. It may not be the truth, but he’s kind of used to that, and willingly takes the constructed truth.

There’s no name on Jared’s security pass. No picture. Just his retinal scan on a chip embedded in the card. Everyone prefers a certain anonymity when it comes to exceptionally well-trained agents who are probably capable of single-handedly bringing down the government of a small country.

In honor of being summoned to a meeting with one of the branch executives, Jensen is wearing a suit today. He looks immaculate and in serious need of rumpling. In contrast, Jared is wearing jeans, a t-shirt that could only be more creased if it had been used as a rug by a herd of excitable bison, and flip-flops, because this is New Mexico and he doesn’t care about the high regard in which Jensen holds his superiors, Jared’s not getting dressed up.

Still, judging by the frown Jensen directs at Jared’s t-shirt, it looks like Jensen was expecting him to make an effort.

“Dude, it’s not like they’ve hired me for my fashion sense,” Jared tells him.

“No, they didn’t,” Jensen agrees, still staring at Jared’s t-shirt with a mildly distracted look of distaste on his face. “Which was probably a very good call.”

“So long as I follow orders, I can turn up here butt-naked and it’s not gonna matter.”

Jensen’s expression takes on a slightly pained aspect for a second, but then his entire face blanks. He keys in a number at one of the security pads and ushers Jared into a briefing room, which is dimly lit and has a low ceiling.

“I wouldn’t suggest you try it. The furniture is metal and it gets pretty hot down here.”

“Also, where would I stick my gun?” Jared says. He flashes Jensen a charming grin and bats his lashes at him. “Would it be your job to hold my gun for me if I turned up naked to one of these things? You know, your job as the guy handling me? Would it be your job to take care of my gun if I was naked?”

There’s that pained look on Jensen’s face again, and it’s not going away this time. Staring fixedly at the far wall, Jensen says, “No. And don’t talk to me.”

With a sigh, Jared pulls out one of the chairs from the round table that dominates the room and slumps down in it. Now that Jensen has effectively shut down the ever-stimulating entertainment of flirting with him, Jared has nothing to do but wait in silence.

After ten minutes of Jared being very bored, the door opens and a man walks in. He’s in his late fifties, with cropped, curly dark hair, and a long patrician nose. His suit is black and in the same pristine state as Jensen’s. Jared’s guess is he’s come up via the CIA, definitely not through the military.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Thank you for coming in.” He flicks a glance at Jensen, and adds, “I take it you haven’t told Jared why he’s here?”

“No, sir,” says Jensen. “I wasn’t sure I had permission to do so.”

There’s a quick spike of irritated hurt in Jared’s chest that Jensen knew what was happening and hadn’t told Jared. It’s stupid and inexplicable because Jared knows that information isn’t something that can be just freely passed around like party favors. But still, Jensen’s his handler, and Jensen hadn’t told him.

“But I’m here now,” Jared says brightly. “So feel free to let me know what you want.”

If Jensen catches the snark in Jared’s tone, it doesn’t register on his face.

“My name’s Glover,” the man says, offering Jared his hand. The handshake is strong but brief. “I and my fellow branch executives feel that it might be beneficial for you to understand the context of some of your assignments with us.”

Which is kind of nice of them, Jared supposes. Not everyone figures he needs to know the whys and becauses. They prefer him blind, presumably because they’re concerned he might form his own opinions and start playing things his own way. Of course, seeing as Jared’s never yet really disagreed with the way they want him to handle things, he can’t say for sure that they’re wrong.

Glover doesn’t sit down but gestures for Jensen to, and once Jensen’s obeyed, Glover ignores him completely in favor of Jared. He stands at the front of the room, hands clasped together, and his tone is that of a college professor.

“Our ongoing concern here at the ISA is primarily a terrorist network that calls itself the Coalition for World Freedom. They’re a homegrown group but they’re heavily funded by a number of unfriendly foreign agencies and some major crime syndicates, both here and abroad. Fundamentally, they’re nothing short of agents for chaos.”

Glover smiles and spreads his hands. “Imagine religious fanatics working side by side with mercenaries, foreign terrorist cells, corrupt CEOs, survivalists, and bored college kids. All with the shared purpose of bringing down organized government around the globe, starting with the US. They’re disorganized but due to the diverse backgrounds of their agents, their scope of influence is immense.”

Jared’s heard rumors about the existence of the Coalition. But these days there are so many different terrorist groups looking for their share of the headlines that he’s never investigated the details. His overwhelming impression of the Coalition was that it comprised a lot of people who were at varying degrees of insanity.

Still, crazy determined people are more of a threat than the regular kind, he figures.

“It was our opinion,” says Glover, “that, in this situation, you needed to know precisely what you were dealing with. Their reach is extending and we cannot afford to allow any information regarding their affiliates and activities to slip by us. Don’t be fooled by their poor organization, they can be deadly effective. Beyond the risk to global security, the Coalition has already been directly responsible for the murder of eight of our agents.”

And Glover looks right at Jensen as he says it. While storing away the obvious implication for future reference, Jared notes that Jensen is as adept at ignoring Glover as he is Jared’s persistent flirting. Jared stifles a smug little smile at that.

“Teague will remain your primary point of contact,” Glover continues, “and you may pass all information through him. However, we want to make sure you have several channels of communication with us, so we’re going to be in pretty close contact with you.”

Jared doesn’t exactly like the sound of that but he can play along, especially if he’s still going to be working with Jensen.

Before he leaves, Glover shakes Jared’s hand again, tells him how impressed they all are with Jared’s work so far. There’s a brief conversation between Glover and Jensen about, as far as Jared can make out, some further meeting Jensen has to have with the other ISA executives. No explicit details are mentioned, of course, because Jared may be one of their agents, but he’s not one of them. Not like Jensen is. Give it thirty years, and Jensen will be Glover: cool, detached, and living for nothing but the international game of chess he’s playing.

After Glover’s gone, Jensen turns to Jared and says, “I need you to come with me.”

They don’t pass anyone as they walk deeper into the military base. Their footfall sounds loud on the metal grating floor. Jensen leads Jared into an elevator and they descend a further six floors, which Jared estimates should bring them a good forty feet below ground level.

There’s another security checkpoint to get through, and then Jensen opens the door onto a spacious hangar. The lighting snaps on, illuminating the whole length of the room in a rapid succession of strips.

“I’ve been going over your service records,” Jensen says, as he makes his way to one of the huge lockers. He keys in a security number and opens it up. “I’ve noted you have a preference for eliminating unfriendlies from a distance.”

“Hey, I’m pretty flexible in my preferences,” Jared says with a grin. “Sometimes it’s nice to get up-close and personal, y’know?”

Jensen twitches irritably and sets a black case down more heavily in front of Jared than perhaps he intended to. His fingers move in jerky little snaps as he undoes the clasps and opens the case. It’s a sniper rifle inside, each component neatly packed in foam.

“It’s an advanced model, using the Barrett XM109 as a platform. It has an effective range of 4000 meters, it’s substantially lighter than anything else that’s available, and it has barrel modifications to accommodate a sound suppressor. I thought you might find it useful.”

As he talks, Jensen assembles the rifle, and it’s kind of surreal to see the ease with which he handles it. Handlers are trained in self-defense and basic combat, but Jared really isn’t used to thinking of Jensen as capable of deadly force. He knows Jensen is anything but helpless, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still get to him how obviously Jensen knows his way around a gun.

It’s weirdly unsettling. Jared doesn’t want Jensen having to get involved in that side of things. His hands look out of place - wrong - on the gun.

Once it’s assembled, Jensen passes it to him, and Jared is distracted from the bizarreness of combining Jensen with guns by his professional appreciation of the sniper rifle. It’s a very nice piece and that tiny psychotic voice in Jared’s head says how eager it is about getting a chance to try the rifle out.

“How many of those eight dead agents were you handling?”

Jared hadn’t even realized he was thinking it until he says it. Guiltily, he looks up at Jensen to see how badly he’s taken it, but Jensen doesn’t seem offended or upset about the question.

“Just the one,” he says.

What happened? is the obvious next question, but Jared is a fairly sensitive guy, he likes to think, and that’s clearly off-limits.

Instead, he goes for, “Did you like them?”

“He was a very capable agent,” Jensen says.

“Yeah, but did you like him?”

A frown appears on Jensen’s brow, as if this is something new, something he hasn’t had to consider before. He’s quiet for a long moment, then he shrugs.

“He didn’t give me any reason to dislike him.”

Jared can’t help a laugh. Giving the rifle an appreciative nod, he starts to disassemble it, getting used to how it feels in his hands. Jensen doesn’t make any move to help or to leave, just stands there.

“Tell me,” Jared says conversationally, as he fits the rifle pieces back in their case, “if my next assignment gets fucked, would you have anything else to say about me than ‘He didn’t give me any reason to dislike him’?”

When Jensen doesn’t answer, even after a long silence, Jared glances up at him. Jensen’s gaze instantly flickers away to a distant point somewhere to the left of Jared’s head.

“It’s not relevant,” Jensen says at last. “I haven’t lost an agent since, and I don’t intend to start now. Unless, of course, you intend to continue responding to pretty much everything I say with innuendo. In which case, you don’t wanna know what I’m going to be saying to people once you’re dead.”

Chapter 6

Apparently, as far as Jensen is concerned, the approval of the ISA executives is like the word of fucking God. If they say he can go with Jared, then Jensen is fucking going.

Jared doesn’t have the power of veto. Which is all kinds of ridiculous, because he’s the guy who knows what it’s actually gonna be like in there, and Jensen should most definitely be kept at a distance from it. A distance of, like, two or three time zones.

For the fiftieth time, Jensen explains just why he’s come up with such a freaking stupid plan.

“It’s simply not possible to hack into the security network externally. I need access to one of the compound computers. There’s absolutely no way you can get through the compound to the core chambers without me disabling security. It’s just how it has to be.”

He sounds so calm, like this is all perfectly rational, and Jared has the sudden, blistering urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until his eyes pop out of their sockets. Or maybe kiss him until his brain fucking reboots and he comes to his senses.

“I can’t make any guarantees about your safety,” Jared says. “You know that, don’t you? I’m gonna have to focus on retrieving the vials. I can’t be babysitting your ass too.”

And the really worrying thing is that Jared’s pretty sure he’s lying. He knows the assignment comes first. He has a responsibility to the job that must come above Jensen. But there’s also this niggling little certainty at the back of his head that tells him he’ll take some pretty stupid risks to ensure Jensen gets out in one piece.

He just really wants Jensen to understand how this plan is so not one of his best.

But it doesn’t look like the message has got through. Jensen is looking at him with narrowed eyes and a contemptuous expression.

“I can handle my own exit strategy, thanks. Incredibly, I’m not going to be relying upon you for anything, except to do your job, okay?” When Jared just goes on looking at him, Jensen sighs and seems to take pity on him. “Look, I’ll be in an office, right up by the front gate. In and out, nice and easy. I’ve done stuff way more dangerous than this. It’s gonna be fine.”

And maybe it’s because Jared doesn’t stand a chance against big green eyes and softly pursed lips, but he stupidly kind of believes Jensen.

~*~

With the last passcode entered on the keypad, the chamber door slides open and a blast of chill air sweeps over Jared. He checks that his black leather gloves are still snug about his wrists, and then reaches in and ever-so-carefully lifts out the slim silver case. The front of it is transparent and he peers a little closer at the five vials of violently green liquid inside.

“Exactly how dangerous is this?” he murmurs.

“I wouldn’t recommend gargling with it,” Jensen says, low and amused in his ear.

It’s almost hypnotic how green it is.

“You know what it makes me think of?” Jared says.

Jensen laughs. “I’m not even gonna try figuring out what goes on in your brain, Sasquatch.”

“You,” says Jared. “It makes me think of your eyes. It’s the same green.”

There’s a long pause, and Jared kneels there in front of the freezer chamber, in the huge metal core of the compound, with the fan rotors spinning in loud sweeps beneath the panel floor, and the soft hush of Jensen’s breathing in his ear.

“That’s real romantic,” Jensen says finally. “The toxic nerve agent, which could wipe out everything from Los Angeles to Sacramento in the right weather conditions, makes you think of me.” Jensen laughs again and says, “C’mon, buddy, just get the hell out. And please be careful with that case.”

~*~

Jared is almost at his extraction point when Jensen breaks silence and says, “Huh Wow.”

His tone is kind of blank but Jared thinks he might be hearing a note of concern in there.

“Zoolander? We still on course?”

“Uh yeah. But I’d recommend you move a little faster, Sasquatch. The uh well, the compound seems about to come under attack. I’m tracking at least two armored personnel carriers and a couple of military units, if you can call them that, heading this way. Looks like the civil war’s spread south a little sooner than expected.”

And as if to punctuate this, Jared hears the distant rumble of shelling.

“Can you still get out?”

“Uh, yeah, don’t worry. Proceed to the extraction point, Sasquatch.”

There’s nothing, really, to make Jared think Jensen’s lying. Nothing in his tone, or the speed with which he says it that makes Jared believe that Jensen’s trapped. Nothing. And Jared really can’t take risks with the bottled-apocalypse he’s got in the case he’s carrying. He needs to get it somewhere safe, even more urgently now the compound is about to turn into a battleground.

Which totally doesn’t explain why Jared finds himself turning around and heading back to Jensen’s location.

It’s like the compound’s come alive. Guards and military personnel are swarming everywhere and an alarm starts off, bleating through the metal corridors, like the growing sound of gunfire isn’t enough of a clue that some serious shit is going down.

Jared tucks the highly dangerous case under his arm, makes like he belongs there, and pushes his way through the chaos.

“Sasquatch? What are you doing, Sasquatch?” Jensen says, in a tone of controlled panic. “Please tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing. Please, for the love of God, tell me I’m reading things wrong and you’re not actually coming back here.”

“Why don’t you just hide under a desk or something until I get there, ‘kay?”

There’s a sudden burst of very expressive cursing, then Sasq-, before static shrills through Jared’s earpiece and the comm.-link goes down.

Jared moves a little faster.

~*~

The admin wing where Jensen’s set up is pretty much deserted by the time Jared gets there. Evacuation protocols are in action, he figures, and everyone else is pretty distracted with the goddamn battle that’s going on. And, not that Jared’s gonna be enough of a bastard to mention it, but there’s no way Jensen’d be able to make it through that alone. He’s just a handler, for God’s sake, and he’s only lucky he’s too pretty for Jared to leave behind to get shot at and blown up.

Just as well Jared goes back for him, really, because when Jared finds him, Jensen is not hiding under a desk.

Jensen has a gun at his temple and is stubbornly arguing with some harassed looking rent-a-guard, who’s holding the gun, about how he totally belongs in the compound and it’s not his fault that the merc doesn’t have high enough security clearance to know who Jensen is. He sounds so very pissy that it looks like he’s more than half way to convincing the guy.

Unfortunately, however, Jared doesn’t have time to watch this little drama play out. He’d shoot the guy, but he can’t take the risk of him getting that one lucky shot off and splattering Jensen’s brains over the opposite wall.

Instead, he walks in and says, “Hi,” to the rent-a-guard, flourishes the case, and says, “Do you know what this is?”

The guy frowns dumbly at Jared, at the case, back at Jared, before shaking his head. It occurs to Jared then that he doesn’t actually know exactly what he has in the case either. He racks his brains, trying to dredge up the chemical name for whatever the hell it is. Surely Jensen told him at some point?

Or not.

“It’s very very bad shit,” he says finally. “And if you hurt my buddy there, I’m gonna be very distressed, and throw this case very hard at the ground, and turn this place into one hell of a fucking mass grave.”

Jensen’s gaze slides towards Jared in absolute horror. It seems like he preferred to take his chances with the gun to his head.

“You’re bluffing,” the soldier says. “That’d kill you too. You’d have to be fucking insane.”

“You hurt him and I might go crazy with grief. Can’t tell what I’d do then,” Jared reasons. “C’mon, let me just take my boytoy and this very bad shit and get outta here. And, there’s a war on your doorstep, y’know? You might wanna be in it, or maybe I don’t know, be running the hell away from it. But you don’t wanna be here.”

“I’m not his boytoy,” Jensen immediately tells the guard, sounding serious and sincere, as soon as he can get a word in.

Jared only notices Jensen readying to move just seconds before he does: grabbing the merc’s wrist and twisting the gun away from his temple, while he swings with his other fist and punches the guy out. The merc goes down with a heavy thud. Jared blinks and lowers the case.

“You are supposed to be a couple of miles away by now,” Jensen hisses at him. “And you don’t use the fucking remix of the bubonic fucking plague as a fucking cheap threat! You fucking dick!”

“Why aren’t you hiding under a desk like I told you to?” Jared says.

Jensen looks about ready to throttle him. But instead, before Jared has to defend himself and restrain Jensen over one of the desks or something - because obviously self-defense against Jensen would include a lot of body-contact - Jensen regains his composure, huffily removes the case from Jared, and says, “Are you ready to leave now?”

~*~

Jared’s run protection assignments before, and he’s been in warzones before, so getting out isn’t exactly taxing. Jensen keeps the case clutched to his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around it, and Jared holds onto him with one hand, and uses the other to shoot whoever gets in the way of their escape.

Surprisingly, Jensen doesn’t protest so much as once about Jared manhandling him. He’s all pliant obedience, which is kind of a rush. He curls in tight against Jared whenever they have to take cover, keeps out of the way when Jared’s fighting. And when a shell takes off the corner of the room they’re currently in, and Jared drags Jensen down to floor, presses him under his own body to shield him from the blast, Jared feels Jensen shivering - his muscles trembling with fear and adrenaline.

As the sound of it fades away, Jared lifts himself on his elbows, and sees Jensen staring up at him, debris dust in his hair and on his eyelashes, lips gnawed red and wet. It’s totally not Jared’s fault he gets a little hard right then.

He offers Jensen his hand and pulls him to his feet.

“C’mon,” he says, “we’re almost out.”

~*~

As their stolen Jeep bumps and shudders over the sand, the sound of fighting is distant, lost on the hot, hazy breeze that shimmers across the desert. In the rear-view mirror, Jared can see the smoke rising from the compound.

He feels a stupid, sudden sense of glee. Yeah, he’s screwed up pretty hugely. He’s jeopardized the entire assignment, played fast and loose with some serious chemical weapons. The correct course of action when he suspected that Jensen was trapped would be to continue with his own exit and then contact ISA to let them know Jensen had been left behind.

Of course, he could always make the argument that he believed leaving Jensen behind was a security risk, that he could have been tortured for information, and that’s probably what he’ll end up saying.

But it’s not true.

Jared doesn’t know for sure, but he strongly suspects Jensen would headdesk himself to death before he shared any classified information. They probably wouldn’t even have got name, rank and serial number out of him.

He went back for Jensen because he didn’t want him to die, plain and simple. Not even because he didn’t want Jensen’s death on his conscience. But because he likes having Jensen around.

“Christ,” says Jensen grouchily, still holding the case to his chest like some weird kind of comfort blanket. “When we get back, I’m gonna have some things to say about intelligence in this area. They said we had another three weeks, for sure, before the fighting’d reach here. Three fucking weeks, they said. Fucking incompetent assholes.”

Okay. That’s it right there: Jared likes having a pissy, pretty handler who makes him want to take stupid risks while on assignment. He is so very very screwed.

Chapter 7

The spread of the civil war means Jared and Jensen can do nothing except get a room at a hotel in the city and wait until ISA can get through to pull them out. There’s fighting in the streets but there are still bars open, and the reverberating thunder of shelling is a backdrop to the chattering of the imported sitcom showing on the tiny TV in the hotel foyer. It’s a surreal kind of chaos.

Jared looks out of the dirty window that stretches ceiling to floor, watches the fires in the city burn in the night and the occasional flash of nearby gunfire. He glances back at the case holding five vials of one of the most virulent chemical weapons ever created. It looks fairly innocuous: pretty and green, and Jensen’s fingertips rest on it even as he scans the pages of the newspaper he’s found.

“Looks pretty crazy out there,” Jared says.

“Even if we were too much of a risk to pick up, they have to come for this case,” Jensen says briskly, without even looking up at him.

Jared gets the feeling Jensen is none too thrilled to be sharing a room with him. It probably hasn’t helped that even though there are two beds, the room’s still too small for there to be much distance between them. Still, it’s only one night, and if Jared didn’t think Jensen was still furious with him about disregarding orders earlier, he’d make some crack about acting the gentleman and promise not to molest Jensen as he slept.

He sighs and turns away from the window.

“Man, I’m starving. Imma go find something to eat. You want me to pick you anything up?”

Jensen lifts his gaze from the newspaper and fixes Jared with a disbelieving look.

“I know you’ve noticed the war going on out there,” he says slowly. “So I’m kind of confused why you’d be suggesting taking such an unnecessary risk, especially when you must have already filled your daily quota for unnecessary risks back at the compound.”

Jared ponders the possibility that Jensen will still be making snarky remarks about Jared’s behavior in the compound in fifty years time, should they live that long. He thinks maybe if Jensen’s planning something like that, it’d be nice for Jensen to warn him so he can go kill himself now. Because it’s getting old.

“Because I was planning on making it home for dinner today, that’s why,” Jared says. “And ‘cause I get mean when I’m hungry, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

Apparently the ‘mean’ threat is adequate to scare Jensen into giving up on the argument. He resumes reading the newspaper and studiously ignoring Jared, which seems to be his new, favorite hobby. Jared shrugs and leaves him to it. Once he has food, the case of neurotoxin and Jensen in the same room, all will be well in the world.

~*~

Halfway down the stairs, it occurs to Jared that Jensen didn’t actually answer the question of whether he wanted anything or not. He really thinks Jensen should eat something, because ISA may say they’re coming for them, but anything could happen to leave the two of them stranded here longer than expected and Jensen will need his strength.

It’s not like he can’t choose something for Jensen but he doesn’t want to give Jensen the chance of refusing to eat by picking something he doesn’t like.

So he turns on his heel and heads back up to the room. But before he can open the door, he hears Jensen’s voice. And Jared doesn’t like eavesdropping but it’s kind of trained into him. It’s what he does.

“-Can’t have been deliberate,” Jensen says. “Several agents from Intelligence gave me the information, there was no single source to be corrupted this time No, ma’am, I don’t believe the idea’s occurred to him Yes, ma’am Yes, ma’am, I’ll make sure of it.”

The call ends and Jared hears Jensen throw the cell phone down. He nudges the door open. Jensen looks up at him and he can’t hide the flicker of shock that goes over his face, the instinctive catch of his lower lip between his teeth, or the roll of his throat that Jared would find completely fascinating if Jensen weren’t so obviously caught-out.

“Why would it be deliberate?” says Jared. “Why would you think someone might be deliberately feeding you the wrong info?”

The time it takes Jared to ask the question is all Jensen needs to regain his composure. He’s looking back at the newspaper, apparently checking his horoscope of all things.

“No one thinks it’s deliberate. It’s just one of the questions that has to be asked when things go wrong.”

Jared wants to believe him. He does. Because if Jensen’s keeping things from him, then it’s bad. But Jared’s been burnt before and if his gut is telling him Jensen’s lying then that’s what he’s gonna go with.

“Tell me the truth, Jensen.”

The bastard looks up at him with a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He regards Jared with patient amusement.

“I know paranoia’s part of the job description, but you might want to save it for something bigger than standard bureaucracy.”

Maybe it’s because Jared’s paid such close attention to Jensen in the time they’ve worked together, watched him so very intently, but he can’t believe Jensen. There’s something vaguely off. He takes a step towards Jensen, and finds he has to fold his arms over his chest before he has no choice but to touch Jensen, to grab him and hold him down and force him to tell the truth.

Jensen recoils ever so slightly, and Jared stops where he is.

“Stop lying to me. And tell me what’s going on.”

For a long moment, Jensen just stares at him, speculative and wary. Jared hangs tightly onto his temper, refuses to betray even the slightest hint of how frustrated he is. How betrayed he feels.

Then Jensen’s tongue flickers over his lips, and he swallows again. He keeps unseeing eyes on the newspaper as he speaks.

“For some time now, ISA has been aware of a serious security breach in the branch, working for the Coalition. We have no idea where it’s coming from. It could be as high as the executives or it could be some clerk who’s found a way of accessing info they shouldn’t have. We just don’t know.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me something like this?”

Jensen darts a glance up at him through long, lowered lashes.

“We didn’t want you distracted from your assignments with thinking too much about potential sabotage. That’s just what they want. They want you not thinking right.”

Instinctively, Jared moves in closer, and, detachedly, he notes how Jensen forces himself not to react this time. He pushes aside the thought of how still and serious and scared Jensen is.

“Why are they coming after me?”

Jensen blinks at him and an incredulous little smile twists his lips.

“You’re kidding, right? Jared, you’re exceptional. Do you have any idea the amount of bartering and calling in of favors and bullying that ISA had to do to secure your services? Everyone wants you working for them. And with you, ISA can make real progress in shutting down the Coalition.” Jensen laughs shortly and shrugs. “Of course they’re gonna be coming after you.”

“And you still didn’t think this was information I should have? So I could, maybe, y’know, protect myself?”

And Jensen looks him in the eyes and says, “It’s my job to protect you.”

Which is kind of sweet, as well as completely ridiculous. Jared turns away from Jensen because he can’t think straight when Jensen’s looking at him like that. Through the window, he can see the fires are still raging in the city. He waits until he thinks he can sound reasonable again before speaking.

“Look, not that I don’t appreciate it,” he says, “but I’ve known you about three months. And it’s not that I don’t trust you but I prefer to look after myself. I can trust myself to do a bang-up job of keeping me alive, and that’s how I like it.”

Jensen’s mouth snaps closed. He stands up and crosses to the window, fingertips of one hand pressing to the pane like he thinks he can just push straight through. His shoulders are tight, hunched almost defensively.

Jared doesn’t know if that means the conversation’s over or if Jensen’s gathering his strength for another round. Eventually, Jensen lets out a breath, and turns back around to face Jared.

“When the Coalition murdered my agent, I was sitting in a room, a few miles away, listening through the comms.-link. They flooded the room he was in with poison gas and there was nothing I could besides keep him company while his internal organs turned to liquid. ISA gave you to me because they knew there was no way in hell I was going to lose another agent to the Coalition.”

He closes the distance between him and Jared, and his hand makes an abortive little twitch, as he starts to reach out to touch Jared before stopping himself.

“You took some pretty stupid risks in getting me out alive back there. Don’t think for one minute that I wouldn’t take those same kinds of risks for you.”

~*~

Neither of them is sleeping. They’ve left the lamp on and the dull orange glow of it illuminates a small circle of the room, but it’s nothing compared to the frequent flashes of light at the window. The fighting’s moving closer.

Jared counts the interval between flashes while he watches the ceiling, like he’s waiting for the storm to sweep over them. It feels more productive than the hour he put into studying the curve of Jensen’s back.

Jensen has the case with him, his arm curled over it protectively, where he’s lying on his bed.

It’s two o’clock in the morning, four hours since they last spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says. “I should have told you.”

“Sure,” says Jared.

“I mean it,” says Jensen.

“Yeah,” says Jared.

There’s a silence that lasts approximately another four hours.

“I’m sorry about your agent, man,” says Jared.

“It was a long time ago,” Jensen says, after a moment’s pause.

It’s about the most devoid of emotion Jared’s ever heard Jensen, and he gets now that Jensen being blank isn’t a good thing. He considers Jensen’s spine for a while longer, the curve of which is oddly transfixing, and then rolls to his feet.

Jensen’s bedframe squeaks as Jared settles his weight on it, just behind Jensen, and fits himself to that curve of Jensen’s back. He lays a hand on Jensen’s bicep, and presses his face into the crook of Jensen’s neck, lips resting over the shiver of Jensen’s pulse. He holds him in wordless comfort.

Jensen has gone rigid against him, not even breathing, though his pulse has picked up, hard and panicked under Jared’s mouth.

“I wasn’t going for the sympathy vote to get you to forgive me,” says Jensen. “We don’t have to snuggle.”

“This isn’t snuggling,” says Jared, snuggling closer. “This is this is me helping protect the case.”

Jensen’s silent and unmoving for a long moment, and Jared readies himself for a snarky remark or, more likely, an elbow to the ribs. But when Jensen moves, he’s not moving away - he’s rolling over onto his other side to look at Jared.

His gaze searches Jared’s face, and his body lies flush alongside Jared’s, just close enough for the friction when he moves to be all kinds of interesting. Pale in the washed-out light of approaching dawn, the expression on Jensen’s face is inexplicably sharp.

Jared wants to question what exactly the look means, but the intimacy of the moment wipes his mind clear, and before Jared can even think about what he’s doing, he’s leaning in and kissing Jensen slowly. Jensen’s lips part against his and Jared takes the invitation, and pushes closer. He cups Jensen’s cheek in his palm, tilts his face up for more kissing, and Jensen’s hips roll into his and the sudden contact is all it takes for Jared to lose what little self-restraint he was demonstrating.

He uses Jensen’s belt-loops to haul him closer, his fingers dipping below Jensen’s waistband, over the taut skin of his belly. Jensen hooks his leg over Jared’s hips, heel pressing into the small of Jared’s back, and Jared draws in a sticky, wet breath against Jensen’s mouth, his lips buzzing.

“Jared Jared, this is a bad idea, okay? You know that, don’t you?” Jensen murmurs, right before he bites down hard on the firm line of Jared’s jaw, then sucks like he’s trying to mark Jared up. It hurts and it’s hot and Jared grinds harder into Jensen’s body. “Tell me you know it’s a bad idea.”

One of Jared’s hands is hanging onto Jensen’s belt-loops, keeping him held tight against Jared’s body, while his other hand is determinedly working Jensen’s t-shirt up over his belly, and all while Jared’s mouth presses desperately greedy kisses to whatever inch of Jensen’s bare skin it can reach.

So whereas he’s aware that Jensen’s speaking, he’s not exactly paying attention. Not until Jensen forces him to by trying to push him away.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jared says instantly. “Fucking horrible idea. No fucking idea why the hell we’re being so stupid.”

And then Jensen’s hip starts to vibrate, and while Jared knows he’s good, people’s hips don’t usually start vibrating just with a little making out, so Jared thinks he maybe he ought to pause for a second and see what’s going on, tempting as it is to just keep kissing Jensen and hope the problem goes away.

He gives Jensen just enough room to wriggle his hand into his jeans pocket and pull out his cell phone. Still breathless, Jensen looks at the tiny screen, then frowns slightly at Jared.

“ISA’s gonna be here in ten minutes.”

Jared sighs and allows Jensen to squirm out from under him. While Jensen disappears into the bathroom to splash water on his face and try to make himself look a little less disheveled, Jared wonders if turning double-agent in response to such cockblocking is an unreasonable response.

Chapter 8

When Jared gets hauled in to the New York branch offices of ISA, Jensen is conspicuously absent. He tries not to spend too long thinking about the many possible reasons Jensen isn’t there, but does anyway.

It can’t be anything serious because Jensen doesn’t do solo fieldwork. If they’ve sent him on assignment with another agent, it will be in a support role. Safe.

It also can’t be because Jensen is avoiding him. Firstly, Jensen was totally into kissing Jared; it’s not like Jared forced him or had to talk him into it. Secondly, Jensen is way too professional to miss a briefing for personal reasons.

Jared gets escorted into a meeting room, where Jensen still isn’t, and manages not to ask for five whole minutes. Then he breaks.

“So where’s Teague?” he says to the suit standing guard in the corner.

The suit doesn’t answer, but the redheaded woman who’s just come into the room does.

“He’s not needed for this.” She smiles and shakes Jared’s hand. “I’m O’Toole. I’m sorry about rushing you in here like this, but we’ve got to move on this fast.”

She brings a photo up on the console screen in front of Jared. It’s an average-looking guy in his thirties, sandy-haired with a scruff of beard. Jared studies the picture briefly then glances up at her.

“This is Dimitri Krantz. He’s a tech-specialist, part of a Coalition unit based in Nantes. He’s part of a team of Coalition operatives who will be in Massachusetts on Thursday. They’re coming to intercept a prototype microchip being sent up from Bogotá.”

“And you want me to make sure they don’t get it?” Jared says.

O’Toole smiles and shakes her head.

“No, we’ve already made alternative arrangements to ensure safe delivery to the research lab. You’re going there because Dimitri Krantz wants to come over to our side, and we need you to make sure he reaches us in one piece.”

Jared blinks and instantly looks back at the picture.

“He says he can give us some very important information,” O’Toole says, “information about a security leak. I can’t stress how important Krantz is to us.”

And Jared’s willing to bet she’s talking about the double agent within ISA. It’s kind of nice to have a handler who’s so well informed, even if he is pretty tight-mouthed.

O’Toole then brings up blueprints of the research lab on the console screen. The layout of the lab is pretty uncomplicated, though it’s a damn big building.

“It’s a simple job, really,” she says. “You follow them in, Krantz will separate from the group, ostensibly to handle disabling the security sensors. You’ll rendezvous with him and get him out. By the time they realize security’s still in place and come back for him, you both should be out of the building.”

It’s more than simple. It’s insultingly simple. And Jared doesn’t mean to pull a face about how completely insultingly simple a job he’s being asked to do, but apparently he does, because O’Toole gives him a very serious look as she hands him the case folder.

“The people Krantz is working with are dangerous and unstable. And Krantz is offering us information we simply couldn’t get otherwise. We can’t risk this going wrong. We need you to make sure we get this right.”

So, okay, a little ego-stroking makes it marginally less insulting.

~*~

There’s no contact scheduled between Jared and Jensen before the assignment so Jared’s pretty surprised to see Jensen’s number flash up on his cell. He grins and feels wonderfully smug about it.

“Given in to the serious unfinished business between us then?” he says, answering the call. “S’all right. I’m not gonna gloat. My schedule’s kinda packed, but I can rearrange some things and make time to come see you.”

“This is important, Jared, so shut up and listen.” Jensen’s voice is tight and uneven, and Jared doesn’t like it at all. The warm, pleasant feeling he’d been enjoying disappears immediately. “If I’m right, they’re sending you on assignment without me-“

“Jensen, wait a second-” Jared says.

“Just listen!” Jensen hisses at him. “If Schneider’s sending you to Tehran, you need to know that Glover seriously disagrees with his reading of the situation. I don’t know if they’ve made it clear to you but you should know that there’s every chance the facility hasn’t been abandoned. You could be walking right into-“

“Jensen. I’m not going to Tehran.” Jared frowns slightly and rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks, I mean seriously, man, thank you. But I’m just the welcome-wagon for some French geek who’s local this week and wants to be friends. Nice, simple, and not Tehran.”

“Oh,” says Jensen. There’s a long pause before he speaks again. “Okay.” He draws breath and goes on, “Well, maybe I should have sought the approval of the branch executives before informing you of the anomalies concerning the situation in Tehran, but it’s not like the information is classified. I was simply trying to ensure that you received an adequate briefing before-“

“You were worried about me,” says Jared, and he doesn’t care that he sounds obnoxiously gleeful about it.

“I worry when I see small children using scissors without adult supervision, Jared. You take it any way that’ll make you happiest.”

Not even Jensen hanging up on him can kill Jared’s buzz.

~*~

Three whole hours later, Jensen’s number is on Jared’s cell phone again.

“You’ve been thinking about that unfinished business again, haven’t you?” says Jared, before Jensen can speak. “It’s driving you crazy and you’re finding any freaking excuse you can just to hear my voice on the phone. Don’t worry, I understand this must be very hard for you.”

“Seriously, I don’t know how I’m surviving,” Jensen says. “Right now though, I’m actually just trying to wish you luck on your assignment.”

And then he hangs up again. Doesn’t matter. Jared’s buzz is totally indestructible.

~*~

Squatting in damp bushes isn’t the most glamorous part of Jared’s job but unfortunately it’s a necessary one.

It’s three minutes since the Coalition team entered the research lab. Krantz was at the rear, looking unhelpfully squirrelly and suspicious, frequently glancing up at the woodland that surrounds the building as if trying to spot Jared. The other three members of his team were some nasty looking sonsofbitches, and Jared can’t blame Krantz for wanting to switch sides. His side is much better looking; it has him and Jensen on it, after all.

He gives it another seven minutes and then creeps down towards the lab.

After scrambling the lock and gaining entry, Jared neatly circumvents the night watchmen’s patrolling and disables the elevators before he makes his way to the control room. He and Krantz will be exiting via the service tunnels beneath the building and, not that he needs it, but forcing Krantz’s team to take the stairs will buy him some extra time just in case.

It’s the kind of tidy little plan for a simple assignment that brings Jared an indefinable satisfaction - right up until he finds Krantz slumped in his chair, turned to face the door so the gruesome grin of his slit throat is immediately obvious to Jared when he walks in.

Jared doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate. Things are fucked and there’s nothing for him to do here now but get the hell out.

It’s too late. The rest of Krantz’s team is waiting for him at the end of the passage, all scowls and guns and big muscles. They’re waiting for him. Jared stops in the doorway and appraises them as they appraise him. The distance between them can be no more than a few meters, but it seems immense, seems smooth and implacable.

“I’m sorry, Mr. ISA, but Dimitri cannot come out to play,” one of the guys singsongs to Jared in heavily accented English.

“The slit throat was kind of a hint,” Jared says.

“We want to talk. That’s all. We won’t hurt you, we just want to know where they’ve taken the chip. There’s nowhere you can go, Mr. ISA. If you run, we will shoot you. But if you let us talk, like civilized people, we will let you go.”

“You do seem like guys I can trust. I am completely convinced of your sincerity,” says Jared.

The stalemate resumes, silent and sharp. The apparent team leader takes a step towards Jared.

“Where will you go, Mr. ISA? There are three of us, and only one of you. You cannot get past three guns. Please don’t hurt yourself trying.”

“Actually,” says Jared, “I totally can get past three guns. But luckily for you, I don’t need to.”

With that, he ducks back into the control room, swinging the door shut behind him, jams his knife into the lock security panel, and fuses the room closed. It won’t last long. Bullets are slamming into the door like hailstones and fracture lines are already running through the reinforced glass.

Jared pays no attention to them being right the other side of the door and concentrates on his next step. Thank God for airshafts. He scrambles up onto the top of the nearest server tower and is just hauling himself up into the cramped metal tunnel that runs along the ceiling and out, when the door splinters and Krantz’s team slam through into the room.

~*~

They’re at his heels right into the woodland, and it’s only there that Jared finally manages to shake them off. He disappears into the silent darkness, leaving them snarling out curses and firing blind, in the hopes of catching a lucky shot.

One bullet grazes his arm but Jared doesn’t stop running. Running gives his brain something to work on, something to distract it from the horrible coldness of what tonight means. Once he’s back in the ISA helicopter and the research lab is nothing but pinpricks of light in the distance, Jared has no choice but to think about it.

They were waiting for him, and he fucking walked right into it.

It could go one of two ways.

One, Krantz hadn’t exactly had his game-face on. It’s entirely possible he gave himself away. Jared can see how that would work. It’s the option he’d prefer to be the case - which means it probably isn’t - but he holds onto it as a distinctly viable possibility.

Two, someone at ISA knew that Krantz was trying to switch teams. Jared knows better than to blindly trust senior officers but O’Toole hadn’t set off any warning signals in her behavior. Of course, if the double is running the kind of operation Jensen had hinted at - long-term and seriously damaging - then they’re gonna be damn good at keeping out of suspicion. It could be anyone in O’Toole’s team. Or any of the senior branch executives.

Yeah, Jared knows better than to blindly trust senior officers but he’s never had to look at them as possible enemies before.

Of course they’re coming after you, Jensen says in his head. Jensen. Jared really wants to see Jensen.

~*~

It’s not until six hours later, after Jared has been thoroughly debriefed by a visibly on edge O’Toole, that he gets to see Jensen.

Jensen’s waiting for him in a side-office. He’s wearing his suit and he’s sitting down, staring at the wall with blank composure. When Jared steps into the room, Jensen looks up, gets quickly to his feet, but says nothing, just lets out a small, shivering breath. Jared takes a step towards him - Jensen takes a step back.

“Don’t,” says Jared, low and dark. “Don’t make my day any fucking worse.”

He regrets it as soon as he’s said it. Jensen’s scared of him. It shows in his eyes and in the way he instantly snaps still and the way he watches Jared, and it makes Jared fucking sick.

“I’m not saying you have to let me kiss you or touch you or - anything like that. I’m saying don’t-” He breaks off. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

Jensen brushes past him and for a moment Jared thinks he’s leaving and gets kind of desperate. But Jensen is just closing the door. Then he flips the blinds closed and looks back at Jared, still silent and watchful.

“You were right,” says Jared. “I’m a target. I’m walking around with a goddamn ‘shoot me’ sign on my back.”

“You got out alive,” says Jensen. “We’ll figure everything else out later. You’re alive, that’s what matters.”

And when he kisses Jared, Jared’s day gets a whole lot better.

Chapter 9

Jared is smart enough to realize that feeling inexplicably good simply because he has Jensen’s voice in his ear is a warning sign. However, Jared will not do the smart thing and request a different handler. It’s just not happening. Jensen is his, he works with Jensen, they do good work together. End of story.

So someone’s trying to kill him. Although Jared isn’t exactly enthused by the news, it’s not like it’s the first time. Besides, they’re trying to kill him because he’s awesome, and what they clearly don’t understand is that Jared is so awesome that he’s not gonna let some double-dealing, backstabbing motherfucker kill him.

Yeah, Jared’s feeling good.

Beyond the slatted walls of the low, sprawling cabin, the night is purple and sticky. Animal cries echo faintly above the constant chirruping of insects. The messenger bag over Jared’s shoulder isn’t heavy but it rubs awkwardly over his thin flannel shirt. There’s a light shine of sweat on his skin, slippery in his collarbone and down the line of his spine, and in the back of Jared’s mind, he’s wondering whether he’ll be able to coax Jensen into the shower with him when the job’s done.

Maybe there’s air-conditioning where Jensen is, though. Maybe he won’t want a shower.

“You sticky, man?” he says.

There’s a long pause and then Jensen says, “Sasquatch, unless that’s a technical term that relates directly to your current assignment, maybe you might wanna consider radio silence.”

“Jesus, Zoolander, you have a really filthy mind for someone who’s wound so tight, you know that?” says Jared, all aggrieved innocence. “I was just asking if it was hot where you were. What the hell did you think I was asking?”

In the even longer pause that follows, Jared realizes that Jensen isn’t planning on answering that one.

“I get it, dude,” Jared says into the silence, his tone full of comfort and understanding. “You can’t help getting dirty thoughts in your head when you talk to me, but I really think we should concentrate on the assignment. If you can keep it together just for a little longer, I’ll make it worth your while, okay?”

“What I can’t understand,” says Jensen, “is how there’s only one person trying to kill you, and not, like, everyone who’s ever met you.”

Jared laughs and says, “Well, not everyone gets the special treatment I give you, sweetheart.”

Jensen mutters something that doesn’t sound particularly grateful but Jared doesn’t have chance to follow up on it, because he’s made it to the vault and he really does need to take ten seconds out to concentrate solely on the assignment.

He removes the frequency-scrambler from his bag and clamps it onto the vault’s lock, adjusts the settings until they’re correct, and then waits for it to do its thing. It takes a few seconds for the scrambler to override the incoming signal and convince the lock that the correct passcode has been entered. Then the lock beeps and the door clicks open.

Inside, there’s nothing but the folders, set in a neat pile on the ledge. Jared reaches for them and there’s just a tiny scratch as his fingers close around them. He pulls his hand back instantly and stares, blank and uncomprehending, at the spot of blood on the side of his finger.

“Huh,” he says. “Nobody mentioned that.”

A strange light-headedness comes over him, a faint queasiness rolling up in his belly.

It could be anything on the needle, but one thing Jared’s pretty sure it is is fatal. ‘Fatal’ is always the best kind of security.

He’s so intent on dazedly taking in the growing sensations of the poison that it takes him a moment to hear Jensen’s voice in his ear. Sasquatch, status report? Sasquatch, answer me. Kind of a shame, all this, because Jared really likes Jensen and it’s gonna be totally not cool if he never gets to see him again.

“Zoolander, I’m gonna take the pictures now but I’m gonna send them direct to you. Once you have the images, return to base. I’ll make my own way back.”

“My job’s not done until you’re out,” Jensen says sharply. “Status report.”

It’s an order, not a request. And although Jared never cared all that much about protocol, Jensen is his superior office and it’s trained behavior to obey. Jared flips the first folder open and starts taking pictures, determined to stay on his feet until the job’s done.

“Poison needle,” he says. It’s more effort than it should be even to form the words. Hard to concentrate on working the tiny digital camera while speaking.

“There was no mention of it on the security specs,” Jensen says.

“Definitely a poison needle. I know, because it goddamn poisoned me. Okay?” He finishes the first folder and shoves it out of the way. “Receiving the pictures?”

“Yes.” A pause, then, “Sasquatch”

“Look, I’m not gonna make you go through that same thing again. You’re gonna receive the pictures and then you’re gonna turn off comms. Not having you listen to me.” Jared sighs and has to rest his burning, throbbing forehead against the cool metal of the vault. “You’ve done good by me. This isn’t your fault. Just take the pictures and fucking go.”

“No. No. They must store antidote nearby in case Vargas has an accident. Stay exactly where you are. I’m on my way.”

“Don’t even fucking think it!” Jared snarls, but Jensen doesn’t answer.

Jensen doesn’t fucking answer and Jared goes on taking photos because he can’t get his head to work right, even though Jensen’s going to get himself killed. And he really really likes Jensen and the only thing worse than never seeing Jensen again would be knowing that Jensen’s dead because of him.

His vision gets too blurred for him to see what he’s photographing but he goes on pointing and clicking regardless. When his knees buckle beneath him, he drags the last of the folders out with him as he falls. He slumps against the wall, turns the pages with clumsy, shaking fingers, and gets his job done.

He keeps going until the last page has been photographed, and then he lets go.

~*~

Maybe he sleeps. Maybe it’s seconds or hours. He only comes back to himself when there’s a piercing scream in his earpiece.

Jensen. Jensen needs him. He has to get to Jensen.

Somehow, he gets himself onto his knees, and with superhuman effort, pushes against the floor until he’s half-standing, shoulder pressed to the wall. It feels like it’s damn well killing him even quicker than the poison.

“I’m sorry. I had to do that. We don’t have time for you to realize that I’m not bluffing. I need you to take me seriously, and I need you to cooperate with me right now. If you don’t, I’m going to take another finger.”

No. That’s Jensen. Jared doesn’t recognize anything in his voice apart from the fact it’s Jensen. His legs slide slowly out from under him again, because he doesn’t understand how Jensen’s voice can sound like that. Jensen doesn’t sound like that.

“What do you want? Please, please, what do you want?”

He doesn’t know that voice but he’s guessing that’s the guy who screamed earlier.

“The antidote to the poison in your vault,” says Jensen. “Where is it?”

“What? No. nonono, I don’t know what you’re talk- Ahh! Jesus, please please-“

“Don’t lie to me. Once I’m done with your fingers, I’m going to start on your eyelids. You can stop me any time you like. Just tell me where the antidote is.”

“God, please- it’s over there, in the drawer. The key’s in my pocket. Just, please, don’t don’t”

“I really hope you’re not lying to me.”

“I’m not! I swear to God I’m not!”

Jared strains to hear what’s happening over the noise of the man’s sobbing. He can’t hear anything. It’s all too quiet. The quietness stretches on forever and even the guy crying fades away. With nothing to hold on to, Jared’s brain slowly begins to lose focus again.

His whole body is shaking. His teeth are rattling in his skull. Everything’s hot and sore. The ache is like that time he caught flu as a kid, but there’s an unrelenting dizziness and sickness too. Jared wishes it would stop. He just wants to die in peace and quiet.

Just let it all be over.

~*~

“God. No.”

There are hands on Jared’s shoulders, rolling him over awkwardly onto his back, and Jared makes a small, hurt sound which is all he can come up with to express the sheer agony of being moved. He really hopes he’ll hurry up and die.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. C’mon, just hang on. Please don’t die.”

Jensen won’t stop touching him, which would be awesome and all, if it weren’t very nearly necrophilia. Jensen’s got hold of his arm and Jared can’t even summon up the strength to pull away from him. His throat’s too closed up for him to even moan now.

Won’t be long.

Something scratches his inner arm.

Lights out.

~*~

A low, wooden ceiling swims into view. Jared blinks at it.

“Mmph,” he says.

It doesn’t sound anything like ‘ceiling’, which was what Jared was aiming for, but it does bring Jensen into view. Jensen’s hand is light on his forehead and it feels really nice. Jensen’s really pretty. Jared blinks again to see if he gets any prettier. The ceiling blurs in a cautionary kind of way and Jared stops blinking so fast, content with Jensen to be as pretty as he is.

“Hey,” says Jensen. “It’s gonna take a while for the poison to be out of your system, but you’re gonna be okay. How’re you feeling?”

“Padalecki,” Jared says, and he sounds almost lucid.

Jensen frowns at him and leans closer. God, Jared could totally lick him. Maybe he’s not quite strong enough to wrestle him onto the bed and fuck him senseless, but he could totally lick him right now. He’d lick right along the little patch of collarbone he can see, right up Jensen’s throat, over the little dip at the corner of Jensen’s lips, right up to the smooth, freckled skin over Jensen’s cheekbone.

“What was that?”

“Padalecki,” Jared says. “I’m Jared Padalecki.”

Jensen is still for a long moment. Then he leans in closer and brushes a kiss over Jared’s mouth.

“Go to sleep, Sasquatch.”

Obediently, the world fades out around Jared.

~*~

The next time he comes to, Jared feels like he’s slept for a week solid. He shifts just enough to be able to get a look at his watch. It’s 3pm. At the very least, he’s slept for almost twenty hours. He runs a brief review of how he’s feeling. Everything seems to be working okay. The dizziness and sickness have gone, and he’s not shaking anymore.

Gingerly, he pushes himself up onto his elbows. It’s a huge effort, but it doesn’t hurt. Across the other side of the unfamiliar room, Jensen is at his laptop.

“Hey,” Jared says, and then flops flat onto his back again.

Instantly, Jensen’s coming over to his side. There’s are spots of blood on his t-shirt and Jared remembers, as if from long long ago, someone losing fingers and Jensen’s voice being cold and hard as iron.

“How are you feeling?” Jensen says. His gaze is running over Jared in barely concealed concern. He looks like he hasn’t slept the whole time Jared’s been out.

“Awesome,” says Jared, and grins weakly. “What happened?”

“After I gave you the antidote, I got you out and brought you here. It’s an ISA safehouse. They have the photographs and, as soon as you’re well enough, we’ll be on a plane out of here.”

Jared frowns. “Dude, did you carry me?”

“Carry, drag, little of both. You weren’t gonna be walking out, Jared.” Jensen shrugs, still studying him closely. “So, you’re feeling okay? No lingering effects from the poison?”

“I feel just peachy. Seriously.”

It’s not exactly the truth but Jensen looks convinced.

“Good,” he says, and pulls back the blanket on Jared’s bed.

While Jared takes a moment to consider whether he’s hallucinating, Jensen briskly tugs Jared’s shorts down his legs. Jared considers Jensen’s hands on his thighs, he considers the unusual angle at which he gets to study Jensen’s too-pretty face - all long lashes and full lips - and he considers whether perhaps he’s gone crazy.

“Am I reading too much into this?” says Jared cautiously.

“You’re definitely talking too much,” says Jensen.

And he puts his mouth on Jared’s cock.

And Jared’s still recovering from poison, still weak and a little out of it, but Jensen’s sweet, perfect mouth moving up the length of Jared’s dick, Jensen’s green eyes going all heavy-lidded, his breath light but intimate over Jared’s skin it doesn’t take much for Jared to get hard and heavy.

“Attaboy,” Jensen murmurs, and his tongue sweeps a hot, slippery line along the underside of Jared’s cock.

It’s like being fucking tortured. Jared wants his cock in Jensen’s mouth. He wants Jensen’s lips wrapped tight around him. He wants Jensen to suck him and make him come. He wants to touch Jensen. Cradle Jensen’s skull in his palm while he rocks his hips, fucking his cock into Jensen’s mouth.

He can’t do a damn thing. His body won’t cooperate and Jensen’s apparently intent on driving him insane with butterfly light touches and licking and kissing, like playing with Jared is something he absolutely refuses to rush. Maybe it’s payback. Jared bets it’s payback. Jensen’s a cruel fucking tease.

“You’re taking advantage of me in my weakened state,” Jared points out.

Jensen rests his chin on Jared’s thigh, nuzzling Jared’s cock with his cheek, and smiles beatifically at him.

“Totally. And y’know what? I’m not feeling any shame about it either.”

Jared stares at him a moment longer then frowns at him.

“I’m gonna allow it. But only ‘cause I think you probably had a rough night and need cheering up.”

“That’s very gracious of you,” Jensen says.

Or, it might be what he’s saying, but it’s hard for Jared to tell when the last part of it gets muffled by Jared’s dick in Jensen’s mouth. Jared really doesn’t care too much if that’s what Jensen said, because his dick is in Jensen’s mouth. Which is possibly the best place for it ever and where it should have been from the first moment they met.

Jensen’s lips are pink and shiny with spit and precome. They’re beautifully obscene against the flushed thickness of Jared’s cock. Jared squirms on the sheet, cards his fingers helplessly through Jensen’s soft, short hair; there’s not enough of it and Jared’s too weak to get a proper handhold. Besides, it might be slow and exquisitely cruel, but Jensen seems to know exactly what he’s doing with Jared.

He nurses the heaviness of Jared’s cock on his tongue, hot and wet, cheeks hollowed and the shape of Jared in his mouth so prominent it makes Jared even fucking harder. Jensen fucks his mouth on the length of Jared’s cock with long, slow strokes, and Jared’s kind of mesmerized by the sight of Jensen’s face bobbing between his legs.

“Wow,” says Jared. “You’re totally awesome.”

Which is a mistake because Jensen laughs, gags on Jared’s dick, and has to pull free. He looks at Jared, and his eyes are bright and his cheeks are flushed and his mouth looks insanely hot when it’s freshly fucked, and he smiles again.

“Right back at you,” he says.

It seems to take the edge off what he’s doing to Jared, like realizing just how awesome Jared is makes it harder for him to go slow. It’s less smooth, less controlled. Something rough creeps in to the way he works his mouth over Jared. Jensen’s hips are rolling and jerking desperately, and Jared wishes he could reach him. He really wants to have Jensen as helpless as Jensen has him.

And then Jared feels the head of his cock hit the back of Jensen’s throat, and he’s scrabbling to catch hold of Jensen’s hair because it feels like his body’s gone into overload, and then Jensen’s swallowing him down. It’s too tight, too fucking spectacular to be buried balls-deep into Jensen’s mouth, and Jared comes with a sharp, hard thrust that he’s kind of surprised didn’t break Jensen’s neck.

He feels like a ragdoll. He doesn’t even have the strength to lift his head off the pillow. But that’s okay, because Jensen’s totally chasing him, crawling up his body to kiss Jared like Jared’s tongue is next on the list for working over, his mouth bruised and soft and tasting of nothing but Jared.

It occurs to Jared that Jensen may well succeed in killing him where the poison failed. Jared is totally okay with that.

Chapter 10

Right up until he met Jensen, Jared had always thought of Lauren as his favorite handler. She’s smart, funny, doesn’t panic easily, and knows the back roads into pretty much every intelligence agency of any significance.

Currently, she looks like any other twenty-something woman enjoying the Sunday sunshine: sitting in a cafe, face propped up on her hand as she reads a battered paperback novel while distractedly sipping her coffee. It’s not until Jared’s actually taking the seat across from her that she glances up and smiles at him.

“Darling! This is unexpected!” She raises an eyebrow at him. “I take it you want something? Don’t tell me there’s something the delightful Mr. Teague can’t deliver?”

“He’s delivering just fine, thanks,” says Jared, trying hard to keep his grin on the decent side of smug. “But it’s kind of about him I’m here.”

Lauren slides an empty sugar packet into her book to mark the page then puts it to one side. She leans forward, her expression expectant. Lauren’s kind of addicted to gossip and by coming to her with this, Jared knows he’s giving her awesome material. It’s the price of doing business and he accepts it as such without hesitation.

“I’m curious about him,” he says as an opening gambit.

“Oh, I bet you are,” says Lauren. “But surely you’ve been able to get him to reveal just a little of himself to you? You’re not losing your touch, are you?”

“Hell no! My touch is awesome and I’ve got him revealing plenty! But” Jared pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I wanna know what he’s not telling me.”

Lauren leans back in her chair, hands curled neatly around her coffee. Her gaze is speculative. She’s not entirely on side yet. Jared sighs and shrugs, decides to play it the only way he thinks’ll get her cooperation.

“I trust him, like I’ve trusted all my handlers. And I respect his privacy. But we’re at that stage where I need to know a little more before I can go any further.”

“You like him,” says Lauren.

“I like him,” Jared agrees. “And I need to know that that’s not a really bad idea.”

It’s pretty irritating the way Lauren folds her lips together, like she’s trying really hard not to smile, but Jared recognizes it as a victory sign. Once she’s got her face back under control, she nods at him.

“I’ll ask my friend in ISA to let me see Teague’s file. I’ll let you know if there’s anything you should be aware of.” She reaches over and lays a hand on Jared’s. “It was very clever of you to come to me, Jared. People get all kinds of concerned when their intelligence officers start digging. They prefer you as ignorant as possible.”

She tempers the comment with a smile that Jared meets easily.

“That’s me,” he says. “Ignorant. But real pretty.”

~*~

Schneider is an older blond guy, friendly but giving off a definite air of competence. He shakes Jared’s hand and claps him on the back, offering him a genial smile.

“How you doing, kid?” he says. “I just wanted to stop by and apologize for last week. We think the poison trap was a very recent addition to Vargas’s security, which is why it wasn’t on the specs, but we haven’t got the intel to confirm that yet. Either way, sorry you got hit.”

Jared grins and shrugs. “Made it out alive somehow.”

At that, Schneider glances over at Jensen, who is waiting silently in the corner of the room to give Jared his briefing. The look on Schneider’s face and the distinct lack of response from Jensen immediately informs Jared that there have been words said about Jensen’s intervention.

“Thank God for a caring handler, right?” Jared says. “Weren’t for him, you’d be down one agent.”

Schneider is still looking at Jensen. Then he lets out a huff of breath, something like a laugh, and rubs the back of his neck.

“Tell the truth, none of us are used to handlers stepping in like that. It’s gonna take us all a little getting used to.” His smile finally extends to Jensen. “It was pretty impressive, Teague.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jensen says, inclining his head slightly.

“All right, boys. I’ll let you get to work.” He shakes Jared’s hand again. “Good meeting you. You’re doing a fine job.”

After he’s gone, Jensen visibly relaxes. He looks at Jared and smiles, with only a very faint awkwardness. The desk between them is way too big and completely in the way. Jared did the calculations in his head while Schneider was talking, and he thinks it’d probably be quicker to go around it than to try dragging Jensen over the top of it.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” says Jensen. “Uh we’re sending you to Sofia. For a couple of weeks, maybe.” He pauses, looks down at the desktop, then back at Jared. “I’m not coming with you.”

Jared blinks and shrugs.

“Sofia’s not my ideal holiday destination either. Wanna pick somewhere else? I know a fantastic little restaurant in Zaragoza. They do this lamb and vegetable thing, with these little mushrooms - ” Jared demonstrates the extreme tininess of the mushrooms with his thumb and forefinger - “and it’s like It’s freaking orgasmic how good it is. We could go sightseeing after dinner. Or just, y’know, head back to our hotel room and not get out of bed for days. Sound better than Sofia?”

Jensen studies him for a long moment. And it’s weird, and unsettling, how Jared can know what Jensen looks like when he comes, when he’s desperate and slutty and all worked up, but can’t read a damn thing that’s going on in his eyes right now.

“You’re going to Sofia, for a couple of weeks,” says Jensen. “Your assignment has two objectives. Mark Cassidy is the CEO of a multinational business, specializing in laser research. We have reason to believe he’s funding the Coalition. While in Sofia, you will take a position in his offices there and track incoming and outgoing information streams.”

“And the other objective?”

Jensen slides a photo across the table at Jared. There’s a young, pretty blonde woman, with a guy who’d be kind of twinkish except for his unfortunate resemblance to a not particularly cute weasel.

“The guy is Kyle Brendon,” says Jensen. “He’s a foot soldier for the Coalition, but he’s well-placed and he has friends in high places. The woman is Katie Cassidy. Cassidy’s daughter and Brendon’s ex-girlfriend.”

Instantly, Jared knows where this is going. He doesn’t sigh or frown or even twitch, but he doesn’t like it. Jensen picks up on his distaste somehow and shakes his head.

“No, you’re not recruiting her. You’re just investigating the possibility.”

It’s not a very good answer as far as Jared is concerned. It probably shows on his face and he doesn’t care. He’s allowed to be himself around Jensen. He doesn’t have to pretend.

“I’m investigating the possibility of her betraying her dad and her ex? The ex, I can understand, maybe. Some exes totally deserve any bad luck that goes their way. But there’s no way she’s gonna turn on her dad. Not knowingly.”

“Traditionally, the reasons people turn can be summarized by MICE-”

“Mice aren’t a reason to turn traitor,” Jared interrupts, because he’s feeling really unhelpful and obnoxious. “That’s a freaking stupid reason. No one betrays anyone because of mice, unless they’re, like, really phobic of them or something.”

“Money, ideology, coercion, ego,” Jensen says, voice raised but calm. “We believe Cassidy will be leveraged on her ego. Her father’s dismissed her as a brat in public more than once. This is her chance to prove to Daddy that she’s all growed up.”

A passport and identity documents are slid across the table at Jared. He ignores them in favor of watching Jensen. Even totally expressionless, Jensen is just about the most fascinating thing Jared’s ever seen. Especially when Jensen’s working so hard at remaining expressionless. That just gives Jared more to watch: all those tightly stifled subconscious tells, the flickering of his eyes.

“You’ll be going in as Jack Bristow-“

“I’m not cute enough to be Sydney?” Jared says.

“Jack was totally the hotter Bristow,” Jensen says smoothly. “Can you stop interrupting me? You’re going to be a glorified secretary, but it’ll get you into the building. They’ll be watching you, so be a normal guy as often as you can. Go out, have a beer or two, hook up with pretty girls or cute guys. It’s important.”

“No,” says Jared. “No. I’m not gonna stop interrupting until you quit screwing around. Are you seriously telling me that ISA told you to tell me to get laid while on assignment? Because that’s bullshit. And I can’t even believe we’re back here! You know, you’re not playing hard to get, Jensen, you’re playing split personalities.”

“Jared-“

“No.”

Getting around the desk, Jared is finally able to close the distance between them. Jensen doesn’t back away from his approach or flinch, doesn’t even look away from him, which all should feel like Jared’s made progress, but inexplicably doesn’t. Probably because Jensen is trying to pimp him out and pass it off as his job.

“Are you insane?” Jared says, as reasonable and understanding as he can make the question. “Do you actually have mental health issues that I should be aware of? Because you’re sending out mixed messages it would take the combined power of the CIA to decipher. Just just tell me. What’s the problem?”

Jensen’s eyes are really green and they’re fixed on Jared like Jared holds the answers to every possible question Jensen could ever ask. Like he’s everything. And Jensen’s barely even breathing. Then he swallows hard and shakes his head.

“There isn’t one,” he says. He shakes his head again, more firmly, and drops his gaze to the floor for a second before catching Jared’s eyes once more. “I’m just I’m not used to this. This lifestyle doesn’t exactly allow for much of a social life. And getting involved with people within the agency, when the agency has been compromised, hasn’t seemed like a great idea, you know?”

The first thing to do right then, Jared thinks, would be to touch Jensen. Not grope him or fling him down on the desk or anything like that. Just something reassuring, something to connect.

He can’t trust himself to do it. He doesn’t know when it happened, doesn’t know if it’s because Jensen’s making him work so hard for it, but at some point, it really started mattering to Jared that Jensen lets him have this. It’s taking all his self-restraint not to completely screw things up here by showing Jensen just how much he wants it.

“It’s okay,” says Jared. “You can trust me.”

And Jensen laughs. Laughs in his face, like Jared’s said something genuinely amusing.

“Yeah, sure I can, Jared.”

Which is just about the most offensive thing Jensen’s ever said to him.

~*~

He knows as soon as he sees her that it’s bad news. Jared is still stinging from his briefing with Jensen and seeing the sharpness of Lauren’s stride, the slight hunch to her shoulders, Jared feels even worse. Her gaze scans the boulevard around them before coming to settle on Jared’s face.

“Tell me,” says Jared. He doesn’t mean it to come out so harsh, doesn’t mean to make Lauren roll her shoulders in subtle distress. “What did you find?”

“Teague has an exemplary record,” she says. “Better than spotless, full of praise.”

Jared shrugs at her, exasperated. “So? What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” says Lauren. She’s still jittery, wheeling around to keep a constant eye on the people passing by. “His file is fine. The problem is with an agent he was handling, who is now dead. Murdered.”

“Yeah. He told me a little about that.”

Lauren flashes a taut smile at him. “Did he tell you Kane was under investigation at the time of his death, suspected of being a double-agent for the Coalition?”

Jared catches her shoulders, forces her to hold still and meet his eyes. She looks at him reluctantly for just a second and then snaps her gaze to the side.

“I need to know everything you know,” Jared says.

Lauren draws in a shuddering breath and Jared releases her slowly. She wipes away a strand of her hair that’s fluttering in her face and finally looks back at him.

“There were references in Teague’s file, to Christian Kane. For completeness’s sake, I tried to access Kane’s file. It’s sealed. Not only is it sealed, but it’s flagged. Within seconds of me trying to access it, I had one of the ISA branch executives on the phone, demanding to know what I thought I was doing.”

“And they told you Kane was suspected of being a double?” Jared says.

“No. No, after I’d finished being verbally assaulted by Weatherly, I called in a favor from a friend. She told me about the investigation. It was left open after Kane died, but for what it’s worth, it’s apparently fairly well known that the branch executives believe they have their answer.”

Lauren’s smile isn’t exactly friendly but Jared sees the concern there.

“Be very careful, Jared. Maybe before you proceed with Teague, you should find out whether he knew his agent was a double.”

Jared thinks of Jensen’s cool wariness, how hard he’s fought to keep Jared at a distance, how he’s still fighting, and he shakes his head. He doesn’t need to ask. He already knows the answer to that one. And for never having met the guy, Jared hates Kane a surprising amount.

Chapter 11

As far as Jared can tell, Katie’s smarter than her father gives her credit for. In fact, scratch that. Katie’s smarter than her father, period. Sure, Mark’s a very clever businessman, but it’s more about ruthlessness than brains. He’s just been lucky. Katie, though, has definite potential.

Jared’s had plenty of opportunity to get to know her better already. He’s had a lot of Katie’s attention, because he’s hot and young and new. With a great deal of tact and skill, he’s been able to steer their relationship to distinctly non-sexual territory. Leaving aside the complications that getting involved might entail, Katie’s cute but Jared’s unable to find anyone particularly attractive recently if they don’t have green eyes, freckles, or answer to the name ‘Jensen’.

Which kind of sucks.

Jared tackles the sucktasticness of the current state of affairs by being even more awesome at his job than usual. Not a single piece of data has gone into Cassidy’s offices or left it without Jared taking a copy. He’s done all of this while being a spectacular ‘junior office assistant’ and casually insinuating himself into Katie’s social life.

He’d feel like a dick for setting her up like this, but he’s pretty sure she’s aware of what her ex and her dad were up to and doesn’t approve anyway. He’s just giving her an option for her revenge.

And then, twelve days in to one of Jared’s least favorite assignments ever, (only marginally less awful than that time in the swamp, with a broken leg, and a deranged contract killer from the Russian mafia on his tail), Jared gets some truly good news.

The zip-disc of sensitive information Jared has accrued will be collected by Jensen. And not even in a dead drop. Jared will pass the disc directly to Jensen. Which, obviously, means that Jensen will be here. In touching distance.

The part of Jared’s brain that is not taken up with celebrating this momentous break to the tedium of the last few days, namely the part of his brain that deals with the unpleasantness his job sometimes entails and not the awesomeness, briefly analyses why Jensen should be putting in an appearance. After all, a dead drop would be standard operating procedure.

Jared’s not complaining, but yeah, he’s curious. And maybe a little unsettled.

~*~

When Jared leaves work - and God, but if nothing else, this assignment has taught him that he can totally put up with the constant threat of imminent death if it means that he never has to make coffee for obnoxious businessmen again - he takes the tram back to his apartment in order to change his clothes for tonight.

The whole journey home, he’s aware of two of Mark Cassidy’s guys following him. They were a constant presence the first week but Jared’s potential security risk has obviously been downgraded because they’re only around occasionally now. It doesn’t bother him; they’ve obviously got their own little system going on.

Jared’s looking forward to tonight, but not because Katie’s taking him out to a club with her friends. He’s looking forward to it because Jensen will be there. And whereas he’s still not exactly sure why he’s getting the personal treatment, any time he sees Jensen is good.

The club is all cool blue-silver lights and mirrors. It’s loud and packed, and Jared has to push his way across the dance-floor to find Katie and the others. He likes most of Katie’s friends on the whole. They’re bored, spoilt rich kids, but they’ve been decent to him and Jared doesn’t find it hard spending time with them.

He particularly likes Mike, but Mike is a breed apart from the others. Older, smarter and just a little psychotic. He’s a lot of fun to be around. The problem with Mike is that he’s almost certainly Coalition. It puts Jared on guard but he doesn’t think Mike’s made him. It’s kind of crazy how readily people accept a guy like Jared as being about as harmless as a puppy. He’d have issues about it if it didn’t make his job so damn easy.

“Jack!” Katie waves him over to her table. “C’mon, where the hell have you been?”

“Working late at the office,” says Jared with an apologetic grin. “Printer got jammed and I spent all afternoon tryin’ to catch up.”

“Well, now you have to catch up on shots. You’re way behind,” Mike says, and shoves a glass towards him of something fiercely purple.

“Looks awesome,” says Jared unconvincingly. He knocks it back, fakes a grimace that earns him a shit-eating smirk from Mike, and pushes the glass back towards him. “That was totally foul, dude. What the fuck was it?”

“That was just Katie’s choice. We haven’t got to mine yet.”

“Forget it, Mike,” says Katie. “You can call me whatever the hell you like - you’re not gonna get me to drink lighter fluid again.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Mike says, throwing an arm around Jared’s shoulder and tugging him in close. “There was barely any lighter fluid in it, and she wouldn’t have had to have her stomach pumped if she wasn’t so fucking delicate.”

“I’ve gotta be in work early tomorrow. I don’t think I’ve got time for a trip to Emergency,” Jared says hesitantly.

Mike isn’t listening. He’s still leaning in close to Jared but his gaze is on the metal staircase that leads down into the club. Jared follows his eyes and understands immediately.

Jensen isn’t dressed up special - just a white dress shirt and scuffed jeans - but washed over in the diamond light of the club, he’s too fucking pretty to be real. Jared feels a sudden rush of heat rush up his spine, something hard and hungry settling in his stomach. This is his. This weird, incomprehensible relationship with this neurotic, pretty bastard is his. It’s enough to knock the breath out of his lungs.

“You got time for that?” Mike says, glancing back at Jared with that same grin on his face.

There’s an openly appreciative look in Mike’s eyes that provokes a crazy little burst of possessiveness in Jared which somehow manages to surprise him, even though he knows this thing with Jensen is way past being a crush.

As Mike starts to stand, his gaze still on Jensen, Jared catches his wrist.

“Hey, just so you know, when he knocks you back, Imma show you how it’s done.” He tops it off with an obnoxiously charming grin that makes Mike laugh.

Mike pats him on the cheek and says, “Watch and learn, baby boy. Watch and learn.”

Jared watches, at the very least. What he learns is that Jensen being snarky and blank is actually kind of affectionate, considering how he treats people when he apparently doesn’t much like them. Mike lays a hand on Jensen’s forearm, and Jensen pointedly stares at the hand until Mike removes it. Mike says something with a grin, head cocked on one side, and Jensen pauses, takes a moment to answer, with an expression that can only be described as incredulous.

Jared finds this whole ‘watching and learning’ thing incredibly entertaining.

Whatever Jensen says, it’s not much. A few words, at most. Mike backs up a step, still grinning but hands raised in surrender. Jensen must be on pretty good form tonight, to shut Mike down so quick and with so little effort.

“That’s some of the most embarrassing Fail I’ve ever seen from Mike,” Katie says. “And I’ve seen him fail at a lot of stuff.”

“We’ve all gotta crash and burn some time,” Jared says. It’s very hard not to sound smug.

For anyone else, getting turned down so quick and so obviously, it might have been humiliating. Mike doesn’t work like that though. It’s impossible to humiliate Mike. He’s kind of awesome like that, and not for the first time, Jared hates the Coalition for getting to Mike before ISA could.

“All yours, buddy,” Mike says to him as he sits back down. “But I think he’s kinda crazy. He totally didn’t find me hot. Not even a little. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

Jared gives him as sympathetic a look as he can muster and then heads over in Jensen’s direction. Jensen is at the bar and Jared knows him well enough to recognize his determinedly impassive expression as one of him being on edge, and maybe a little pissed too. At least he looks relieved, for just a second, to see Jared.

Resting his hand briefly on the small of Jensen’s back, Jared leans up against the bar and grins at him.

“Hey, buy you a drink?”

“Can’t we just get out of here?” Jensen says.

“I like that you’re eager, sweetheart, but” Jared’s gaze flicks subtly towards Cassidy’s guys. “‘Fraid you’re gonna have to stick around a while and make it look like you’re into me.” He leans in to whisper in Jensen’s ear, and Jensen goes very still against him, barely breathing. “C’mon, it’s not that hard to pretend you like me, is it?”

“I like you,” Jensen says, his gaze still fixed carefully on the far wall.

He hasn’t even tried to move away from Jared and Jared would love to stay exactly where he is but he can’t risk Cassidy’s guys getting suspicious. Casually, he leans back against the bar. It feels cold without Jensen right there.

“You like me a lot,” Jared says.

Jensen smiles at him, and it’s absurdly fake, all done for the benefit of their audience, and Jared can’t help laughing at how sweet and friendly Jensen can be when he doesn’t mean it. It’s apparently all the answer he’s going to get.

“So, you wanna dance?” Jared tries.

Another of those flirtatious little smiles and Jared gets the message that Jensen doesn’t intend to help him out on any on this.

“C’mon, I’m a kickass dancer. Totally lethal.”

“That don’t sound good,” Jensen says, his smile warmer than his tone.

“How ‘bout a drink then? You think maybe if I get you drunk enough you’ll be a little friendlier?”

Jensen slides his hand into Jared’s back-pocket, palm pressed to the curve of Jared’s ass, and jerks him in close. He tilts his face up to Jared’s, lips slightly parted like he’s offering them to him, and his gaze meeting Jared’s almost defiantly. It’s nothing particularly indecent, nothing but a little bit of heavy flirting, but Jared’s breath gets stuck in his throat all the same.

“You don’t have to get me drunk, baby,” Jensen says, and Jared’s sure he hears the faintest twang of a Texan accent in there. “I’ll be real friendly to you cold sober.”

“Yeah?” says Jared, slow and soft. “Just how friendly we talking?”

Jensen’s immediate response is to grind his hips, hard and sharp, into Jared’s and Jared catches his breath before it can get away from him again. He’s really glad all that expensive training has taught him such awesome self-control.

“So friendly I think we should get outta here before I scandalize these nice folks,” Jensen says. He brushes his lips over Jared’s jaw, before whispering hotly in his ear. “You think they’re convinced I’m into you now? Can we please get outta here?”

Jared’s hand feels stupidly big on Jensen’s face as he gently forces Jensen to look him in the eye. Yeah, he was right: Jensen’s pissed at him. It doesn’t take a lot for Jared to reach the most likely conclusion and realize that Jensen’s been made aware that Jared was looking into his background. It sucks that Jensen’s not happy, but anyone who doesn’t make the same kind of enquiries deserves everything they get, in Jared’s opinion.

“You’re kind of manipulative,” he tells Jensen, without rancor. “It’s lucky I like you so much.”

With that, he loops his arm around Jensen’s waist and walks him out of the club, only pausing to throw a smirk back at Mike.

~*~

There’s a thin drizzle in the air and the sidewalk sounds sticky underfoot. The lights of the club shimmer in the puddles in the street, vibrating ever so faintly with the dull thud of the music. Overhead, the sky is thick and so darkly blue it’s almost black. The coolness of the night is a sudden shock to Jared’s heated skin.

He tucks Jensen in tight to his side, so that they can’t even walk without their hips moving together.

“We’ve still got company,” he says, while pretending to nuzzle Jensen’s temple.

“So let’s not fucking wait.”

It takes Jensen dragging Jared down the nearest dark alley for Jared to understand what the hell he meant by that and then he wonders how it didn’t occur to him first.

He pushes Jensen back against the damp wall and holds him there, one hand on his hip, the other on his shoulder, while he kisses him. He kisses him hard, mouth moving over Jensen’s lips and cheeks and neck, biting, sucking, licking, grazing his teeth roughly over Jensen’s skin. Jensen tastes sweet and strong, cherries and whiskey, and Jared wonders what kind of crap he was drinking. He tries to lick the taste out of Jensen’s mouth, until Jensen’s struggling against him, trying in vain to get free.

Breath coming ragged, Jared draws back long enough to look at Jensen, to see what the fucking cockblocking problem is now. And it’s fine, it’s fine if Jensen wants to tell him to stop, because Jared will, Jared’s not so far out of it that he can’t stop himself, but if Jensen needs him to stop, it needs to be now, it has to be now because his control is slipping.

Jensen’s eyes are almost luminous in the filtered glow of the nearby streetlight. His mouth looks fucking obscene and, mindlessly, Jared almost ducks back in to resume kissing him.

And when Jared realizes that the problem is only that Jensen wants more kissing, wants to be kissing Jared as much as Jared’s kissing him, it’s awesome. It’s totally fucking awesome because it means Jared doesn’t have to worry about his goddamn head exploding by trying to rein himself in. Instead, he just takes Jensen’s wrists in his hand, hauls them up above Jensen’s head, and slams him back into the wall for more kissing.

Cassidy’s two guys are waiting at the mouth of the alleyway. They’re pretending to chat. One of them’s smoking, the other’s simply hanging around with him. They’re watching. Jared spares them just enough attention to be sure they’re not an immediate threat.

He knows he’s pretty much dry-fucking Jensen, hips bucking and rutting frantically into the kicked-apart spread of Jensen’s legs. His cock’s stiff and sticky-wet against his jeans, so hard it reduces his thought processes to the single desire to fuck, but his hands are taken up with holding Jensen against the wall. It could all be arranged better for Jared to get off - Jensen could be arranged better for Jared to get off.

With one last fierce kiss to Jensen’s mouth - more of a bite than a kiss, teeth worrying the swollen fullness of Jensen’s lower lip - Jared keeps one of Jensen’s hands stretched up above his head but guides the other to his belt.

“You’re gonna get me off, baby. ‘Kay? Gonna do that for me?”

Jared’s voice sounds hoarse, fucked to hell and back, but Jensen gets it, nods, and tugs with clumsy fingers at Jared’s buckle. While Jensen is concentrating on that, Jared lets Jensen’s other hand free, and he allows himself to be gentle. He works back over the marks he’s left on Jensen’s skin, soothing them with his tongue, before he nuzzles into the crook of Jensen’s neck and kisses the freckles he finds. Jensen feels right, crowded up against the wall, pinned there by Jared’s body. He feels right with Jared, period.

“Jar- Jack,” Jensen says. Jared’s kind of hypnotized by the elaborate shape of Jensen’s mouth as he forms the name. It takes him a second to remember that that’s him.

He helps Jensen shove his jeans down his legs, wraps his fingers around Jensen’s wrist as Jensen works Jared’s cock free from his shorts. A soft, almost hurt-sounding noise slips past Jensen’s kiss-bruised lips as he starts jacking Jared.

His hand moves slow and deliberate up and down the length of him, breaking rhythm long enough to smear his fingertips through the precome gathered up the head. Jared’s mouth drops open, no sound coming out, as Jensen brings his fingers up to his lips to taste Jared on his skin. The look on his face is wondering curiosity, all long lowered lashes and sweep of his tongue.

Instantly snapping into action, Jared jerks Jensen’s fly open, scratching his hand on the zipper as he moves so fast. Jensen’s rhythm falters again for just a second as Jared pulls his dick free from his underwear. He pushes their hips together so he can wrap his hand around them both, fingers entwining messily with Jensen’s. Jensen moans, eyes screwed shut and his spine arching.

It’s weird, but Jared doesn’t like that Cassidy’s guys are seeing Jensen like this. He doesn’t want to share this, and certainly not with anyone even remotely connected to the Coalition. Jensen’s been screwed over by them enough. So he leans in, puts his mouth to Jensen’s and kisses every hitched breath and whimper straight off his lips.

The sound of him jacking their cocks is slippery and slick, harsh in the muted hush of the alleyway. Jensen’s fingers are claws at Jared’s shoulder. He clings onto Jared, kisses him whenever he can gather his senses enough to manage it.

Jared can tell when Jensen’s just about to come because he bucks so damn hard he almost throws Jared off. His grip on Jared’s shoulder tightens painfully and the bullet wound from months ago twinges, reminding Jared of the first time he realized what lay beneath Jensen’s cool, collected exterior.

When Jensen comes, hot and messy over both their hands, he mumbles something almost entirely incoherent. Not entirely incoherent. Love. Jared’s pretty damn certain he heard it. It doesn’t mean anything. People say all kinds of crazy shit when they come. Orgasms kind of disconnect the brain from the body, Jared read that somewhere, he thinks.

Cassidy’s guys are still fucking watching, moments later, when Jared comes.

~*~

Afterwards, in the midst of hurried, clumsy kissing and touching and petting, Jensen palms Jared a bug disguised as a paperclip for Cassidy’s office. It explains why Jensen’s here in person, at least. Once he’s taken the zip-disc from Jared, Jensen pushes him back a step and tries to tidy himself up.

Under the pretence of moving back in for another kiss, Jared leans closer and lowers his voice to a whisper.

“I know why you’re mad at me. But you can’t keep secrets from me. It ain’t healthy and it won’t work. I had to know.”

Jensen turns his face away sharply.

“You’re coming in halfway through the movie, buddy. You know precisely jack-shit.”

Against his instinct, Jared lets him go when Jensen jerks free. He watches him leave the alley, watches to make sure he doesn’t get hassled by Cassidy’s guys, and then wonders if he’s too professional to go back into the club and let Mike get him drunk.

It totally sucks that he is.

Chapter 12

Something is wrong. Jared gets called in by ISA in the middle of the night. As he’s led through the building, he passes Jensen, looking pale and tense, being escorted by two officers Jared recognizes as being from Security. They make eye contact for a second as they pass but don’t acknowledge each other beyond that.

Jared’s taken in to see Weatherly, the youngest of the branch executives and the only one he hasn’t met so far. It’s going to be about Lauren checking up on Jensen, of course. If the branch executives weren’t smart enough to figure out that Jared’s ex-handler investigating Jared’s current handler might somehow involve Jared, then it would be more than just a little worrying.

Weatherly gestures Jared to a seat while he finishes up his call. Jared thinks about declining to sit. Maybe looming a little over Weatherly will properly express how not happy he is about the current situation. On the other hand, if Jensen’s been dragged into this, then maybe Jared should not make things any worse. Jared sits down and waits.

Eventually, Weatherly sets the phone down and gives Jared his full attention. Jared meets his tight-lipped scrutiny with an amiable smile.

“We need to security screen you again,” Weatherly says, and Jared kind of appreciates the directness, even if he’s not looking forward to the prodding and interrogation security screening involves.

“How come?”

Weatherly pauses, moves some papers on his desk, then looks back at Jared. “Teague is an exceptional agent. However, as I’m sure Cohan discovered and has passed onto you, he also screwed up big-time with Kane.”

“His record was clean,” Jared objects mildly.

“There was nothing formal. He was fairly inexperienced and Kane got us all pretty damn good. But we’re not taking any chances, not with an agent of your caliber.” Weatherly shrugs and adds, “We’re aware of your relationship. It complicates things and we’ve gotta be sure both of you are clean.”

“Oh don’t worry, we’re using protection,” Jared says.

Weatherly pauses again, his expression turning fixed, before he smiles tightly at Jared.

“That’s funny. I’m glad you find this funny, wouldn’t want you taking international security too seriously. Could be a real downer. I mean, c’mon, we had a whole team of agents wiped out in Tehran, a handler from Vancouver’s gone missing, probably dead, we’re chasing down a Coalition bug on our servers that’s filtering off some pretty sensitive information all pretty depressing stuff, so it’s great you’ve kept your sense of humor.”

“Wow! I had no idea this job I’ve been doing for you was so damn dangerous!” Jared pauses, evens out his tone. “Look, screen me, screen Jensen. Do whatever it takes to satisfy yourself that we’re not the problem. Then let me get back to doing my job.”

Weatherly sits back abruptly in his chair. He really doesn’t like Jared, it’s written all over his face. Which is not great, obviously, because Jared has enough people who don’t like him. Only thing that makes it a little easier to bear is that Jared really doesn’t like Weatherly. They’re even, at least.

~*~

They strap Jared into the chair in a small room with a single overhead light. It seriously fucks with Jared’s calm. Jared believes Jensen when he says there’s someone in ISA who wants him dead, and being restrained like this, hooked up to machines monitoring his pulse, brain activity and numerous other physical responses - yeah, it’s not easy for Jared to cooperate.

After a few moments - which Jared occupies by testing the strength of his restraints - an older guy with facial hair and small, dark eyes enters the room. He claps Jared reassuringly on the shoulder and takes his seat by the computers.

“Hey, kid, I’m Denvers. I’ve just got through talking to your friend, and now it’s your turn.” He flicks Jared a glance while he sets up something up. “I’m sure you’ve been screened plenty a’ times by now. Just bear with me. We’ll get through this nice and smooth.”

“That’s an awesome bedside manner you got there,” says Jared, angling a smile at Denvers as best he can from the position they’ve got him strapped in to.

Denvers laughs and then straightens up a little.

“Okay, son. Let’s get this done.”

~*~

“What’s your name?”

“Jared.”

“Last name?”

“I don’t think your security clearance goes high enough.”

“Okay. Commonly used?”

“Forrester.”

“How long have you been working with ISA?”

“Five months.”

“Tell me about your relationship with Jensen Teague.”

“He’s my handler.”

“Nothing more to it?”

“C’mon, man, you know there is. I don’t I don’t know how to describe it. You’ve met the guy, he give you a straight answer even once?”

“Okay, let me make it easier for you. Is your relationship solely professional?”

“No.”

“Has he attempted to recruit you for the Coalition?”

“No.”

“Have you attempted to recruit him for the Coalition?”

“No.”

“Are you affiliated with the Coalition in any way?”

“No.”

“Do you know Michael Rosenbaum?”

Jared pauses again. “Yes.”

“Tell me how you know him.”

“He was a friend of a potential ISA asset. I met him while on assignment.”

“Did he attempt to recruit you for the Coalition?”

“No.”

“Have you attempted to access restricted ISA files?”

“Uh no. Not directly.”

“Indirectly?”

“Yes.”

“For what purpose?”

“To find out more about Jensen.”

“Why?”

“Because I was curious about him.”

“Why?”

“Because-” Jared breaks off. He frowns. “Because I didn’t want to go any further in any kind of relationship with him until I knew more about him.”

“Why?”

“Has your vocab dropped to that single question, man? I wanted to make sure I wasn’t getting myself into some kind of trouble by getting involved with him, all right?”

“Okay, let me put it simply: do you trust Teague?”

“As much as I trust anyone. Maybe a little more.”

“Tell me how you feel about Teague.”

“Is this a security screening or a therapy session? Because, seriously, I’m getting confused here. What does how I feel about him have anything to do with whether I’m secretly a Coalition agent?”

“Please just answer the question. How do you feel about Teague?”

Jared gives an exasperated shrug.

“He drives me absolutely insane. No, I think he’s insane. He’s gorgeous and smart and frustrating and sometimes I want to punch him and keep punching him until he stops bullshitting me.”

“Are you in love with him?”

Jared strains as best he can to shoot Denvers an incredulous frown.

“Really? I mean really? You wanna talk about whether I love him or not? Maybe you should have a little chat with Weatherly because he’s very big on people taking things seriously and I don’t think us talking about my love-life counts as such.”

“If you don’t answer the question I have to mark you as uncooperative. Which means we’d have to consider using a truth serum. None of us wants that. Please just answer the question.”

“Am I in love with him?” Jared considers the question very carefully. “No.”

There’s a long pause. Denvers looks up from the computer screens, over at Jared, and raises his eyebrows. Jared feels his face color and he doesn’t know why and he doesn’t like it.

“Moving on,” says Denvers. “Let’s go back to you investigating Teague. What did you discover?”

“One of Jensen’s previous agents was suspected of being a double.”

“Which agent?”

“Christian Kane.”

“Have you and Jensen discussed Christian Kane?”

“Yes.”

“What did Jensen say about him?”

“That he was murdered by the Coalition.”

“Had you ever heard of Christian Kane previously?”

“Not before I came to work at ISA, no.”

“Last few questions, Jared. We’re almost there. Right, do you believe Jensen is a Coalition agent?”

“No.”

“Are you a Coalition agent?”

“No.”

“Is there anyone in particular at ISA that you have reason to believe is working for the Coalition?”

“No one in particular, no.”

“Okay. Great. I’ll let you loose and Weatherly will get my report in an hour or so.”

~*~

As he’s still technically under investigation, Jared has to sit and wait in a room by himself. They don’t go so far as to put a guard at the door - ‘cause Jared’s awesome and that’d be like a red rag to a bull to prove how awesome he is - but he’s not invited to stretch his legs or anything. He sinks down in his chair, puts his feet up on the table, and tries to catch up on some sleep.

He must get some sleep because the next thing he knows, Weatherly’s in the room. Jared blinks and wipes his hand over his face. He sits up a little in his chair.

Weatherly doesn’t look happy.

“It goes against handler-agent protocol for you two to get involved, but I’m sure you both already knew that. I’m sure you also both know how stupid it is but are just too fucking horny to give a damn.” Weatherly leans forward over the table. Jared regards his scowl sleepily. “Let me be straight, if it were up to me, you’d have a different handler and we’d lose Teague out in Alaska.”

“Yeah?” says Jared mildly. “That’s real interesting. But seeing as I’m guessing it’s not up to you, it’s not exactly relevant.” Jared stands up, shoving the table back towards Weatherly. “So can I go? You finished your little witch-hunt for now? Should I expect a re-run next week?”

Weatherly regards him with open hostility in his gaze. Then he nods sharply.

“You can go. For now.”

~*~

It’s not quite dawn when Jared drives out to meet Jensen. Jensen’s sitting on the hood of his car, parked outside the power station at the edge of the city. His shoulders are hunched up around his ears and he’s drawn his knees up to his chest. He looks wrecked.

Jensen’s chosen meeting point gives Jared the faintest hope that he might be about to get some straight talk out of Jensen. The power station will provide decent cover noise for conversation and fry most standard listening devices. It’s as close to confidential as can be arranged at short notice.

The yellow-lilac light of approaching dawn creeps over the dusty wasteland, turning it beautiful, magical. It feels like there’s no one for miles, just them and the hum of the power station.

As Jared parks, Jensen slips to his feet, hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets, and walks to meet him.

“They cleared you then,” he says.

“Either that or they think they’re giving me enough rope to hang myself,” Jared says with a shrug.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Jensen looks away, shaking his head. He sighs heavily and rubs his fingertips distractedly over his mouth.

He’s being worn down. This life is wearing him down every single day he lives it. Jared sees it clearly for the first time. It’s terrifying, too horrible to think of how gradually the young, fresh kid who’d been screwed over by his agent has become this guy.

“Denvers asked if I was in love with you,” Jared blurts out. “I said no. He thought I was lying. Did he ask you?”

“Yeah, he asked.”

“And?” Jared prompts after a moment’s silence.

Jensen sighs again and takes a few aimless steps away, staring at the ground. He kicks a pebble, sends it skittering towards the chain link fence. Scraping his fingers through his hair, he angles a look back at Jared.

“Do you understand what happened tonight? Do you know why they hauled us both in?”

“Because Weatherly’s a prick?”

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Jensen’s lips.

“Because they heard some rumors about you and me. And because the last agent I got emotionally involved with was Chris.”

“And he turned out to be a double agent,” Jared finishes, ugly comprehension sinking it. “And they wanted to know if I was following up on any work he’d done on you.”

Jensen’s smile is gone in an instant. Something ugly tightens his lips and he shakes his head. Jared takes a step towards him, stops before he reaches him because he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know why someone who betrayed Jensen still has such a hold on him, and he hates that whispering suspicion that tells him why. Jensen’s even admitted he was emotionally involved with Kane.

“You were in love with him,” he says, unable to help the bitterness in his voice.

Jensen shakes his head again.

“Not like that. He was my best friend.” He swallows hard, a hitch in his breath. “Chris was brave and loyal and I trusted him with my life. And he was not a double agent.”

“Jensen-” Jared starts, heartsick and desperately wishing Kane weren’t dead so he could fucking kill him all over again. But when Jared reaches for him, Jensen jerks away.

“No! That’s not wishful thinking, Jared. That’s fact. Chris was not a double agent.”

Jensen turns to face Jared, shoulders drawn back, violence dark in his eyes.

“You wanna know why he’s dead?” he says. “He’s dead because he inadvertently let the double in ISA think he knew their identity. Which made him a threat. So they murdered him.”

Jensen steps in close and lays his hand on Jared’s cheek. His touch is light, like he’s trying not to leave even the faintest of marks.

“Please, Jared. You’ve got stay out of this. They’ll kill you if you don’t.”

“No,” Jared says. “They’ll try.”

Chapter 13

A whole four days pass without so much as a word from ISA. Jared doesn’t know if he’s in disgrace or if they’re just mulling over their options or what. He’s just grateful for the rest, even if he spends a lot of his downtime thumbing over his cell phone, wondering whether he should call Jensen or not. He sleeps, eats, works out, watches whatever crap he can find on TV.

It’s a good thing he makes the most of getting to spend a few days as a normal guy because, within hours of getting the call, Jared finds himself planning to do things normal guys just don’t - for example, stealing the core of a thermonuclear device before it can be sold into the hands of a terrorist agency.

“Glazkov isn’t Coalition, doesn’t have any particular sympathy for their aims and objectives,” Jensen says. “But he does do a lot of business with them. And according to intelligence, the shipment he’s sending them tonight includes a warhead stolen from the French government.”

“Wow, that’s a pretty hardcore toy for the Coalition to play with,” Jared says.

“Which is why they won’t get to play with it. You’ll infiltrate Glazkov’s warehouse at the docks before he can ship out and remove the core of the warhead. At the very least, the Coalition doesn’t get its hands on nuclear weaponry. If we’re lucky, it sours the relationship with Glazkov and the Coalition loses an arms dealer.”

While Jared scans over the map of the docks, analyzing the route Jensen has planned out for him, Jensen sits quietly and waits. His silence is unnerving and after a few moments, Jared glances up at him, just to make sure he’s still in the room. Jensen offers him a smile.

“You were right, by the way,” Jared says. “About Tehran. Sounds like it was a fucking disaster.”

Jensen nods, then stops abruptly and raises an eyebrow at Jared. “Who told you that?”

It’s sharply said and Jared grins to himself because it’d be about right for his luck if he somehow got Jensen wondering about his loyalty.

“Weatherly. Gave me a little rant about his woes. Team wiped out in Tehran, handler gone missing from Vancouver, Coalition bug on the servers, and he’s a total fucking prick too. Sucks to be him.”

The tension visibly draining from him, Jensen nods.

“It’s my fault Weatherly doesn’t like you. After Chris died, Weatherly wanted me gone. Risk management, y’know? But the other executives wanted to hang onto me. Said I’d be more valuable for having experience with a double agent.” Jensen’s smile is bitter.

His eyes meet Jared’s for a second and Jared feels like he has no idea who he’s looking at. It’s that guy who cuts off people’s fingers, whose hands look at home on a gun. It’s that guy who’s cold and lethal and full of secrets. Jared doesn’t know that guy, doesn’t want to. For that second, Jared’s never been so fucking thankful he was never stupid enough to turn traitor.

Then it’s Jensen again, self-contained and coolly professional and too pretty to be dangerous, and Jared’s crazy enough that he can’t resist pushing, just a little, just to see if he gets that other guy back.

“You’ve gotta have an idea who the double is, man. C’mon, if Chris got them believing he know who they were, you’ve gotta have some idea who he’d have talked to.”

It looks, at first, like he might get an answer. Jensen opens his mouth to speak and Jared leans forward instinctively. Then Jensen shakes his head and fixes his gaze on a point just a little to the left of Jared’s head.

“I’m going for plausible deniability with you, buddy. I’m not saying a damn word that you could use to get yourself killed. Been there, done that, didn’t much like it.”

~*~

Exactly eight minutes were allowed for Jared to get in to the warehouse, remove the core, and get out again. Jared is three minutes through and in the middle of deactivating security on the warhead’s crate when something goes very wrong.

“Shit!” says Jensen, his voice harsh in Jared’s ear. “Someone’s tripped a burglar alarm in your area. Cops are coming. You’re gonna have company, and fast.”

As if on cue, the wail of a police siren rises up, and as it grows louder the level of activity in the docks spikes suddenly. Glazkov’s people are moving, abandoning their routines and coming to secure their shipment of highly illegal weapons. In short, they’re closing in on Jared.

“Sasquatch, abort. I repeat, abort and exit.”

Jared hesitates for just a second - just a second spent on wondering whether he can really afford to abort an assignment that involves the Coalition getting nuclear weapons - and he pays the price. He takes a blow to the back of the head that knocks him to his knees. Blackness sweeps in at the edge of his vision and he passes out, Jensen’s voice still calling for him.

~*~

The way they’ve got him tied up tells him they’re not taking any chances. Jared’s tied to the chair, hand and ankle, so tight he’s losing circulation. His head is pounding and his hair is sticking to the back of his neck so he guesses he’s been bleeding.

Just like he’s been trained, Jared takes a second to properly take in every detail about his situation that he can. There’s the huge, hollow thrum of an engine going through the walls, which, combined with the subtle lurching of the floor, clues Jared in that he’s on a ship. There are two men in the dark, dank room with him. They’re both holding semi-automatics on him in well-practiced grips.

Jared wets his lips and gives them both a friendly smile.

“Look, no offence to you peons, but can I talk to the management?”

A long pause and then one of the peons mutters He’s awake into the radio clipped at his collar. It doesn’t take long for the rattle of footfall on metal to sound outside the door. A whole fucking entourage of more peons accompanies the arrival of ‘the management’, who turns out to be a good-looking woman in her late thirties with honey-brown hair and brown eyes.

“Good to see you awake, honey,” she says, her accent giving her away immediately as American. “Thought you were gonna sleep the whole way.”

“Nothing like something heavy to the head to put me out good,” Jared says. “‘Cept maybe the hot milk my momma used to give me before bed. Or whiskey, ‘cause, y’know, you give me enough whiskey and I’ll sleep right through ‘til midday.”

She studies him a while, her smile fixed on her face, then she takes a step closer and tilts his face up to hers. Jared grins charmingly.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” she says.

“Anything you want it to be, baby.”

She backhands him so hard he thinks the chair might go over. His lip pulses hotly as it splits and the pounding in his head goes up a few decibels. Jared waits for his headache to become a little more manageable and then looks back at her, grins even though it splits his lip wider.

“Who are you working for?” she says. “Who sent you here?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jared tells her sweetly.

He expects the backhand this time and braces for it. It still fucking hurts.

“Honey, I already know you’re working for ISA. I know you’re here for the warhead. So let’s get on to the exciting stuff, ‘kay? What’s ISA’s trade-off with Nguyen? What’s she offering?”

Jared laughs and shrugs.

“I don’t have the first fucking clue what you’re talking about, lady.”

“Really? ‘Cause people lie about that kind of thing all the time.”

“No, ma’am. I don’t lie. My momma brought me up right.”

She cocks her head at him and spreads her hands helplessly. With a flick of her finger, two of the peons move forward. The first punch catches Jared on the cheekbone, snapping his neck backwards, and his face is still on fire with the pain of it when the second guy punches him. There’s nothing he can do to avoid the blows, or even minimize the force of them.

“What is Nguyen offering ISA? And what are they offering in return?”

Jared directs a distinctly hateful glare at her and doesn’t say a word.

The next punch is to his stomach and it drives the air out of his lungs so fast it’s like being hit by a truck. He gasps for breath, feeling like he might vomit, and then feels like he might pass out when the next punch lands on his solar plexus.

“I’m going to keep asking until you give me an answer,” she says. “What is Nguyen offering ISA?”

“Fuck you.”

When they haul him up out of the chair, Jared tries to jerk free. He manages to shake them off but just for a moment. They’re too many of them, and maybe if he hadn’t just had some guys trying to turn his face to shredded meat, he could think about taking them. But they’re on him again in seconds, untying his ropes just long enough to hog-tie him. Jared’s fingers strain for something to catch on to, a weapon of some kind, something sharp, anything at all he can use.

She moves to stand over him and Jared focuses on her ankle. He won’t meet her eyes and distracts himself with thoughts of biting her, sinking his teeth in so deep they’d have to put a bullet in his head before they could get him off.

“C’mon, darling. I don’t enjoy letting my boys beat up on you. Just tell me what I want to know and I can let you go.”

Right there, just above the ankle bone, that’s where Jared’d bite. He’d take a fucking chunk out her.

From the second the first kick catches him - right on the hip, so hard it jars his spine - Jared concentrates on curling in on himself as best he can. He makes himself as small a target as possible for them but they close in tight around him and Jared can only focus on protecting his head, on trying to make it out alive somehow. He can’t protect his stomach, gets lifted almost clear off the ground with the force of the first kick there. He can’t protect his spine and prays that he’ll still be able to walk out of here.

Each kick hurts more than the one before and Jared’s whole body feels like it’s being reduced to hot, twitching flesh. There’s blood on his eyes, thick in his nose, bitter and sickly in his mouth, and there’s a dull roar of pain in his skull.

Someone stamps on his knee and, dimly, Jared calculates how likely it is they’ve shattered his kneecap. It’s time to dismiss the possibility of him walking out here altogether. He’ll be crawling, if he’s lucky. There’s pressure on his throat, the hard tip of a boot cutting off breath, and Jared’s almost grateful for the narrow focus of torment it provides. He can’t concentrate on getting his internal organs kicked to slop if he can’t even breathe.

He doesn’t think he can hang onto consciousness long.

He doesn’t have to.

“Stop,” she says.

Jared sucks in a hollow gasp of breath as the beating instantly stops. He mouths helplessly at the cold, filthy floor, trying to spit out the blood filling his mouth, or at least swallow it down. His body feels boneless, misshapen, an endless throbbing of pain. Things are broken inside of him.

“And where did you spring from, darling?”

Jared doesn’t understand the question. They got him at the warehouse. How can she not know that? With immense effort, he manages to peer up at her through the blood and sweat-damp hair in his eyes.

She’s got Jensen. His hands are tied behind his back and there’s a fresh bruise on his cheek but other than that he’s unharmed. But she’s got Jensen. Jared’d rather be kicked around by these guys for a day straight than have Jensen here.

“He came after us in a speedboat,” one of the peons says. He jerks his head in Jared’s direction. “Figure he’s here for him.”

The woman glances between Jared and Jensen, her face lighting up, and Jared’s got a hundred denials all ready to go, he’ll swear blind he’s never laid eyes on Jensen before, that Jensen’s not part of this, but he doesn’t get chance to use any of them.

“I’m his handler,” Jensen says.

“Lying don’t lis’n to him,” Jared chokes out.

“Oh well that’s sweet,” the woman says. “You got a name, honey?”

“Jason,” Jensen says. “I’m guessing you’re Sam.”

There’s a long silence while she scrutinizes Jensen with that static smile. Then she nods, looking suitably impressed.

“Smart boy. Yeah, I’m Sam. How’d you know?”

“I know a lot of things. More than him.”

Jesuschrist - Jared sees where this is going, and he can’t let it. Can’t let this happen. Mindlessly, he starts shaking his head, trying his force himself up onto his knees, so they’ll fucking listen to him! But his goddamn body won’t cooperate and Jensen won’t even so much as glance in his direction.

“I’m his handler, I’m his superior officer. I’m the one with access to information and I’m willing to make a deal.”

Sam looks amused and delighted by the turn of events. She’s standing back, watching both of them with her lip caught between her teeth. Then she cocks her head at Jensen.

“Just outta curiosity, Jason, let me hear your deal.”

Jared tries to protest, words a thick gurgle, but at a flick of the hand from Sam one of the peons clamps his hand over Jared’s mouth. All Jared can do then is try to breathe.

“Put him off the boat, alive. We’re close enough to dry land you can put him in a boat and just shove him towards it. Then I’ll answer any questions you have.”

Sam laughs and shakes her head.

“Or I could just carry on letting my boys kick the shit out of him until you’ve told me what I wanted to know,” she says.

“I’d have no reason to cooperate. I couldn’t trust you to leave him alive once you had your information.”

“And your plan, which is self-sacrificing to a really crazy degree, is totally trustworthy? I don’t think so, sugar.”

A flicker of frustration shows on Jensen’s face just briefly before it’s smoothed away. He rolls his shoulders, straightens up, and somehow manages to hang on to that calm, level tone of voice that Jared’s heard every single time he’s screwed around in briefings.

“He’s more valuable to the agency than I am. And I’m hoping to avoid any self-sacrifice. I’m gambling on the chance that ISA will be able to get to me before you kill me.”

Sam leans in, her cheek almost brushing Jensen’s. He keeps his gaze fixed ahead of him, away from her and away from Jared.

“And what if we kill you real fast?”

“You won’t. Like I said, I know plenty. I guarantee I’ll still be telling you all kinds of things you want to know by the time ISA makes its move.” He turns his head just enough to look her in the eye. “And you won’t hear one more damn word from me until he’s put in a boat and sent ashore.”

~*~

It’s morning and the sea is calm and Jensen stands on deck with Sam and the others, watching, as Jared is bundled into a lifeboat and set adrift.

The sky is painfully blue overhead. The boat rocks him gently.

Jared watches the cruiser move away and then gingerly turns his head until he can see land. Not far at all.

Okay. Good. Not going to panic. Totally not going to panic.

Jared takes the cell phone he’d lifted from one of Sam’s guys as they’d thrown him in the boat, flips it open and tries not to cackle in hysterical glee as it instantly pops up with full reception. His fingers feel clumsy but he dials in the number with extreme care.

He’s totally not going to panic.

Chapter 14

Obviously the six times Jared has already said it, he hasn’t been clear enough, because Glover, O’Toole and Schneider are still just sitting there. So Jared says it again, very slowly and enunciating each word perfectly.

“We need to track down that ship, because they have Jensen on it, and they’re going to kill him.”

“Do you want to sit down?” O’Toole says.

They none of them look able to relax entirely when Jared is pacing (okay, hobbling) up and down the room, just a little on edge, with his whole body feeling like it’s at wrong angles. Which is good. He doesn’t want them to relax. No one is relaxing until they’ve got Jensen back.

“No,” he says. “I don’t want to sit down. I want I want a helicopter, and a gun, a couple of guns, and, yeah, maybe some explosives too. Yeah, and I want a back-up team too. And those guys should all have guns and explosives too.” They carry on watching him and Jared struggles to make himself understood before he goes completely insane. “I want all of this in, like, the next five minutes. Please.”

O’Toole and Schneider share a look, then both look to Glover, who is watching Jared like he’s doing a risk assessment on Jared. Finally, O’Toole leans forward a little. Her expression is sympathetic, and that right there makes Jared’s heart beat too fast, which is fucking painful considering he thinks he might have at least one cracked rib.

“Handlers aren’t trained for the kind of situation Jensen has put himself in to,” she says. “They’re a liability in situations like this. I need you to understand that he may already be dead and by sending people in after him, we’re putting them at risk.”

“You don’t ever call him a liability again,” Jared says, and his tone makes Schneider’s hand twitch towards the gun beneath his jacket.

“We’re not ruling out a recovery mission but we can’t rush in to anything,” O’Toole says.

“He’s counting on us to get to him before they can kill him. Time is a very much an issue here, in as much as we don’t fucking have any!”

Jared doesn’t mean to shout, he really doesn’t, but they’re not doing anything and they’ve got the whole compound he’s in locked down so tight he’s not getting out without some serious bloodshed. And he doesn’t want to be pushed into killing ISA agents, but he will if they don’t do something about Jensen. He will.

His mouth is as dry as high summer and Jared wets his lips but it doesn’t do any good. Each individual ache in his body is making itself known to him and Jared wants to rest, but he can’t, not while they still have Jensen. He’s dizzy and thirsty and this whole thing is taking on the surreal aspect of a damn nightmare.

“Pull up your shirt, Forrester,” Glover says.

Jared blinks at the non sequitur. Glover gives him an irritable little look when Jared doesn’t immediately comply, and then repeats the order, this time with a flick of his fingers.

“Pull up your shirt.”

“You want a fucking striptease before you go in for Jensen?” Jared snaps, but he hooks the hem of his shirt up all the same, baring his red-purple bruise-mottled chest and belly. “That enough or you want me to lose the pants too?”

“If I’m not mistaken you have internal bleeding,” Glover says. “It could be very serious. You need medical attention.”

“Once we get Jensen back,” Jared snaps. He knows internal bleeding is serious but it’s not nearly as serious as Jensen being on that ship.

There’s another look between O’Toole and Schneider and it’s twenty whole minutes since they picked him up which means it’s twenty minutes since Sam and her boys got their hands on Jensen and Jared can’t let it reach twenty-one minutes without someone doing something.

“Exactly what piece of information was Ferris looking for?” Schneider says.

They’ve asked Jared that three goddamn times now. The next one of them who asks him, he thinks he might rip their fucking head off their shoulders with his bare hands and use it to batter the other two to death.

As calmly as he can manage, Jared says, “She asked what the trade-off was between Nguyen and ISA, what Nguyen was offering.”

“And you said you didn’t know?” Schneider says.

“Yes. Because I don’t.”

“And Teague arranged to tell Ferris in return for your life?” Schneider says, and his tone is level and his expression is almost avuncular but Jared is not totally not paranoid about hearing the guilt-trip inherent in the question. And it’s stupid trying to make Jared feel guilty because he’s all over that already.

“Yes,” Jared says.

Yet another look between them, this time even including Glover. O’Toole and Schneider both give a tiny shake of their heads then Glover looks back at Jared.

“Teague doesn’t have that information,” he tells Jared bluntly. It’s like being punched.

At Jared’s incredulous look, Schneider says, his tone almost gentle, “He lied to get you off the ship.”

“Yeah,” Jared breathes out. “I get it.”

The room is spinning and Jared’s stomach gives a threatening lurch. Something cold slips down Jared’s spine. The one piece of information that Sam wants, that Jensen said he could give her he doesn’t have. Jared bows his head because it’s twenty-one whole minutes since they picked him up and ISA’s done nothing and Jensen’s already dead.

“There’s a good chance Ferris will try to sell Teague on to the Coalition to be traded back to us for one of their agents,” O’Toole says and the sympathy in her voice makes Jared’s stomach twist even tighter. He is, he’s gonna be sick.

“We can put word out to Coalition go-betweens that we’re willing to consider a trade,” Schneider says. “But all that’s supposing Ferris hasn’t already killed Teague. I’m sorry, kid, but it doesn’t look good.”

“You know what? Fuck this,” Jared says. “I’ll get him myself. Unlock the fucking doors and I’ll be on my way.”

“No,” says Glover, “you won’t. You need medical attention. However,” he adds quickly, as Jared turns to him with murder in his eyes, “if you agree to cooperate then we’ll organize a team and go in for Teague immediately. But I need your decision in the next ten seconds.”

O’Toole and Schneider both straighten right up in their chairs, shocked and unsure, but Glover’s attention is fixed solely on Jared.

“You promise?” Jared says.

Promises means nothing, he knows that. People have promised him a million and one things and he’s never been surprised when they don’t deliver. But there’s nothing he can do but hope right now. A promise is all he can ask for.

“I give you my word,” Glover says.

“If you don’t get him back, you’re the one I’m gonna be looking for for answers,” Jared says, because promises are great, but a promise backed up with a threat is better.

Glover just smiles.

~*~

In his long and brilliant career, Jared has been tortured by lots of people. If it weren’t a really weird thing to be proud of, Jared would brag about the number of new and innovative methods of torture people have tried out on him.

Not a single one of those techniques measure up to handing himself over to the medical team while the branch executives disappear to put a plan together. Nothing else hurts quite like knowing he can’t do a damn thing, that he has to leave it all to them.

“We’re going in,” Schneider says when he reappears a little later. He’s suited up and he grins at Jared’s confused expression. “You want your boy back so bad, I thought I’d go along with the team myself, make sure it gets done right.”

It’d be a nice gesture if Jared didn’t immediately detect some subtext there.

“Glover gave me his word,” he says, to see what effect it has on Schneider.

It gets him a slight darkening of Schneider’s expression, a tightening of the jaw and a narrowing of the eyes. Jared files this away for future contemplation. Nice to know Jensen’s not the only seriously paranoid bastard in ISA.

“I gotta say though, kid, once we get Teague back, we’re going to have to seriously consider your future together. It’s a long while since Teague was this much trouble and I don’t think any of us want to go back to those days.”

Schneider might have been about to say more but he’s getting in the way of the medical team. He gives Jared one last clap on the shoulder and leaves.

Jared stares at the ceiling and tries to think good thoughts but he gets distracted once he notices the weird looks one of the doctors keeps giving him. He ignores it as long as he can then raises an eyebrow at her.

“Problem?” he says.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” the woman says. “It took you this long to realize you needed treatment? You’ve watched way too many movies if you think you can take this kind of punishment and just shrug it off.”

“I kinda had important stuff on my mind,” he says defensively.

“Self-preservation obviously not included. Do you even realize how lucky you are?”

Jared sighs heavily and goes back to staring at the ceiling. They’ll be on their way to the ship by now. They’re not going to be too late. They’re not. Jensen will be alive when they get there. He will. Oh God, please let him be alive when they get there.

“Ask me again in an hour or so.”

She laughs at him.

“I’m guessing whoever it is they’ve gone in for is counting on finding you alive, emo-boy. Least you could do is not let them down.”

~*~

If Jared knew they were going to knock him out, he’d have stopped them. So they don’t tell him and the first Jared realizes that he’s being pumped full of sedative is when his head gets swimmy and his eyes won’t stay open. Unconsciousness follows shortly after.

~*~

It’s hard to tell what time of day it is when Jared next wakes. The hospital room they’ve got him in is full of dim, grey light and the blinds are drawn at the window. Could be dusk, could be dawn.

O’Toole is by the door and Jared guesses that it was her coming in that woke him. She doesn’t smile as she crosses to his bed.

“The Coalition learnt that we’d attempted to stop the nuclear warhead reaching them and came in after it,” she says, her voice cool and dispassionate. “They were on the ship when Schneider and his team went in.”

“Jensen,” Jared says.

“Schneider got him out alive but it’s touch and go. He and Schneider are both in the hospital. But we lost the nuclear warhead. Schneider had a choice of going for that or for Teague. He tried to do both but” She shakes her head, looking drawn and grey. “Not an unmitigated disaster but still a disaster.”

“What did they do to Jensen?” Jared says, because right now, the Coalition could be buying nuclear warheads off eBay and Jared couldn’t care less. He’s only interested in one thing right now.

“Once it’s safe to move him, he’ll be transferred here,” O’Toole says.

It’s not what he asked but it distracts him until well after she’s gone.

Chapter 15

None of the branch executives come around for almost a week. It drives Jared crazy but he hangs on to the belief that they’d tell him if Jensen died and devotes himself to getting back into peak physical condition. As soon as his body can take it, he starts physical therapy, with a mind to getting back into proper training quickly. It helps make him feel less useless.

The ISA medical facility they’re keeping him in is small but secure. They monitor his progress constantly and Jared goes along with it all without complaint; he’s a government asset and they are rightfully concerned about the state of their investment.

By the time Schneider turns up, Jared’s body is feeling very much his own once more. There are still the occasional aches and pains but nothing Jared can’t work through and that won’t disappear in time.

“Hey, kid,” Schneider says, shaking his hand. “Good to see you up and about!”

At first glance, Schneider seems entirely unhurt, but Jared remembers O’Toole telling him he’d been in the hospital with Jensen. Then Jared registers how he favors his left, sees it in the way he walks and the way he holds himself.

“You get shot or something?” Jared says.

Schneider looks down at himself and brushes a hand lightly but dismissively over his ribs.

“Eh, just a scratch really. How are you? Doctors say you’re doing good. Should be out of here in no time.”

“Yeah, I’m ready to go whenever you’re ready to spring me.”

“Still not very pretty though, are you?” Schneider says with a grin, taking Jared’s jaw in one hand and turning his face this way and that to admire the yellowish-green bruises.

“Sweet-talking’s not gonna distract me. I wanna know about Jensen.”

Schneider pulls a face but shrugs. “‘Course you wanna know about Jensen. He’s here, son, in the hospital. He was flown in this morning. He’s in and out of consciousness still, but on the mend.”

“I want to see him,” Jared says instantly.

Ever so briefly, it looks like Schneider’s going to say he can’t, and Jared’s bracing himself for the whatever he has to do to convince Schneider that it’s in everyone’s best interests to let him see Jensen. Then Schneider shrugs and grins.

“I guess that’s doable.”

~*~

At first, the only thought that registers with Jared when he looks at Jensen is Oh God, he’s alive, he’s alive. And that’s such a huge, significant thought that it takes a while for the rest to permeate.

Jensen’s lying on his side, and his cheek is pressed to the pillow which makes the question of whether Jensen is as white as the pillow or whiter really easy. The only color to his skin is the hollows of his eyes, which are bruised purple and grey. The bones of his face look too prominent, as though the skin is stretched to snapping point over them.

Three of his fingers on one hand are wrapped in gauze.

Jared’s gaze lingers on those three fingers for a good long while before he can speak.

“What did they do to him?”

Schneider’s voice is empty of its customary amiable warmth but he doesn’t hesitate to give Jared his answer.

“Whipped him half to death. He lost a lot of blood and some flesh too.”

Jared nods and says, “His fingers?”

“Pulled his fingernails. Don’t think he was conscious enough to really feel it when they did it.”

Jared nods again and he doesn’t care if Jensen was already too out of his head to notice when they pulled his fingernails out, someone still has to pay. Jared will make sure that they pay. It’s a cold, hard fury inside of him and Jared has to make a conscious effort to loosen his hands out of fists, to unclench his jaw.

“What happened to Ferris?” Jared says.

Schneider’s quiet for so long that Jared is forced to take his eyes off Jensen and look around at him to see if he’s even still in the room. His expression is grim.

“Jared, we already have enough issues to deal with about you and Jensen without you throwing some stupid desire for revenge in too. You should maybe think about quitting while you’re ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Jared says. “What issues are there?”

“Son, you were pretty out of control earlier. I don’t think there was one of us you didn’t threaten, and I’m pretty sure that if Weatherly had been there, you’d’a taken a pop at him.”

“They were going to kill him-” Jared starts but Schneider’s still going.

“You think we can just turn a blind eye to you acting out like that because it’s your ‘boyfriend’? What about next time something like this happens? This is exactly why we have rules against handlers and agents getting involved.”

“Okay, what are you saying to me?” Jared says tersely.

“We’re going to have to have a conversation about this in the future, is what I’m saying. But not now. Not when Teague’s still all messed up and you’re not much better.” He takes a breath then nods towards Jensen. “Look, you just sit here and keep him company. Don’t worry about anything else right now.”

Schneider pats him on the shoulder before he leaves. Jared ignores him completely. It’s either that or punching him.

The worst thing is that Schneider’s kind of got a point. Jared’s seen agents get involved with people they shouldn’t before, and he’s always believed himself to be a little too professional for such rank stupidity. Fucking around is fine, emotional attachment really isn’t. It complicates a situation that’s already way beyond simple.

Jared knows all the reasons why you shouldn’t get attached. He also knows it’s way too late to be fixed.

~*~

Jensen wakes very very gradually. It’s a sigh, a twitch of his gauzed fingers (which Jared can’t stop staring at), a sweep of dark eyelashes, a soft sleepy noise. Jared does not wish to traumatize Jensen further by shaking him awake but he finds it very hard to be patient and wait for Jensen to be conscious again.

He leans forward in his chair, biting his lip, and trying very hard to resist the urge to do anything at all to speed the process up.

Finally, Jensen wets his lips and blinks. Instantly, Jared is pouring a glass of water, bringing it to Jensen’s mouth, and trying really hard not to enjoy simply having his hand on Jensen’s shoulder or to stare at the roll of Jensen’s throat or to think about running his tongue over Jensen’s mouth, because getting his rocks off while Jensen’s recovering from being tortured is just really icky.

“You know the most awesome thing I can think of?” Jared says. “You never ever doing anything like that again. Because, seriously you just can’t. I couldn’t take it. I just I couldn’t. So don’t. Or I will have to kill you.”

“Fuck you, I’m not hanging around to take this kind of abuse,” Jensen says.

He promptly passes out again for another hour and a half. Jared tries not to go insane in the meanwhile.

When Jensen is at last conscious again, he looks at Jared and says, “Glover says you were impressively menacing for someone suffering from massive internal hemorrhaging.”

“Dude, I was scary. It was awesome, you should’a seen me!”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s not like a single punch to the gut would’a had you crying like a little girl, right?”

Jared laughs and falls silent. Gently, he touches the back of Jensen’s hand and, in response, Jensen’s gauzed fingers flutter against the bed-sheet. Oh God, he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.

“Y’know, I would’a been the one to rescue you, ‘cept Glover wouldn’t let me go. Which totally sucked.”

“Shame you weren’t there,” says Jensen. “I ended up having to have the big romantic make-out session with Schneider instead.” He laughs hoarsely. “Glover did good in sending you to the hospital, Jared.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Jared says. “Glover, I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Schneider doesn’t trust him.”

“Schneider might be right.”

Jensen’s voice is thick and slurred, his eyes already sinking shut again, and Jared feels a fierce stab of fondness just looking at him. He leans in and presses a kiss to Jensen’s hairline, smiles when he hears Jensen sigh. Oh thank God, he’s alive.

“You sound beat,” Jared says.

“Wonder why.”

Jared laughs and says, “You need to catch up on your beauty sleep. You ain’t looking so hot these days. Might have to trade you in for a hot, non-crazy new handler.”

“That’d be thanks enough for me.” He cracks an eye open and fixes Jared with bleary gaze. “You know, if you promise not to do anything that’d make me want to kill you, then I’d be okay with you hanging around for a while.”

“Can I bounce on the bed?” Jared says.

“Only if you don’t mind getting shot.”

Jared pauses in the middle of dragging his chair closer to the bed and raises an eyebrow at him. “And where’s your gun, sweetheart?”

“I’ll show you my goddamn gun,” Jensen mumbles grouchily, already more than half asleep.

“Maybe when you’re a little more conscious I’d be real interested to see your gun.”

The small rough noise Jensen makes is almost certainly the closest he can currently come to cussing at Jared. Jared wants to kiss him again but nobly manages to tamp down the urge in the interests of letting Jensen sleep.

~*~

Jensen makes a remarkably obedient patient. Jared was expecting him to be grouchy and uncooperative and was prepared to have to defend him from pissed off nurses who had had enough of his goddamn bad temper and wanted to kill him. And sure, Jensen seems to take it incredibly personally that his body demands more than half an hour to heal. But on the whole, Jensen’s all meek and mild.

Jared strongly suspects that Glover’s visit on the third full day of Jensen being conscious has something to do with it.

“Unfortunately the recovery mission wasn’t as successful as I was hoping,” Glover says. He smiles that thin, cool smile at Jensen and adds, “But it wasn’t a complete loss.”

“Wow, that was pretty naïve of me to believe you were honestly going in after Jensen,” Jared says without rancor. “Should’a known you were more interested in getting that warhead back.”

“I was interested in retrieving both,” Glover says.

Jensen shoots Jared a stern look and Jared sighs and pulls a face but shuts his mouth. Glover pretends not to notice the exchange and instead sets a pile of files down by Jensen’s bed. From the look of them, they’re official ISA files and Jared bristles at the idea that they may be expecting Jensen to start working again from his hospital bed.

“I know how much you hate to be out of the loop,” Glover’s saying to Jensen, “so I’ve arranged for copies of the general briefings and reports to sent to you here. Obviously we can’t allow you to have anything too confidential but it should be enough to keep you reasonably well informed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jensen says, all awestruck and happy, and Jared wonders what the hell is wrong with him that he can find someone who gets like that about boring paperwork really very hot.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Glover says. His gaze encompasses the both of them. “We have decided you both need to take some time off. A few days vacation, that’s all. If you choose to spend it together, that’s your decision.”

“I’d like to get back to work as soon as possible, sir,” Jensen says.

Glover shakes his head. “No. This isn’t up for discussion. You can be suspended for a few days, if you’d prefer, but that will go on your record. Much better for everyone if you take the time off.”

Jensen’s face goes pinched and blank and stays that way even after Glover’s gone.

“So is the prospect of a few days vacation with me more or less painful than having your fingernails ripped out?” Jared says into the lingering silence.

Jensen looks at him sharply and then, slowly, his expression softens. He shakes his head.

“C’mon, Jared, you’ve gotta know by now that it’s not that. But if I’m not at work then I’m not going to be hearing what’s going on and I won’t be able to be properly useful to you.”

“I don’t want you to be ‘useful’! You’re not a paperclip or a stapler or any kind of office equipment whatsoever-“

“Are you having a PTSD flashback to Sofia?” Jensen cuts in. “All this stationery talk is a little weird.”

“Jesus, Jensen, shut up! Seriously, just For once in your life, don’t be useful.”

He puts a knee up on the bed and catches Jensen by the shoulders, gets hit all over again by how stupidly green Jensen’s eyes are, and brushes his lips over Jensen’s. It’s not really a kiss, just their mouths touching, soft and light, but it leaves Jensen a little breathless all the same.

“You’re plenty beautiful enough that you don’t gotta be useful,” Jared says in a hushed voice.

Jensen’s quiet for a moment and then cocks his head at him.

“Was there a William Morris quote in there somewhere?” A smirk tugs at Jensen’s lips. “Wow, all this and cultured too. You’re a genuine triple threat, aren’t you?”

“However,” says Jared, “when we go on vacation, you’re totally allowed to be useful in the kitchen.”

There’s never actually any discussion about whether or not they are going on vacation together.

Chapter 16

Naturally Jensen insists on handling the travel arrangements himself. He also insists that he and Jared fly out separately for unspecified security reasons. Jared doesn’t push for details on what the security reasons are because he already knows Jensen is a paranoid, neurotic sonofabitch and that he will be at Jared’s mercy for four whole days. Jared can afford to indulge his craziness.

Jensen has chosen a beach house in Hawaii. Jared gets there first, in the idyllic blaze of late morning sunshine, and he takes a tour of the property. The tour should have only lasted about five minutes, because it’s a small but comfortable house on one level, but Jared kind of gets stuck in the bedroom. In particular, he gets stuck with the single bedroom, with its king-size bed.

At the sight of the bed, Jared is finally able to stop worrying that maybe Jensen had different expectations of this vacation.

They haven’t really had time with each other that didn’t involve intrigue, bullet wounds or surprise civil wars, and while Jared cares most about just having time with Jensen without that shit, he’s really been hoping that time might also include lots of sex. And whereas he hasn’t exactly been shy about flirting with Jensen, it’s a whole other thing to come right out and say ‘please can we get naked with each other?’

The bed is a symbol for all that is currently awesome about Jared’s life. The bed says that Jensen is also sick of their sex-life being dictated to by (and frequently aborted by) the various unhelpful events of the everyday life of a secret agent.

Jared sits down on the floor, in a shaft of sunlight, and gazes contentedly at the bed.

He’s still there, minutes later, when there’s movement in the house, the door clicking shut. It’s a sound that’s barely there, but Jared registers it all the same. Without moving, he reaches for his gun, just in case it turns out not to be Jensen.

After a few moments, Jensen’s standing in the doorway, and he looks between Jared, with his gun in his lap, and then back at the bed.

“Is there a problem with the bed I should know about?” he says.

“Don’t you think there are a suspicious number of cushions on it?” Jared says, angling a grin up at him.

It’s only ten hours since he last saw Jensen, still looking pale and unsettlingly breakable, but Jared’s glee at being with him makes it feel much longer. He scrambles quickly to his feet and removes Jensen’s bag from his hand. Obligingly, Jensen goes along with Jared manhandling him until he glances over his shoulder and sees he’s being manhandled towards the bed.

“If you even think of throwing me down on that, I will render you sexually useless,” Jensen informs him. “Permanently and painfully.”

Jared pauses and frowns at him. “Why would you do a thing like that?”

“Because having the majority of the skin removed from your back is even less fun than it sounds and it’s even less fun having your back slammed into things afterwards.”

Jared’s frown deepens even as he instantly tightens his arms around Jensen’s waist to steady him, as if Jensen is in some kind of danger of falling onto the bed without Jared there to rescue him.

“You’re ruining all my plans here,” Jared says.

Jensen’s smile is sweetly unconcerned. “I know. I should’a thought through the whole ‘scourging’ thing properly, right?” Slowly, he turns them around. “Still, I think I can improvise some new plans. It is my specialty, after all.”

He rides Jared down onto the bed, straddling his hips, curling over him to press his lips to Jared’s mouth. He takes his time in kissing Jared, lets his tongue trace the shape of Jared’s mouth before going deeper, teasing Jared’s lips apart for him while his fingertips rest just below Jared’s chin, keeping his face tilted up into Jensen’s. It’s a wet, languid tongue-fucking that sets Jared’s skin on fire and makes his head spin.

After one distracted move to put his hand on Jensen’s spine, Jared settles for gripping the fascinatingly perfect curves of Jensen’s ass.

They spend the next half an hour setting the tone for the vacation.

~*~

They spend the afternoon watching - and gleefully sneering at - old Bond movies. Jensen lies on his belly in front of the TV and Jared is torn between fretting over how sore his back must still be and enjoying the spectacle.

The white button-down shirt Jensen’s wearing is painfully bright in the clear golden light that slants into the house. Jared’s gaze catches on the sliver of skin at the nape of Jensen’s neck, between his hair and the collar of the shirt, wondering what Jensen’d do if he buried his face into it, how the skin would smell, how it’d taste if Jared dragged his tongue over it, the raw little sounds that Jensen’d make if Jared marked that skin up with his teeth and lips.

Jared shifts in his seat and subtly adjusts himself in his pants. Jensen glances back over his shoulder at him and Jared grins at him easily.

“What are you thinking?” Jensen says.

“What kind of Bond-girl you’d make.”

Jensen rolls over into a sitting position. He raises an eyebrow at Jared. “A real hostile one.”

“Understandable. Bond is a dick. I’d be hostile to Bond if I met him.”

“And he wasn’t fictional,” Jensen puts in.

Jared waves a dismissive hand. “Yeah, that too.” Jared considers for a long moment, weighing up his own abilities and Bond’s, before finally announcing, “I could totally take Bond.”

“If he wasn’t fictional, you could take him,” Jensen says. He’s quiet a second, then he says. “Yeah okay. You could take Bond.”

“And Jason Bourne. I could kick his ass too. Probably at the same time as I was kicking Bond’s ass.”

“Book-Bourne or movie-Bourne?” Jensen says doubtfully. “Because they’re two entirely different guys.”

Jared frowns and thinks for a moment. “Who’s the meaner sonofabitch?”

“Book-Bourne,” Jensen says.

“Him then,” Jared says. “I could kick Bond’s ass while I was kicking book-Bourne’s ass.”

“Hmm,” says Jensen noncommittally.

“What?” says Jared. “You don’t think I could?”

“No, I was just wondering why ISA bothered with any other agents seeing as you’re capable of taking down the fictional greats of the world of espionage single-handed.”

There’s a smile on Jensen’s face like Jared hasn’t ever seen before. It’s like seeing yet another guy in Jensen’s eyes, uncomplicated and beautiful and laidback. And while that other guy Jared sometimes sees in Jensen is unsettling, all unforgiving coldness, Jared can connect this guy to the Jensen he’s been falling for. This is how he always knew Jensen could be, even if he didn’t realize he knew.

“I’ll tell you whose ass I couldn’t kick,” Jared says.

“I’m thinking it has to be someone like Godzilla.”

Jared pulls a face. “Godzilla’s not a spy! Spies have to be subtle and a giant, rampaging lizard-monster is kind of the definition of not subtle. And Godzilla is really not very stealthy either. No, Godzilla would make a crap spy.” He gives Jensen another stern look, before he says, “George Smiley. Totally could not kick his ass.”

“Because he’s old and your moral compass won’t allow you to beat the crap out of old guys?” Jensen says hopefully.

“Well, yeah, obviously. But because George Smiley is a really tricky little bastard. He’s like” Jared casts around for a suitable comparison then lights up in triumph when he finds one. “If Yoda were a spy, he’d be George Smiley. Without the light saber or the Jedi powers though, because that’d be totally unfair.”

Jensen nods slowly, a faint frown tugging his brows together. “I think I’m gonna be reading John Le Carre in a whole new light, thanks to you. Wow, and I used to really enjoy those books.”

~*~

The sunset is red and bronze. Soft, dark blue shadows melt around the beach house. Jensen is sitting right beside Jared, his thigh brushing Jared’s even though there’s plenty of room on the step.

So,” says Jensen, handing Jared a chilled bottle of beer, “how’s a guy like you end up making a living keeping the world safe from chaos?”

Jared curls his toes into the pure sand and takes a slow gulp of beer, conscious of Jensen’s gaze on him.

“Joined the army when I was a kid. Seemed like a life less ordinary, y’know? Turned out I was awesome. The rest is history.” He glances at Jensen, who’s looking like he’s not exactly paying attention. Sure, his gaze is on Jared, but it’s not so much attentive as it is openly appreciative. “How about you?”

Guiltily, Jensen’s eyes immediately jump back to lock with Jared’s. He shrugs, rubs the back of his neck.

“Turns out me and my brain were better suited to joining the CIA than we were studying Political Science at college.”

Jared nods, then finds himself smiling. Jensen cocks his head at him.

“I’m just thinking, it’s kinda funny how we don’t think it’s weird not to give a straight answer.” Jensen’s still looking at him and Jared shrugs and takes another mouthful of beer. “Just, how we don’t give details it’s funny.”

They watch the sunset together in silence. The air is balmy and still, full of the low roar of the sea rolling into the shore. Then Jensen abruptly sets his bottle of beer down and offers Jared his hand. It takes Jared a moment to understand; he’s preoccupied with the raw pinkness of Jensen’s three missing fingernails. Then he puts his own bottle down, wipes his ice-damp palm off on his thigh and takes Jensen’s hand.

“Hi,” Jensen says. “I’m Jensen Ackles, from Dallas.”

Jared’s grin is so wide it hurts. “Well hey there, Mr. Ackles. I’m Jared Padalecki, out of San Antonio. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Using his grip on Jared’s hand to tug him closer, Jensen kisses him until the sun has entirely sunk from the sky.

Chapter 17

They drift inside the house without really talking about it. Jared sits on the end of the bed and watches Jensen’s fingers move down the front of his shirt as he slowly undoes each button. The tube of medicinal salve Jensen had given him gets passed distractedly from one hand to the other and back again. It’s cold and the thin metal is folded into sharp edges; it’s something to keep him from getting too lost in watching Jensen.

Finally, he can see Jensen’s smooth, flat belly, and there’s a roll of broad shoulders and Jensen’s shirt slides down his arms.

And right then, Jensen hesitates. The breath Jared is holding comes out in a frustrated huff.

“Dude, worst striptease ever.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and turns around.

Even in the thin blue moonlight, Jared can see that the flesh on Jensen’s back has been entirely ruined. The skin is red and raw, each scar lost among the others. For a brief, detached moment, Jared knows exactly what it takes to inflict that kind of damage, can see vividly how it was done.

There must have been so much blood.

Jensen’s back will never be the same again and Jared wishes, selfishly, that he’d been allowed to see it before.

Head bowed, Jensen allows Jared study him in silence. Maybe Jensen’s ashamed of the mess of his skin; Jared doesn’t like to think he is but doesn’t know how to raise the subject without making it sound like maybe Jensen should be ashamed.

Instead, he reaches forward and guides Jensen backwards to sit on the bed beside him. When he unscrews the lid of the salve, a thick, sterile smell hits his nose. Very carefully, Jared squeezes a little of the cream onto his fingertips and touches them to Jensen’s back. Jensen hisses, his spine arching away from Jared before he can catch himself. Instantly, Jared presses kisses to the nape of Jensen’s neck.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers helplessly.

Jensen shakes his head, lets out a shivering breath but doesn’t speak. He’s able to hold still while Jared applies the cream but Jared doesn’t stop kissing his neck, murmuring soft apologies that are barely audible. By the time they’re done, the tension in Jensen’s shoulders has been almost totally eased away.

Even though it’s scars he’s touching, the sheer intimacy of being allowed - asked - to put his hands on Jensen has Jared greedy for more.

Throwing the tube of salve to one side, he pushes up onto his knees behind Jensen, hands on his shoulders as he kisses his way from the nape of Jensen’s neck, down the sweep of his shoulder, back along his collarbone, before finally pressing his tongue flat over the pulse in Jensen’s throat. Jensen tilts his head one side, giving Jared room to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

Jared’s breath gets heavy, his mouth moving over Jensen’s skin with less tenderness and more open want. Months of thinking about this, months of having to hold back, make it impossible for Jared to think of anything beyond spreading Jensen out and fucking him.

He takes Jensen’s face in his hand and jerks it towards his own, catching his mouth in a bruising kiss that Jensen surges up in to. Even if Jared weren’t already aching to be down to his skin, the stiffness of his dick, pressed hard against his jeans, would be enough to remind him that they were way past the stage of needing clothes.

“I can think,” Jared tells Jensen, his voice little more than a growl, “of about a million things I wanna do to you. And all of ‘em involve you being naked.”

“Says the guy who’s still got his shirt on.” Jensen’s laugh turns shaky as Jared catches his collarbone between his teeth, worrying the flesh until he can be sure he’s left a mark. “Okay, okay, lemme get my jeans off.”

They start undressing in a tangle of arms and legs but any second Jared isn’t touching Jensen feels like a waste, especially when Jared’s been waiting so patiently, played the gentleman and backed off every time Jensen told him to. And now he’s got Jensen and a bed and nothing to stop him from acting out every single one of those obscene daydreams that’ve been getting him hard at inappropriate times.

Jensen’s taking too long about getting his jeans off so Jared tugs him closer, holds him still while he jerks them down his thighs and off of him. Jensen’s eyes go big and round.

The first thought that goes through Jared’s head when he gets a proper look at him is that it’s a good thing he never got Jensen naked before, because there’d be no way he’d have been able to concentrate in briefings if he’d known this is what Jensen was hiding.

“You know what I’m gonna do, sweetheart?” Jared says, before laying a deceptively chaste kiss on his lips, nothing more than a sweet touching of mouths. “Imma put you down on this bed and fuck your brains out. This bed’s gonna be fucking filthy by the time I’m done with you. I’m gonna fuck you to within an inch of your life, and then I think I might do it all again.”

“Big talk, G-man,” says Jensen. “You think you got what it takes to-“

Abruptly, Jared drags Jensen’s hand down to the open v of his jeans, lets him feel the huge hardness of his cock. And even the clumsy rubbing of Jensen’s palm over him gets Jared dizzy.

“Jesus,” Jensen whispers. He makes a soft, hurt-sounding whine, his gaze going back to Jared’s face. “You’re gonna cripple me.”

Jared wants to make a joke, wants to lighten the mood, but his head is too full of crazy little impulses - (smell the skin on his belly, grind against the carved out sharpness of his hipbone, fuck the swell of his lips) - and he’s completely beyond putting words together. Instead, he drives Jensen back towards the bed with a kiss. There’s an uncoordinated moment as they both try to avoid Jensen’s back hitting the mattress.

Finally, Jared gets Jensen down and manhandles him onto all fours. Propped up on his forearms, with his knees tucked under him, Jensen’s ass - lush, tight curves - is canted up perfectly for Jared. He smoothes his palms over Jensen’s haunches, letting his fingers curl about his hipbones, then hauls Jensen back down the bed towards him, shimmying his jeans low enough down on his legs that he can let his cock ride the crease between the cheeks of Jensen’s ass.

A shiver rolls down Jensen’s spine, the muscles in his shoulders and back bunching, and he knots his fingers into the sheet. He buries his face in his arms to muffle a moan.

“No, no, don’t be shy,” Jared says. “Wanna hear you. Wanna hear what I’m doing to you.”

“You know what you’re fucking doing to me.”

While Jared works his hips lazily, he grips the backs of Jensen’s thighs and spreads them wider, then lays his palms over the cheeks of Jensen’s ass and peels them apart, letting his thumbs rest one either side of Jensen’s pretty, pink asshole. As the thick, wet head of Jared’s cock slips over the tiny hole, it looks too impossibly small for Jared’s dick to be able to force its way in. Mindlessly, Jared stares at the way Jensen’s hole glistens where he’s slicked it over with precome, and then he realizes what he’s about to do and stops.

Jensen makes a noise that’s more animal than human and twists just enough to look over his shoulder at Jared. His cheeks are flushed, lips bitten red and swollen, and his eyes are smoke and shadow.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Condom,” Jared says. “And, y’know, don’t really wanna hurt you.”

“I can handle it,” Jensen says, jaw clenched irritably.

“It ain’t s’posed to be torture, sweetheart.”

Letting go of Jensen long enough to locate a condom and get it on his dick is a pretty big wrench for Jared. Jensen doesn’t help by shifting and squirming on the bed. Jared sucks his fingers into his mouth and sets about hurriedly fingering Jensen open for his cock. Jensen’s ass is hot and clenches tight around his fingers and Jared can’t bring himself to be as gentle or thorough as he should be.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his tongue strangely too big for his mouth. “I gotta do it now. I’ll be careful, promise, but I gotta I’ll be careful-“

“Your cock isn’t that fucking big, Jared,” Jensen says, and tilts his hips up towards Jared. “Come on.”

Getting one knee up on the bed behind Jensen, Jared pushes the head of his dick into Jensen’s ass, fingers digging into Jensen’s hips as he drags him back onto it. It’s fascinating, watching his cock sink into Jensen’s pretty little asshole, the skin stretching around him as he slides into clinging wet heat. He keeps pushing - sharp, steady jabs of his hips - until his balls are brushing the curve of Jensen’s ass, and Jensen has been reduced to open-mouthed panting.

Jensen is unholy-perfect; he’s so tight it almost hurts Jared to be working his dick deeper up his ass, so hot inside, so beautiful braced against the mattress as Jared fucks him. Jared wants to touch the stiff line of Jensen’s shoulders, where he’s holding himself still against the unforgiving force of Jared’s cock buried inside him, but the scars reach the skin even there, ugly and gnarled.

“I’m gonna fucking kill Ferris,” Jared says, the idea flowing straight into speech, bypassing his brain altogether.

“Can’t,” Jensen breathes out. “Schneider shot her.” He shifts back against Jared. “Your pillow talk is terrible.”

“Get used to it,” Jared says, and punctuates it with a hard thrust that shocks a sharp, surprised laugh out of Jensen.

“Figures you don’t even shut up when you’re fucking.”

Jared settles into a brutal rhythm, pounding Jensen’s ass as he digs his fingers into his hips, pulling him as close as he can.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he says, his voice ragged and heavy.

Jensen laughs again breathlessly, more like a shivering sigh than proper laughter. “Oh yeah, you’re a very disappointing disappointing guy.” He’s tossing his head from side to side, grinding his face into the sheets, like he can barely take Jared so deep but doesn’t want him to stop either.

Beneath Jared’s fingers, there are red marks where his grip on Jensen has been too tight. He smoothes them over, rubbing the hot, damp skin of Jensen’s hipbone, before letting his hand curl under Jensen’s body, over the taut smoothness of his belly to the heaviness of his cock. He jacks him roughly and tries to manage a counterpoint to his own dick slamming into Jensen’s ass over and over again but his brain’s too fried to handle the timing of it. From the sounds Jensen’s making, choked moans and hitched breaths, it seems like he’s doing a satisfactory job.

When he comes, Jensen’s whole body snaps tight around Jared, and the wetness dribbles over and between Jared’s fingers, dripping onto the rumpled sheet beneath them. It knocks the strength from Jensen’s body and Jared has to catch him before he ends up riding him face first into the mattress.

“Oh Jesus, you feel so fucking good,” Jared groans, unable to coordinate his limbs anymore.

Jensen gives a weak, strung-out whimper and his ass is still fluttering around Jared’s dick. He struggles to roll his hips back against Jared’s and his knees slip against the sheets. The effort is kind of lost in the sheer force behind Jared’s last thrusts before he comes, but Jared at least remembers to keep his hands off Jensen’s back.

He desperately wants to be touching Jensen, kissing him, so he pulls out before he’s even finished coming, his cock sliding over Jensen’s inner thigh, and pulls him up and over until he can get his mouth on Jensen’s. It’s sloppy and open-mouthed, Jared’s lips crushed messily to Jensen’s.

And right then, just for a second, Jared’s struck by the staggering weight of how much he loves Jensen. It’s huge and terrifying and totally awesome.

~*~

It’s still dark and Jared doesn’t know what’s woken him. Then he glances down at Jensen and realizes. Jensen’s lying on his belly, shoulder tucked under Jared’s arm, and his own arm thrown over Jared’s chest. But he’s awake, eyes fixed on Jared’s face, utterly expressionless.

“Didn’t I wear you out already?” Jared says. Jensen doesn’t smile. Just blinks those too-green eyes at him. “What is it?”

“I’m happy,” Jensen says.

“Are you trying to keep it a secret?” Jared says. “‘Cause, y’know, it’s okay to smile.”

“I haven’t been happy in” Jensen sighs, then cocks his head at Jared. “Do you think this is the happiest we’ll ever be?”

“Don’t see any reason why it should be.”

Jensen sighs, nods, and, as if as an afterthought, presses a kiss to Jared’s side. Jared cards his fingers through Jensen’s hair, slow and soothing, until Jensen’s eyes sink shut.

~*~

By the time they’ve finished breakfast, Jared has established, beyond all doubt, that something is up. They’re sitting on the step again, Jared on the sand between Jensen’s spread legs, his head resting on Jensen’s belly. The morning is full of clear, golden-orange light and the sea is the kind of blue that seems like it only exists on postcards.

Jared finishes his orange juice, puts the glass down, then pulls Jensen’s arms around his shoulders, catching his wrists in his hand.

“When you said you were happy, did you mean it? Because, dude, I’ve seen emo kids more upbeat than you.”

Jensen’s quiet for a long moment. He’s warm and reassuringly solid behind Jared.

“Your contract with ISA lasts another six months, maybe a year, right?”

“And I’m still gonna want to hold you down and do dirty things to you after that,” Jared says.

“When we get back, the branch executives are going to want to give you to a different handler. Relationships between handlers and agents are frowned upon, and we haven’t exactly stayed below radar on this.”

Jensen’s voice is calm, cool, but Jared’s already shaking his head.

“No,” he says firmly. “Jensen, no. I’m not gonna-“

“It’s a year, at most!” Jensen says. “We tell them there’s no relationship and they might let me carry on as your handler! And then, after your contract’s up, we can Jared, I have to be your handler! I can’t let anyone else-“

Jared twists around to look at him. Jensen looks wretched but he clearly doesn’t understand what he’s asking of Jared. Jared is one of the most supremely capable people on the planet, but he can’t do what Jensen’s asking him to.

“One year, in close contact with you on a daily basis, looking but not allowed to touch? My self-control would be shot to hell by the end of the first week!”

Abruptly, Jensen’s hold on Jared tightens. He curls in close, arms wrapped around Jared’s chest, and his mouth at Jared’s ear.

“I need you to be safe,” he says. “I need to keep you safe. Please, Jared, please. Let me keep you safe.”

Jared bows his head, kisses Jensen’s knuckles. He wants to make Jensen happy again, hates the fear in Jensen’s voice. But to give this up, after he’s found it so completely unexpectedly, seems a physical impossibility.

“Look,” he says, quiet and reasonable. “We don’t know anything yet. We’re both too good at our jobs, they might just settle for giving us a stern talking to this time.” Jensen starts to protest and Jared shakes his head again. “We don’t know. Let’s not make any plans ‘til they come at us with it.”

Jensen sighs but settles against Jared. It’s pretty obvious the argument isn’t over yet but Jared doesn’t believe for one minute that Jensen is any more willing to let what they have go for so long than he is.

“How about we focus on the next couple of days for now?” Jared says. “We’ll drink beer and have sex on the beach and you can tell me when you first realized I was too awesome for you to resist.”

Jensen laughs and rubs his face against Jared’s cheek, mindlessly affectionate.

“It was about the same time I realized you’d be marginally less of a pain in my ass if I played along and indulged your ego.”

Jensen kisses Jared’s temple and Jared thinks maybe, just maybe, they can dodge this bullet.

Chapter 18

As expected, the day after Jared gets back from Hawaii, he’s called in to see the branch executives. All four of them are waiting for him in the meeting room. Jared sits down in the chair he’s directed to and patiently waits for them to break the silence. He and Jensen haven’t agreed upon a plan, but at the very least, Jared isn’t going to go on the offensive. They can make their decision and Jared can consider it carefully before telling them to stick it up their asses.

It’s Glover who speaks first. But it isn’t about Jensen. Instead, he flicks a photograph onto the large screen on the wall and says, “Do you recognize this man?”

It’s Mike Rosenbaum; he’s a little younger maybe and the picture quality is bad but it’s unmistakably him. Jared nods.

“That’s Mike Rosenbaum. I met him in Sofia while on assignment. He was a friend of Mark Cassidy’s daughter.”

“He’s one of the greatest threats to this country’s security,” Glover says. “He’s a Coalition agent, primarily because they give him the most scope for destruction. He’s smart, unpredictable and extremely dangerous.”

Jared nods again, disappointed to find his suspicions about Mike to be true but not at all surprised.

“While you and Teague were on vacation,” O’Toole says, “we received some significant intel about Rosenbaum’s whereabouts, which enabled us to obtain this footage last night.” She catches his gaze, holds it. “You need to see it.”

Dutifully, Jared turns back to the screen to watch the video O’Toole sets playing.

It’s a garage, dark and rundown, the shells of a few old cars discernible in the gloom. Mike is sitting on a workbench, one foot on and the other swinging lazily backwards and forwards through the air. He’s apparently alone and is whistling tunelessly to himself.

Off-screen, there’s a rattle of a door, footsteps, and Mike straightens up, grinning.

“Jennybean! I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.”

“Had to shake Jared off,” Jensen says, moving into sight. He cocks his head at Mike, eyebrow raised sharply, his face set in an expression that’s painfully familiar to Jared. “Unless you’d prefer me to bring him along next time?”

Mike laughs and pulls Jensen into a hug. Jensen hangs on tight, fingers knotted into the sleeves of Mike’s coat. His face is hidden in Mike’s shoulder. The position of Mike’s hand on Jensen’s shoulder is awkward, and it takes Jared a moment to realize it’s because Mike knows not to touch Jensen’s back.

Detachedly, Jared is aware of Weatherly and Schneider watching him, while O’Toole’s attention is firmly on the video. Glover is reading through the file open in front of him and somehow Jared doubts that he’s doing it purely to give Jared privacy to react. Glover’s reading because he’s not particularly interested in how Jared takes to this little revelation.

It doesn’t take Jared any effort to keep his expression blank. Nothing of what’s going through his head will appear on his face, and if they’re expecting a show, they’re going to be disappointed.

“Let me see the damage then,” Mike says.

He lets go of Jensen and turns him around, so easily touching him and moving him that Jared feels a distant, instinctive flare of irritation, which he briskly tamps down.

“Careful,” Jensen says, hooking his shirt up at the back.

Mike leans over him and the change to his expression is swift and enormous. Jared can easily believe then that Mike is the dangerous guy Glover says he is. He touches a fingertip lightly to one of the scars and then lets his hand drop.

“Jesus, if I’d have known she’d let them do this to you, I’d have shot Ferris. We came as quick as we could, Jen. You know that, don’t you?”

“Sure,” Jensen says, straightening up again. “You got the warhead at least, I figure that’s a pretty good result. I wouldn’t have even called you if I’d known Jared would actually get ISA off its ass and coming after me.”

Mike’s grin makes a dazzling reappearance.

“Speaking of, how is our golden boy? Did you put out?” He waggles his eyebrows at Jensen and Jensen’s face goes blank. And Jared knows that look too, and it hurts seeing it so out of place. “I bet you did. You’re such a slut, Jennybean. I bet you put out and then some.”

“Go to hell, Mike,” Jensen says without rancor. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

“Mmm, so sorry, but it is.”

Jensen goes still, tense. Mike circles him slowly, gaze on the ground, choosing his words very deliberately.

“Rumor has it that by the end of the week, your little lovebunny’s going to have a new handler.”

“No,” Jensen says. “No, I’m gonna fix that-“

“Maybe Kripke and Kring don’t think it’s fixable. And you know how they feel about it, Jenny. If Jared’s not under control, then he’s too much of a risk. He’s a nice guy, he is, but we can’t let ISA use him. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.”

Jensen doesn’t answer and Mike stops behind him, touches the back of his neck and Jensen looks towards him helplessly.

“I don’t want to put you through this again,” Mike says quietly. “If you can’t take care of it, just tell me where he’s going to be and when, and then you forget all about it. I’ll make sure it’s quick.”

Jensen shakes his head abruptly. “No,” he says. “We can still use him. Even if they do give him to another handler, he’s in love with me, I don’t have to be handling him to make sure he’s doing what we want. Hell, if I tell him sunshine is rain, he’ll wonder why everyone’s wearing sunglasses! Killing him is short-sighted and stupid and-“

“And Kripke and Kring agree with you,” Mike says. “For now. But I’d really like to know that if the time comes when Jared is more of a liability than an asset, you’re going to be able to get your head in the game.”

“When the time comes that Jared is no longer useful to us,” Jensen says, “I will give him to you.”

His voice is calm, dispassionate, and even if Jared is drastically re-evaluating everything he thought he knew about Jensen, right then he can believe him.

From nowhere, Jared remembers the first time Jensen kissed him, when Jensen was still an unknown quantity. Back then, all Jared had wanted was something safe and pretty to fuck in the quiet hours between assignments. They’d been in that crappy little hotel room and Jared had tried to kiss Jensen back and Jensen had stopped him, had said, You have no idea what a fucking epically bad idea it would be.

Jared wishes he’d listened to him.

He’d like to think this was all set up, some elaborate ploy to ruin the relationship between him and Jensen, but it all makes a horrible kind of sense. It’s like the final piece in a particularly ugly puzzle; Jared can appreciate the completeness of the picture, while feeling disgusted by it.

Jensen has always been so well informed, always knows more than perhaps he should. And Jared has spent months chipping away at Jensen’s defenses, always discovering yet one more layer of the story Jensen was keeping from him. He was a fucking idiot to think he’d finally got down to the truth.

Even from the beginning, Jared has believed that Jensen was holding something back. And instead of trusting his instinct, he’s let himself get distracted. Worse than that, he’s let himself get emotionally involved. He’s put people at risk for someone who has lied to him from day one.

Mike leans in, rests his forehead against Jensen’s, and Jensen’s eyes flutter shut.

“I told you not to do this, didn’t I?” Mike says. His tone is sympathetic, almost grieved. “Why don’t you ever listen to me? Don’t you know I’m always right?”

Jensen shakes his head wordlessly. Then he pulls free, turns his face away from Mike’s and the camera. “I’ve got a briefing with Jared tomorrow. They’re sending him after Mazarron, straight download of his computer files. What do you want me to do?”

At first, it doesn’t look like Mike’s going to let the subject be changed. Then he shrugs and takes a step back.

“Alter the data just enough to be useless. You can leave anything referring to Glazkov but that’s all.”

Jensen nods. “Okay. I’ll call you when it’s done.”

He starts to leave but Mike calls him back.

“Before Kripke and Kring give the order to take Jared out,” he says, “I promise you I’ll get you a chance to try to change their minds.”

Jensen’s too far off screen for Jared to be able to see his face.

“You don’t have to worry,” he says. “I won’t let you down. I took care of Chris, I’ll take care of Jared.”

O’Toole stops the video and looks over at Jared.

“Do you need a moment?” she says.

It’s kind of strange how Jared feels. Detached, like he’s watching this trainwreck from a distance, that he’s not the one at the centre of it. Like this is all happened years ago and Jared’s just the one who has to fix it, not the one who caused it.

He’s insulted by O’Toole’s question. Of course he doesn’t need a moment. What does she think he needs a moment for? To cry or throw things or - Though, now that she asks, Jared thinks he might need to be sick, but not yet. Not yet. There’s still work to be done. No time for throwing up or for dealing with being so completely and utterly betrayed by the guy he’s in love with.

He shakes his head, gives her a polite smile, and then addresses the four of them. “What do you need me to do?”

Chapter 19

Jared’s orders from the branch executives are simple. While Jensen is briefing him this afternoon, ISA will call them in under the pretext of having new information for them. Jared is to ensure that Jensen goes. He is not to give Jensen chance to contact anyone or to be contacted, which means keeping Jensen in sight at all times.

On the one hand, Jared is sickly relieved that he is not expected to deal with the situation in the most efficient way possible and kill Jensen. He’s not entirely sure he’s capable of it. Maybe, when he thinks about the number of ways Jensen has fucked him over, maybe he could do it. But it’s one thing to think about it in bloodless terms, another altogether to have Jensen looking him in the eyes when he pulls the trigger. Hurt rage will only get him so far.

On the other hand, this plan requires Jared to act as if nothing has changed, which feels like pretending he hasn’t noticed himself having a serious heart attack. Surely even Jared’s game face can’t hide something of this magnitude. Jensen will only have to look at him to see that he knows. He’ll give himself away in every single look and word, because how could he not? Everything is different.

But when Jensen lets him into the apartment, instantly plasters himself against Jared and kisses him like it’s years instead of hours they’ve been apart, desperate and fierce, it feels like nothing has changed.

It still feels right to be kissing Jensen. Jared expected everything he felt to just go away, but it hasn’t. It’s all still there, sitting uneasily alongside the fact that Jensen is a goddamn double-crossing liar.

So he pulls Jensen in tight against his body and kisses him hard. He navigates them backwards, dropping heavily onto the couch, and hauls Jensen into his lap. Jensen straddles Jared, easily thighs either side of his hips, and his mouth is hot on Jared’s throat.

“We should get on with the briefing,” Jensen says, and then makes no move to get off Jared or to stop kissing him.

The sound of his voice catches Jared’s attention. Without really thinking about what he’s doing, Jared tilts Jensen’s face up to his and studies him intently. Jensen’s eyes are green and gold, with long dark lashes. His skin is smooth, splashed with freckles. There’s a soft pink flush in his cheeks. Jared drags the pad of his thumb over the fullness of Jensen’s lower lip, gaze tracing the fascinating shape of his mouth. Jensen is watching Jared with an expression of amused confusion. Just seeing Jensen smile makes Jared want to smile.

The urge to punch Jensen’s stupidly pretty face unrecognizable rises up hard and fast in Jared.

Instead, he leans in close and catches Jensen’s mouth with his, tongue dipping between Jensen’s instantly parted lips. He kisses him slowly and thoroughly because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever do it again. Even when Jensen’s eyes fall shut, Jared keeps his eyes open, meticulously taking in every single detail of this moment right now, saving them up to remember when this is all over.

Then he eases Jensen back and smiles at him.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You’re gonna need your tongue to brief me, right? We should get on to that.”

Looking lazily satisfied, Jensen climbs off Jared and gets to his feet. He drags the back of his hand over his mouth and wanders towards the table. Jared joins him, takes the chair opposite him and flips open the file Jensen slides over to him.

“Guy Mazarron is a central figure in a crime syndicate operating out of Ajaccio, Corsica,” Jensen says, instantly all business though he can’t hide the hoarseness of his voice. “He’s a long-time customer of Glazkov and we think we may be able to track down the location of the nuclear warhead from his files. So we need you to go in and- why are you smiling?”

Jared blinks then realizes that he is smiling.

He’d been thinking it was kind of fun to be hearing Jensen brief him when he’d already heard the other side of it with Mike, like knowing about a surprise in advance, and he’d been wondering how many times Jensen has to give out what is essentially the same information.

“Just thinking you’re awful pretty when you’re doing your thing,” he says.

“You only just noticing that now? Those are some sharp observational skills you’ve got there.” Jared just grins and if Jensen notices that it’s an ugly grin, it doesn’t show on his face. “We’re sending you in to retrieve the files from the computer in his office. The security’s tight but there are a couple of weak spots we can exploit. It should be pretty easy to-“

Jensen’s cell phone starts up, cutting him off mid-sentence. He flips it open and half-turns away from Jared. It’s a short conversation, nothing more from Jensen than a lot of ‘yes, ma’am’-ing. After the call, Jared tries to look interested when Jensen looks back at him and says, “O’Toole’s calling us both in. Apparently something big’s come up.”

“Cool,” Jared says. “You gonna drive or am I?”

“Don’t mind. But I gotta get changed before we go.”

Jensen’s already disappearing into the bedroom and Jared knows he still has his cell phone with him and that there is a window in the room, so he has no choice but to follow him. The company doesn’t seem to bother Jensen and Jared wishes briefly, for the sake of his own conscience, that Jensen would be a little less oblivious about how he’s being set up.

“I think O’Toole cares more about you being there quickly than whether you’re wearing a suit or not,” Jared says.

Jensen flips him off and starts stripping. Jared watches with impassive appreciation. Jensen’s back is still healing but it’s better than when Jared first saw it. In Hawaii, he had plenty of chance to see Jensen naked and he’d mapped out every inch of bare skin with his tongue. He’d lingered at each of the few scars he’d found and had Jensen tell him their provenance. The scars are still there, flickering in and out of sight as Jensen moves, but all at once they’re new to Jared again.

Jensen jerks a suit from its hanger and pulls it on briskly. Jared watches him knot his tie and his fingers twitch to do it for him, but he’s not sure whether he just wants to touch him or to throttle him.

If Jensen tells him the truth - no, screw that - if Jensen simply doesn’t lie to him, Jared won’t hand him over. He only has to not lie to Jared and Jared will help him disappear. He only has to not lie. Just give Jared anything that isn’t a lie and he’ll make sure ISA never finds him.

“I was thinking about Katie Cassidy the other day,” Jared says. “We ever get round to recruiting her?”

Jensen flashes him a glance over his shoulder. “I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

Jared sighs, combs his fingers through his hair and looks at the floor. ” I just worry about her, y’know? One of her friends, I’m pretty sure he was a Coalition agent.”

“Yeah? Who?”

“Mike Rosenbaum. I mean, I don’t know for sure that he’s Coalition but I’d put money on it. You know anything about him?”

Don’t lie. Just don’t lie. He doesn’t even have to tell the truth. He just has to not lie.

“Don’t think so,” Jensen says, so smooth and so easy that Jared’s almost halfway to believing him. He must have lied a million times to Jared and Jared never realized. “Then again, the Coalition has people everywhere. Just because I haven’t heard of him doesn’t mean he’s not. You want me to look him up? See if we’ve got a file on him?”

“Nah,” says Jared, swallowing down the thickness in his throat. “Doesn’t matter.” He wets his lips and he could swear he can still taste Jensen there. “C’mon, you’re pretty enough already. Didn’t your mom ever teach you it’s bad manners to keep a lady waiting?”

~*~

It’s kind of crazy how easy it is to get Jensen into the office. Jared chatters about nothing in particular while he drives and Jensen laughs and snarks and watches the world go by outside the windows. It’s a beautiful afternoon and Jared would like to hold onto this memory too, but it’s too close. He can’t think of the silver-gold sunlight that slants across the city or Jensen’s smile and the shadow over his eyes or the flirting that’s so comfortable, so easy, without thinking about how finite it all is.

It takes them ten minutes to get to the office and Jared drives without hesitation or uncertainty but with a cold awareness of the countdown that’s running.

They drive into the dim green light of the underground garage and Jensen climbs out of the car, footfall quiet even in the hush. Automatically, he moves to walk by Jared’s side and Jared doesn’t let himself falter but he doesn’t let himself touch Jensen either. He’s already letting go.

It’s hard to tell exactly when Jensen realizes something is wrong. It’s certainly not until they’ve passed through the first of the security checkpoints and the doors have sealed shut behind them. Jared doesn’t have the heart to say a goddamn thing. They walk in a silence that Jensen doesn’t try to break.

Jensen definitely knows when they round a corner and see all four of the branch executives waiting for them, accompanied by five officers from Security. Jared feels Jensen miss a step by his side, hears his short, punched-out breath.

“Damn,” Jensen says, trying to sound light but it comes out all wrong. “I left some files in the car. I’d better-“

Jared catches him by the elbow as Jensen tries to turn around, firmly keeps him moving forwards. He doesn’t look at Jensen, doesn’t say anything, and Jensen doesn’t fight him. Jensen just makes another of those small, wrecked noises that somehow manages to hurt Jared more than any protest could. His gaze stays fixed ahead of himself and he goes on walking.

When they reach the branch executives, Jensen hands over his security pass to Glover without a word and then neatly crosses his wrists behind his back to be cuffed by one of the security officers. It’s only when they’re about to take him away that he glances up at Jared.

“I thought you loved me,” he says bitterly.

“I don’t even know you,” Jared tells him.

Chapter 20

“So this security screening thing,” says Jared, while he allows Denvers to strap him into the chair and hook him up to the monitors, “does it actually do anything or is it just to make us all feel better? Because, man, I gotta tell you, I think you might’a missed something important earlier.”

“No system’s foolproof, kid,” Denvers says. “There are ways to beat it, sure. Still, you’re not really expecting me to have caught something from a computer that you didn’t pick up on?”

Humiliation burns, acidic and heavy, in Jared’s belly. Jared’s cheeks heat and he turns his face away from Denvers, concentrates on the small blank wall. Denvers is right: Jared knows he is being unreasonable in expecting anyone but himself to have realized what was going on with Jensen. He should have known and he didn’t, which makes him a fucking joke.

But even easier than hating Jensen for ruining his reputation is hating him for letting Jared fall in love with him. Jensen should never have let it happen and Jared can’t forgive him for it. If Jensen had really cared about Jared, he would never ever have let Jared fall for him.

It’s not Denvers’ fault and it’s not Jared’s fault. It’s nobody’s fault but Jensen’s.

“Are you ready?” Denvers says.

Jared looks up from his mindless examination of the thick, white straps that keep his wrists on the arms of the chair. He nods, even manages a smile.

“Okay,” says Denvers. “What’s your name?”

~*~

They get through what feels like hours of questioning. Denvers investigates every possible permutation of Jared’s involvement with Jensen and the Coalition, comes up with scenarios that would never even have occurred to Jared, situations so ridiculously implausible they’re almost believable. Once he sinks into the routine, Jared is able to answer without heat or hostility, nothing but simple obedience.

They’re nearing the end when Denvers says, “Are you in love with Jensen Teague?”

The question feels unexpected somehow, even though Jared thinks he should have been preparing himself for it the minute they told him he was going to be screened again.

He sighs, wets his lips and, staring up at the ceiling, tries not to hate himself too much.

“Yes,” he says.

~*~

It’s all a little unclear what they intend to do with Jared now. He’s tainted but he’s also still their most valuable asset, still their best agent. They’re probably not going to be willing to shunt him off to some other agency, not when the extent of their problems are only just now beginning to be revealed.

So he hangs around in the ISA offices and waits for someone to tell him what they want him to do. The wait starts to make him feel useless and he’s oddly relieved when Schneider calls him in to his office on the third day following Jensen’s arrest.

“I wanted to go over a few things,” Schneider says, restlessly adjusting papers on his desk. “Some things you should know.”

When Jared can’t find a suitable answer for that, he just nods and looks receptive.

“Jeff Morgan is overseeing things now.”

This apparently should mean something to Jared but he’s no idea who Jeff is and why he should need to know this. He lifts one shoulder in a shrug and says, “Okay.”

Schneider’s smile is faint but amused. “He’s. well, he’s from an agency a step up from ISA. He’s probably gonna want to talk to you at some point, about your relationship with Teague.”

“I don’t have anything to hide,” Jared says.

“No, no, I know you don’t. I just wanted to give you a heads up,” Schneider says. “Then there’s the other thing.” He looks uncomfortable. “Weatherly’s gonna be even harder to live with than usual while this goes on and I wanna ask you to give him a break. He’s gonna be an insufferable prick, but don’t let him get to you.”

Jared shrugs again and says, “Yeah, sure,” and then his brain clicks into gear and he thinks to ask, “What’s his problem?”

Schneider hesitates and focuses his attention on rearranging the papers on his desk again. Without looking at Jared, he says, “Michael was involved with an agent who went missing a few years ago. Teague’s admitted to killing her.”

The words take a moment to fit together into a meaning Jared can understand. He blinks and says, “Jensen killed someone.” It might be a question but he doesn’t think there’s any room for confusion in what Schneider’s said.

“Two someones,” Schneider says. Then he hesitates again, shooting Jared a tightly sympathetic look, before adding, “He murdered two of our agents himself, and a couple of others indirectly. He’s responsible for a lot of good people dying, Jared, people who trusted him.”

“I want to see the video of his interrogation,” Jared says. “I need to see it.”

Schneider shakes his head and Jared’s about to kick up all hell about it when he says, “Jeff’s the one you’ve gotta ask. He’s a tough sonofabitch but he’s a reasonable man. You convince him you’re not about to do anything stupid, and he might just let you. Word to the wise, don’t try intimidating him.”

Jared guesses putting a gun to the guy’s head would count as intimidation.

~*~

Jeff Morgan has sleepy, dark eyes and a slow, lazy manner. Under other circumstances, Jared would probably think he was a nice guy who he wouldn’t mind having a beer with. Right now though, he’s more interested in figuring out the best way of getting Jeff to do what he wants.

“I just want to see the footage of his interrogation,” Jared says. “You can screen me, question me, whatever you want. I’ll cooperate. But I really think I need to hear him tell it.”

Jeff studies him for a long long moment. Jared doesn’t allow himself to fidget, doesn’t allow any outward sign of his rising frustration.

“You and Teague were pretty close,” Jeff says finally. “You went on vacation with the guy.”

“Yes,” says Jared. He bites back the stream of useless information he wants to give: We went to Hawaii and it was beautiful and he was beautiful and on the last night we ate at this little restaurant where they completely screwed up our orders and we ended up having to swap food between our plates until we both had a meal we could eat and I was so happy and I never realized I was coming back to this.

“They used you to bring him in,” Jeff says. “You didn’t question the orders? Didn’t hesitate? Didn’t ask him for his side of the story?”

There’s no accusation in his tone, just mild curiosity. Jeff meets Jared’s eyes and raises an eyebrow at his silence.

“It made sense,” Jared says at last. “Whatever his reasons, he’s been lying to me. I can’t You gotta understand, my line of work, I can’t let people lie to me. I can’t take that risk.”

“Not even with someone you have feelings for?”

“Specially not then.” Jared looks down at the knot of his fingers and feels stupidly young, feels caught out. “I let myself I’d already taken too many risks with him. Finding out he’d lied to me I had to get things back under control. Had to do it fast. Had to had to be in control again.”

Jeff nods. “Seems reasonable to me.” He leans back in his chair, studying Jared with a placid expression that doesn’t fool Jared for a second. “All right, you can see the video. I’ll even let you see him. But then you let it go, you hear me? No crazy revenge missions or undying grudges. We got ourselves a deal?”

Jared nods fervently. “Yeah. Let me see him, and let me see the video, and I’ll let it all go. I will.”

Jeff gives a low, rumbling laugh. “How’d you ever get so good at what you do when you’re such a lousy liar, kid?”

~*~

Jensen is still in his suit but the tie is loosened and his jacket is missing. He looks tired, drawn, but unharmed. He sits, hands cuffed at the wrists and resting in front of him on the table, and his gaze is empty.

Glover sits down across from him and opens a file.

“I’d like to start at the beginning,” Glover says. “When precisely did you turn?”

“I didn’t,” Jensen says. He licks his lips and finally looks towards Glover. “Can I have a cigarette?”

Glover motions to one of the agents at the door of the cell, who supplies him with a cigarette and a lighter. Jensen takes the cigarette and allows Glover to light it for him. It looks ridiculous, the way he has to bring both hands up to get the cigarette to his mouth, but it seems to settle him. His posture relaxes a little.

Jensen looks down at the cigarette smoldering between his fingers. “When I was seventeen, I attended a protest rally, something about the Mortimer Proposition, it was big at the time but I don’t even remember now. I met Mike Rosenbaum there and he kinda took me under his wing, kept his distance but he was always there.”

“He brought you into the Coalition?” Glover supplies.

Jensen gives a single shake of his head. “No, not then. I wanted to join but Mike didn’t want me to. Said I was too young. Said I could do more damage from inside the White House and I should concentrate on getting myself in there.”

“But you were recruited by the CIA at the end of your freshman year at college,” Glover says, glancing down at the file in front of him.

“I thought it was the best way to serve the Coalition. Then I told Mike, who introduced me to Kripke and Kring.” Jensen shrugs. “I was a double the first day I walked through the doors at Langley. From there it was just a matter of maneuvering myself into position to be transferred into ISA.”

Glover nods then flips open a separate file.

“I want to run through some disappearances and deaths of agents with you. I want you to fill in the blanks.”

Jensen nods then, when Glover goes on looking at him, he says, “Would it be easier if I just told you the deaths I’m responsible for?” His tone is polite, as if he’s simply offering to take some paperwork off a superior’s hands.

“I think that would be easier, yes, thank you.”

Without even a pause, Jensen starts reeling off names and details. “James Van Der Beek, I reported his whereabouts to contacts of mine. I did the same with Joshua Jackson a few months later. I fed bad intel to Nicholas Brendon, which resulted in his death. Patrick Dempsey was taken and murdered by Coalition agents following information I-“

“You were responsible for Dempsey’s disappearance?” Glover interrupts.

Jensen nods. “I believed, correctly as it turned out, that Michael Weatherly would replace him and Weatherly was” Jensen breaks off.

Glover raises an eyebrow. “Weatherly was?”

“The Coalition’s preferred choice for branch executive,” Jensen says smoothly, as if he never hesitated.

“Why?”

Jensen shrugs and takes a slow pull of his cigarette. Glover waits with what appears to be unending patience.

“Because of my relationship with Jessica Alba,” Jensen says at last. “And because of her relationship with Weatherly.”

The door of the cell bangs open. The security agent instantly moves to block Weatherly and Glover’s on his feet to intercept him too. Weatherly struggles against them, too angry and focused on Jensen to be able to throw them off. “Where the fuck is she?” he shouts. “What did you do to her, you fucking bastard?”

Jensen sits there and watches Weatherly with a thin, poisonous smile on his face.

“She’s somewhere at the bottom of the South Atlantic Ocean.” He leans in towards Weatherly. “I put a bullet in the back of her head and threw her body off the plane. And you trusted her so damn much you believed every bullshit line I fed you!”

Chaos: Weatherly breaks free and surges towards Jensen, while the others try to catch hold of him again. There’s a clatter as the chair goes over and Weatherly rides Jensen down onto the ground. The camera’s view is blocked as agents push forwards to drag Weatherly off of him.

In the last few moments of the video, Weatherly is being dragged from the room, still snarling at Jensen - you’re a dead man, I’ll fucking kill you, I’ll kill you - and Jensen’s hauled upright, blood on his face and on his shirt.

~*~

Schneider has replaced Glover. Jensen’s face has been cleaned up and his bloody shirt has been stripped from him, leaving him in a thin white t-shirt. There are three security agents at the door.

“I want to talk to you about Chris Kane,” Schneider says.

Jensen smiles and leans back in his chair. “You’re driving this conversation. We’ll talk about whatever you want.”

“Three weeks before Kane’s death, one of his assignments was compromised.” Schneider smiles without much warmth. “The Coalition knew our next move. Kane said he thought he’d accidentally passed the information.” Schneider cocks his head at Jensen. “Kane didn’t pass the information, did he?”

“No,” Jensen says. “I did. He covered up for me. And you all fell over yourselves to believe he was the double. I’ve got to say, it was kind of funny to watch.”

Schneider nods slowly. “Why’d he cover up for you?”

“He was my friend. He thought I’d made a mistake.” Jensen’s fingers flex in a sharp, nervous little move. “Then he started” Jensen lets out a short breath. “Can I have another cigarette?”

“No,” Schneider says. “Kane started doing what?”

“I think he figured out somehow that I hadn’t made a mistake. He knew-” Jensen bows his head and for the first time his voice is soft with regret. “He knew, he just he wasn’t going to let it go on. He was getting ready to make his move. I had no choice.”

Schneider nods again, satisfied, and then gestures to someone out of sight. A voice recording begins to play and Jensen goes absolutely still.

“Jeez, I’m sweating like a pig here,” a man’s voice says, thick and warm. “Crank the AC up a little higher, will you?”

“Negative, Cowboy. I have enough to deal with already,” Jensen’s voice says. He sounds amused.

“And my comfort ain’t on the list?”

“Oh it’s there, but it’s under about five hundred other things. Try losing another layer.”

“Losing another layer’ll leave me in my shorts. C’mon, Cheerleader, you really want me to get naked?”

“On second thoughts, I’ll see what I can do about the AC,” Jensen says. “Turn left up here, you can access the secondary control panel in the room on the end.”

The voices go silent. There’s nothing but the remote scuffle of movement and the occasional clicking of a keyboard.

“Okay,” says the man. “I’m in. Just give me a moment to- Cheerleader?” All hint of playfulness is gone. “The door’s sealed itself.”

“It’s probably a failsafe. Give me a second,” Jensen says. “Let me- No. No, no, hold on, I just need to-“

“There’s something coming through the vents. I need an exit and I need it fast. Can you override security on the door?”

“I’m trying! I’ve just got to reroute the signal through- Damn it! I can’t get in. The network’s shutting down,” Jensen’s voice is tight with panic and the staccato sound of his fingers on the keys is frantic, furious. “Okay, if I can-“

The man’s voice is muffled but still coherent. “It’s gas, Jenny. I can’t breathe. I can’t Jesus, I can’t-“

“No, hang on! Just hang on! There! There, I’ve got through one of the locks! You just need to hang on while I Fuck, no, no, no! There’s someone else in the system! It won’t let me C’mon, it’s only a couple more locks and I’ll get you outta there”

The man is coughing: hoarse, rasping noises that sound more like grinding machinery than something a human could produce. It’s loud and ugly; it hurts even to have to hear it.

“Fuck, should’a seen it coming,” he chokes out. “Guess I’m just too fucking stupid to live, huh?”

Jensen goes silent. The clacking of the keyboard stops dead. “Chris.” It’s little more than a whisper, barely there on the recording.

The sound of Chris’s coughing has turned wet and strangled. The few gasps he manages are labored. And then there’s nothing but the sound of Jensen breathing. The hush is oppressive, horrible. Then Jensen draws in a shuddering breath and there’s the sound of his fingers on the keyboard.

“This is Cheerleader. Come in, Echo-Niner,” Jensen says, his voice full of an unnatural calm. “I repeat, this is Cheerleader. We have an agent down.”

~*~

The recording ends. Jensen impassively watches Schneider who’s watching him in turn.

“You know, when we recovered Chris Kane’s body,” Schneider says, “it was like his insides had melted.”

Jensen doesn’t say a word, just holds Schneider’s gaze.

“I remember how upset you were. We were all pretty worried about you. But, y’know what? You still managed to drop some clever little hints to make us think it was just the Coalition taking out their own trash. Yeah, we thought he was the double, but you made us think that.”

At Jensen’s continued silence, Schneider raises his eyebrows, spreads his hands in exasperation.

“That’s it? Nothing?” Anger’s written clearly across Schneider’s face. “We looked back over the assignment, Kane was never s’posed to go in that room. You changed the assignment! You walked him in there! And like a blind, trusting fool Kane did just like you told him to!”

“Chris liked to play at being a mean sonofabitch,” Jensen says and, bizarrely, there’s something like affection in his voice, “but deep down, he was a nice guy. He believed the best in people.”

Schneider’s jaw drops. “How the hell do you sleep at night? What kind of warped logic do you use to make this okay with you?”

Jensen turns his face to the wall and doesn’t speak again. The video ends a few minutes later.

~*~

“So,” says O’Toole, “last thing we have to talk about is Jared.”

Jensen rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes. He can barely hold his head up. It’s fairly obvious that they’re not letting him sleep. He lets out a heavy sigh and flicks a glance in O’Toole’s direction.

“Yes, I’m in love with him. No, it wasn’t part of a plan. Yes, I’ve been using him and information he’s given me. You can blame him for trusting me but not for anything else. He’s done nothing wrong.”

“We saw a conversation between you and Michael Rosenbaum in which you said were capable of ‘taking care’ of Jared.”

Jensen flinches. “You showed Jared, didn’t you?”

He closes his eyes when O’Toole nods.

“Tell me about Jared,” she says.

For a long moment it seems as if Jensen has sunk back into silence and they’ll get nothing more from him. And then, almost reluctantly, he starts to speak again.

“When I learned that ISA had won Jared’s contract, I ensured I was the handler chosen for him. Originally, the plan was to get close to him, make him trust me, then kill him. But the plan changed.”

“How come?”

“I made his first assignment an experiment. I demonstrated that we could co-opt him, subvert assignments to be beneficial to us, or at the very least, useless to ISA. We had one of the government’s best agents, and he was working for us.”

“And you say the relationship between the two of you wasn’t a set-up?”

“It wasn’t!” Jensen snaps. “I spent the first few weeks with him scared out of my fucking mind that he was going to figure it out and take me apart! And instead, he goes and complicates what was already a very complicated situation, and I had to try to hold it all together! You think it made my life easier being in love with him?”

“I think it made your life easier him being in love with you,” O’Toole says calmly. “Dimitri Krantz would be one example.”

Jensen flinches, shoulders coming up defensively. It takes him a moment to gather his composure and say anything. “Yeah, I was able to put together that he was going for Krantz. And I was able to pull the virus off the servers because he told me it had been noticed. Mike even palmed me a goddamn bug for Cassidy’s office right in front of him. Yeah, I was able to use him.” He seems to shrink in on himself and his voice drops to a mutter. “It wasn’t easy. None of it was easy.”

O’Toole lets him sit silently for a while. The look on her face as she studies Jensen is almost sympathetic. She shuffles through the papers in the file in front of her but her gaze can’t stay away from Jensen.

“I’ve gotta ask, Jensen,” she says. “If they gave the order, would you really have killed him?”

“No, I couldn’t,” Jensen says immediately. “I’d have asked Mike to.”

O’Toole doesn’t look at all sympathetic anymore.

~*~

Jeff is waiting in the doorway. He looks Jared over then raises an eyebrow.

“You sure you wanna see him?” he says.

“Put me in a room with him,” Jared says.

Chapter 21

They take Jared’s gun off him before they let him in Jensen’s cell. It’s a pointless thing to do because if Jared decides he wants Jensen dead then the lack of a gun isn’t going to hold him up for even a second. However, he accepts the implicit command in both the gesture and in the look on Jeff’s face.

His breath is light and shaky, high in his throat, as they open the door for him. The adrenaline coursing through his system is going to make him sick. Every instinct in his body is telling him to do something but there’s no clear message telling him what. He forces himself to calm, willing his muscles to relax. It’s years since he felt this crazy.

Jeff goes in front, Jared hears him say, “You have a visitor,” and he hears Jensen say, “I don’t want to see anyone.” And then he’s in the room. Jensen’s gaze snaps from Jeff to Jared and then back again.

“No,” Jensen says to Jeff. “Get him out of here. I don’t want to see him.”

Jeff doesn’t answer, just turns and walks out. The door closes and then it’s just them: just Jared in a room with some guy he doesn’t know at all and can’t stop being in love with.

Jensen is scruffier than Jared’s ever seen him. His complexion is washed out and his jaw is shadowed with stubble. His lower lip is split and swollen, and there’s a bruise on his cheek that’s only just started to fade to green. Every line of his body says he’s exhausted. He watches Jared with wary, red-rimmed eyes.

Jared takes a step towards him and Jensen instantly jerks backwards out of his chair, the chair legs scraping shrilly across the floor. Jensen’s cuffed hands are raised defensively, for all the good they’d do. Jared smiles grimly and nods.

“Damn right you should be fucking scared of me.”

Slowly and deliberately, Jared sits at the table and gestures for Jensen to take his seat again. Jensen keeps his back to the wall and doesn’t move.

“You need some help sitting down?” Jared says. “You need me to help you?”

He sees Jensen weigh up his odds and then Jensen sits down across from him. He’s far from relaxed. Jared recognizes that same glimmer of fear he was so used to seeing in Jensen when they first knew each other. It seems appropriate, considering they’re strangers to each other all over again.

“Why did you come here?” Jensen says after a few moments of silence have passed.

“I want you to break the habit of a lifetime and tell me the truth. I want you to explain all this to me. I’ve seen your interrogation, heard what you had to say. Now I want you to explain it to me.”

Jensen gives him a strange look: all intense curiosity. His lips twitch as if he wants to smile and Jared knows, knows, that if Jensen smiles at him he’s going to do him some serious harm.

“What do you need to hear?” Jensen says. “What’s going to make this easier for you? I’ll say whatever you want me to but you don’t need an explanation. I’m the bad guy here, Jared. And you don’t want to make me prove it.”

“No? Go on then, how would you prove it?”

Jensen doesn’t hesitate. “I know your name. I know where you come from. That’s all I need.”

Jared doesn’t even realize he’s moved until he’s over the table and his fist is slamming into Jensen’s face, knocking him flat onto his back. Jensen cries out but the sound is muffled under Jared’s weight. The impact of the punch is hot and hard and immensely satisfying, and he draws his fist back to do it again. Jared’s got Jensen pinned beneath him, his to take to pieces as slowly as he likes, and Jensen can struggle as much as he wants but he’s not going anywhere until Jared lets him.

Jared twists his fingers into the front of Jensen’s t-shirt and hauls him closer, and it’s the sick intimacy of being so close to Jensen - not even inches between their faces, the rough pants of Jensen’s breathing hot over Jared’s skin as he hangs from Jared’s grip - that makes him pause. Blood trickles sluggishly from Jensen’s nose, over the shiny swell of his lips, down his chin and splattering wetly on his t-shirt. His cuffed hands twitch ineffectually at his chest: meager defense against Jared.

“You wanna beat the crap outta me?” he spits at Jared. “Work off some of that frustration? Go ahead, not like I can stop you. Get your kicks in now, buddy, ‘cause you ain’t gonna be seeing me again.”

“What do you mean?”

Jensen bares his teeth at him in an obscene parody of a grin. “You wanted the truth? Here it is. The truth is they’re gonna fuck me up until they’re sure I can’t tell them anything else they want to know, and then I’m gonna get ‘disappeared’. And if I’m lucky and I play along, I’ll get to live out the rest of my life in some godforsaken shithole and never see sunlight again. If I’m lucky.”

Quickly but not particularly gently, Jared drags Jensen to his feet and throws him back into his chair.

“Jesus, are you seriously expecting me to feel sorry for you? What the hell else do you think you deserve?”

There’s something strangely pitiful about Jensen’s attempts to regain some of his dignity and Jared would look away, except he doesn’t trust Jensen out of his sight for even a second. Jensen rolls his shoulders and settles himself tidily in the chair, wipes the back of his hand over his bloody face and only ends up smearing the blood across his skin. He shoots Jared a venomous look.

“What I deserve is a little gratitude! I could have taken you out any time I liked and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could have done to stop me. Hell, my guys at the Coalition would have fucking fallen at my feet if I’d done it! But I kept you safe! I suffered for you.”

Jared gapes at him then shakes his head. “You want me to thank you for not double-crossing me? Jesus, you really are insane. You are so completely fucked in the head that I don’t even How the hell do you function?”

“Better than you, apparently.”

There’s a silence between them, as Jared doesn’t even bother coming up with a response to that.

As gratifying as it had been to punch Jensen, the urge to do it again has drained away. Jared isn’t angry anymore - he’s just empty. He can’t summon up feeling heartbroken either. He’s not even sure what he’s doing here, why he needed to see Jensen again.

He takes a breath and looks at Jensen one last time - bloody face, green eyes, split lip - then stands and crosses to the door.

“I’m done,” he says.

Behind him, there’s the scrape of Jensen’s chair legs as Jensen rises sharply. Jared, Jensen says. Jared.

Jared doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back.

~*~

Weatherly and O’Toole are already waiting in Jeff’s office when Jared arrives. The atmosphere is not entirely unlike that of a wake. They’re quiet and still, with an air of being just a little shell-shocked. Jeff’s gaze drops to Jared’s bruised knuckles before looking back up at him. “You get what you came for?”

Jared nods, can’t find suitable words so doesn’t say anything.

“For what it’s worth, Jared,” Weatherly says, “I’m sorry.”

Taken aback, Jared looks at him, then nods slowly. “Yeah, you too. Guess he got us all pretty good.”

“I’m going to leave him for a while,” Jeff says. “Then Glover and I’ll start a proper catalogue of his activities. We’re going to have to go over everything from the beginning, re-evaluate all of his assignments, screen all of his former agents.” He sighs and rubs his temple. “Lot of work, but we’ve got to know where we stand.”

“We’re screening some prospective new handlers for you, Jared,” Weatherly says. “Thinking we might pull someone up through the ranks. They won’t have as much experience as some, but at least we can trust they’re clean.”

There’s a sudden noise outside the office and then Schneider appears in the doorway. He’s out of breath and wild-eyed.

“Rosenbaum just blew up an ISA facility in Nevada,” he says. “Numbers so far say eighteen dead and three casualties but it’s only about three minutes old so who fucking knows? He’s threatening to hit a civilian target next if we don’t hand over Teague.”

“I know him too well to think for even a second that he’s bluffing,” says O’Toole. “Remember Tokyo? We’re looking at wholesale slaughter here if we don’t act fast.”

“Damn it!” Jeff says. It’s fascinating to Jared how all three of the branch executives present look to him to make the decision. He sighs heavily then shakes his head. “We’ve got to move him. Get him somewhere secure. And I’m going to want all available information regarding Rosenbaum’s whereabouts.”

“Our informant, Eric Johnson, turned up dead two days ago. It was only through him we were able to catch the meeting between Rosenbaum and Jensen,” Weatherly says. “Without him, we might as well be sticking a pin in a map.”

“First things first, we get Jensen out of here,” Jeff says. “Everything else comes after. Call down to Security, tell them to get Jensen ready for transport. We’re leaving now.”

Nobody even tries to stop Jared going with them.

Chapter 22

Jensen is in the armored van up ahead, out of sight but most definitely not out of mind. Jared caught a glimpse of him when he came down with Jeff and Schneider to join Glover in the car. Jensen had been cuffed wrists to ankles and accompanied by two agents in the back, and another two up front. He’d looked up, seen Jared and pointedly looked away. Jared guesses he deserves it, even considering Jensen is the guilty one.

They drive along in silence behind the van. Jeff and Schneider keep their eyes on the road ahead, while Glover gazes impassively out of the window. Jared has no idea where they’re taking Jensen, only that there will be yet more interrogating to be done when they get there. Jensen has maybe ten years’ worth of playing the double to run through for them, and then Then what?

“How soon before he goes to trial?” Jared says.

Schneider looks to Glover, who ignores him, and then says, “We’ve got a lot of information to go through yet. We’re not there yet.”

Jared pauses. He considers Schneider’s tone and Glover’s careful avoidance, and then gives in to the unsettling doubt he can’t shake off. “If he hadn’t cooperated, what would have happened to him?”

Silence. Glover turns away from the window and gives Jared a long, grimly expectant look. Jared draws in a terse breath and nods, closes his eyes briefly to regain his composure. He wants this to be over. He wants his most pressing ethical concern to be how low he can realistically keep the body count while still doing his job efficiently and well.

He doesn’t want to think about what this being over means for Jensen. He tells himself that this is one of the obvious risks of being a double agent and that Jensen is smart enough to have been aware of it when he signed up. He tells himself that Jensen made his choice and it’s not Jared’s place to ache for him about it.

Jensen rolled the dice and he lost, end of.

“He is cooperating though,” Jeff says. “That’s gonna help him.”

Jared’s grateful for the reassurance but he doesn’t like how obvious what he was thinking must have been.

“We might even be able to use him to bring Rosenbaum in,” Schneider says. “That’d go a long way to keeping World War Three from happening.”

Jared raises an eyebrow. “Rosenbaum’s really that big a player?” It’s hard to believe of the weird but friendly guy Jared met in Sofia.

“When people say Rosenbaum’s crazy, they don’t mean in a ‘shaving all his hair off’ kind of crazy,” Schneider says. “He’s a real live dog-of-war. It’d be one thing if he was stupid but the guy’s got a brain like-“

A truck slams out onto the road in front of them, cutting them off from the armored van. Their driver barely manages to stop in time and the brakes squeal as the car skids across the road. Long years of experience have Jared reaching for his gun even as he braces himself in his seat.

Deep down, he thinks he might have been expecting something like this.

Maybe he was even hoping for it.

As Jared exits the car, Schneider’s calling him - calling him back or trying to give him orders - and Jeff’s halfway out behind him. Jared ignores both of them.

Ahead, the cab door of the truck is flung wide and there’s no more than a couple of seconds between Jared registering that the guy’s holding a semi-automatic and Jared shooting him in the shoulder. The guy does down heavily, a splatter of blood against the rusty, corrugated metal of the truck’s side and over the street. Gunfire cracks through the air around Jared as the ISA executives and their agents exchange shots with the guys spilling out of the truck.

Jared’s still only interested in getting to the armored van.

The street runs down beneath a flyover and Jared can just about make out the van. It’s stationary and he can see flames in the dusk light. He runs towards it, is almost there, when the rear door flies open and Jensen tumbles out onto his knees. The cuffs are gone and there’s blood on Jensen’s hands, fresh and wet.

For one moment they’re both frozen there: Jensen staring at Jared who’s staring at Jensen, neither sure what to do or how to react faced with each other. Then Jensen’s up, running scared but fast, heading for the side-streets that wind between the clutter of buildings in this part of town.

Instinctively, Jared raises his gun. It would be a good shot, would plant a bullet right between Jensen’s shoulder blades. Definitely fatal, probably quick.

He could make the shot and no one would think he’d done anything wrong; Jensen is an enemy of the state and it’s up to Jared to deal with the bad guys.

And considering all the people Jensen’s screwed over and are going to be looking for revenge, he might even be doing Jensen a favor.

He should do it. He should shoot. He’s wasting time. Just squeeze the trigger.

Do it do it do it - do it before Jeff catches up and does it. Do it before Jensen’s out of sight.

Jared lets out a punched-out breath, lowers his gun and chases after Jensen.

~*~

Sometimes he loses sight of Jensen completely, and he has to skid to a halt, wait and watch and listen for some idea of where to turn next. Sometimes he’s close enough to hear Jensen panting for breath as he runs. Jensen’s fast and he’s not slowing down, but he’s sleep-deprived and, honestly, Jared’s just better. He just has to keep going, legs pumping steadily, and run Jensen down.

And sometimes, Jensen looks back over his shoulder, looks right at Jared, and Jared has a moment of not understanding what the hell he’s doing, not understanding why Jensen’s running from him.

Jensen leads Jared down crowded streets, almost loses him in the gloom of a parking garage, and then scrambles over a chain-link fence to cut through into a warehouse district. It’s clear to Jared now that Jensen is not running blindly. Jensen has a destination in mind, he has a plan.

On one hand, he’s got to be stopped, but on the other, Jared thinks it’s kind of important to know what exactly Jensen’s hoping to pull off here.

Their final destination is apparently some rundown, high-rise offices. The smashed windows glint wickedly in the setting sun but it’s dark inside. Jensen drags the service door open and disappears through it. So close to what seems to be the end of the road, Jared speeds up. Through the door, Jared finds himself at the foot of a stairwell. Jensen’s a little above him - Jared catches a flash of his face looking down at him - and he gets it: Jensen’s heading for the roof.

Moving even faster than he had before, Jared charges up the stairs behind Jensen, closing the distance between them. The next time Jensen looks back over his shoulder, Jared’s close enough to see how very wide his eyes are, the determined desperation on his face.

And then Jared decides Jensen’s just too damn close to the door and, reaching out, he’s able to catch Jensen’s ankle and haul his leg out from under him. Jensen faceplants with a grunt, but he scrabbles to maintain a handhold on the steps as Jared drags him down. In the struggle, Jensen’s still thinking clearly enough to give some direction to his lashing out, and Jared only narrowly manages to avoid a kick in the face. Jared tightens his grip and yanks Jensen towards him, flipping him roughly over onto his back. It’s like trying to hold down a wild animal.

“Get the fuck off me!” Jensen snarls.

Jared doesn’t dignify it with a response. He’s able to get hold of one of Jensen’s wrists but it costs him: Jensen backhands him hard across the face and, while pain flares up hotly along Jared’s cheek, Jensen follows it up with a calculated kick right to Jared’s kneecap. The single second of Jared’s hold loosening, even so slightly, is all takes for Jensen to squirm free.

When Jensen throws the door wide, Jared hears it: the beating wind of a helicopter. He’s up and after Jensen instantly, skidding through the door onto the roof. The helicopter hasn’t landed, is still hovering, and Jensen bows his head into the wind as he races towards it. Through the open side, Jared can see Mike in the helicopter, hands outstretched to pull Jensen in.

It’s too late to shoot now. There’s no way Jared could get a clear shot off with the helicopter so close. He freezes, gun held against his thigh, frustration making his heartbeat shudder, and can only watch as Jensen nears the helicopter.

“Jensen!” he yells, his voice battling the storm whipped up by the helicopter blades. “Don’t do this!”

He doesn’t know what he expects but that Jensen actually turns back to look at him is more than he could have hoped for. Jensen is bloodstained and bruised, his t-shirt and pants are scuffed with dirt, but he’s still uncomfortably recognizable as Jared’s handler.

“For your own safety, get out of ISA,” Jensen calls back to him. “And stay away from me.”

Then he turns away, reaching up to Mike. He’s still hauling himself onto the helicopter even as it rises in the air and then Jared’s left alone on the rooftop, in the silence, feeling heavy with grim foreboding.

Chapter 23

When Jared requests some time off, he’s granted it without question or hesitation. Jeff and the branch executives are obviously not sure whether they think Jared was involved in Jensen’s escape or not, despite Jared having told them everything. And there’s no way of proving his innocence that won’t make him appear even guiltier.

Anyway, as far as he can see, Jensen did just fine on his escape without Jared’s help. According to the agents who’d been transporting him, Jensen responded immediately when they came under attack, knocking out one of the agents before going for the other. He’d retrieved the keys for his cuffs and the agent’s cell phone. He’d made one call that hadn’t been answered, which traced to a remote server, and evidently served as a signal to Mike.

It’s all starting to look to Jared like an exit strategy that’s been in place for a good long while. Jensen’s had this escape waiting for him, set up and ready for the day he needed it. He knew ISA’s SOP, knew which road they’d take him along once Mike got them moving him, had the funds ready to hire some cheap local muscle to cause a distraction, had picked a suitable rendezvous point. The only thing he hadn’t been able to plan was Jared’s response - would he shoot or wouldn’t he? Not that Jensen hadn’t tried to factor Jared in; letting Jared fall in love with him had to be viewed as an act of self-preservation.

Jared thinks of the number of times he’s driven down that road with Jensen, and he feels a little sick with it. Jensen must have sat beside him and known that one day, one day, he’d be running down that road. Because Jensen can’t have believed that he’d get away with it, surely? Had he really thought that he’d live out his despicable little life, maybe even slip into a happily-ever-after with Jared, and never be found out? Would he have ever tried telling Jared that he was a murderer and a liar and all kinds of manipulative?

And if he had, what would Jared have done?

It’s that last question that convinces Jared that too much thinking is a really bad idea right now. He has his time off and he has his own plan of action and too much thinking is totally not on the list of things to do.

~*~

Not surprisingly, the CIA is kind of picky about who it recruits. Somehow, Jensen got through the CIA’s screening procedure. Not to state the obvious, but, somewhere along the line, something was obviously missed. Jared has considered this exhaustively because he feels he needs someone to blame for ever letting him meet Jensen.

Following a review of the facts, Jared has come down to two points. Firstly, Jensen was recruited from college. Secondly, Jensen was still in high school when he met Mike.

Jared’s willing to bet that Jensen made sure there was nothing about him in college that would show up when the CIA asked around about him. Maybe if the CIA had tracked a little further back though they might have found something. It began in high school and that’s where Jared has to look.

The ISA offices are too emotionally charged for Jared to get any work done, plus there would be questions asked, so he retreats to the blessedly neutral space of his apartment, opens his laptop, and sets about looking for answers. He’s prepared to hack his way into CIA databases if he has to - albeit hacking as politely and respectfully as is possible - but it turns out all he needs is Jensen’s name.

‘Jensen Ackles’ leads him to a Missing Persons report, which has been marked as a voluntary disappearance and closed - but which still exists. It’s dated for when Jensen was in college and Jared imagines that Jensen decided to cut all links before embarking on his career as a double-crossing traitor. It’d be a smart thing to do, Jared figures, so it seems likely to him that that’s what Jensen did. Jensen’s all about the smart, except when he’s about the total untrustworthiness.

Jensen did the smart thing and disappeared.

Except, his mom apparently reported him as missing. Her name and address is on the bottom of the report. It’s years ago, but even if she’s moved, she can’t be that difficult to find.

Jared rocks backwards, the laptop still perched on his knees, and stares at Jensen’s family’s home address. It’s just a few lines of text but it feels enormous, overwhelming almost. He turns away from it and stares out of the window at the grey clouds in the sky banked up on one another. His breathing has picked up slightly.

People have done a lot of crappy things to Jared - leaving aside the whole ‘Jensen’ issue because no one’s ever done anything like that to him before - and he’s never gone out of his way to retaliate. He believes in proportional responses and keeping his calm and generally not being a dick. However, if anyone went near his family, he’d kill them. Wouldn’t even have to think about it. Hell, he punched Jensen for even hinting at it, and Jensen is, was was something he isn’t going to think about right now damn it.

There are lines that Jared doesn’t want to cross. This is one of them.

But when he thinks about it, falling in love with his handler was another of them. Jensen led him to this.

Jared sighs and begins investigating flights to Dallas.

~*~

“Oh,” Donna Ackles says, faint but calm, “you’ve found his body, haven’t you?”

Jared manages not to wince as he tucks his fake badge back into his jacket.

“No, ma’am. Nothing like that. We’re just reviewing some old cases. I was wondering if I could come in, ask you some questions about your son?”

Donna blinks as if she’s processing that there’s still no body and then stands back to let Jared in. He enters Jensen’s childhood home and feels wrong down to the bone. Wrong, and insanely fascinated. He’s taken the same kind of precautions he’d take if it were his own family he was visiting, but it still feels perilous. The notion that he is betraying Jensen in some way occurs to him and is dismissed as stupid in the time it takes for Donna to show him to the living room.

The house is quiet and tidy. Jared searches the walls for family photos but it’s on the mantel that he sees a single photo of Jensen, something like a yearbook picture where he’s young and smiling and kind of dorky-looking. Jared doesn’t want to find it adorable but it’s harder than it should be to keep his eyes off it.

“I don’t know what else I can tell you,” Donna says. “I went over it all with the police at the time.” She gives Jared a small, sharp smile that is painfully similar to Jensen’s. “You’re not going to find him now, are you? It’s been too long. He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry I’m dragging it all up again,” Jared says. “I’m really hoping to talk to some people we didn’t see during the initial investigation. School friends, maybe?”

Donna shakes her head. “Jensen didn’t have any friends at school.” At Jared’s incredulous expression her tone becomes defensive. “No one he was particularly close to. He was an exceptional student, passionate and dedicated. He didn’t have time for”

Being a teenager, Jared fills in silently. But he simply says, “How about any of the teachers then?”

Donna hesitates, thinking, then nods slowly. “Well, I suppose there’s Geoff Wyatt. He taught Jensen for Social Studies. Jensen always enjoyed his lessons and Wyatt helped him with his college applications.”

“You have any idea where I can find Wyatt now?”

“He’s still at the school, I think. Still teaching.”

Jared loves it when things come together as awesomely as this.

~*~

“Of course I remember Jensen,” Wyatt says. “He was my best student.”

Wyatt is nearing retirement-age but his eyes are still fiercely blue and alert. He is not comfortable talking to Jared and that alone convinces Jared that there is something important Wyatt can tell him.

“Can you tell me what you remember about him?” Jared prompts.

Wyatt frowns and continues marking papers. His pen moves effortlessly over the pages, leaving a jagged trail of red squiggles behind.

“I told you: he was my best student. I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

“Look,” says Jared, “I’m not gonna lie to you: we’re not going to find him. We’re going through the motions reviewing this case but we’re not going to find him. But I just want to know what happened. I’ve spoken to a lot of people about Jensen and it seems like nobody can tell me anything.”

Wyatt’s pen pauses. A bell rings distantly and there’s sudden rush of footsteps in the hallway beyond the door. Then Wyatt lays his pen down and looks up at Jared. “That’s because if you ask five different people to tell you about Jensen you’ll hear five different things. Jensen was he was very good at watching people, at handling people. He’d be whatever he thought he needed to be depending on who he was with.”

Jared raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you think that was a little weird?”

“Well, to be honest, Jensen was. He liked his causes better than he liked people.” Wyatt frowns. “No, I don’t mean that. I mean people didn’t catch Jensen’s attention like causes did. By the time I met him, he’d gone through wanting to save the whales, wanting to save the ozone layer and was right up to wanting to save the world.”

“Which I guess is where the political protest rallies come in,” Jared says, as much to himself as to Wyatt.

“Oh yeah. ‘The current system of organized government does not work’, Jensen used to say. Wrote me fifty million essays on it. So serious, so hung-up on fixing it. Y’know, I’ve seen kids like him before, all this talent and potential and nowhere to direct it. I used to tell him, ‘You’re gonna do great things.’ You know what he’d say to me? ‘When?’”

Wyatt laughs almost affectionately, then shakes his head. “Damn good thing Jensen grew out of all that. Got his head on right and put all that energy to trying to make some responsible changes to the system.”

“What makes you think he grew out of it?”

There’s a long silence that makes Jared think he’s going to have to work a little harder to get Wyatt talking again. But then Wyatt picks up his pen and goes back to marking papers.

“There was this friend of Jensen’s, a couple of years older than Jensen. I never liked him. I thought the whole friendship was downright unhealthy. But, y’know, to be fair, at least it was someone Jensen seemed able to engage with. I saw them together sometimes, heard Jensen start spouting a whole new line of radicalism.”

“What happened?”

“Well,” says Wyatt, “one day, I notice Jensen’s looking awful thoughtful about something. I’m talking more thoughtful than usual. So I asked him to stay after class and I asked him what the trouble was. He says that his friend has said that ‘there’s no such thing as a bloodless revolution’, and what did I think about that?”

Jared can imagine, can almost see it. Sweet little Jensen with his devious little brain working away on the problems of the world. He can imagine Jensen’s brain playing and tugging at the idea, testing the idea to see if he could assimilate it to his thinking or whether he should discard it, like it’s a piece of data he needs to decide if it’s useful or not.

Jared leans forward. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him that a revolution that didn’t serve the people was no good at all. And you know what? I never heard another word from his friend, never saw them together again.” Wyatt beams proudly. “Jensen dropped him so fast and pulled his act together like you wouldn’t believe.”

Considering Jared is almost certain that the friend Wyatt is referring to is Mike, and that he knows for a fact Mike is still very much present in Jensen’s life, Jared does not find himself reassured of Jensen’s moral compass. In fact, it seems pretty obvious to him that Jensen’s been a timebomb ticking away for years.

~*~

Carefully refusing to consider his motives, Jared takes a copy of Jensen’s yearbook photo before he leaves. He tucks it into his wallet and he heads back to ISA and to the problems that need solving now.

Chapter 24

It’s as if the ISA executives are determined to avoid anything like the Jensen-Jared situation happening again by providing Jared with a handler who is about as similar to Jensen as a potted geranium is.

Jared’s new handler is skinny and blond and foul-mouthed, and Jared’s not completely convinced this isn’t some kind of new and unusual punishment.

“I’m here to get you off the Failboat,” Chad says. “Rule number one, there will be no buttsex, unless there is some very hot chick on the receiving end and you are not in the room.”

Jared nods, slow and uncertain. “Oookay. I think I can work with that.”

“Rule number two, there will be no whining about how your Coalition boyfriend did this kind of shit better. I fucking kick ass! And yeah, rule number three, no whining about your Coalition boyfriend, period. I don’t wanna hear about it, it’s skeezy and I don’t wanna be reminded that my agent’s dumb and totally dick-whipped.”

“Rule number four,” Jared puts in, “remember that I’m having a tough time lately and am easily provoked to bursts of extreme and hardcore violence. In fact, you might wanna move that one to the top of the list.”

Chad goes quiet. He examines Jared with an intense, beady-eyed gaze, before he stabs a finger at him. “I’m gonna be putting in a request to change your codename to Dickhead.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Jared says. “And what am I s’posed to call you? Somebody already using Douchebag?”

“Yeah, your mom!” Chad snaps.

Jared stares at him. “Wow. Okay.” He pauses, trying to adjust. “Seriously, you’re my handler? You’re the guy I’m s’posed to trust with my life? Can I maybe have the double-agent back instead? I’d feel safer.”

The look on Chad’s face makes Jared grudgingly feel bad, even though Chad is visibly more pissed than he is upset. It comes to Jared that Weatherly had said they were pulling a handler up through the ranks for him, someone inexperienced but reliable. It must suck for Chad that his promotion comes at the cost of having to work with Jared. Not like handling an agent like Jared ever looks bad on a handler’s file - Jared’s made careers before - but this first meeting doesn’t exactly bode well for the future.

Jared slouches in his chair and idly flips through the assignment in front of him.

“So, why you?” he says. “They had their reasons for giving me Jensen, even if they turned out to be just a little mistaken. So what are their reasons for giving me you?”

“You mean aside from the fact I’m fucking spectacular?”

Jared snorts. “Yeah, aside from that.”

Chad considers the question or - no. He considers Jared. For the first time, Jared is willing to entertain the possibility that Chad may actually be capable of the job ahead of him. Finally Chad scratches his scruff of stubble and shrugs.

“I used to work for the Coalition. Did a couple jobs with them. Left when they started talking about releasing some fucked-up dirty bomb at a subway station. Came over to ISA a couple years ago.”

The level of trust that Jared is prepared to extend to Chad - already meager - drops a few points. It looks like there’s not going to be any respite from the Coalition getting up close and personal. Still, at least Chad can give Jared a look at the Coalition from the inside. Of course, Jensen probably did that too - Jared’s still wading through his reanalysis of every cryptic remark he can remember Jensen making.

“So is the Coalition as bad as everyone says it is?” Jared says. “Or are they all misunderstood vigilante superheroes?”

Chad pulls a face at him. “Good guys and bad guys don’t fucking exist. Yeah, there are people working for the Coalition who don’t deserve to roast in Hell. And it’s not like there aren’t some real pieces of work right here at ISA.”

Jared ignores the dirty look in his direction that Chad punctuates that remark with. Chad pauses, pulls another face, all wrinkly nose and squinty eyes, and Jared starts to suspect that’s his thinking-face.

“Look,” he says, “what I’m saying is, ISA has rules. ISA says you can only go so far and if they catch you going further, then you’re gonna get your ass kicked. The Coalition says do whatever it takes. You’re talking about giving crazies free rein. There are decent types in the Coalition, sure. Your friend Teague and the guys he runs with? They aren’t them.”

Jared is all too willing to believe that Mike Rosenbaum is a piece of shit. He really really is. But he thinks maybe he owes it to his own judgment to look for a little more. He met Mike and he liked him, and he liked Jensen.

“Who says?”

Chad rolls his eyes at him. “Boston last year says so. Tokyo the year before that. Bremen and Masqat in ‘05. You want me to keep going? ‘Cause I can keep going. And these are just the terrorist acts Rosenbaum and the Coalition have signed their names to, the ones with the highest fucking body counts.”

Jesus, Jared liked Jensen. It doesn’t matter that Jensen fooled everyone else too, Jared feels stupid for letting him get so far under his skin. He didn’t see one single, tiny detail of this coming.

“I want to see the files,” Jared says. He needs to see it in black and white. He needs it laid out in front of him.

Chad scowls at him. “I’m not fucking lying about this! I couldn’t come up with half the stuff this guy’s done!”

“Then there’s no problem with me seeing the files,” Jared says, calm but stubborn.

Letting out a little huff of breath, Chad scribbles something down on his notepad. “Fucking trust issues and paranoia, awesome. I’m so fucking thrilled to be a part of this team.” He shoots Jared another sullen look, and then says, “You want proof? I’ll fucking prove it. Come with me.”

Chad takes Jared down into the tech department, and Jared’s mere presence seems to unsettle the agents there. It’s not normally Jared’s job to go and fetch the data put together by the techs. It’s his handler’s job to bring it to him. Occasionally, Jared objects to being so totally spoon-fed and takes it upon himself to go and basically hunt the information down himself.

So far, during his contract at ISA, he hasn’t felt this need. Jensen very neatly made himself the sole source of information coming Jared’s way, and Jared obliviously allowed it to happen.

Chad seems to know his way around and to know a fair number of the tech agents. Jared does another quick re-evaluation of his potential use as a handler. Since working with Lauren and being granted the benefit of her huge network of contacts, Jared never underestimates the value of a handler who makes connections. Of course, Lauren’s contacts tended to actually like her, whereas the immediate reaction of the agents in the room Chad leads him to is to look completely horrified.

“No no no!” says a tiny, blonde woman. “You can’t be here! And you can’t bring him here!”

‘Him’ is apparently Jared. Considering Jared’s never met the woman before, he’s a little offended that she has such a problem with him. The other agent, still slumped in a chair in front of a wall full of monitors, is a small, brown-haired guy with fearful eyes. He’s chewing his nails fretfully while he watches Jared.

“Yeah yeah, whatever, Tal,” Chad says, bypassing the woman and gesturing for Jared to do the same. “Quit yapping in my ear.”

Tal makes a good, brave effort of getting in Jared’s way, despite being a fraction of his height and weight. As politely as he can, and trying hard to avoid being condescending, Jared sidesteps her and follows Chad.

“Jeff Morgan said you weren’t to do this!” Tal says. “Seriously, Murray, Morgan’ll take you apart for this. I can’t allow you to do this!”

Chad gives her the finger over his shoulder, his face lit up by the violet glow of the screens.

“Fine!” she snaps, and she marches over to the phone on the desk, fingers stabbing at the buttons. “You’re so gonna regret this.” She flashes Jared a fierce look and adds, “Hope you’re suitably impressed your handler’s got the brains and attitude of a goddamn shit-flinging monkey!”

Chad rolls his eyes and bends down over the other agent, who’s doing his best to pretend he hasn’t noticed him there and is fixedly staring at the closest of the computer screens.

“Gabe, buddy, tell me Tal hasn’t got your balls in a jar,” Chad says. “Be a man and give us what we want.”

“Guys,” Gabe says, a distinct plaintive note in his voice. “C’mon, guys, that stuff’s classified and Morgan isn’t messing around. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

Chad tightens his grip around Gabe’s shoulders and leans in to whisper in his ear. “Sooner you show us, sooner we’re gone. C’mon, wouldn’t you want to know?”

After another long, worried look at Jared, Gabe leans forward in his chair and starts typing on his keyboard. “Night before last, there was a DNS attack on the network. It was a single message but it flooded the servers, shut ‘em down for about an hour.”

“Which isn’t very long,” Tal says. She’s still holding the phone but her attention is on them, as if she can’t help being drawn into the conversation. “It was huge and over quick. It wanted our attention.”

“I think it peaked at about fifteen gigs per sec,” Gabe puts in, looking towards Tal. “Only time I’ve seen anything bigger was that time we, y’know, with the modified nuke? That was, what? Twenty?”

“Spiked at twenty six,” Tal says. She can’t help looking a little proud. “Couldn’t hold those numbers but-“

“Your geek-porn makes me wanna barf,” Chad says. “Can we get back to the important part? The message?”

Abruptly, Gabe looks uncomfortable again. He sighs, finishes typing on the keyboard, and then swivels his chair back so Jared can see the screen. The message is short and it stops Jared’s heart.

Jared - - Megan talks to strangers.

~*~

The night before last, the time of the attack, Jared was in Dallas. One way or another, Jensen knows what Jared did. And that double-crossing, murderous psychopath has been talking to Jared’s baby sister. He could have shot Jared and it would hurt less.

It takes a while for Jared to be able to do anything other than stare at the message Jensen’s sent him. When he does click back into life, two immediate responses occur to him.

Firstly, he wants to call his family and tell them to go hide in the basement until he says they can come out. Secondly, he wants to kill Jensen. His hand is on his gun before he remembers that he doesn’t know where Jensen is. The urge to kill him doesn’t abate any with knowing it isn’t viable.

“We didn’t know what it means but Morgan said you weren’t to be told, that he was going to handle it,” Tal says into the frozen silence.

The look on Chad’s face suggests he’s reconsidering the wisdom of letting Jared see the message, but all the same, he says, “Told you Teague was no good.”

Jared snaps round to face him properly and Chad reflexively backs up a step.

“I want to see Morgan,” Jared says.

“I’m right here. Got a call that you were down here, didn’t have to guess what for,” Jeff says. He’s in the doorway, watching Jared. He glances at the others briefly. “You three wanna give us a minute?”

They shuffle out instantly and without protest, ignored by both Jared and Jeff. Once it’s just them, Jeff meanders over to the computer where the message Jensen sent is still on the screen, as though he isn’t already completely aware of what it says. Jared waits for his temper to settle a little, and finds that it doesn’t. He just gets angrier and angrier.

“I’m going after him,” Jared tells him. “I’m going to find him and I’m going to take care of the situation.”

“The message’s filename was ‘last warning’,” Jeff says, calm and unmoved.

“It’s too late for that. He’s already gone too far. He can’t be allowed to-”

Jeff shakes his head. “What happened to the goddamn deal we had? I put you in a room with him. You were supposed to let it all go. No grudges, no feuds. Instead, I get this.” He sighs and turns back to Jared. “You messed with his family first, Jared, am I right? And if it had been the other way round, would you have even sent him a warning? Or would you have gone for blood?”

It’s wrong that Jared can rationally understand why he should be grateful to Jensen for the warning. He doesn’t want to be grateful. Jensen went close enough to his baby sister to find out her name; he doesn’t deserve gratitude. But the professional part of Jared’s brain forces him to see the situation in context and he hates Jeff only a little less than he hates Jensen but Jeff’s right: Jensen sent a warning instead of a corpse.

It’s almost kind of touching. He still wants to kill him.

~*~

Back when his codename was more likely to be Scarecrow than Sasquatch, when it was still a novelty to be allowed out on assignment without a partner, Jared almost got himself killed saving someone else’s life. It worked out pretty well and Valarie Rae Miller is the kind of ally you only need one of. They don’t exchange Christmas cards or make an effort to call each other at least once a year, but when Jared needs a favor from someone he can rely upon, it’s Val he thinks of.

When he picks up the phone and dials her number, it’s only the third time ever.

If he were to contact his family himself right now it would be the equivalent of broadcasting their names and locations on the web. Like drawing a map for Mike and everyone else who thinks they’ve got some unfinished business with Jared. But it’s his family and Jared’s already screwed up by trusting Jensen; he’s not going to compound the error and trust Morgan to keep them safe.

It’s a long time before she picks up and Jared’s beginning to wonder if she’s even still alive. People die all the damn time in his line of work and it’s stopped being surprising.

“Hey,” she says. “Long time, Jaybird. How’s things?”

“Totally failing to be awesome,” Jared says. “Look, I got a situation. I’m gonna be working late for a while, can’t get home. Can you check in on my dogs? Just make sure they’re okay now and then? I’d go myself but, y’know, work is crazy.”

“Sure, no problem,” Val says, and it’s three words but it’s a huge weight off Jared’s shoulders. “I still got the key you gave me last time. But what’s got work so crazy, huh?”

Jared pauses, rubs the phone against his forehead awkwardly. “Uh, my ex-boyfriend’s kinda gone psycho. Work is the best place to be. My boss is all ‘you gotta let it go, Jared, you gotta move on’ but How’m I supposed to do that?”

“Mmm,” says Val. “Guess it depends on how serious the relationship was and how bad the break-up was.”

“Very serious and very bad.” Jared hesitates again, then adds, “He’s got my home phone number.”

Val’s quiet for a long moment and Jared feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“How’d he get that?” she says at last.

Jared laughs humorlessly. “I gave it to him. I fucking gave it to him. He’s my ex-boyfriend, Val.”

“Wow,” she says, and “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Jared says. “I think I might have a deathwish. Or maybe I’m just too stupid to live. Is that something I can get my doctor to test for?”

“No cure for that ‘cept a bullet in the brainpan, honey,” Val says. “Don’t worry, I got your dogs, Jaybird. You just concentrate on getting over your ex. Gotta put them suckers right outta your life.”

“Yeah,” says Jared, “I’m on it.”

Chapter 25

“And it wasn’t like she had no tits at all, there was a definite handful, or, like, a mouthful, but she must have had those fillet type things in her bra ‘cause she totally filled out her dress but when I got her naked-“

“Time,” Jared says.

“-There was, like, nothing there! I was, like, ‘where’s the rest?’ Not like she wasn’t worth banging but, dude! False advertising! I mean, I know you never really know what you’re gonna find-“

“Mayhem! Time!”

“Uh, you got another forty seconds. Anyway, she had this friend with her, redhead, real Catholic schoolgirl type, y’know? And I totally thought I should’a-“

Jared tunes Chad out again and concentrates on keeping his breathing level. The muscles in his arms and legs and back aren’t yet burning with the strain of keeping his body held parallel to the ceiling, over the web of criss-crossing security beams, but he’s very aware of just how long he’s been hanging here so far.

He can do another forty seconds. Of course, it would make it easier to bear if Chad stopped his monologue of sleaze.

Still, if Chad is talking about his conquests then he’s not giving Jared shit about Jensen. Apparently, Chad feels that because he broke the rules to let Jared know about Megan, he’s entitled to go on at length about just how much Jensen sucks. Jared knows Jensen sucks. He could write a long and really informative book about the different ways in which Jensen is not a good person. However, it’s frustrating enough that his brain won’t leave the goddamn subject alone without Chad joining in.

He takes a deep breath and concentrates on not allowing his body to even wobble.

“Then she wiggled her tongue in between her fingers, like, flicked it,” Chad says. “Shit, I was just, like, coming everywhere. Total fountains of spunk. Fifteen seconds.”

There were always silences with Jensen. Jared hadn’t always been able to tell what Jensen was doing; he’d just hear the keyboard, get the occasional direction or command. Even when Jensen had begun flirting back, he’d never talk much. There’d still be those silences and Jared’s imagination would go crazy with them, just trying to picture Jensen in his head.

“And we’re down to five, four, three, two, one - and buh-bye lights!”

The security beams flicker and disappear, and Jared swings down from the ceiling. He doesn’t have the time to feel the ache of relief in his arms and legs because Chad’s already started the countdown for the lights to reappear. Jared runs towards the door at the far end of the passage; it’s a long way off.

“Locks are down,” Chad says. “Lights in twelve seconds.”

Jared’s not there yet.

“Eight, seven, six, Sasquatch would you fucking run faster, three, two-“

Jared skids through the door as it swings open. He lets out a breath then turns and - The security beams have not come back on. Jared stares at the dark length of the passage.

“Mayhem? What’s with the lights?”

Silence, then, “I don’t know. I’m working on it.” Chad lets out an angry, unsettled huff of breath. “They should’a come back on by now. I don’t I don’t fucking get it.”

“Okay,” says Jared, calm and professional. “We’re not gonna panic. Just keep watching and let me know if anything else weird turns up.”

“Yeah,” Chad says. “Yeah, I got it.”

Whereas Jared is entirely willing to believe Chad isn’t responsible for whatever’s kept the security lights from coming back on - the guy doesn’t have much experience in the field, after all - Jared keeps a vigilant eye out just in case the Coalition thinks Jared’s been stupid enough to trust Chad.

Jared’s responsible for his own safety now, and that’s how he likes it.

So he moves faster through the dull, cluttered rooms of the lab and doesn’t expect things to go as planned. Which is why when Chad says, “Jesus-fucking-Christ, there’s someone else in there with you!” Jared’s ready for it.

The lights make sense then: someone else is coming through. Jared went over the lights, but someone else simply deactivated them and came through.

He has a blind, stupid moment of thinking it’s going to be Jensen. Hoping it’s Jensen.

Jared turns and sees the guy coming up behind him. Even walking, it’s clear he’s a professional from the way he moves. As the guy draws closer, Jared sees he’s a little older, blond and kind of good-looking. He takes one look at the guy and readies himself for the knockdown fight he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to avoid.

“I’m trying to get visual,” Chad says. “Shit! Someone else has got the cameras. You know what, Sasquatch, abort. Get the hell outta Dodge.”

Jared ignores him and waits for the guy to approach.

“Hi,” the guy says. “You gonna move outta my way or?”

“It’s gonna be or,” Jared says with a friendly smile.

The guy raises an eyebrow. “You’re Jared.”

“Don’t think we’ve met,” Jared says.

The guy’s smile is bordering on a smirk. “Oh but you’re a superstar.” He chuckles quietly, flicks his tongue over his lips. “You know why it’s going to be so sweet to kick your ass?”

Jared shrugs easily and scratches his jaw. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and go for ‘because I’m a superstar and you’re not’.”

“Because I’m really going to enjoy proving Jensen wrong.” He taps two fingertips against his earpiece and Jared gets it. The realization is sick and cold. “The way he talks, you might as well be Superman.”

“There’s a lot of names I can call Jensen but ‘stupid’ ain’t one of ‘em,” Jared says, his nonchalant tone not betraying the slightest hint of anything below the surface.

“No, he’s not stupid,” the guy agrees. Then he pauses, smiles. “He says you favor Muay Thai techniques but you’ll switch to Judo if we get in close, that sometimes you leave your left side unguarded when you punch low, and” The guy’s smile broadens, “and he says there’s probably some residual damage to your kneecaps and I should exploit that.”

“Tell him your guy says he’s a fucking dick!” Chad shouts in Jared’s ear. “And tell him his handler’s a bottom-feeding skank!”

“You should hear the things he’s saying about you, Jared,” the guy says, unaware of Chad’s increasingly vitriolic cursing.

It’s pretty obvious that the guy is deliberately trying to wind Jared up. It’s a standard technique for taking on anyone harder, faster and better than you, which Jared definitely qualifies as. Pick on something that’ll get ‘em too stupid to think their moves through.

Unfortunately for the guy, he’s picked one point to pick on that, sure, will wind Jared up, but which also gives him one hell of a focus. No way is he going to let Jensen’s cocky little Coalition twink take him down. It’s such pure imperative that Jared can easily set aside all the personal, emotional outrage and hurt, in order to focus on nothing but getting it done.

“Bet he hasn’t said you’ve got a hope in hell of winning though, has he?” Jared says with a grin, and there’s enough of a flicker on the guy’s face for Jared to know he hit home.

He drops into a loose fighting stance and raises an eyebrow at the guy.

“You ready?” he says.

“This is going to be fun,” the guy tells him.

Jared just goes on grinning. “Those are some nice last words.”

Obviously, seeing as the guy’s just given Jared a neat little résumé of Jared’s fighting style, Jared is expected to switch it up and do something different. But there’s a reason Jared tends to prefer Muay Thai within mixed martial arts: he’s damn good at it. And he’s good enough at it that it doesn’t matter whether it’s expected or not.

Jared waits for the guy to come to him, steps into the punch he can see coming and, grabbing the guy’s shoulders, Jared drives his knee hard into the guy’s belly. Trying to follow it up immediately with another kick would be arrogant. Jared doesn’t need to try to rush this; he only needs to win. The guy staggers back, bent over and gasping for breath. He looks up at Jared and glares. There’s clear calculation in his eyes and he takes a moment to think before he tries coming at Jared again.

Just a second too late, Jared realizes the arm coming his way, the blow he’s anticipating responding to, is a feint, and it allows the guy to deliver a vicious kick to Jared’s knee. It hurts but not so much that Jared can’t rescue the situation by grabbing the feinting arm anyway and twisting it sharply behind the guy’s back, forcing him to stumble forwards. His back is immediately vulnerable to Jared, and Jared’s able to catch him around the middle and slam him down to the ground. Securing the guy in an arm-bar, Jared settles his weight onto him to make sure he’s not going anywhere.

He rocks forward, puts his mouth close to the guy’s earpiece, and says, “Hello, beautiful. This your new boyfriend? Is it gonna ruin the whole week for you if I kill him, or just the rest of the day?”

The guy’s gone still and tense beneath him, and Jared feels the sudden need to prove that he’s the good guy here, that whatever Jensen did to him he hadn’t turned him into the kind of man who sees murder as a way to prove a point. So he knocks the guy out with a fist to the face, that’s brutal but won’t kill him, and works on tugging his earpiece free.

“I’m going radio-silent, Mayhem,” he says. “Pick you up again in a few.”

“No! No, you can’t! I’m ordering you not-“

Jared removes his earpiece and flicks it dead, before replacing it with the new one. It’s silent and he wonders if Jensen’s already abandoned the assignment altogether. Then, faintly, Jared registers the sound of someone breathing. It’s Jensen. He knows it with a visceral certainty.

“You gone shy on me, Zoolander?” he says. “You’ll make threats about innocent kids but you won’t talk to me?”

Still silence. The lab is empty and quiet and Jared’s alone in the middle of it.

And then, Jensen speaks.

“I didn’t go near Megan,” he says. “It’s enough that you know that I could have done. Maybe you’ll remember that next time you think it’s a good idea to bring civilians into this.”

It’s only been a couple of weeks since Jared last saw Jensen but his whole body responds to the sound of Jensen’s voice. There’s a throb of blood and emotion that could as easily be desire as hatred in Jared’s belly, and it’s all he can do to stay standing. It’s almost painful to be able to hear Jensen but not see him. Not touch him. Jared’s skin buzzes, his muscles tense with the phantom urge to grab Jensen, to hurt him, punch him until he sees blood, to make Jensen cry, apologize, beg for Jared’s forgiveness, and then - then to kiss him, to fuck him until he cries for forgiveness again.

Deliberately, Jared takes a small breath and wets his lips. He forces himself to sound calm, amused.

“I didn’t kill your agent, y’know, but, oh sweetheart, how the mighty are fallen! All that coaching from you and I still took him down in under five.”

“And Mayhem is such a step up,” Jensen says, his voice thick with venomous disdain. “Was Homer Simpson not available? You know he made you go over the lights because he couldn’t figure out how to get around the security protocols, don’t you? He couldn’t figure out how to turn them off! Tell him if he needs any help figuring out how to work his iPod he can give me a call.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I should’a stuck with you. I mean, sure, you murdered your best friend and every damn word outta your mouth was a lie, but I guess we all have our bad days, right?”

Jensen goes quiet again. Then his tongue moves across his lips and Jared hears it and, just for a second, he feels dizzy.

“Nobody ever said it would be easy,” Jensen says. “But what I’m doing is important. It’s too important for me to walk away from, even if it makes you hate me.”

“Why? Why is it so fucking important?” Jared snarls.

“Because it’s the right thing to do!”

Jared rolls his eyes. “Because ‘the current system of organized government doesn’t work’, right?”

Another silence, then, “Well it doesn’t. When you get down to it, it doesn’t even exist. We don’t have governments or countries. We have gangs. And they don’t care about us. They only care about themselves and staying ahead of the other gangs. And we’re all so complacent about it! People have died for the civil liberties that we just surrender!”

“And you’re gonna fix all that?” Jared demands, unconvinced.

“If not me, who else? I’m qualified.” Something’s changed. Jensen’s tone has become flippant. “You want to carry on talking about how to right the world? Or” He draws the word out, and Jared can hear his fingers on the keyboard, “how about this? I’ll have Mike send you some of our promotional material and I’ll give you three minutes to exit the building before I trigger every single security system I can find?”

Jared’s allowed the assignment to get completely screwed. He took down Jensen’s agent, but he let Jensen completely sidetrack him.

One of these days, he thinks as he takes off running, he’s going to know better than to think Jensen can’t still screw things up for him.

~*~

“I’m supposed to report you,” Chad says. His voice is tight, trembling. “If you have contact with Teague, I’m supposed to report you.”

Chad won’t look at Jared. His expression is sullen, furious, but he just taps the ash off his cigarette and keeps his gaze on the closed laptop on the table.

“Then do it,” Jared says.

Instantly Chad’s up in his face and he shoves Jared in the chest.

“Are you such a fucking sucker for punishment? What the fuck is wrong with you? Morgan wants you gone! He thinks you’re a fucking liability and he’s looking for an excuse to get rid of you! And you just handed him one, you fucking mouthbreather!”

Jared stumbles backwards as Chad shoves him again, harder this time. He catches himself on the edge of the table to steady himself and stares at Chad, surprised by just how pissed he seems to be but not sure what he should say.

Chad scowls at him and turns away, fumbles another cigarette out of his jeans and lights it.

“I’m not gonna report you,” Chad says, quieter. “Because you may be a fucking Action Man, but you’re also a sad sack of shit. I feel sorry for you, man! And if that is not enough of a fucking wake-up call for you then then you’re past hope.”

Jared nods slowly, still caught up in analyzing Chad’s tantrum.

“Yeah, okay,” he says uncertainly. “Thanks.”

Chad gives him a sharp look that is far from gracious. “Don’t make me fucking regret it. No more secret conversations with Teague. Every single word you say to each other, you’re gonna run past me. ‘Cause at some point, y’know, it’s gonna be your job to deal with him.”

Chapter 26

When Chad puts together a strategy that will allow Jared to salvage the assignment Jensen distracted him from, Jared tries hard not to look too pathetically grateful.

“You’re s’posed to be making me look good,” Chad says, pushing the file over at him. “So if you could do something fucking awesome I could claim credit for in the near future, I’d fucking appreciate it.”

“I really really will,” Jared says earnestly.

He opens the file and applies himself to the task of memorizing every single detail, so that he can be properly spectacular and make it up to Chad that he hasn’t exactly been living up to the legend so far. Guiltily, he suppresses the thought that, although Chad’s put the assignment together well, Jensen could probably have done it better.

The Red Moon Resort is situated in the Apolima Strait and has a very select clientele. It caters to Hollywood starlets and Iranian oil sheikhs alike, and the only thing hedonism comes second to is discretion. Its existence is something of a secret but it’s famous among its patrons for being a secret.

However, the real secret of the Red Moon Resort is known to only a minute percentage of its guests. Ten miles out from the resort, deep below the ocean’s surface, is a research laboratory, handling some of the most advanced technology in the world. The lab is only accessible through the resort and it’s in the lab that the microchip Jared was supposed to retrieve last time is now held.

“You got a tux for the ball?” Chad says, hooking something out of his teeth with the lid of his pen. “You’re gonna need one. Maybe a banana hammock too, if you can find one big enough for your banana. I’m guessing you’re hung like a fucking ape-mule, right? Like, mutant-huge, right?”

He leans over the desk to eye Jared speculatively. Feeling just a little self-conscious, Jared shifts and slides the folder into his lap.

Chad gives a grumpy sigh. “Man, I should be fucking going to this, not you. Famous, rich chicks in bikinis, and you’re just gonna be thinking about Teague. It is so wrong.”

Jared gives him a pointed look.

“You also wanna take care of the underwater lab of doom?” he says.

~*~

One of the reasons Jared signed up for the whole secret-agent gig was that they promised him plenty of opportunities to travel. By his reckoning, Jared thinks the proportion of the world he’s seen is considerably larger than the proportion he hasn’t. That doesn’t mean it stops being breathtaking.

The Red Moon Resort is perched on an outcrop of rocks that sweeps down into fine, golden beaches, surrounded by an expanse of midnight blue sea. The haze of sunset turns everything pink and purple. Soft lights from the ballroom sparkle, and the chamber music that filters out is serene, though maybe a little anemic for Jared’s tastes.

He tugs at his bowtie and then adjusts his cufflinks for the seventieth time since he put them on.

It doesn’t matter that he could take out half the room before anyone got themselves together long enough to even think of trying to stop him; occasionally he remembers he’s just a dorky kid from Texas. He strongly suspects that it was never in destiny’s gameplan to have him rubbing elbows with the obscenely rich and privileged. Jared is only impressive when he’s got a knife in his hand or a grenade, or is possibly averting a nuclear holocaust.

He consoles himself with the thought that he’s probably never going to see most of these people ever again and so it doesn’t matter if he humiliates himself, and enters the ballroom. Chad’s quiet in his ear, which is a small miracle in itself, and gives Jared chance to scan the room properly.

Two very important details spring out at him, the most significant being the presence of Jensen, who’s looking obnoxiously at ease in his surroundings, and insultingly beautiful in his tux. Jared’s too far away to get a proper look at him, but he sees Jensen see him, sees him falter in his conversation with some couple who’re drowning in diamonds.

Jared doesn’t have to wonder what Jensen’s doing here. If Chad’s figured out they can pick the microchip up here, you can bet Jensen has to.

Jensen’s recognizable as the bloody and bruised guy Jared chased to a rooftop a month or so ago, but only barely. Then again, if Jared tries hard enough, he can even still recognize Jensen as his handler.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Chad says, all spit and crackle through his earpiece. ” That’s him, isn’t it? He’s fucking stalking you. Shoot him! Go on, wait ‘til no one’s looking and then shoot the fucker!”

Jared ignores him in favor of a brief inspection of Important Detail 2. Once done, he collects a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, and takes a moment to properly appreciate his surroundings.

The ceiling of the ballroom is high and the room has been designed in rococo style, with columns and gilt frames and flourishes everywhere that is feasible. It’s early in the evening so the party still resembles a lavish gala event than the drug-fuelled orgy Jared has been led to believe it will become. Despite Chad’s advice, Jared plans on being in the lab by the time the white powder and dildos are brought out.

~*~

Unsurprisingly, Jensen is avoiding Jared. He never makes eye contact but always appears to be completely aware of Jared’s location in the room, always moving on before Jared can reach him. To be fair, Jared isn’t trying hard. He could reach Jensen no problem, though his methods might cause a disturbance. Jared just likes being close enough to watch Jensen, because Jensen is fascinating.

Maybe if he’d ever seen Jensen in a large group of people before, it might have clicked earlier with him that something was seriously off. Jensen’s a whole different person, and then, when he moves on to talk to someone else, he’s someone else all over again. It’s only because Jared is paying such attention that he picks up on it, but it’s fascinating and amazing and really really unsettling.

Everything changes, right down to the mannerisms, and Jared doesn’t know who he’s watching. There’s only one immutable thing: that tiny little nervous tic of Jensen’s fingertips rubbing at his lips. Jared’s pretty sure, from seeing one abortive move from Jensen, that Jensen can’t help it, and Jared’s glad of it. Jared fixates on it, feels a spike of excitement and heat in his belly every time Jensen’s hand rises to his mouth.

Chad babbles in his ear off and on. He tries to steer Jared towards this girl or that, curses at him when Jared deliberately messes up directions, calls him a pussy when Jared switches to fruit juice after a single glass of champagne, and generally tries very hard to distract Jared from Jensen.

“‘Cause, y’know why he’s here,” Chad says. “Same fucking reason you are and if you let that duck-lipped, prettyboy prick make you look like a fucking retard one more time, I’m trading you in. And your next assignment will be to, like, set fire to your - Jesus fucking Christ, would you look at that? Go closer, go closer! Nonono, towards the blonde in the halterneck!”

Jared rolls his eyes, notes that Jensen seems to be preoccupied, and spares a glance at Important Detail 2.

“It’s all under control,” Jared murmurs, and swipes another glass of fruit juice.

~*~

A note of hysteria has crept into the atmosphere. People talk too loudly, laugh too shrilly, lean in too close. Bodies seethe around him but Jared doesn’t allow them to move him. He plants his feet and politely declines the surprising number of invitations sent his way, preferring always to keep Jensen in sight.

Jensen’s on a couch with some guy, their bodies angled towards each other. Jensen’s face is tilted to the side as he listens to whatever the guy’s saying to him. There’s half a smile on his lips but he’s looking down at his glass of champagne. The tie from his tux is already loose about his neck, a button popped loose. Something’s said, the guy catches Jensen’s gaze and raises an eyebrow, Jensen smiles - always so fucking enigmatic.

The guy toys with the first unopened button of Jensen’s shirt and Jared takes a step towards them without thinking. He’s too far away for Jensen to have noticed but he’s embarrassed by the instinct all the same.

“Duuude,” Chad says plaintively. “Are we seriously gonna watch this? ‘Cause this is so not my porn of choice.”

“We’re not watching,” Jared says, and turns away.

~*~

It’s twenty minutes later when Jared next finds Jensen in the crowd. Things around them have rapidly descended into desperate, pitiful debauchery. Jensen is still dressed - and Jared refuses to feel thankful for that - and he’s alone - and Jared does allow himself to feel thankful for that.

For the first time in the evening, Jensen looks straight at Jared. It’s as much challenge as it is invitation in his look. Then, he turns and walks out of the ballroom, onto the terrace.

Jared only hesitates long enough to tell Chad not to say a fucking word before he follows him.

It’s cooler outside but by no means cold. There are couples already moving together in the shadows but Jensen’s standing away from them, leaning on the balcony railing, glass of champagne in hand - which is no emptier than it was before - gazing out over the steady roll of blue-green ocean.

It’s weird being close to Jensen again. Jensen doesn’t allow Jared to get too close; he shifts away as Jared moves to stand beside him. It’s still closer than Jared expected to get.

They stand together in silence for a long moment. They don’t even need to look at each other to be brutally aware of each other’s presence.

Then Jared says, “How’s your agent?”

“Justin’s fine. Thank you for asking.” Jensen answers instantly, as though he’s been tensed for Jared to speak and had simply been waiting for his chance. “You shattered his cheekbone and it took some fancy moves to get him out of custody but he’s fine.”

They don’t speak again for a few minutes. Someone moans behind them and Jensen huffs irritably.

“I did know he couldn’t beat you,” Jensen says. “You know that, don’t you? But I was his handler for that assignment and I had to give him a fighting chance. I knew he couldn’t beat you.”

Jared tilts his head to grin at him serenely. “My kneecaps are fine now, thanks.”

Jensen’s lips go tight, his jaw clenching. Experimentally, Jared moves closer to Jensen. Jensen instantly jerks away. Jared doesn’t hide his smirk.

“Skittish, aren’t you?”

“You think that could have anything to do with you wanting me dead?” Jensen snaps.

“Nothing you don’t deserve,” Jared says with an easy shrug.

“According to you.”

“Well now, I figure Chris Kane and Jessica Alba might think so too.”

Jared doesn’t have to be looking at Jensen to feel him close down. Jensen draws away, even if he doesn’t move. There’s still some part of Jared that hates fighting with Jensen like this. He wants to say that none of this matters, that he still loves Jensen and why doesn’t he just stop being such a stupid asshole and come home?

He knows why he can’t say it. There’s no coming back from something like this.

“I wish I’d never met you.”

Jared’s said it before he’s even finished thinking it. Jensen flinches almost imperceptibly, and then he nods.

“Would’a made my life easier if you hadn’t.” And then his fingertips are at his mouth, pad of his thumb dragging over the fullness of his lower lip, and Jared’s watching avidly, hungrily, and Jensen doesn’t even seem to notice. “I wasn’t lying, you know, in Hawaii, when I said you made me happy. That wasn’t a lie.”

“It’s just everything else that was, right?” Jared says, his voice coming hoarse. “Gotta tell you, you didn’t make me so happy with the whole double-agent thing.”

Jensen’s quiet for a second and then he says, “You wanna kiss me or not? That’s what you followed me out here for, isn’t it?”

Jared blinks at the non sequitur and is unable to keep his gaze from immediately dropping to Jensen’s mouth. He remembers kissing Jensen, remembers it vividly. He remembers kissing Jensen, lazy and slow, with no thought of taking it any further because it was enough just to have Jensen’s mouth.

The invitation, though, is sour. Jared’s belly clenches and his nostrils flare as he tries to steady his breathing. Carefully, he wets his lips, before he says, “Don’t bother. I already dealt with your partner, turns out she can’t hold her sedatives. You don’t need to play distraction.”

Chad snickers in Jared’s ear.

Jensen goes very still. His eyes are narrowed, staring sightlessly at the ocean. The exhilaration of screwing up Jensen’s plans for once is powerful, and all Jared’s disgust and hurt is immediately transformed to glee. He can’t resist prodding Jensen just a little.

“C’mon, that pretty redheaded lady in the silver dress? You really thought I wasn’t gonna notice her?”

“You weren’t supposed to when I was in the room,” Jensen says. He’s smiling but the words are bitten out. “I put on a real show for you too.”

“Oh sweetheart, I still think you’re the prettiest.” He leans in closer, amusement turning to wonder as he studies Jensen. “Jesus, you really can’t bear things not going your way, can you? Look, your assignment’s failed, big-time. Your agent can’t go down to the lab because she’s currently unconscious, and lemme tell you as a professional, it’s real hard to do your assignment if you’re unconscious. All that’s left is for you to go home.”

Jensen’s been watching Jared as he talked and the look on his face has been growing steadily more venomous.

“No,” he says, when Jared finally shuts up. “No. I’m not going home. Not without what we came here for.”

Jared grins. “You’re not going down to the lab, man. I’m not gonna let you. Shit like that is way above your pay-grade. You’d only hurt yourself and it’s embarrassing enough that you let your agent get drugged.”

Jensen shrugs and turns back to the ballroom. “Fuck you, Jared,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m going.”

“No, you’re not. If I have to knock you out-“

“Try it,” Jensen hisses, snapping back to face him. “Try it and I’ll cause one hell of a scene. Not everyone’s getting stoned or fucked here. Surely Mayhem’s filled you in, security ain’t exactly slack around here. You try to stop me, and I’ll make sure security gets locked up so tight you won’t even be able to make it off the island.”

“Sasquatch, he’s right,” Chad says. He sounds really pissed. “I don’t see a way round this, apart from taking the fucker with you. Leaving him behind is like begging him to screw you over, and we both know he doesn’t have a problem with that.”

Jared stares at Jensen in horrified disbelief at the prospect. He’s pretty sure victory is supposed to feel better than this.

Chapter 27

“It’s like watching a blind ninety-six year old try to drive a Ferrari,” Jensen says. “I never realized incompetence could be physically painful to watch.”

Jensen’s opinion of Chad’s proficiency as a handler has not noticeably improved.

“Ask him how physically painful he thinks my fist down his throat would be,” Chad says through the earpiece.

Chad’s opinion of Jensen as a human being has improved about as much.

“Mayhem would like you to stop being mean to him,” Jared says.

Jared’s opinion of his current situation has dropped to previously uncharted depths.

“I’d like Mayhem to be better at his job,” Jensen says, “so I guess we all have our dreams.”

There is absolutely no way Jared is going to say anything that has the remotest chance of being interpreted as siding with Jensen. Privately though, he has to admit that he wishes Chad would get a move on and get the fucking door unlocked already, if only to shut Jensen up for a little while. They’ve been waiting six minutes in a restricted area, and the only positive is one that makes Jared unpleasantly conflicted: he and Jensen have to stand close to each other, ready to spring into ‘drunken making out’ at the first sign of a security guard. Jared does not want to enjoy physical proximity to Jensen, if for no other reason than because Jensen is still strung too tight.

At the back of Jared’s mind, there is the cold, sharp awareness that one day soon, there’s a really good chance he’s going to have to hurt Jensen - not Jensen getting hurt as a result of something Jared does, but Jared deliberately causing Jensen harm. It’s bad enough that there’s that future between them, without Jensen acting like he’s forever expecting it.

“I should have brought a book,” Jensen says with a sigh. “I was prepared for this assignment to be a lot of things, but boring wasn’t on the list. Do you think Mayhem might finish some time before tomorrow afternoon?”

Jared rolls his eyes and grits his teeth. He’s about to remind Jensen that he’s free to leave at any time he likes, when something strikes him. “So, if you were here to distract me, how was your agent supposed to get through this door?”

“She had her own tech support,” Jensen says.

Jared watches him closely, notes the faint tightening of Jensen’s expression. He cocks his head on one side. “What are you doing here, Jensen?”

Jensen’s quiet for a long moment, and there’s no sound from Chad either, which Jared takes to mean that he’s listening for the answer too. Then Jensen wets his lips and smiles at Jared, that cool unfriendly smile.

“You might be surprised to learn that the Coalition is not one big band of friends, working together for a common purpose. And if Mayhem is who we suspect him to be, he could have told you that. Even at his level of involvement, he must have noticed the infighting between factions.”

“So?” Jared says, uneasily filing away the fact that they’ve identified Chad. “I don’t see how that brings you here.”

“Following Justin’s disappointing performance, someone else took charge of the retrieval. They only saw sense and allowed Mike to add me to the team when it was confirmed that you were coming after the microchip.”

“Motherfucker,” Chad breathes out. “That agent you took out? I bet Teague was going to screw her over. Once she had the microchip, Teague was gonna try to take it. Yeah, I’ll bet you fucking anything that that’s what Rosenbaum was planning.”

It sounds nastily just like something Jensen would do, and Jared feels like an idiot for being surprised by it all over again. Not enough that Jensen betrayed all of ISA, he’s even betraying people within his own agency. Jared shakes his head in wonder, smiles when Jensen raises an eyebrow at him. He doesn’t know if he wants to share what Chad said. Jensen’s damned himself sufficiently without Jared giving him further opportunity to demonstrate just how low he’ll go.

“Hey, Mayhem,” he says instead, “how’s that door coming?” Chad makes a surly noise like he’s not done talking about Jensen but Jared’s got it - Jared has totally got that Jensen is a bad person and he doesn’t want to hear any more about it. “Get it open, yeah?”

Jensen lets out a contemptuous hiss of breath. Jared doesn’t want to be holding him close, doesn’t want to have this mockery of intimacy between them. The only problem with letting him go is that he doesn’t trust Jensen further than he could throw him.

~*~

The sub-shuttle to the lab is claustrophobically small and not designed for someone of Jared’s height. It’s little more than a pod: polished metal sides and soft mint lighting. The weight of water above their heads mutes even the sound of their breathing. But the journey is smooth and fast, and by keeping his mouth shut, Jensen manages not to piss Jared off further.

It’s not until Jared has acquired the microchip, that Jensen will become an issue again. They both know it. Jensen is not going to allow Jared to walk out with the chip, not without putting up a fight. Still, the smart money’s on Jared to win.

There’s another torturous wait for Chad to open the door to the lab. Fortunately, Jensen is apparently too deep in thought to snark, because Jared is ready to throttle him if he so much as sighs. Eventually, Jensen snaps out of whatever’s going on in his head and glances at Jared.

“All security is handled externally. Magnusson doesn’t trust the scientists, and the systems they have in place bypass the need for guards. Don’t expect Mayhem to be any quicker once we’re inside.”

His tone is level, neutral, the voice in which he used to brief Jared. It’s tempting to believe that they could, one day, go back to being who they used to be, who they used to be to each other. Jared refuses to let himself think it. It’s over and he can’t dwell on remembering the Jensen he used to know because that guy never existed, that guy was just someone Jensen created to better manipulate Jared.

So Jared nods at Jensen and simply absorbs the information.

“Cameras are already taken care of,” Chad says. “Sensors are gonna be mine in a coupla seconds. Once the door opens, you just gotta get the chip and get the hell out. I can hold things down for eight, maybe ten minutes.”

“Got it,” Jared says.

“Figured out yet what you’re gonna do about the double-crossing little cumrag?”

“Working on it,” says Jared, and he meets Jensen’s eyes as he says it.

~*~

Jared is in the middle of opening the reinforced glass panel from the front of the chip’s storage cell - and is very conscious of the impending confrontation with Jensen - when a loud alarm sounds, followed by the cool, automated announcement that Self-destruct sequence has been initiated. All locks perma-sealed. All systems rerouted to central drive, prior to termination in ten minutes.

“Mayhem?” Jared says. “Mayhem, status report?”

Chad is silent, then there’s the ragged sound of him drawing breath. “We’re screwed.” It’s little more than a whisper.

“Mayhem, what the hell just happened?” Jared pushes.

“I don’t I don’t fucking know! It just Jesus. We’re so fucking screwed.”

“What’s happening?” Jensen says.

Immediately, Jared’s attention snaps back to him. The idea has barely had chance to occur to him before he’s acting on it: grabbing Jensen by the shoulders and slamming into the wall, his thumb pressed meaningfully to Jensen’s windpipe. Jensen’s eyes go wide and his first instinct to struggle is clearly the result of panic, quickly tamped down.

“Did you do this?” Jared asks.

“What? No!” Jensen says. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but explosions aren’t exactly discriminating. When it blows you and this lab up, it’s gonna be blowing me up too.”

Grudgingly, Jared lets him free but his gaze lingers on him as Jensen straighten the tie of his tux, searching for some sign that in believing Jensen this time round he’s making yet another mistake.

“Mayhem,” he says, “tell me what’s happening. C’mon, status report.”

From the mantra-like whispering of expletives, what’s happening is that Chad is coming to terms with just how far in over his head he actually is. To Jared’s immense relief however, Chad follows it up with, “It was initiated topside. I can’t There’s no fucking way in, no way to get around it.”

“It came from topside,” Jared tells Jensen. “Someone knows we’re down here.” He hesitates, hates himself just a little. Hates Jensen even more for putting him in this position. “Mayhem can’t find a way in to the system to stop it. Any chance you can?”

It’s almost worth it to Jared to be putting his life in Jensen’s hands like this simply to be able to read the look in Jensen’s eyes again. Jensen’s surprised that Jared would still turn to him for help, even in a situation like this. Jared’s not as surprised as maybe he should be.

“Give me your earpiece,” Jensen says finally. “And then finish retrieving the chip, before coming to meet me in the central drive.”

Jensen holds his hand out and, without allowing himself chance to second-guess what he’s doing, Jared drops the earpiece into it. The last thing he hears, before he turns back towards the chip, is Jensen asking Chad if it’s possible for him to stop swearing at him long enough to do something useful, like his job.

~*~

The countdown is at six minutes when Jared makes it to the central drive. He has the microchip tucked carefully away, for all that it matters if the lab is going to explode. The central drive is a huge, futuristically elegant chamber, with a high ceiling and hollow columns like organ pipes running up the walls. Jensen is leaning over one of the consoles, face lit up in its unearthly blue-green glow, talking techno-babble with Chad.

“Magnusson visited this facility, personally, only three weeks ago,” Jensen says. “There is absolutely no way that he would have designed a system that required him to surrender control over it. Trust me, he’ll have hidden- Okay, don’t trust me, just do as I fucking well tell you.”

He glances up at Jared’s approach and fear makes him transparent: things aren’t going well. Jared would be reassuring if he could. He’d point out that he’d faced certain death a million times, easily, and look, here he was now doing it again. Somehow, he doesn’t think Jensen would appreciate it right now. Maybe later, when the countdown is a little more hopeless.

“Go through the registry,” Jensen says. “Look for something that shouldn’t be there. Can you put the runtime data for active programs on my screen? Okay, well, where’s it rerouting to?”

Jensen makes a soft, almost pained noise and looks up at something on the ceiling. He rubs his fingers anxiously over his lips. “Any way you can knock it out remotely?” he says. His eyes slam shut. He worries his lip between his teeth and then turns to look at Jared.

“I’m gonna ask you a question and, no pressure, but if you can’t say yes then we’re both gonna die. Right, can you get up there?” Jared looks at where Jensen is pointing. There’s a small black unit, showing a tiny green LED, right up on the wall against the ceiling. “In the next coupla minutes?”

Jared grins at him. “I thought you were gonna ask me something difficult.”

The time limit is more likely to be an issue for Jared than actually being able to get up there. Experimentally, Jared rubs the sole of his shoe against the side of one of the two columns directly below the unit. Approving of the drag, Jared hoists himself up between the columns, holding his weight on his spread legs, and begins inching his way up.

“So what’s the deal with the unit then?” he says.

Jensen’s back at the console and he doesn’t look up when he answers. “It’s, well, basically it’s the lock. Take that out and we can reroute control internally. But it’s extremely sensitive, Magnusson would control it by remote key-code, which we don’t have. Simply shooting it out - Mayhem, what allocation numbers are you seeing for Ext22? - shooting it out will skip the rest of the countdown. Yeah, s’what I’m thinking. Way too high. I’m guessing there’s a ghost drive in there.”

The countdown informs them that they have four minutes left. Jared stretches and squirms towards the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says. It takes Jared a moment to realize he’s talking to him and not Chad, and another moment to realize what he’s actually saying. “I am. I’m sorry. Do you-” He glances up from the console screen at Jared for just a moment, then thinks better of it, looks away again. “Guess you can’t forgive me, right?”

He means it. Jared can see he genuinely, honestly means it. And the sudden realization that if Jensen’s saying this, if he’s asking for forgiveness than the end can’t be far, can only be second to the way Jensen looked at him. Yes, Jared’s going to die, but he’s going to die with Jensen. And it explains why Jared made it out alive of all those other times before. Because he was always supposed to die with Jensen.

“Not even a little bit,” Jared says. “But, doesn’t mean I stopped loving you.”

Jensen nods, eyes still fixed on the screen in front of him, fingers flying across the screen. “Mayhem, when the countdown reaches one minute, I need you to turn off audio Just do it Because you don’t seem the type to me who’s gonna be able to handle listening to his agent explode. Guess you could always try proving me wrong, ‘cept I’ll be dead too and I won’t care.”

The countdown is at three minutes when Jared nears the unit. His legs feel like they’re on fire and his shoulders cramp where they’re pressed into the wall.

“Hey, Jen!” he calls. “What d’you need me to do?”

“The LED,” Jensen says. “Unscrew it. There’ll be a spray of wires behind it. Break contact between the green and the white. Don’t let the other wires touch. And hurry.”

It would take a few seconds, maybe, under usual circumstances, except usual circumstances don’t cover Jared being wedged between two columns, about thirty-five feet off the floor, with the unit directly above his head.

“I’m hurrying,” he says, carefully turning the LED.

There are a few moments of silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of Jensen’s one-sided conversation with Chad. Jared can’t stop thinking about Jensen wanting to be forgiven. He wishes he could give that to him. If they’re going to die, then he wants Jensen to go with as clear a conscience as he can offer him. He turns it over in his head, trying to find some way that he can forgive Jensen and truly mean it.

“Were you ever going to tell me that you were a double?” he says. “I mean, ever?”

“No,” Jensen says without hesitation. “Never. And I’d deny it if you’d outright asked me.”

It’s breathtakingly brutal, but Jensen’s smiling at him as he says it. The truth is that if Jensen hadn’t been exposed as a double, then he would still be playing Jared now. So fuck him, if Jensen wants to be forgiven, he should maybe start acting like he’s sorry. Jared has to reconsider whether Jensen’s earlier apology, the one delivered with lowered eyes and soft, small mouth, was just one more attempt by Jensen to manage Jared into doing what he wanted him to.

“Does it get you hard, fucking me around like this?” he says. “Because you just don’t seem able to quit it. Even now, facing imminent death, you’re fucking me around.”

Jensen gives a spastic shrug and doesn’t look back at him.

They’re down to two minutes when Jared takes the unit out. “How’s that?” he says.

All the answer Jared needs is in the way Jensen’s suddenly focused on the computer like nothing else exists in the world. Jared dares to start believing that Jensen’s good enough to get them out of this. Despite willingly putting himself into suicidally dangerous situations day after day, Jared isn’t ready to die. He doesn’t want to die, not just yet. Not when he’s still so full of this hateful and loving crap for Jensen.

The trip down is easier than up - Jared slides down between the columns and moves closer to Jensen, as if he’ll have the first clue what it is Jensen’s doing. There are easily seven windows open on the screen and Jensen’s flicking between them, typing in commands on some and leaving others alone.

Jared should probably be thinking about his fast-approaching death, but instead he’s watching Jensen. Jensen’s breathing a little faster and his eyes are lit up and unreal. Not for the first time, Jared thinks about how beautiful he is. He wants to touch Jensen, just one more time before it’s all over. Sure, it’ll distract him from what he’s doing but it feels really important to Jared that he do it.

Instead, he says, “What can I do?”

Jensen glances around for Jared, seems surprised to find him standing right next to him.

“Console over there.” He indicates it with a jerk of his head, eyes already back to his own screen. “Shortcut marked ‘system’, folder marked ‘Ext 22’, select ‘close all’.”

Jared moves over to the computer and tries to ignore the automated voice calmly announcing that they have one minute before self-destruct, fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight seconds…

“Almost,” Jensen says. “Almost there. Mayhem, get off the fucking comms. Just”

“Done,” Jared says. “What next?”

“Every time a prompt window opens, hit ‘okay’,” Jensen says. “Fast as you can.” Like Jared needs telling that time is a factor.

They don’t speak as they work, not with the countdown filling the air between them, twenty-five, twenty-four, twenty-three

It feels like a never-ending stream of pop-ups. Jared doesn’t bother reading them; Jensen told him to hit ‘okay’ so that’s what he’s going to do. He gets lost in the task, even though he’s painfully aware it’s only seconds ticking by.

He hits ‘okay’ on what feels like the millionth box and no more appear. He only has time to blink.

Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, self-destruct sequence cancelled. To reset systems, please enter the correct authorization code.

A moment passes. The silence left by the countdown’s end is shocking.

Then Jared grabs Jensen by the lapels of his jacket, puts him down on his back over the console, and kisses him senseless. Jensen gets with the program so fast it’s like he thought of it himself: he hooks one leg around Jared’s hips to haul him closer and his fingers get to work on the buttons on Jared’s shirt while he kisses Jared as forcefully as he’s being kissed.

Jared crushes Jensen’s mouth under his, needing more, always needing more. His hand on Jensen’s jaw, Jared snaps his head back to better angle Jensen’s mouth for more kissing. Jensen’s hot and hard, squirming beautifully trapped between Jared’s thighs. Having got Jared’s shirt open, Jensen’s hand is now tugging at his belt-buckle, darting downwards to rub the shape of Jared’s hard dick as though he can’t last long enough to even get Jared’s pants off him.

All this freedom to touch Jensen again drives Jared just a little crazy. All he can think of is fucking Jensen right there and then. No finesse, no foreplay, just sinking his cock deep up inside Jensen’s ass and reminding him that he can work for whoever he damn well likes, but it’s always gonna be Jared who can give him this.

He presses closer, dragging Jensen’s other leg up around his middle and yanking Jensen towards him, so that every time Jensen twitches and twists, he’s grinding right against Jared. He refuses to release his claim on Jensen’s mouth - every frantic, overeager open-mouthed press of his lips to Jensen’s jaw, his throat, his cheekbone, has to be followed with the return of Jared’s mouth to Jensen’s, tongue pushing past his lips.

Jared thrusts forwards, hips slamming into the spread of Jensen’s thighs, and Jensen snaps still, makes a sound that’s half-groan and half-whimper. Jared wants to know if anyone’s fucked Jensen since him, he wants to know just how tight he’d find Jensen’s asshole if he were to tug Jensen’s pants down his legs and go exploring. He wants to know if maybe Jensen’s missed Jared so much he’s fucked himself on his own fingers and wished it were Jared’s dick inside him.

He doesn’t get around to articulating any of it, because Jensen hisses in irritation and pushes him off. Or, at least, tries to push him off. Jared registers the intent, even if he’s a little too big for Jensen to be able to push him around.

“We’ve gotta go,” Jensen says, heaving in breath. He passes the earpiece back to Jared. “Mayhem says security’s on its way.”

Manfully ignoring the hard-on in his pants, which really isn’t going anywhere, Jared shoves the earpiece back in and leaves the room with Jensen.

“Mayhem?” he says, while he redoes the buttons on his shirt. “You got us an exit that’ll take us round Security, or are we going through ‘em?”

“I can’t fucking believe I had to listen to that,” Chad says. “That was so fucking wrong. You’re trying to make me gay by proximity, aren’t you? I don’t like dick, man, and I don’t wanna hear you and him heavy breathing and So fucking wrong.”

Jensen’s leading him back to the pods and Jared is happy to go along with it until he can get a proper answer out of Chad.

“If I promise to apologize when I get back, and to never touch you inappropriately, can you answer me re: our exit?”

“Back to the pods,” Chad says grudgingly. “I’m gonna access evacuation protocols and shoot you up to the surface. By the time Security makes it down, you’ll be on the beach.”

~*~

Gently bobbing in the ocean, the pod opens up to reveal an expanse of pre-dawn sky. The Red Moon Resort is close by, but even closer there’s a stretch of pale gold beach that offers coverage in the trees and fewer passers-by. Jared catches hold of Jensen’s arm and hauls him out of the discarded pod. His tux is heavy with water, but Jared’s prepared to get himself to the beach while dragging Jensen along with him if he has to. As it turns out, Jensen’s a strong swimmer and Jared only has to worry about getting himself there.

He staggers out of the water, Jensen crawling on all fours beside him, hacking and spluttering up saltwater. They both look a goddamn state and Jared’s body aches for a rest, but they’re alive. Jensen flops over onto his back and Jared sinks down to sit next to him. He plucks a piece of seaweed from Jensen’s hair and smiles at him.

“Not bad, huh?” he says.

“I think I’ve lost the deposit on my tux rental,” Jensen says.

Jared laughs and, without thinking, leans in to kiss Jensen again. It’s not as rough, not as demanding as it was earlier. It’s not about the sudden realization of all he so very nearly lost. Jared kisses Jensen softly and slowly, because he can let himself believe that maybe it’s not even been mislaid.

Jensen arches up to meet his mouth, one hand tangling into the wet curls at the back of Jared’s neck, the other moving from his chest to his hip.

Jared stops, sighs against Jensen’s parted lips, but doesn’t pull away.

“Stop looking for it,” he says.

He raises an eyebrow at Jensen’s confused expression.

“The microchip,” he clarifies. “Stop frisking me for it. You try taking it and I’ll break your hand.”

Jensen’s lips go thin and he half-turns his face away. “Like you wouldn’t have done the same thing,” he says. Then he turns back, kisses Jared, bites him with a vicious nip of teeth before tonguing soothingly over the shape of his mouth. He holds Jared close, looks him in the eye. “I’ve gotta contact Mike. Be gone by the time he gets here.”

Jared lets go of him.

Chapter 28

While agents may be expected to risk life and limb over and over again, to do things that classify as physically and mentally, not to mention morally, impossible for about ninety-nine percent of the rest of the population, there is one thing they are spared from: paperwork.

If Jared were given the choice between running through collapsing buildings that are on fire, while unfriendly types with guns chase him down, or the administrative workload of a handler, Jared would start running.

As it turns out, Chad isn’t as much as a freak as Jensen, and feels about the same as Jared when it comes to bureaucracy.

The microchip needed to be taken to an ISA facility in Vienna and, while it fell to Jared to ensure it got there safely, Chad was the one who got it properly recorded and stored away. It’s a routine assignment and Jared kind of hates it because it doesn’t occupy his mind enough to stop him thinking about Jensen. Chad’s more bearable regarding Jensen lately and has stopped finding opportunity to hate on him in increasingly unlikely sources, but Jared figures this is only a temporary fix. Give Chad time to get over the whole ‘almost losing an agent’ thing and he’ll take up badmouthing Jensen as his favorite hobby again.

Having the chip handed over into ISA security is more of a relief than Jared was expecting. He just has to get through a single night in a hotel room with Chad, and then they can be on the plane tomorrow morning, back to the US and a new assignment. Preferably something with less involvement from Jensen.

Just one night, shut up in a room with Chad.

“Hookers and beer,” says Chad, bouncing experimentally on his hotel bed. “Beer and hookers. Y’know, these Austrian chicks are like God’s gift to the straight man. Boobs and blonde hair and legs that go on and on and fucking on.”

“No,” says Jared.

“No to beer or no to hookers?”

Jared answers by pointedly chambering a bullet in his gun.

“Okay! Jesus, you’re about as fun as syphilis.”

“I’m guessing you have the first-hand experience to back that up.”

Chad turns on the TV. “Screw you.” He skips through several channels and settles for monster trucks with an enthusiastic commentary from some hairy German guy.

It’s not a bad room they’re set up in, not considering some of the holes ISA hides its people away in. Chad’s already emptied the mini-bar and stunk up the bathroom, but Jared takes these things in his stride and is still reasonably content with the set-up. There’s a new assignment waiting for him tomorrow and it’s gonna be a vacation from worrying about what the hell he’s going to do about Jensen.

His saving grace, the thing he hangs on to, is that it’s not his decision to make. ISA is apparently still thinking that one over and Jared’s grateful for any time he gets. And there’s always that other thing: there’s no guarantee Jared’s the one they’ll call. You want a guy taken out, maybe you’re not gonna ask the guy he was sleeping with to do it.

It might not come to anything as bad as Jared’s expecting.

“We could just get one hooker, y’know,” Chad says, shoving a mouthful of nachos in. “And you could sleep on one of the couches in the lounge. C’mon, man, I think I deserve this after all the shit you and your boy put me through. I’m all tense and shit. One hooker? A hooker would totally help me unwind.”

Then there’s that too. It’s not like Jared is coasting on some zen-like calm as it is, now he’s gotta worry that Jensen and the Coalition know who Chad is. There’s no way that can go good.

Jared glances over at him, unhappily thoughtful, and realizes Chad is still waiting for an answer.

“No. No hookers. We’re laying low, ‘kay? Laying low, on our own.”

The handful of nachos Chad flings in his direction doesn’t even come close to hitting him. Jared watches them scatter over the floor and wonders if, maybe, just a little beer might help.

~*~

Chad’s been snoring and drooling over himself a little for the last forty minutes. There’s boxing on the TV now and Jared watches it listlessly, lips pressed to the mouth of his empty beer bottle. Beer has not helped. Sure, it helped at first, while Chad was conscious, but now Jared is on his own, with a drunk handler and boxing in Vienna, and it all seems like shit.

He wonders if he’s drunk enough to drunk-dial Jensen. Jensen won’t still have his ISA cell and he probably wouldn’t answer anyway, but Jared spends a good five minutes contemplating his cell phone anyway. He’s about to throw it back down again when it flashes into life, and though Jared wasn’t drunk enough to drunk-dial a number that doesn’t exist anymore, he’s drunk enough to hope, if only for a second, that Jensen’s calling him.

It’s not Jensen. It’s O’Toole, and that sobers Jared up pretty damn fast.

“We have a situation,” she says. “I’ve just received a message from a Coalition agent in your area. She wants to meet with you. I need you to go see her.”

Jared pulls a face. “And we don’t think that she’s trying to kill me because?”

“She’s given me a cell phone number, you can call her, arrange the meet. Her only demands are that it’s tonight and that you come alone. I think she might want to come over. I know it’s a risk, but anyone we can take from them, it’s worth it.”

Jared shifts the phone to his other ear and frowns as Chad snores particularly loudly. “Do we know who she is?”

“She gave me the name Elta,” O’Toole says. “She says she met you on your last assignment and that she has information regarding who activated the self-destruct protocol.”

“Yeah,” says Jared. “I’ll meet her. What’s the number?”

~*~

Elta is the hot redhead that Jared dosed with sedatives at the Red Moon Resort. She doesn’t seem to hold it against him, judging by the smile she gives him, sharp but warmly amused.

Jared meets her in a small 24/7 café just off the main streets by the canal. There’s a guy behind the counter and a couple of teenagers in the corner, and Jared’s reasonably certain the scene’s safe. If they’re expecting to ambush him, they’re gonna have to have something good planned.

“Elta?” he says, approaching her table.

“You can call me Danny,” she says, and kicks the chair out opposite. “I hope you’re gonna apologize for knocking me out back there. What kind of world is it we live in when a girl has to check her drink for sedatives?”

“I’d buy you coffee to make up for it but I figure you’re too smart to drink it.”

Danny smiles and inclines her head. “You’ve ruined me for the other boys, Jared. I’m never gonna trust a guy again.”

“Glad I could help,” says Jared, and sits down across from her. “So, not that I ever mind hanging out with a pretty girl, but what are we doing here?”

“I’m here ‘cause of Jen.”

Jared stops smiling. “What about him?”

“Figured you should know some things,” she says. “That self-destruct protocol that almost killed you? That was for Jensen. My handler was trying to kill Jensen, not you. And I figure that kind of disloyalty deserves some disloyalty right back. My handler’s name is Riley Smith. I thought you should know, y’know, just in case you ever happen to run into him.”

Jared blinks at the outright betrayal and thinks it over, looking for how she could be planning on turning this back against him. There’s got to be an angle on this. Unless Jared raises an eyebrow at her.

“So you’re doing this for Jensen, why?”

Danny shrugs and stirs her coffee slowly, smoothing the bubbles out against the side of her cup. “I owe him a favor. He saved my life once, a few years back. He risked his whole cover to get me out. He didn’t even know me.” She smiles down at her coffee, fiddles with her watch. “I thought he was ISA at the time. Had his agent right in the next room and all. I thought I was dead for sure.” She shrugs again, looking past Jared. “So, yeah, I don’t like it when people try to blow Jensen up.”

“And why does your handler want Jensen dead?” Knowing Jensen, Jared thinks there could be a long list of reasons someone might want him dead. Jared has a few himself. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to take it well when people try to kill him, especially not if they apparently don’t mind catching Jared in the crossfire.

“Because Jensen works for Mike and Mike is one bad motherfucker. Plenty of people in the Coalition would rest a little easier without Mike and his extreme ways around. Everyone knows Mike just wants to blow shit up. He doesn’t care what happens after the big political apocalypse, and he’s not in it for the body-count. He just gets off on the confusion and chaos and the people running around screaming.”

“Nice guy,” Jared says. He watches her closely, looking for a lie or simply something that’s not exactly right. Because there’s a quiet concern nagging at him that he can’t totally get a hold of but which won’t go away. He’d like to think that it’s solely down to how people in his line of work aren’t usually so generous with information but there’s more to it than that.

“He’s kind of a sweetheart actually, if you can get past the severe psychopathic tendencies. Anyway, so long as he has Tom and Jensen in his corner, he looks like he gives a damn about the ideology. ‘Cause Tom and Jen are poster boys for the revolution. They’re what the Coalition looks like, God help us. “

“Tom?” Jared says.

“Our very own Superman,” Danny says. She licks off her spoon and puts it down on the saucer. “Crazy crazy Tom. He’s an assassin, plain and simple. And he’s a true believer. Him, Mike and Jensen are the holy trinity of fucking your shit up, especially now Jensen’s back home. You’d better believe people are feeling edgy about how popular Mike is, which puts Jensen and Tom right in the firing line.”

“Lucky Jensen’s so good at taking care of himself.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she says. “He’s good at fooling people, not his fault you fell for it so hard.” She leans back in her chair, watching Jared. “Anything else you want? While I’m feeling generous?”

Jared ignores the undertone and says, “You know you’ve checked your watch four times since I got here?”

“I’m a busy girl.”

“Is that what it is? How did you know I was here?”

Danny smiles at him, almost fondly. “How do you think? I’ve been right behind you all the way from the Red Moon.”

“No,” Jared says. “You haven’t.”

Her smile broadens. “Oh you’re good, Jared, but you’re not that good.”

“Yeah,” says Jared. “Yeah, I really am that good. How did you know I was here?”

She’s quiet for a moment, smile frozen on her face as she studies him. “Yeah, okay, maybe you are that good. Doesn’t matter now. It’s too late.”

“Imma ask you this nicely just the once,” says Jared. “Why are you here?”

“I told you, I owe Jensen a favor. And seeing as he couldn’t distract you from me last time, he thought maybe I could distract you from him, just long enough.” Danny looks at her watch again and grins. “You know, I love a guy who’s right as often as Jen is.”

Acting on a horrible suspicion, Jared punches Chad’s number into his phone, waits while it calls and calls.

“I think Mayhem’s kinda busy right now,” Danny says, while she gestures for the guy behind the counter to bring her another coffee.

In the time it takes for Jared to stand and make it out of the café, he’s figured it out. Jensen knows ISA procedure well enough to figure out which facility was most likely to take receipt of the microchip, and Chad’s the one whose biometrics locked it in. All he needed was Jared out of the way long enough to grab Chad. Jared would be impressed by how stubbornly Jensen is hanging onto the chip if it weren’t for the fact Jared doesn’t trust him not to do something unforgivable.

While he’s quickly and unobtrusively breaking into a car, Jared calls the restricted ISA number on his cell and tells the bland, automated response to put him through to Tal or Tigerman.

“Hi, this is Tech support,” Alona says cheerily. “You working on a Mac or a PC?”

“I’m Chad’s co-worker,” Jared says, not even bothering to play through the facade. “Do you remember me?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah I remember you - ” More muffled, Jared can hear her hissing at Gabriel, telling him to quit fucking around with Guitar Hero and get his ass over here! “So, uh, what do you need from us?”

Jared props the cell between his shoulder and his ear as he hot-wires the car. “I need you to check with the logs in one of the ISA banks, designation VE92. I need you to tell me whether Chad was there in the last hour.”

“That’s, well, that’s pretty classified stuff,” Gabriel says uncertainly. “Do you have an authorization code for-“

“Not yet. Do this for me, and I’ll get you one, all properly signed and everything. I just need to make sure my handler isn’t dead already, okay? Please, just work with me here.”

Once he’s got the engine going, Jared takes off fast, heading in the general direction of the ISA vaults. He can hear Alona and Gabriel having a quick, whispered conference. He needs them to help him because he needs to not let Chad die. Because if Chad dies because of Jensen, then there’s going to be no avoiding that situation Jared doesn’t want to be in. He can’t let someone kill his handler without it becoming his own problem. Plus, Chad’s all kinds of annoying, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to die.

“Okay,” says Gabriel finally. “We’re checking the log. Okay, yeah, you both logged in at 11:17 this morning, but there’s no Chad listed after that.”

“Could he get in without being logged?”

“No,” Alona cuts in. “The same system that reads and verifies his biometrics logs it. It’s not unhackable but, y’know, it’s as close as you’re gonna get to secure.”

So where the fuck has Jensen taken Chad? Jared sighs, drums his fingertips on the steering wheel as he drives, and tries to put himself in the head of a guy who’s never been a textbook example of predictable.

“Hey, wait!” Alona says. “Look at that!”

“Wow,” says Gabriel. “That’s that’s cool. I would never have looked there. But I don’t get it. How can he have-? How does that work?”

“What is it?” Jared says. “Chad logged in after all?”

“No, no,” says Alona, still sounding distracted. “He didn’t enter the building, the log doesn’t list him. But he entered one of the vaults ten minutes ago.”

“How does he enter one of the vaults without entering the building?” Jared says.

“I’m checking the security videos,” Gabriel says, “and it looks like he didn’t. Hey, pull up one of the plans. There’s gotta be some”

They fall silent and Jared tries to keep patient because he knows they’re not field agents and they’re doing the best they can and it’s not their fault they don’t understand how it feels to know someone could well be dying while you’re waiting for an answer.

“That’s something that’s going to worry me for a while,” Alona says finally. “Someone’s altered the records we’ve got for the bank’s blueprints. There’s only one way that Chad could not have logged in at the entrance but have made it to one of the vaults. There’s an escape tunnel, hasn’t been used since the fifties, but someone’s done a really good job of removing all trace of it from official records. I mean, this tunnel doesn’t exist as far as our records go, except, see, we did a reorganization of the system a few months ago, and we’ve got this one little backup file hanging around… and the tunnel’s marked on there.”

“Hypothetically,” Gabriel says, “someone could access the vaults without registering in the building by going through the tunnel. I guess. It’s just really really unlikely. The tunnel hasn’t been in use for years, and it looks to feed into the water system, which is kind of dangerous.”

“Look, who knows what state the tunnel’s in? And even going through the tunnel, you’ve got to hack through some heavy-duty security to get into the vaults. It’s not an easy option,” says Alona. “But nobody’s gonna be looking for a tunnel that doesn’t exist, and data about who’s entering the vault gets stored in a completely different place to data about who’s entering the building, not somewhere you’d immediately look. In short, it’s not exactly sane, but it’s really really smart.”

Not exactly sane, but really really smart: that would be Jensen.

~*~

Jared’s only able to locate the tunnel that doesn’t exist with Gabe and Alona giving him very precise directions. It’s dark and wet inside, and the deeper in he gets, the louder the sound of running water grows, until the little stream he’s running alongside has become a goddamn full-blown river. It’d be really easy to get lost and Jared properly appreciates how insane it is to think your best option is navigating a system of tunnels that run below the city.

He strains for the first sound of Jensen and Chad, because whatever Jensen’s plan is, it won’t be to leave Chad inside the facility. Jensen’s going to want time to make a good escape before people realize the microchip’s even in danger.

Unless Danny’s already warned him that she couldn’t hang onto Jared. If she has, then all bets are off.

~*~

It’s been fourteen minutes since Jared entered the tunnel. It’s too easy to lose track of time and losing track of time is the first step to getting disoriented. He has his flashlight, his gun and Gabe and Alona on the phone.

This is payback, Jared thinks. Not payback from Jensen, but for Jensen. He deserves this for being stupid enough to ignore all those common-sense rules and fall in love with his handler. He deserves this for thinking he was professional enough and capable enough to be able to cope with whatever consequences came from a relationship with Jensen.

If Chad dies, it’s going to be Jared’s fault.

~*~

“He’s gonna kick your ass, you know that, right?” Chad’s voice floats towards Jared, and he feels the warm dizziness of relief, even as he tries to figure out which direction it’s coming from. “I mean, he’ll shoot you on fucking sight. Because there is no fucking way he can now fail to realize that you are one sonofabitch who needs to die.”

“Oh, that hurts,” Jensen says flatly. “And after I’d been nice enough to bring all of you along when I only needed your biometrics as well.”

“Yeah, assclown, ‘cause carving me up would’a totally made Jared forgive you,” Chad sneers.

“I think that boat’s sailed. Now shut up and move, before I do my headache a favor and leave you here to drown. I’m seriously doubting that anyone would miss you.”

The voices are getting closer. Silently, Jared hangs up his cell, turns out his flashlight and readies his grip on his gun.

“Like the Coalition’d miss you, you mean?” Chad says. “Like fucking Rosenbaum would? He’d move right on to the next guy fucked-enough in the head to buy what he’s fucking selling.”

There’s the sound of a scuffle, which cuts off sharply. Then Jensen, still flat and blank, says, “You should try to remember that it’s pretty clear I don’t care enough about Jared not to do things that would upset him, like kill you.”

“Of course you don’t fucking care. I see through you, Teague,” Chad says. “I see right through you and the things you told Jared and I see what you fucking are. You’re a fucking murderer.”

Another scuffle then Chad curses, high and panicked. Jared tenses, ready to move.

“You aren’t important, Chad,” Jensen says. “The people I’ve killed, you think it’d give me a single sleepless night to kill you too? It wouldn’t. And, sure, Jared would be real upset and blame himself and it’d all be really sad, but you think I couldn’t work him through it? He wants to believe I’m not all bad. You can’t compete with that. You don’t matter.”

“Anything matter beside you?” Chad chokes out.

And, damn him, Jensen doesn’t answer that.

Then they’re moving again, just around the corner from Jared. He can see the narrow beam of a flashlight, and then they’re there, walking smack bang into the direct line of Jared’s raised gun.

Chad doesn’t look hurt, rumpled maybe but there’s no visible damage to him. He looks pathetically grateful to see Jared. And Jensen, Jensen is gorgeous and even more so when he’s cornered and scared and pissed. He’s got the muzzle of a gun wedged firmly against Chad’s throat and Jared dimly remembers thinking how weird it was to see Jensen assembling a sniper-rifle, and how crazy it seemed back then that Jensen might ever use a gun.

“Put the gun down, Jensen,” Jared says.

“No,” Jensen says.

“You think I won’t shoot you?” Jared says. “Because I’m that desperate to believe you’re ‘not all bad’?”

“I think that if you shoot me I’m taking Chad with me.”

There’s a temporary stalemate, full of the rush of churning water in the carved out channel beside them.

“Danneel?” Jensen says.

Jared toys with the idea of telling Jensen he killed her, just to throw him. Then he shrugs and says, “Cute but not cute enough.”

“Huh. I won’t tell her you said that.”

“You’re not going to be telling her anything. You’re not walking away from this. I want the microchip, I want Chad, and I want you face down on the ground, hands behind your back.”

Jensen smiles, cocks his head at him. “Wow, that’s kinkier than I was expecting from you. But I’m sorry, you can’t have any of that. Now, get out of my way before I shoot him.”

“Who do you think you’re fooling? You’re not gonna shoot-”

The sound of the gun cracks through the air, sharp even above the noise of the water. It’s a flash of light and then Chad crumples and there’s blood and a startled grunt. And then Jensen shoves Chad into the water with a loud splash, where he’s instantly lost in the froth.

Jensen’s face is white, mask-like as he looks straight back at Jared, the gun still tight in his hand, leveled at Jared now. His eyes are inhumanly bright.

“Think fast,” Jensen says. “Try to shoot me or try to save him. Time’s a’wasting. “

Instinctively, Jared’s first thought is to cripple Jensen. To cause him pain. Because that’s what Jensen deserves. Jared wants to hurt him.

But there’s still a chance Chad’s alive, and Jared knows it’s his job to retrieve the microchip but everything has spun so far out of control that Jared can’t leave Chad to bleed or drown to death when there’s still a chance he could save him. He’s not going to let Jensen involve him in any more murders.

He dives into the water and the last thing he hears as he plunges below the surface is the sound of Jensen running.

Chapter 29

Several times, Jared resigns himself to the fact that Chad is dead, that he’s too slow and too late. He thinks it when he’s searching the dark, churned-up water for Chad’s limp body. He thinks it again when he hauls him out and tries to find a pulse. He has a flash of desperate hope when he sees Jensen’s only shot Chad through the shoulder, but Chad seems to have swallowed half the damn Danube. Instantly falling back onto his training, Jared gives him mouth-to-mouth, sloppily pressing his mouth to Chad’s clammy lips and working his lungs, until Chad splutters and twitches. But his pulse is still too weak and blood is still pumping sluggishly from the wound.

By the time Alona and Gabriel have steered Jared back out above ground and he’s got Chad into the waiting ambulance, Jared has given up on him.

Long after the ambulance’s siren has faded away, Jared is still sat on the street, shivering.

~*~

Weatherly is waiting for him when Jared gets into the ISA offices. Jared’s barely through Security before Michael’s heading for him.

“Murray’s condition is stable,” he says, and Jared is dimly surprised by it, before he allows himself to register feeling relieved. “He’s conscious, doing well.”

“How soon before he’s working again?”

“He’ll be on minimum duties by next week. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.” Jared raises an eyebrow and allows Michael to lead him into an empty office. Michael closes the door and shuts the blinds and Jared wants to leave because he doesn’t want to be right about where he thinks this is going. “You need to resolve the situation with Teague.”

Jared doesn’t shy away from meeting the look Michael’s giving him. “And how do you and the other branch executives want me to resolve it?”

There’s a beat and Jared gets it, gets exactly what the goddamn hold-up is.

“Schneider and Glover have picked the best possible time to start agreeing with each other and want Teague brought in alive,” Michael says. “And O’Toole permanently seems to have her mind elsewhere.”

“And you want me to kill Jen- Teague?” Jared fills in neutrally.

Michael leans in, voice lowered. His expression is strained and Jared feels a strange moment of pity for him. He tries to think how he’d feel, if he were never to see Jensen again, never to hear of him again until someone’s confessing to murdering him. And then, calmly, he reminds himself that Jessica Alba wasn’t a double agent and that Michael loving her wasn’t anywhere near as stupid as Jared loving Jensen was.

“I know this is hard for you,” Michael says. “But it’s gone on long enough. The longer Teague lives, the more people are going to get hurt. And if you don’t act soon then you’re not going to get chance to.”

Jared frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Michael clutches his shoulder, fingers digging in, and Jared has to fight the immediate instinct to remove his hand. “Morgan wants you gone,” Michael hisses. “He doesn’t trust you and he thinks you’re an unnecessary risk. He’s pushing to have you reassigned from ISA and he’s pushing hard. People listen to Morgan, Jared. Your time here is running out. You need to kill Teague and you need to do it soon.”

As if hearing just how overwrought he sounds, Michael loosens his grip on Jared’s shoulder, visibly composes himself. He takes a deep breath and, cooler, says, “You understand how dangerous Jensen is. You and me, we understand. The others aren’t thinking clearly. Teague was Glover’s prize student, and Schneider’s got a real hard-on for getting one over on the Coalition. They don’t understand that Teague is too dangerous to be allowed to live.”

Michael glances at the door, then back at Jared. “I’m authorizing you to kill Teague. The others are going to tell you not to act but I’m telling you that if you get that opportunity, you should take it, and I will back you.”

Jared nods and moves to the door. Michael catches at him again, trying to make eye-contact with him.

“You understand?” Michael says. “I’m authorizing you.”

“Yes,” says Jared, and untangles himself from Michael’s grip. “I hear what you’re saying.”

~*~

If nothing else, Michael is right about one thing: Jeff Morgan is not Jared’s number one fan. Jared sits in on the branch executives’ meeting - primarily to be told that they hadn’t yet come to a unanimous decision about how to deal with Jensen, and therefore to try to keep stalemate with Jensen where he can - and Jeff watches Jared the entire time.

Jared smiles at him the first time he sees Jeff watching him, because Jared’s a polite boy and whatever goes on in the office, so to speak, doesn’t have to carry over into personal relationships. And Jeff grins back at him and then carries on watching him.

They get through the meeting, which includes lots of pointed remarks about Jared’s failure to properly prioritize the microchip over Chad but no outright rebuke, then, as the others are leaving, Jared realizes Schneider and Glover are looking to speak to him. Weatherly catches Jared’s eye, just for a second but the message is clear, and then leaves them alone.

“Your handler’s gonna be okay,” Schneider says, clapping Jared on the shoulder. “He’s a strong kid.”

“Good,” says Jared. “That’s awesome.”

Glover barely lets them have their moment of small-talk before he’s saying, “Your position here is in jeopardy.”

“Morgan,” Jared says.

Schneider rubs his jaw, looking frustrated. “He’s shouting it pretty loud that you can’t handle Teague.” He pauses, meets Jared’s eye even though he seems to find it uncomfortable. “And that seeing as everyone knows you’re not incompetent, that maybe there’s something else to blame for you apparently getting thrown off your game like this.”

“Morgan suspects you of being a double,” Glover says. “He wants you removed from ISA. Considering the time and expense we went to to bring you on board, we’d prefer not to let that happen.”

Jared’s heart rate picks up. If he hears the order from them too, there’s no way he can ignore it. He won’t be able to.

“So what do you want me to do?” he says in a hard voice.

Glover smiles thinly, as if he knows what Jared’s dreading them saying. ” We don’t want you to kill him, the things he knows about the Coalition’s workings within ISA are invaluable. So, don’t kill him if you can help it, but” He shrugs elegantly. “Hurt him. You need to make it clear that you’re past any romantic involvement with Teague. We need everyone to see that you don’t care about him.”

“I know, kid,” Schneider says. “This is a goddamn awful thing for us to be asking you to do, and God knows you’ve had a rough enough time of it lately. But this is for the best, believe us.”

“We’re just asking you to be ruthlessly efficient,” Glover says. “In any way you see fit.”

The stress he lays on ‘ruthless’ makes it fairly clear that that’s the key word here.

~*~

It’s another twenty-four hours before Jared’s allowed in to see Chad. It’s kind of surreal to see him propped up in his hospital bed, skinny and harmless, but still very much alive. Jared tosses him a couple of glossy porn magazines he’d picked up and pulls the chair over.

“Now c’mon,” he says, “that was more fun than beer and hookers, am I right?”

“You’re a dumb jerk who thinks with his fucking dick,” Chad says, as he flips through one of the magazines.

Jared pulls a face at him. “Next time I’ll pick the microchip over you, that better?”

“Don’t fucking kid yourself, Jared. You didn’t pick me over the microchip, you picked not letting Teague murder someone right in front of you. This was about him, just like always.”

For some reason, it all chooses that moment to hit Jared hard. The last months of losing Jensen the way he has, of being forced face-to-face with every ugly thing Jensen had done, the constant pressure of working against Jensen, all chooses that moment to settle on Jared.

The moment’s gone as soon it’s there, but just then, right then, Jared sits there and wonders how the hell he let it all go so wrong. The clarity of it is painfully sharp, and then it’s welcome. Because it all comes down to the fact that Jared has failed to do his job. Jensen has done his job and Jared hasn’t done his.

Jared thinks he should really start doing his job.

“Weatherly says you’ll be active again by next week, that right?”

Chad shrugs sullenly. “Maybe. Probably.”

“When you’re back, I want you to liaise with Tigerman and Tal, get them searching for anything else in the system that looks like Jensen might have tampered with.”

Jared doing his job must be at least a little impressive because Chad has put his porn down in order to pay more attention to him. “How the fuck are they s’posed to do that? It’s not like Teague-“

“Just tell them to look around,” Jared cuts in. “And I want you security-screened again before I next go on assignment.”

“What? I mean, what the fuck? Why the fuck do you fucking want me security-fucking-“

Jared cuts him off again, sounding apologetic but firm. “Man, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. I need a few sure-things in my life right now. You’re gonna have to be one of them.”

He holds Chad’s gaze until Chad’s anger fades into grudging obedience and understanding. It’s not until Chad’s nodded at him that Jared grins at him again.

~*~

“They want me to hurt him,” Jared says.

Lauren sets the mug in front of him then curls up at the other end of the sofa to watch him. She takes a slow sip of her coffee, eyes still fixed on him, then says, “Is that going to be a problem?”

Jared shrugs awkwardly, picks his mug up and taps his blunt fingernails against its smooth side. “Maybe. I just I don’t know if I’m angry enough with him.”

She smiles. “How much angrier would you have liked him to make you? What else could he have done? Short of outright trying to kill you, I mean.”

Jared shrugs once more, feeling like a kid in front of the school counselor. He’d like to go, go to the gym or the firing range. But he came to Lauren for a reason; he’s here for her help, which means he has to let her talk him through it.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” she says, knowing she’s not, “but you sound fairly angry with the branch executives for giving you this order. Would you rather they’d told you to kill him? I mean, killing someone can be quick, over and done with, but hurting them hurting them’s different, isn’t it?”

Jared considers it. Mostly, though, he considers how much he dislikes a handler’s tendency to try to read people. Before Jensen, it never used to bother Jared that much; a good handler should be insightful and be able to analyze a situation or a person. Now however, Jared doesn’t feel comfortable with such blatantly probing questions. It makes him feel defensive, makes him wonder how much of himself he gave away to Jensen.

“Yeah, I’m pissed at the branch executives. C’mon, Jensen was killing people, and not only do they not notice, but they give him to me as my handler, bringing all this shit down on me!”

He knows it’s not answering the question Lauren asked him, and he tries not to be irritated by the knowledge that she’ll be hearing as much in his deliberate avoidance as she would if he’d answered. She seems willing to go with it.

“I don’t pretend to understand Jensen or the way he thinks, but,” she shrugs a little helplessly, “judging from his file, he was very very good at what he did. He was an exemplary handler. And he had an impressive mortality rate for his agents. Of the three agents he lost, two he killed himself, and the other died on assignment while Jensen was on sick leave and therefore wasn’t even technically handling him at the time.”

“Call me naïve, but I kinda think killing even one of his agents should’a been noticed by someone. But, y’know, I’m not an expert.”

She sighs, takes another sip of her coffee, and takes a moment to respond. “Do you remember Melbourne? Patrick Bourke? Do you think because he didn’t see you coming it means he was stupid? Or do you think it means you’re just very good at your job?” She gives Jared a pointed look. “Just like Jensen’s very good at his job. You didn’t see him coming because you weren’t supposed to, because it was his job not to let you.”

It’s not what Jared’s come here for. He’s gone over attributing blame so often he’s driven himself half-crazy with it. It doesn’t matter who’s to blame; it matters what he’s going to do about it.

“I have to hurt him in some way and I need you to help me. They haven’t given me proper objectives. Do they want me to break his arm? Both arms? Throw him out a window? What do they want from me?”

“Not throwing him out the window, for one. Outright hostility is going to be viewed as as much of a distraction as you still being in love with him,” she says firmly. She thinks for a moment, mug frozen half-lifted to her lips. “You have to do your job, Jared, and you need to-“

“Be ruthlessly efficient,” Jared fills in. “That’s what Glover said.”

She gives him an enigmatic smile, as if that’s his answer right there and it isn’t pretty. “You know what I think Glover wants from you?” she says. “This isn’t about violence, Jared. It’s about humiliation.”

Chapter 30

It’s lunchtime on a bright, busy day. The mall is crowded with people and most of the tables at the cafés in the concourse are taken. Jared slouches in a store’s doorway, neatly unobtrusive, and watches Mike Rosenbaum drink coffee. Mike has been there for fifteen minutes and Jared has already heard from Ventimiglia that Jensen is headed in this direction. It’s working out nicely. After all, they’ve had the right intel and enough time to guarantee the assignment’s smooth running.

Jared watches Mike flip through his newspaper and waits.

Three minutes later, Jensen makes an appearance. He’s wearing scruffy jeans and scruffier sneakers and he’s got a messenger bag slung over one shoulder; he could pretty easily pass for any other office tech on his lunch break.

Jensen orders a soda then glances around uncertainly at all the busy tables. Mike looks up over his newspaper, raises an eyebrow and gestures to the free chair across from him. Jensen’s expression is hesitant, then his face relaxes into a smile and he sits down at Mike’s table. There’s a brief exchange of words and then Mike goes back to his newspaper and Jensen opens his laptop, for all intents and purposes forgetting about one another.

It’s a cute little charade, just like the one in the club in Sofia. It’s too bad for them that Jared knows them both way too well to be fooled.

He’s not sure exactly when the pass happens, only that Mike’s folding up his newspaper and leaving, and six minutes later, so is Jensen, in the opposite direction. Jared ducks away and cuts through the backstreets to the financial district.

He receives confirmation from Ventimiglia that Jensen’s entering the bank when Jared’s already roughly two-thirds of the way up the elevator shaft. And by the time Jensen reaches his final destination, Jared’s out of sight behind the server columns.

There were plenty of ways this assignment’s objectives could be achieved, but only this way put Jared and Jensen in a room together. This way, Glover and the others got their demonstration that Jared was fully capable of handling Jensen.

Quietly and efficiently, Jensen sets up his laptop and jacks into the bank’s central system. Jared listens to him work and follows Chad’s reports through his earpiece. Everything’s as perfect as his assignments always used to be, before he met Jensen.

What he’s about to do doesn’t bother him because he won’t allow it to. He made the decision to do this and he’s sticking with it. He doesn’t allow himself to wonder if maybe that makes him as soulless as Jensen and Glover and the rest either.

When he hears Jensen settle at the access terminal desk, Jared readies his gun and moves. He’s got the gun at Jensen’s temple before Jensen even has time to look up.

“Make one move I don’t tell you to, sweetheart, and I’ll paint your brains across the wall.”

Jensen stays perfectly, unnaturally still. He doesn’t even breathe. Jared gently sweeps the muzzle of the gun around the hollow Jensen’s eye, down his cheekbone, in something like a caress. Jensen can’t completely stifle a shiver.

“See?” Jared says. “It’s real easy to make me happy. Just have to do what I tell you.”

“And what’s that going to be?” Jensen grinds out breathlessly.

“First thing, you’re not gonna let that pretty mouth of yours run away with you. You got something important to say, you say it. But you better be damn sure it’s important, y’hear?”

Jensen doesn’t respond and Jared chuckles quietly.

“S’okay, you can nod.” Jared laughs again when Jensen still doesn’t move. “Look at you, all obedient and nicely-behaved. Put your wrists together in front of you.”

The gun still resting at his temple, Jensen doesn’t hesitate to obey, doesn’t struggle when Jared cuffs his hands together.

“Now,” says Jared, “I got some stuff to take care of, but you’re gonna sit here with me and watch.”

Jared manhandles Jensen up off his chair, takes his place and then hauls Jensen onto his knee, balancing him there awkwardly so Jensen is forced to straddle Jared’s thigh to keep himself from falling. He steadies himself with his cuffed hands against the desk and tries to move as little as possible. Jared studies him shamelessly, taking in Jensen’s gaze fixed straight ahead, the faint flush in his cheek, the tight line of his jaw.

“Imma put my gun down,” Jared says. “It’s not your cue to try to get away or anything stupid like that. It’s just ‘cause I’m gonna need my hands free for this, ‘kay? But I’ll make sure it’s out of reach, help you avoid temptation.”

He sets his gun down, takes out the flash-drive Chad had given him and inserts it into Jensen’s laptop. A few seconds pass, in which Jensen watches the screen intently.

Then, through the earpiece, Chad says, “I’m in. Rory’s in place. Nurse confirms Mockingbird’s on his way.”

Jared leans forward, keeps Jensen in place with a hand rested on his belly, and brings the surveillance-feed up on the laptop. And right there, there’s Bledel, their fake-buyer, with Rosenbaum expected at any minute. It’s weird having things go so smoothly. Before Jensen, Jared would have expected things to go smoothly. Now, it puts him on edge, makes him even more determined to ensure that this all goes right.

Of course, there’s also the possibility that he’s on edge because he’s got a silent but undeniably hostile Jensen in his lap.

“What I don’t get,” Jared says, setting up a few things on the laptop, “is why you went to all the trouble of stealing that microchip, if you’re just gonna sell it.”

There’s a pause and then, as if Jensen can’t help himself, he says, “I imagine there’s a lot you don’t get, Jared.”

“I get the important things,” Jared says with a grin. “Like you,” he says, before pressing a kiss to the joint of Jensen’s jaw, just below his ear. Jensen grits his teeth and doesn’t answer.

On screen, Mike enters.

“Are they gonna blame you for this?” Jared asks conversationally. He kisses Jensen again, this time on the throat, breathing in the smell of his warm skin, hand tightening on his belly to keep him held firm against Jared. “Gonna wonder if maybe your loyalties are a little more mixed-up than they realized?”

“Is this really what you’re reduced to?” Jensen says sharply, raggedly. “You gonna force me, Jared?”

“Funny, I don’t hear you telling me to stop,” Jared says. He cups Jensen’s cheek in his palm, tilts Jensen’s face towards him so he can kiss the corner of his mouth. He can’t help closing his eyes, focusing on nothing but kissing Jensen. “You know I’ll stop if you tell me to.” The pad of his thumb flickering backwards and forwards over Jensen’s jaw, his mouth brushing Jensen’s with every word he says, Jared whispers, “Just tell me to stop.”

Jensen turns his face just enough to let Jared catch his mouth.

A window flashes open on the laptop, requesting bank details. Jared pushes Jensen away, ignores the small irritable noise of protest Jensen makes, and enters the first set of numbers. He sees Jensen looking at the screen, can feel the tension in his body.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” says Jared. “It’s not going exactly the way you guys figured. You’re not selling the chip. You’re giving the microchip back to ISA, and you’re paying for the privilege.”

“No!” Jensen snarls.

He lunges forward but Jared catches him before he can touch the laptop, drags him back onto his lap.

“Don’t make me knock your pretty ass out. Just sit still and watch Rosey get fucked with his pants on.”

Jensen struggles wildly and for a moment Jared really thinks he’s going to have to punch him out, which doesn’t work for him on a number of levels. Then Jensen forces himself to still, breathing hard.

“He has insurance. There are devices. He always sets them up. So if anything goes wrong, and he doesn’t make it back”

“They’ll detonate,” Jared finishes. “Yeah, we know. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. We know all about Mike’s insurance. We’re only after the chip and some Coalition money.”

Jensen stares hard at Jared, as if trying to determine whether he trusts him or not, which Jared finds kind of funny, considering. Then the fight goes out of him, the tightness in his muscles loosening.

“Get ready for the reverse transfer,” Chad says in his ear. “Mockingbird’s happy that Zoolander’s verified Rory’s details, and he’s gonna be entering his own now.”

Another dialogue box flashes open on the screen and, as on the video Mike types something into the laptop open between him and Bledel, the bank details appear in the window. Jared confirms them.

“Seriously,” Jared says, slipping his fingers under the hem of Jensen’s t-shirt to find skin to touch and stroke, “they gonna think you were in on this? Is Mike gonna think you’re a traitor? Or are they all gonna think you’re incompetent? ‘Cause, let’s face it, you’re in here, fooling around with me, watching as we steal two-point-five million dollars from the Coalition. It don’t exactly look good for you either way.”

Briskly, Jared tugs down Jensen’s fly. Jensen hisses, cuffed hands instinctively moving to stop him.

“You want me to stop?” Jared says. “You’re not gagged, sweetheart. You want me to stop, you just gotta say so.” He brushes his lips against Jensen’s earlobe, teeth grazing the delicately furled skin. “‘Course, this is a real bad day for you as it is, so you might as well get something out of it.”

“Please,” Jensen says.

“Please stop?” Jared says.

Jensen makes a choked noise. “Just fucking touch me.”

Feeling an unpleasant rush of victory, Jared pushes Jensen to his feet just long enough to drag his jeans and shorts down his thighs. Jensen’s half-hard already, legs spreading easily and his expression miserable and needy. He gives a punched-out breath as Jared grips his cock and jacks him crudely, working him to no particular rhythm, just firm, hard pulls that make Jensen’s hips twist and buck.

Jared would be lying if he said he isn’t getting off on this. It’s not just Jensen all spread out and slutty on his knee he likes, though yeah, that he likes. It’s that he’s doing this to Jensen while he makes him watch his side lose. It’s that the only power Jensen has right now, over Jared, over anything, is the word ‘stop’, and it’s Jared who gave him that power. It’s a power he allows Jensen to have.

On screen, the financial transfer is almost complete.

Jensen’s tiny, fast breaths have slipped into full, drawn-out moans. He’s bracing himself back against Jared, his ass rubbing into Jared every time he moves so all Jared can think about is fucking him. His cock is hot and flushed, wet with precome, and Jared wishes he could stick his hand down his own pants, could jerk himself off before he does something crazy like come in his pants.

“God,” Jared says, “so beautiful, aren’t you? So fucking hot like this.” He bites down hard on the soft, vulnerable stretch of skin on Jensen’s throat, below the jaw, worries it brutally between his teeth, sucks until Jensen’s crying out wordlessly and his cuffs are rasping across the desktop. “C’mon, Jen, wanna make you come for me, wanna make you filthy for me.”

The financial transfer is complete and Jared celebrates with a particularly demanding jerk of his wrist, which has Jensen coming all over his thighs and Jared’s hand. As Jensen comes down, he’s trembling and sweaty, and he won’t look at Jared.

Jared leans forward to the laptop, validates the transaction, then drops a kiss at Jensen’s hairline.

Idly using the hem of Jensen’s t-shirt to wipe his hands off, Jared says, “Congratulations. You just lost two-point-five million dollars and an advanced tech microchip, and you moaned like a whore through the whole thing.”

Instantly, Jensen’s on him, hissing and spitting, lashing out to do him any damage he can, kicking and elbowing until Jared unceremoniously dumps him on the floor. He stands over him, taking in the obvious mess he’s left: marks of his mouth on Jensen’s throat, Jensen’s jeans still tugged down, come drying on his skin. Very deliberately, he turns his back on Jensen to remove Chad’s flash-drive and to pick up his gun.

He makes a point of showing Jensen the key to the handcuffs, then bends down and slots it in. Jensen doesn’t fight, watches him with an unsettlingly intense gaze. And then, before Jensen realizes what he’s doing, Jared neatly snaps off the top half of the key.

“You’re leaving me like this?” Jensen demands.

“Nope,” says Jared, “I’m leaving you like this.” He removes the duct tape from his pocket and tapes over Jensen’s mouth. He meets Jensen’s eyes and the look in them is fiercely outraged. He smiles and shrugs. “Sweetheart, only thing I trust you to do is try to screw me as soon as my back’s turned. You think I’m gonna make it easy for you?” He turns for the door, pauses, then says, “Don’t count on special treatment from me anymore, Jensen. I mean it.”

Jared takes the stairs down at a slow jog. The assignment’s gone perfectly and Jared should be proud of himself. He’s relieved that’s it over, more than anything, and that’s an acceptable response. But, less acceptable, there’s that tiny sliver of ugly honesty that makes him admit, even if only to himself, that part of him enjoyed it.

Chapter 31

Jared has spent the last week in Bolivia, helping to avert a civil war. It’s a fairly standard assignment and for most of it, he’s not doing anything more exciting than cleaning out illegal arms dealers. Then it all goes a bit crazy. This kid, who’s in way over his head and whom Jared’s trying to rescue, freaks out and sticks Jared with this little pigsticker of a knife.

So Jared ends up bleeding and self-medicated on whiskey, stitching himself up in a swelteringly hot cabin in the jungle. The whiskey’s numbed his head and set his chest on fire. His fingers are slippery with blood and he has to keep wiping his hands off on his discarded shirt so he can grip the needle properly and not mess up his stitches.

And all he can think about is how Jensen better not have died while he’s been away. He’s been out of communications range for a while so he wouldn’t have heard if he had. But Jared is pretty damn sure that if anyone’s gonna kill Jensen, it’s gonna be him and so everyone else better keep their goddamn hands off. He’ll gut the first motherfucker who tries to take Jensen out who isn’t him.

It’s possible he overdoes it with the whiskey.

~*~

The air in the bar is swimming with bugs and the sweep of the overhead fan is a continual heavy pulse. A shaft of brilliant sunlight cuts across the dirt floor from behind Jared where he stands in the open doorway. Not one of the three patrons looks up at Jared as he crosses to the counter.

As he waits to be served, Jared glances up at the large, old TV in the corner over the bar. It’s showing a news program on mute but Jared picks up the salient points from the captions running along the bottom of the screen. Markets in chaos as computer virus attacks NYSE data. Trading frozen as stockholders scramble to trace ‘mislaid’ billions. Government refuses to deny possible terrorist connection. Jared watches the headlines scroll by, laughs without amusement and shakes his head.

It occurs to him then that the bartender still hasn’t appeared. He leans halfway over the bar, craning his neck to peer into the shadowed backrooms.

“Hello?” he calls. “Anyone there?”

He looks back into the bar, wondering whether it’s worth trying to question any of the customers, then figures running headlong into a wall a couple times would be more helpful. It’s when he turns back to the bar that he notices the empty glass, and the rosary strung around it. He touches the tiny cross with a fingertip.

Jared takes the winding, dusty path into the small town and heads for the church. It’s cooler inside its shade and the buzz of insects is quieter. And sure enough, there’s a woman in the first row of pews. Her head is bowed but Jared doubts she’s praying. He goes to the altar and goes through the motions of lighting a candle.

“That for anyone in particular?” she says. “Want me to remember them in my prayers?”

He shrugs. “Thanks but no. Don’t wanna waste too much of the Big Guy’s time with a lost cause.”

“I didn’t think you believed in lost causes, only ones you hadn’t decided to take on yet.”

“Yeah, well, we’re all young and stupid once, right?” He turns around and takes a seat beside her. “You running the bar on a self-service system now? Little too trusting, aren’t you?”

She gives him a small smile, tucks a stray brown curl back beneath her black headscarf. “Town’s a little busier than usual. Figured it was a good time to go.”

“Busy?” Jared echoes.

“American. Big guy, big as you probably. Seemed sweet, friendly.” She grins and flashes Jared a look. “Then again, so do you. Didn’t ask me but I heard him speaking to some of the locals. Pretty sure he’s looking for you.”

“Sandy,” Jared says seriously, “did he make you?”

She shrugs but won’t meet his eyes. “I don’t think so but it’s a matter of time. I can’t stick around, Jared. Tomorrow morning, I’m gone.”

“No-one’s gonna hurt you. I won’t allow it to happen.” He reaches for her small, tanned hand. “C’mon, I need you here.”

Sandy tugs her hand free and shakes her head. “I only hung around long enough to warn you because you’ve been good to me. But this guy’s trouble and I don’t want to be part of it. I’m sorry, I am, but if I hang around I’ll either wind up dead or be nothing but a liability to you.” She takes a deep breath. “Look, some crates are coming through to Alvarez Friday. Word is that his supplier will be at the drop. That’s all I know. I suggest you get it done and then you get the hell back to the US, before whoever it is catches up with you.”

The candles flicker as she sweeps past them.

~*~

Jared makes the trek through the jungle, up the hills, back into communications range. He sets up the equipment Chad gave him and puts through the call. Though it’s part of a handler’s duties to be available, Jared wouldn’t be surprised if Chad’s treating this as a vacation for himself and so he’s not exactly expecting an answer.

“Thank you for calling Phone-Fetish-4-You, the number one phone-sex-line for sick fucks like you,” Chad says cheerily. “Please select your fetish. Press 1 for creampies, 2 for ass to mouth-“

“Yeah, how about if I wanna speak to someone who isn’t a time-wasting douche?”

“Dude, I was getting there!” Chad hesitates for a second, then says, “Take it you’ve seen your boy’s big old ‘Fuck You’? If it makes you feel better, we don’t think they’ve actually managed to fucking steal the cash, they’ve just like, lost it down the back of the Fed’s cyber-couch.”

“Jesus, I kinda thought it might be them but” Jared trails off and sighs. “How the hell did they manage to pull something like that off?”

“How do you fucking think? Teague facilitated Rosenbaum’s crazy, like usual. They do the really bad shit that we all kinda secretly hope no one’s actually gonna be able to. Still, guess it ain’t exactly Hacking for Dummies standard. No, like I said, this is Teague’s big ‘Fuck You’, man.”

“Awesome,” Jared says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, have there been any actual sightings of Teague since the bank job? Anyone seen him?”

“Lemme check.” Chad’s silent for a moment. “No. No one’s seen him.”

“But the Wall Street hack was definitely him?”

“If the Coalition has got anyone else with the smarts to pull something like that off, they’ve been keeping them a real good secret. And we all should be in full fucking panic too, because we don’t need two fucking Teagues fucking things up for us.”

Jared ignores feeling relieved at the confirmation that Jensen’s still alive and gets on to the main reason he made contact. “Someone else is down here. They’re looking for me and they’ve already managed to scare off McCoy. Any idea who it is?”

“Details, buddy. They’re kind of necessary for me to do my job, y’know?”

“I don’t have much. Big American guy.”

“Jesus, you don’t have squat,” Chad says. “Those aren’t exactly what we in the trade refer to as details.” He pauses, then says, “Is it gonna compromise the assignment?”

Jared doesn’t even consider it. “You think I’d pull out of an assignment before I even get a look at who’s on my tail? I’m hurt. I really am. Nah, I’ll hang around, do my job, and if our mystery guy shows up, I’ll take care of it.”

~*~

It’s past sundown when Jared makes it back to the cabin. The knife wound in his side is stinging from the trek and Jared knows that when he changes the bandages tonight he’s going to have to check that he hasn’t let the damn thing get infected. He could totally do without that kind of bad luck.

He’s about to drop his backpack on the floor, when it hits him with an absolute, almost preternatural certainty that someone has been in his cabin.

He doesn’t make it out a second too soon. He throws himself as far as he can from the cabin, and he hasn’t even hit the ground before there’s fire and noise behind him, debris flying through the air. He lands flat on his belly in the undergrowth, his ribs aching from the impact, and barely catches his breath before he’s crawling deeper into the jungle, away from the blaze.

Explosives are great, they get the job done - but they doesn’t mean you set them and walk away. For best results, you make sure your target walks in and stays in. Which means Jared’s mystery guy is probably still very much local and aware that Jared has not been reduced to chunks of charred flesh.

Still on the ground, he presses his back to a tree and, gun in hand, scans the scene. And yeah, right there, black and orange in the shadow and firelight, there’s a big dark-haired guy who is most definitely a professional and armed with an SMG. He’s heading in Jared’s direction and all Jared has got going for him is that he sees the guy before the guy sees him.

One quick kick sends the SMG flying but the guy grips Jared’s leg, wrenches him over hard - which does something really painful to Jared’s ankle - and stamps on his wrist until Jared reflexively releases his own gun. Jared gets the sinking feeling that he might actually be dealing with someone who’s as good as him. It’s a long time since the playing field was level.

Once he manages to shake the guy off long enough to get back on his feet, Jared gets his first real look at him. The guy’s good-looking and, just like Sandy said, built about as big as Jared himself. Jared gets the vague idea he should know who he is but his brain fails to supply a name.

Jared puts a reasonable defensive space between them, light on his feet and ready to lash out if the guy comes at him.

“Hey, buddy,” he says. “I’m guessing you’re pissed at me for something. Wanna explain why that is? This time though, try using your words, ‘stead of explosives.”

The guy frowns and, worse than being of the same skill-level as Jared, he seems to be pretty damn humorless, which is, as far as Jared’s concerned, totally unforgivable.

“My words?” the guy says. “My words are that you are a morally corrupt tool of a morally corrupt world order. And that you need to die.”

“Okay. I’m going out on a limb here and guessing you’re a friend of Jensen’s, right?” Jared raises an eyebrow at him. “Hey, are you Tom? Tom Welling? I feel like I know you from somewhere. You’re Tom, aren’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am.”

“Well now, let’s be fair. I think if you’re planning on killing me, you should at least tell me your name,” Jared says.

The guy hasn’t stopped taking slow, careful steps towards him. He stops and seems to genuinely consider what Jared’s said and Danny’s remark about the guy being just a little mentally unstable comes back to Jared. It’s kind of impressive, he supposes, that the Coalition’s got so far considering three of its major players are arguably certifiable.

“Yes, I’m Tom,” the guy says finally. “I hope knowing my name doesn’t mean you’ll go to your grave with an easier mind.”

“Oh, don’t sweat it, Tom,” Jared says. “I don’t think you have to worry about me going to my grave at all.”

Tom studies him for a long moment then smiles thinly. “They said you liked to talk. And that you thought you were funny. I don’t find you funny, Jared. I find you despicable and it’s gonna be a pleasure to kill you.”

“Just one more Coalition guy I’ll be bringing the happy to then,” Jared says, and bends backwards to dodge Tom’s fist.

Tom’s fast and strong, and he’s really good.

In between Tom’s high kicks to Jared’s sides and the sharp, sweeping punches that Jared only just blocks each time, he doesn’t get the chance to play anything but defence. The pain in his ribs from the knife wound is a constant throb and each time Jared strains to dodge and duck, he feels the skin stretching painfully. Tom catches him with a series of blows to the belly and chest that drive Jared backwards.

Staggering back a few steps, Jared is able to give himself time to block the next of Tom’s punches and to get his own strike in to Tom’s face. He’s able to follow it up with a couple of blows, which give him space to breathe even if Tom blocks Jared’s attempt to drive his knee into Tom’s chin. But the next punch Jared throws lets Tom trap his arm behind his back and Jared’s chest is entirely exposed to the elbow Tom slams down again and again.

It winds Jared and he only manages to get free by headbutting Tom hard. The edges of his vision go sparkly and alive but he doesn’t have time to be dizzy. He grabs Tom into a headlock and drives him head first into a tree trunk, feeling a savage burst of exhilaration at the cracking noise it makes. He does it again because it feels good and because Tom is too fucking good at what he does and because Jared has no goddamn intention of dying tonight.

As it turns out, Tom is probably not even human because the fucker is dazed but still fucking conscious. Breathing hard and clutching his ribs, Jared spares a single second to weigh up his options. In the state he’s in right now, if he hangs around to put Tom down properly, there’s every chance Tom won’t have to snap his neck because Jared’ll pass out from blood loss.

Lauren was always on about discretion being the better part of valor, and Jared’s not so big on valor but he’s a big fan of staying alive.

So, hobbling and wheezing, Jared leaves Tom on his hands and knees in the jungle, and runs for it.

~*~

The call takes forever to connect and Jared can hear the irregular splat of droplets of his blood hitting the grimy floor of the phone booth. A car drives past and Jared ducks out of its line of sight, watching it go by just in case Tom’s picked up some transport for himself.

Finally, his call’s answered.

“Hello?” Sandy says.

“Hi, I know you’re going but, I need help. Sandy, I’m pretty fucked up. I just need a safe house for a couple hours.” She’s silent but Jared’s not above begging. “Please. Just this last favor and then you can disappear. Please.”

Silence again and Jared presses the phone to his sweaty forehead, blankly takes in the Rorschach pattern of his blood on the ground.

Then, “Go the caretaker’s place at the gate to the cemetery. I’ll meet you there.”

~*~

Sandy’s waiting for him when he gets there. She looks small and vulnerable, sat at the table with cotton balls and bandages, iodine and whiskey, all set out ready. Jared manages a grin when he sees her, even though he has to slump in the doorway to keep himself standing.

“I could kiss you,” he says. “Except, I’m all bloody and gross, and I’m guessing that’s not your kind of kink. I don’t know though, I’m not judging. Blood and sweat’s pretty manly. God, I feel totally manly right now. And possibly like my ribs are trying to knit a scarf or something using my internal organs.”

“Sit down,” she says tersely. She stands and presses a small shot glass of whiskey at him. “Drink this.”

Jared downs it in a single gulp and sinks gratefully into the chair. “Thank you,” he says, more seriously. “I’ll be gone in a couple of hours. I just wasn’t expecting trouble like that.”

“Tommy’s something else, isn’t he?” Mike says, moving into view. “He’s kind of a limited conversationalist but you’ve gotta love his passion. And his work ethic puts us all to shame.”

Sandy takes a step back behind Mike. She won’t look at Jared but there are tears on her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. They were gonna kill me if I didn’t.”

As the soft numbness seeps through his muscles, Jared looks at the shot glass Sandy gave him and doesn’t have to wonder. At least he saves his dignity by not trying to stand.

“Hey, Mike. Long time no see.” Jared’s voice is slurred. Sparks of light dance across his vision. “What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Me? Oh I’m just taking in the sights. How about you? Fellow tourist?”

“Yeah, there’s a real pretty church in town. Couple hundred years old, y’know. Fine example of…” Jared’s brain won’t supply the word so he just stares at Mike wretchedly.

Mike pats his cheek and his touch is light but it’s enough to make Jared slump in his chair. It’s getting dark and he can’t even see Sandy any more. He can barely make out Mike’s face and he’s right there. His eyes won’t stay open and Jared fights but they. Keep. Sliding. Shut.

“That’s right, kiddo,” Mike says. “Just let go. Go to sleep. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you.”

Chapter 32

Jared rouses to the smell of fried chicken. His mouth is dry and there’s a pounding headache right behind his eyes but the chicken smells good and his stomach rumbles appreciatively. Someone laughs, not unkindly.

“If you’re okay with my fingers all over it, you can have some,” Mike says.

Jared cracks his eyes open. Mike is standing there, holding a drumstick towards him. Jared looks at the chicken. His stomach gives another echoing roll.

He shakes his head. “Thanks, but I don’t know where your hands have been.” His voice is a pretty pathetic rasp.

And talking of hands, Jared registers that his are chained above his head. He’s secured, wrists and ankles, to a pole in a small, low-ceilinged room. Instinct tells him he’s underground but he has nothing to back up the idea except a complete lack of windows. There’s a security video showing in the corner, a table littered with playing cards and junk food and a laptop, a couple of chairs, and a single door.

Behind Mike there’s Tom, looking bruised and sore but very capable of kicking the almighty shit out of anyone who even looks at Mike the wrong way. There are another couple of guys in the room, both youngish and built, and Jared doesn’t recognise either of them. They’re watching Jared with expressions that are somewhere between curiosity and contempt.

“You need a drink?” Mike says.

He fetches a bottle of mineral water and shows Jared him cracking the seal. It’s not too unlikely that he could have doctored the water with a syringe, which would haven’t damaged the seal, but Jared’s willing to take the chance. If he’s going to have a hope in hell of getting himself out of here he’s going to need to keep hydrated.

Mike holds the bottle to his lips and lets Jared drink. He’s careful and considerate without making a show of it and Jared wonders if the tendency to play fucking mindgames is actually a requirement for being a Coalition agent. He almost finds himself liking Tom’s straightforward hostility.

Finally, when Jared’s had enough, Mike recaps the bottle and sets it down before he turns back to him.

“I’ve gotta say, Jared, I’m personally very disappointed by your behaviour. I know you and I have our differences but I really didn’t have you down as the kind of guy who’d resort to those kinds of tactics.”

“Guess you never really know a guy, huh?” Jared says.

Mike considers this, scrutinising Jared’s face thoughtfully. “I guess you don’t. Still, it’s a shame. It’s not like I wanted Jenny to fall for you. In fact, and Tom can back me up on this, I actually specifically warned Jensen when I thought he was getting in over his head. But” He shrugs, still watching Jared. “It’s a shame you had to go and do something like that.”

He wanders over to the table, checks something on the laptop and the moments pass in silence. Jared doesn’t have a lot of choice but to wait. Mouthing off before he finds out what exactly they want from him is probably only gonna get him a quick trip back to unconsciousness. While he waits, it occurs to him that it feels like someone’s redone the stitches over his ribs. Which says either they’re not going to kill him, or that they’re going to kill him but they want to take their time over it.

Finally, Mike comes back to him.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “It’s all busy-busy-busy right now.”

“Bet it is,” Jared says. “Bet the fallout from the Wall Street thing alone is enough to keep you occupied.” The instant he’s said it, he understands. He gets it. “Jensen doesn’t know about this, does he?” he says slowly. “You kept him busy with the Wall Street thing, probably have him out of assignment now so you could get this done without him knowing.”

“I don’t want this to be any harder on Jen than it has to be. You can understand that, can’t you?”

And while Jared appreciates that it’s a good idea for Mike to do it like this - that it’s the smart way and the best way - it strikes him that he’s never going to see Jensen again.

Jensen will be presented with the news of his death, maybe even his corpse, and that will be it. And Jensen will never understand just how crazy he drove Jared; he’ll think he does but he won’t because Jared won’t ever have properly explained it to him.

Jared has to get out of this alive. Jared has to get out alive so he can explain to Jensen just what an infuriating little bastard he is.

“So what’s the plan?”

Mike shrugs and glances back at Tom, some private communication passing between them.

“Jenny’s like a kid brother to me and Tom, Jared. And you know what kid brothers are like. They borrow your car and leave the tank empty, they mess up and expect you to explain to Mom and Dad what happened.” He flashes Jared a grin as he goes on with, “They date entirely unsuitable guys. And mostly, they don’t appreciate their big brothers interfering. It’s tough but you’ve just gotta watch and be there to help pick up the pieces when it all goes wrong.”

Mike leans in closer, and Jared has a sudden cold thrill of horror when he looks in Mike’s eyes and sees nothing human looking back at him. It’s a long time since anyone made Jared feel like prey. Jared’s almost fascinated by the sensation of fear.

“But then you went and did what you did to Jensen,” Mike says, shaking his head. “And Tom and me, we decided the time for standing back and letting Jenny make his own mistakes was over. And that we should really step in and, y’know, kill you.”

“Dude, you’re monologuing,” Jared says. “Didn’t you learn anything from The Incredibles? That’s like Bad Guys 101.”

Mike laughs and pats his cheek. “Jared, that’s for superheroes.” Suddenly, he sounds almost regretful, embarrassed on Jared’s behalf. “And you may be a hero, but you’re not so super right now.”

“Okay. I hurt Jensen. So why aren’t I dead already?” Jared says, brisk and done joking.

“Well, see, brothers have to share. I want to cause you extreme physical pain but so does Tommy.” He casts an affectionate look back at Tom. “And we have to take it in turns, see. And there’s not going to be enough of you left to feel the kind of levels of pain I’m aiming for after Tommy’s done with you.”

“There will be nothing but pain when I’m done with you,” Tom puts in.

Despite knowing that crazy evil guys rarely listen to reason, Jared can’t help but try to inject a sense of proportion into the conversation. He’s just that kind of guy.

“It was one little handjob that he could have stopped at any time he wanted,” he says. “Be honest, this isn’t payback for Jensen. This is payback because we made you look like a jackass while we stole your money.”

Mike shrugs. “Okay, maybe, if I’m fair, I’ll admit that this isn’t solely because of how much you hurt Jensen. It’s probably a lot of other things too. Like maybe it’s something to do with people who are supposed to be on my side taking it into their heads to punish Jensen for something you did, and forcing me to kill them. And, y’know, Mom and Dad take it really badly when their kids start killing other kids. It just looks bad.”

Mike stops. Thinks. Nods to himself. “Yeah, to be totally honest with you, maybe it’s really because it’s my job to take care of Jenny and killing you is part of that.”

Jared discards the possible approach of trying to talk sense to Mike.

“So, uh, these extreme levels of pain,” he says. “What’s that gonna involve? Blunt? Sharp? Maybe something electrical? I know cold torture is pretty trendy right now but I don’t have you down as a devoted follower of fashion.”

“Why follow fashion when you can set it?” Mike says. “I thought we’d start with the standard white noise and isolation for a couple days.”

Jared cocks his head at him as well as he’s able. “Oh I should really warn you, I’ve had extensive conditioning to enable me to withstand that.”

Mike’s wandered over to the laptop again but he glances up to answer Jared. “Yeah, I know, but it’s a favourite of mine. Makes you more receptive. I put this Irish guy under it once, and he was a real badass y’know, but would you believe, less than seventy hours later, it was like his brain had turned to mush. He was all” Mike trails off and flails his arms around floppily.

Tom laughs and says, “That was fun. I liked how he drooled every time he spoke.”

“Well I think the drooling had more to do with you having taken out most of his teeth first, Tommy.”

“Do I get to keep my teeth? ‘Cause I don’t wanna drool. I have my dignity, after all,” Jared says.

The door opens before Mike can answer, and Jared can’t see who’s there because Tom instantly moves to block them, but he can hear the ensuing conversation. It’s another guy, not a voice Jared knows.

“Jensen’s back,” whoever it is says.

“What? Why? Why isn’t he in Istanbul?” Mike demands. “He’s supposed to be in Istanbul. He is required to be in Istanbul and I made it very clear to him that it was urgent work that urgently required him to be doing it now. Urgently in Istanbul.”

“He says Istanbul’s done.”

“Is it?”

“I looked it over and yeah, it looks done to me.”

Mike huffs and exchanges a look with Tom. “Far be it from me to criticise a job being done promptly but sometimes that guy’s competence is unsettling and unhelpful.” He takes a breath, looks back at Jared speculatively. “Right, don’t let him in this room. Tell him I’m putting something together, hazardous materials, danger of death, yadda yadda yadda. Tell him I’ll come see him this evening.”

“He uh he already knows you’ve got Jared.”

There’s a strained quality to Mike’s silence. “Let me repeat,” he says finally, “unsettling and unhelpful. Tommy, you and Jennybean are gonna have to have another long chat about curious cats and their life expectancy. Okay, so is he pissed? Tommy, you wanna go fetch him, and please make sure he doesn’t have anything pointy or dangerous or, y’know, just remove everything, okay? Put socks on his hands or something, I don’t need any more scars.”

“I’ve already been frisked, Mike,” and that’s Jensen’s voice. That’s Jensen, out of sight behind Tom but right there. “We need to talk.”

“We really don’t,” Mike says. “Look, great work in Istanbul. Could you please go to Budapest now? Take Justin, make a vacation of it.”

“Let me see him,” Jensen says.

It’s stupid but Jared has a split second of wondering how he looks. Like it matters if Jared doesn’t look all that hot right now. Like Jensen’s going to look at him all beaten up and scruffy and feel vindicated for betraying him. He tries to straighten up, flick his sweat-damp hair out of his eyes.

Grudgingly, Tom stands aside and then Jensen’s heading towards Jared.

“You gonna tell these nice gentlemen that it was all perfectly consensual ‘tween you and me?” Jared says. “And that they don’t have any right to keep a boy strung up like this?”

Jensen doesn’t answer, not unless you want to count his fist slamming into Jared’s cheekbone as an answer. Jared’s neck snaps to the side under the impact of it and he tastes a rush of blood in his mouth. Jensen’s breathing heavily, hands still clenched into fists at his sides.

“You fucking bastard,” he says. “You left me there. For anyone to find. If I didn’t think there was something better for me to do with your useless hide, I’d let Tom play all he wants.”

“But you think there is something better for you to do with him?” Mike puts in mildly.

“Yes,” Jensen says. “We should give him to Kripke and Kring. They can question him, put his head on a pike, make an example of him, whatever they think best. But whatever they do, it’ll be of more use than simply killing him down here.”

Mike looks distinctly underwhelmed by the idea but it seems to have inspired Tom. “They could make it a valuable demonstration on how far we’ve come,” he says slowly. “They could use his death as a symbol for the progress we’ve made. They could even trade him back to the government for Abrams.” He turns to Jensen. “Do you think he’s worth enough to them for them to release Abrams?”

“It’s a win-win situation either way,” Jensen tells him. “Either they publicly sacrifice one of their best agents or we have one of our greatest heroes returned. Whatever they do, it sends a message, both to our people and to the millions of people they’re still lying to. Killing him like this is a waste when you think how much we could do for our cause by using him.”

Tom focuses on Jared like he hasn’t really done since the jungle, but he’s not seeing Jared. Not as an enemy or even as a human being, only as a concept. It’s not as unnerving as Mike’s scrutiny, but it definitely ranks in the top five. Jared’s face is still stinging from where Jensen punched him and there are a thousand other aches and pains making themselves known to him. And he’s really not sure where this whole thing is going but he knows he’s not exactly comfortable being in a room with Jensen, Mike and Tom.

“This could be significant,” Tom says, a distant look in his eyes.

“He’s their golden boy. A symbol of all that’s wrong with the world,” Jensen says. “And it’s in our power to give him to Kripke and Kring. We’ve never had a chance like this before, Tom.”

“This could be the beginning. We take him and people see, for the first time, that it doesn’t have to be this way. We can show the world that they can stand up to the government and its agents. And once they see that, it all starts to be possible. We can openly oppose the corrupt elements. We can revolutionise the current system. And with this victory here, we can support our brothers’ and sisters’ struggle across the globe!”

He’s been growing steadily more excited as he speaks but it doesn’t look to be getting through to Mike. In fact, if Jared had to guess, he’d say Mike was currently worrying about whether Tom’s brand of crazy was catching. Jensen’s harder to read but he’s fixed on Tom and Tom’s not paying attention to anything other than his Utopian daydream.

“We have to do it,” Tom says. “We have to give him to Kripke and Kring.” He looks to Mike, all worked up with a fanatic’s enthusiasm.

“What?” Mike says. “I’m sorry, you’re beautiful and all, Tommy, but even you can’t make this stuff interesting. I just end up watching your mouth move and spacing out.”

A dark look passes between Tom and Jensen, and Mike catches it and scowls. “Fine, fine, let’s give him to Kripke and Kring. Yay for the Coalition and viva la revolucion!” He doesn’t sound happy about it. “Seriously, I’m totally on board!” He draws closer to Jared, voice lowered to a stage whisper. “Y’know, they’re all for radical thinking so long as we’re having the exact same radical thoughts.”

“There’s no room for the individual in a revolution,” Tom says sternly. His cheeks are pink and he’s bright-eyed. “I’d better go arrange a comms line. This is going to require a huge amount of planning.”

Mike nods and waves him off impatiently. Jensen is pretty pointedly ignoring Jared.

“Okay,” says Mike to Jensen once Tom’s gone. “What’s in this for you? And don’t give me that ‘brave new world’ bullshit, Jensen. You’ve got an angle on this, and you can play Tom but you can’t play me.”

“I want some recognition,” Jensen says instantly. “I want Kripke and Kring to acknowledge my existence as something more than some street-rat that they can have erased as and when they like. I want them to look me in the eye and say, ‘Thank you, Jensen’. And so long as I’m being honest, I’d like a goddamn apology from them for setting the dogs on me.”

Mike laughs and presses a kiss to Jensen’s forehead. “Good boy. I was starting to think I was the only one capable of passing a psych-test here.” He drapes an arm around Jensen’s shoulders and tugs him towards the door. “C’mon, we’d better go supervise Tom. Wave b’bye to your boyfriend.”

Jensen doesn’t wave. Jensen doesn’t look back.

Chapter 33

They don’t leave Jared alone. Not ever. There are always at least three of Mike’s guys in the room. They take it in shifts and Jared gets to recognise some of them. Currently it’s the guy with the really ugly earring, and the guy who looks kind of like a skinny Jack Black, and the guy who wears band t-shirts from the seventies.

And then, no warning: Jensen turns up. He comes into the room with a bundle of files in his arms and heads towards the table.

“Are you allowed in here?” Ugly Earring says to him.

“Yeah, Jennybean,” Jared says, “has Mike stamped your permission slip?”

It gets him backhanded by Ugly Earring but it’s worth it. Jared’s shoulders and back are aching and there’s a light spinning in his head from dehydration, and it’s clear he’s going to have to make his own entertainment.

Jensen doesn’t deign to reply to either of them. He meets Ugly Earring’s gaze for a moment and then neatly sidesteps him and takes a seat at the table. He sets his files down, takes out a pen, and starts reading. There’s an uncomfortable pause, where Ugly Earring obviously wants to take it further but Jack Black and Seventies T-shirts obviously don’t want him to. Before Ugly Earring can make up his mind, the door opens again and Jensen’s blond twink, Justin, appears with another armful of files.

He can’t quite bring himself to ignore Jared, and Jared gives him a lazy smile as Justin’s gaze flickers furtively in his direction.

“Where do you want these, Jen?” Justin says.

“Just here’s fine,” Jensen says, gesturing to some free space on the tabletop among the fast food wrappers and beer bottles. “Thanks.”

After Justin sets them down, he puts his hand on Jensen’s back and leans in to speak to Jensen in a low voice. And he makes Jensen smile that crooked, pretty smile that belongs to Jared. And Jared knows Justin is only doing it to rile him up and Jared knows he can’t let it work but God he wishes he’d killed Justin when he’d had the chance.

Once Justin’s gone, Jared watches Jensen. He knows Jensen’s aware of it, because sometimes Jensen starts to raise his head to look in Jared’s direction and then he realizes Jared’s still watching, and he goes back to his files. Jared gets a masochistic pleasure from watching Jensen, almost enjoys seeing what he never noticed in him before, all the little lies that seem so obvious now.

What he doesn’t like is that, while Jack Black and Seventies T-Shirts are happy talking about some movie they saw recently, Ugly Earring is blatantly watching Jared watch Jensen. Jared refuses to notice.

Instead, he says, “So, Jen, when am I being shipped to Kripke and Kring? ‘Cause I kinda stink and someone needs to drag a comb through my hair. Don’t want to embarrass you all.”

“Mike’s handled the arrangements,” Jensen says, not even looking up from his paperwork. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“Is it weird that I’m getting stage fright? I mean, seriously, you think I should I try picturing ‘em naked? Imma get completely starstruck, aren’t I?” Jared twists to get a better look at Jensen’s face. “Seriously, wow, Kripke and Kring. This is such a big moment for me. My momma would be so proud.” He pauses, wondering whether Jensen’s a soulless bastard despite being so pretty or because of it. “How about you, Jen? You think your momma’s proud?”

Jensen is silent.

~*~

For what feels like hours, Jensen ploughs through his bundles of files. He’s obviously got a system going because the files go into different piles once he’s done with them, some with scribbled notes from him and some simply read through. Justin brings him a second load, tries to make him promise to stop for something to eat.

The other guys in the room change; this shift is Growler, Facial Hair and Star Trek Geek. None of them pay Jared as much attention as Ugly Earring did. They’re a reasonably friendly bunch and Facial Hair even offers Jared some of the pizza they’re sharing between them. Jared declines but politely. He has his pride, after all, and he’s not going to allow Jensen to watch him be handfed.

Mike even comes in for a while. The atmosphere changes considerably and Jared is forced to conclude that though Mike is undoubtedly living on the exciting side of mental health, he’s an effective leader. Jared’s had experience of ‘leaders’ before, guys too weak to hold on to power and guys who get off on it so much they end up forgetting that the guys taking their orders don’t actually have to.

Mike manages to come in somewhere between intimidating and charismatic. He exchanges a few quick words with Jared’s babysitters before he takes a chair beside Jensen, helps himself to a handful of Jensen’s files and starts working through them.

It makes Jared uncomfortable to see how easy they are with each other. They bicker quietly when Mike steals Jensen’s pen; Jensen leans in close to show Mike something on the page, to ask his opinion; Jensen frowns and scribbles on the page and Mike looks over at him and smiles fondly at the top of Jensen’s head.

It never really occurred to Jared before that Jensen had friends. He always seemed so isolated at ISA, introverted and tightly-wound and living for his work. And there’s still something of that in Jensen’s behavior, still that enigmatic independence. But he has friends.

Jared doesn’t know what to do with that.

~*~

Jared’s been on both sides of the ‘keeping someone a prisoner’ game and it’s dull all the way round. That doesn’t mean he’s going to be even a little bit understanding when Ugly Earring decides to pass the time by using Jared as a punching bag. The other two guys don’t seem happy about it, but they’re clearly not willing to take Ugly Earring on.

One punch after the other, steadily snapping Jared’s neck one way then the other. And the pain rises to muffled thunder in his ears and fire in his head as Ugly Earring just keeps on punching. The sound of the beating quickly grows wet as Jared’s lips and cheeks split under the impact, his nose crumples. Ugly Earring’s hands come away bloody. There’s nothing Jared can do, no way to block it.

And every time Ugly Earring slams Jared’s face to the left, he can see Jensen still calmly working through his files.

It goes on for a while and, quite coherently considering, the thought comes to Jared that it’s not going to be long before he loses consciousness. It might be a relief, to get away from the blinding pain and humiliation, but he’s not completely sure he’ll wake up again.

Everything starts to go very far away.

“ISA’s not going to trade us so much as a button for a brain-damaged agent,” Jensen remarks in a vaguely disinterested tone of voice. “Kripke and Kring need him capable of higher brain function if they’re going to get anything for him.”

“You dumb slut.”

Jared’s willing to believe he didn’t actually hear that, like it’s an auditory hallucination or something. But Ugly Earring has stopped punching him, and he’s looking at Jensen, and Jensen’s pen has frozen over the page. Jared thinks it might actually be really happening.

Ugly Earring isn’t done. “There’s not gonna be any trade. Mike’d give the nuclear warhead back before he let them have him back. And it’s not just ‘cause you’re a stupid whore who can’t keep his legs together.”

Jared snorts up blood and watches as Jensen, still silent, finally puts his pen down and looks up at Ugly Earring. Jared tries to read the look on his face but it’s Jensen - who’s never been what you might call the definition of ‘open’ - and also his head is still swimming.

“Mike wants him dead. You think he wants someone like him getting loose and coming after him?” Ugly Earring smiles in ugly victory. “I heard him make the arrangements. Your little boyfriend here gets handed over to Kripke and Kring for interrogation, sure, but only on the condition that they kill him soon as they’re done with him.”

It’s very quiet for a moment. Ugly Earring is waiting for Jensen to make his move, hoping for it. And maybe all the sense has been punched clean out of Jared’s head because he can only think to distract Ugly Earring from the way he’s looking at Jensen, like it’s him he wants to be punching instead of Jared.

“Fuck you. I object to being called ‘little’,” Jared says. His voice comes out thick and funny because his nose is streaming blood and his throat’s full of it too. But it makes Ugly Earring look back at him instead of Jensen and Jared is totally blaming his concussion for making him think that’s a good thing.

Ugly Earring draws his fist back and Jared braces for the next round.

“For interrogation,” Jensen says. His voice is glacial. “Go ahead, give Kripke and Kring a corpse to interrogate after Mike’s promised them a living breathing body. Just give me some warning before you tell Mike, I’d like to get out of the fallout range of his temper. He’ll skin you alive, you suicidally stupid dick.”

Another long silence.

Then, “Fine, not dead. Not even retarded,” Ugly Earring says.

Just for a second, Jared is stupid enough and desperate enough to believe that’s the end of it. Then Ugly Earring’s tugging at Jared’s fly and Jared jerks his hips away uselessly. Ugly Earring grips Jared’s cock hard and yanks it free of Jared’s pants. He tries to hang on to his training, all the conditioning he’s been put through to allow him to keep himself together through all manner of torture, while Ugly Earring examines him.

“Jesus, you weren’t lying, were you? Not little at all,” he says, eyebrows raised. He looks Jared straight in the eye as he says it. Jared meets his gaze levelly and gives him nothing back. So Ugly Earring peers over at Jensen. “He was sticking it to you with this? No wonder you’re so fucking bowlegged. You actually do anything useful for us while you were playing double or were you just letting him dick you the whole time?”

Jensen’s only response is a withering look before he continues working through his files. And Jared didn’t know what he expected but he feels like a fucking idiot for trying to take some of the brunt of Ugly Earring’s hostility issues when clearly Jensen really isn’t all that interested in reciprocating.

“How big does he get?” Ugly Earring says, stripping Jared’s cock with rough, demanding jerks of his wrist. “I bet he gets fucking huge.”

Jared is aware that it doesn’t mean anything when his dick starts to get hard. It’s his body’s natural response to stimulus and it’s not anything to be ashamed about. He knows it all, but it’s in the part of his brain that’s been trained for this kind of scenario, and that part feels detached, too distant for Jared to be able to reach it. All he has is feeling humiliated and violated as his cock gets hard for some asshole who’s touching him like he’s got a right to.

He tries to shut down, tries to separate himself from what’s being done to him. Tries to not be here while this happens.

There’s a sudden scrape of chair legs and Jensen’s on his feet, and Jared looks to him instantly. But he’s not stopping Ugly Earring.

He’s not stopping him.

He’s gathering his files up and he’s leaving. The door clicks closed behind him and Jared wants to shout every ugly goddamn word he knows after him. Because Jensen got him into this and Jensen’s fucking abandoned him to this. And Jared channels his shame into hatred, and it surges through him like something alive. He can taste his own blood and Ugly Earring’s watching him like all he wants to see is the look on Jared’s face when he forces him to come.

And Jared looks at Ugly Earring’s so very ugly earring, which is right there, and he lunges forward, sinks his teeth into the guy’s earlobe and rips.

There’s a scream and a fresh rush of blood and then there’s a ragged lump of flesh in Jared’s mouth. While Ugly Earring - now minus his ugly earring, so Jared will have to rename him - is screaming and clutching at the side of his head, and the two other babysitters are rushing forward, Jared uses his tongue to work the earring free from the flesh. He spits out the bloody hunk of skin but tucks the earring up against his gum.

Ugly Earring lashes out at Jared, slamming Jared’s head back into the pole hard. Jared’s vision sparks white for a moment and he sags, waiting for the next punch, but it doesn’t come.

Someone catches Ugly Earring’s arm.

“You deserved that,” Mike says.

In the commotion of separating someone from a good half of their ear, Jared didn’t even hear him come in. Jensen is standing behind Mike, his expression livid. With one swift, vicious kick, Mike knocks Ugly Earring’s legs out from under him and there’s a crack of bone as he crumples to the ground.

“One, sexual assault is skeezy and I don’t allow it,” Mike says. “Two, sexual assault in front of someone’s ex is skeezy and insensitive and I definitely don’t allow it when that ex is Jensen. Three, when being a revolutionary terrorist, it’s important not to open your mouth and let everything fall out.” He shakes his head. “I’m very unhappy right now and I think the only thing that’s going to make me happy again is taking you to Tom and having you repeat to him the nasty things you called Jenny.”

~*~

Mike has the two other guys drag Ugly Earring out and maybe Jensen is supposed to go with them, but he doesn’t. He crosses to Jared like Jared isn’t entirely strung up and helpless, like Jared’s a threat. And Jared was right when he said you could accuse Jensen of a lot of things but not of being stupid. Jensen’s really smart to be cautious of getting in range of Jared.

He doesn’t speak to Jared, but he looks him in the eye as he very carefully, and with the minimum amount of touching, tucks Jared’s cock back into his pants and redoes his fly.

And then, for precisely three minutes, Jared is left alone. Left alone with a sharp pin of metal from the earring and some cuffs. Too fucking easy.

~*~

By the time Jared’s babysitters come back, Jared’s cuffs are purely decorative. He stays up against the pole, letting them think he’s still restrained, and the whole ear-biting incident seems to have convinced them that getting close to Jared is maybe a bad idea. Slowly, feeling is coming back into his shoulders. He’ll be at full strength in just a few moments. If the situation remains the same then it’s not going to be long until Jared can get the hell out of here.

The situation does not remain the same. Approximately two minutes before Jared was planning to make his move, the lights go out.

Maybe God is on his side, maybe ISA has come looking for him; Jared does not need to wait for God or ISA to rescue him. Instead, within sixty seconds, he has disabled his three babysitters and is out the door.

He doesn’t know what he expects to find the other door, what kind of building he’s in, how many people will be there. What he was not expecting was Jensen. Jensen’s eyes have just enough time to go wide before Jared kicks him squarely in the belly, slams him down onto the ground and puts one knee in his chest to pin him down.

“Please!” Jensen whispers, frozen and not struggling under him. “Don’t, don’t, I was coming to find you I want to get you out of here.”

“Bullshit!” Jared says. “You were coming to make sure I was still locked up tight.”

“No! It was me, I knocked out the lights, brought security down. I bought us some time!” The expression on Jared’s face doesn’t waver from pure skepticism. “Look, look, I’ve got the key to your cuffs,” Jensen says. “I lifted it off Tom. Let me go, I’m trying to help you!”

He does have the key and his hand only shakes a little as he offers it to Jared. Jared looks at the key, looks at Jensen’s big green eyes. He smiles and shakes his head.

“How stupid do you think I am, Jensen? Let me say this real clearly, I don’t trust you. At the very best, you’re a liability to me.”

“No!” Jensen says. “No, I can help you-“

Jared’s wasted too much time talking. He’s not letting Jensen screw this up too. He clamps his hand over Jensen’s mouth, smothering all of Jensen’s protests and hauls him back into the room. As soon as Jensen realizes what Jared’s thinking, he starts fighting, thrashing and jerking and making desperate noises behind Jared’s hand. Jared doesn’t let it hold him up. Once he’s got Jensen cuffed to the pole, he only has to hear a brief burst of Jensen begging him - don’t do this, please don’t, please, Jared, please - before he gets Jensen gagged.

If he could afford it, Jared’d feel bad about the way Jensen gives up and goes silent as he leaves the room.

~*~

Whatever else he was lying about, Jensen seems to have been telling the truth about buying Jared some time. The security screens he passes are all mysteriously showing nothing but static and he’s been running for at least a couple of minutes before he hears anyone. Make that a lot of someones. Heading his way.

The place they’ve been keeping him has been heavily refitted to the Coalition’s purpose but it’s old and industrial, and Jared slides easily into the gulley that runs along and beneath the walkways.

“It would just be nice if he could give me some warning,” Mike’s voice says, “y’know, when he’s planning in being more unpredictable than usual. Just it would be nice. You find him, Justin. You haul his ass into a room and you don’t let him out or anyone else in until I get there. Whatever it takes, you understand?”

“How do you know he’s not with Jared?” Justin says.

They’re almost on top of Jared now. Any minute now and someone’s gonna find him.

“I’m choosing to be optimistic and to believe that Jensen hasn’t just committed suicide by secret agent. And Tom, I’m really sorry but I’m gonna have to wreck your glorious revolution just a little bit. I need you to find and kill Jared. The killing part is essential. And would someone please get the fucking lights back on?”

There’s a shaft of some kind just a little way along from Jared. The thin trickle of water that runs along the gulley is disappearing down it and it looks just about wide enough for Jared. He inches closer.

“They’ll be coming for him again,” Justin says in a dark voice.

“And we’ll kill them like we did the others,” Tom says.

“You can’t just keep killing our own people!” Justin shoots back. “Kripke and Kring won’t allow it!”

“I’ll handle it,” Mike says. “This is Jensen we’re talking about. I’ll look out for the kid, I always do.”

~*~

The shaft is a tight fit and more than once Jared starts to believe that he’s crawled into his own grave. But it’s either going forward or going back to Mike.

Put like that, forward seems good to Jared.

And then, then the shaft becomes a tunnel, and Jared’s pretty disoriented by the dark confinement, but he’s sure the tunnel’s leading up. And up is good. Forward and up is really really good.

And then up becomes out.

Chapter 34

The sky in Glasgow is poetically overcast and foreboding. Jared sits on the ISA jet, obediently allowing the doctor to check him over, and watches the drizzle draw lines down the window. The elation of escaping is slowly fading away into the uneasy uncertainty about what happens now.

Before he met Jensen, Jared had very clear ideas on falling in love and living happily ever after. He would meet some awesome tech agent, someone smart and capable and hot but with a job that kept them well out of the line of fire, and they’d have a passionate but comfortable romance, and then they’d realise one day - maybe after a near miss on one of Jared’s assignments - that they were in love. And then they’d well, not exactly settle down, and maybe not even be together, but Jared would be sure of them and they’d be sure of Jared and they’d be one thing Jared could rely upon.

Jared always used to be pretty sure that being in love meant being happy.

It never figured in his plans that he’d have to wonder whether the person he was in love with wanted him dead or not.

~*~

Chad shifts from foot to foot, watching Jared intently with a look that can’t seem to choose between anxious and irritable. Jared feels a weird obligation to reassure Chad and he spreads his arms, offering Chad a hug, which Chad barrels in to, and Jared has to suck down a grunt of pain because his ribs are still healing.

“Hey, man, I’m okay,” Jared says, a little touched by Chad’s concern. “I made it back.”

“I gave up sex to get you back,” Chad says. He sniffs and then punches Jared in the shoulder in a very manly way. “I told God I’d totally give up all sex if He could just send you back.”

“Oh,” says Jared. “Sorry. Kind of sucks for you that I’m back then, right?”

“No way,” Chad says, and slaps him on the back. Jared is finding Chad’s attempts to regain his macho image a little painful. “Never said how long I’d give it up for. I’m thinking a couple hours shows appreciation for the Big Guy coming through for me. Gonna be knee-deep in pussy by the end of the day. Y’know, to celebrate your homecoming?”

Jared laughs as he pours himself a cup of coffee. There’s even a box of donuts waiting for him and he helps himself to one, devours it, and picks up another. He sits down at the desk and tries not to look at the pile of papers in front of the other chair. A debrief is standard procedure and Jared’s been working out in his head what he’s going to say pretty much since they got him on the jet. It won’t be fun but the sooner it’s done the sooner it’s over.

“So I guess I should be grateful, huh, considering it was your epically noble sacrifice that brought me home,” Jared says.

“That and McCoy,” Chad says. “She came to us as soon as Rosenbaum let her go. Not that she had a lot of info for us but at least we had some fucking idea what had happened to you.” He shrugs and sits down across from Jared. “Fucking creepy when you went all silent on me, man.”

Jared licks sugar off his fingers and reaches for another donut. “You wanna get this done then?” he says.

“Can’t,” says Chad. “We got someone else in this meeting.”

Jared frowns but doesn’t have chance to ask before Jeff Morgan’s in the room. He gives Chad and Jared a good ol’ boy grin and gets himself a cup of coffee. “Good to see you back, Jared,” he says. “You had us all pretty worried there.”

“Yeah? You more worried I was gonna turn up dead or as a double?” Jared says.

To Jeff’s credit, his grin doesn’t waver. He sits himself down next to Chad and says, “I gotta pick?” He takes a sip of steaming coffee and then says, “Right, let’s get down to it. I wanna know everything, from McCoy to the jet.”

Jared tells them. It’s a complete account but an anaemic one. He gives nothing but the facts. Chad makes notes, despite the fact it’s all being recorded anyway. Jeff doesn’t make any notes at all. What Jeff does is ask a lot of fucking questions.

“Why?” Jeff says slowly. “Why did you choose to tie him up?”

“Because I didn’t trust him and because I thought he’d slow down my escape,” Jared says.

“No, I get why you didn’t take him with you but why didn’t you kill him?”

Jared doesn’t have an answer ready for that one. But not only is Jeff waiting for one, but Chad’s looking at him too. Jared’s heart beats a little harder and it takes a definite effort to keep a frown from showing on his face. He sits in his chair and looks right back at Jeff and doesn’t have an answer.

“You’ve killed enemy agents who were less of a threat to you,” Jeff says. His tone is deceptively mild. “I guess I’m just not sure why you figured it wouldn’t be easier for you to simply take him out, why you took the time to take him back to the pole and cuff him up when you could have broken his neck in twenty seconds.”

Finally, Jared says, “The branch executives want Teague brought in alive, for interrogation.” It sounds weak even to him but Jeff stops pushing and Chad scribbles something down on the page, nose wrinkling at it.

~*~

It’s late afternoon and Jared is still waiting for the branch executives to call him in the meeting. They’ve been shut in there for hours but the soundproofing lets nothing out. So Jared sits in the silent, grey office and waits. He’s still a little tired and his various bruises ache but he maintains a level of calm.

Morgan’s gone, thankfully, but Jared guesses he’s already made the point he was aiming for. And Chad was told not to attend the meeting so that left Jared alone.

Leaning forward, elbows on his thighs, Jared flicks the pad of his thumb backwards and forwards over the cool metal arm of the chair and doesn’t get impatient, doesn’t wonder what the branch executives are saying, doesn’t think, doesn’t period. He stares at the expensive, pale green carpet and listens to the muffled footfall of the handful of security officers who are on patrol. Not many people have the security clearance to access this floor and Jared’s grateful for the hush. In his head, he tracks the security officers’ routes, and he looks up in time to watch one pass his door. The woman acknowledges him with a nod and moves on.

“Jared?” O’Toole says. She gives him a faint smile as he looks up. “Come on in.”

She gestures him towards a seat on the other side of the table from the other branch executives. Glover and Schneider are seated but Weatherly’s on his feet, standing at the window, his back to Jared.

“Wow, they did a number on you, didn’t they?” Schneider says, and Jared reflexively touches a hand to his battered face.

“Not as bad as it looks,” he says, which is a lie but the kind he’s more than used to telling.

O’Toole sits between Glover and Schneider and it seems as though she’s the designated spokesperson this time round. “We’ve decided to make Teague our number one priority,” she says. Jared has to wonder what kind of priority a double agent who’d been systematically murdering agents and betraying secrets was before. He doesn’t say it, just nods.

“The Coalition site at Glasgow’s been cleared out,” she goes on. “Welling and Hartley have been seen in New Delhi, and we have reason to believe Rosenbaum’s back in the US. Only Teague’s unaccounted for. We need him found and we need him brought in. Fast.” Her head tilts ever so slightly in Weatherly’s direction as she adds, “If you believe you can’t bring him in alive, you bring him in dead.”

“I understand,” says Jared.

Weatherly turns away from the window and his face is dark and unfriendly. “You track him down and you bring him in dead or alive. He’s either in ISA custody or he’s a corpse. Do you understand that?”

Jared looks to the other branch executives. Glover meets his gaze squarely, with a blankness that reminds Jared unpleasantly of Jensen, and O’Toole seems sympathetic but unyielding. Only Schneider looks uncomfortable to be giving Jared this order.

“Agent! Do you understand?” Weatherly barks.

Jared nods slowly. “I understand.”

~*~

It’s only a day and a half since Jared started looking for Jensen before Mike catches up with him. Jared lets it happen. Mike is alone and Jared has to confess a certain curiosity about what it is Mike wants. After torturing Jared and planning to kill him, it must be something pretty big that’s got Mike willing to go face-to-face with Jared. If nothing else, Jared might get a lead from him as to where Jensen’s hiding himself away.

So Jared sits on the rooftop and gazes down into the street, down to where he can see Mike entering the building. Mike holds the door to the office block open for a middle-aged businesswoman and then follows her in. Jared readies his gun and turns to face the door. He estimates that it will take Mike twelve to fifteen minutes to make it through security and gain entry to the rooftop, but he isn’t surprised when the door opens nine minutes later.

“What, no flowers?” Jared says by way of greeting. “Better have one hell of an apology lined up, man. I’m still feeling all unloved after last time I saw you.”

“Well you bailed before I had chance to show you the love,” Mike says. He’s holding his hands up in surrender and he doesn’t try to approach Jared. “Can we talk? Just so you know, I have bombs in places you don’t want bombed so shooting me would be a bad idea. I just want to talk.”

“Last time you wanted to kill me,” Jared says, gun still levelled at Mike’s chest.

“I still want to kill you, but I’m willing to stick with talking to you right now.”

Jared considers him and the threat he poses, then he shrugs and lowers his gun ever so slightly. “Okay. Talk.”

“Don’t find Jensen,” Mike says immediately. “You hand him over to ISA and he’ll be dead within the hour. Two hours if you guys are really disorganised.”

“I think they just wanna talk too,” Jared says.

Mike smiles, teeth flashing. “Yeah, ‘cause everyone just wants to talk to a double agent. I mean it, giving him to ISA is a death sentence. You want him dead? Is that what you want? ‘Cause I don’t. Which is why I’m not trying to find him.”

Jared’s brows draw together. “You don’t know where he is either.”

Mike’s quiet for a long moment. He moves closer to Jared but only to peer over the edge of the building. Jared keeps a wary eye on him, gun still steady in his hand, but he doesn’t interfere.

“They tried to kill him before. Coalition agents from another faction, after what you did to him. Tom and Justin barely got him out alive and we were forced to kill a lot of the Coalition’s own people. It was messy. But we figured getting you out of the way would wipe the slate clean.” Mike smiles at Jared, as unfriendly as before. “And then you escaped and you left him tied up and humiliated all over again and it’s too much for some people to take. They’re trying to kill my boy, Jared. And it’s because of you, so the least you could do is not fucking well find him and paint a bigger fucking bull’s eye on his back.”

Jared’s stomach rolls but he ignores it. “I thought the bull’s eye on his back was because of you. Danny or Elta or whatever her name is said your side wanted him dead because he works for you and you’re not Mr Popularity.”

It’s not in Mike’s file how old he is but right now, in the breezy sunshine, he looks old. He leans forwards precariously on his forearms, hanging halfway over the edge of the rooftop. Jared watches him and discards the idea of pushing him over after only a moment or two of detached consideration.

“Jensen was just a kid when I met him, y’know,” Mike says after a long silence. And Jared’s not sure where he’s going with it but he’s willing to listen. “I was at this political rally and I was well, you can imagine, I was doing my thing. Rabble-rousing, if you want the technical term. Incitement to riot, if you want the legal one. And I wasn’t as smooth as I am now, I mean, we all had to learn at some point. Anyway, so the cops come and they try to take me away and”

He trails off and even though Jared can be pretty damn certain this isn’t going to give him any lead on where to find Jensen, he wants to hear it all the same. Because it’s about Jensen and that’s a whole other level of significant to him.

“And?” he prompts, when Mike is silent for too long.

“And this twinky little kid comes running up. I mean, they made My Little Ponies that were butcher than Jen back then. But, man, the mouth on that kid.” Mike smiles and Jared knows he’s thinking of the Jensen he knew back then, the kid who didn’t have friends and who scared and impressed his high school teacher in equal measures. “Demanding to know why the cops were arresting me, what laws I’d broken, don’t I have a right to tell it like I thought it was? And the cops don’t care until the press hear Jen mouthing off. They’re all over it and the cops think better of making a scene, especially as Jen’s got the press eating out of his hand.

“Long story short, they let me go, and then Jen drags me to this diner and makes me repeat everything I was saying to get the crowd all riled up. He couldn’t get enough of it.”

Abruptly, Mike turns to look at Jared. His gaze is as serious as Jared’s ever seen it. “If you force him out of hiding, you might as well put a bullet in his head yourself and consider it a mercy killing.”

Chapter 35

Misha Collins is kind of an ex of Jared’s. Kind of. Jared wouldn’t have called it serious but, in their line of work, casual sex that happens more than once counts as a relationship. Misha isn’t an agent, strictly speaking. Honestly, Jared isn’t entirely sure how to classify what exactly Misha is, apart from a pretty entertaining fuckbuddy from back in the day.

Misha knows things. Some of the things Misha knows he really shouldn’t. Unfortunately, he didn’t discriminate in the distribution of such information, which is why he’s no longer on the government’s ‘approved’ list and why it’s been a while since Jared’s seen him.

He finds Misha living in an apartment over a dance studio, and the little girls doing their ballet turn to watch Jared curiously through the glass as he climbs the stairs. The gentle piano music remains in the background as Jared considers whether or not to pick the lock on Misha’s door. He decides not to on the grounds that it’s needlessly antagonistic.

So instead, he knocks and waits.

Misha hasn’t changed since Jared last saw him and Jared’s surprised to realise he’s missed him, even if only a little. Misha’s too-blue eyes light up when he sees Jared and then a serene smile curves his lips. The Zen act doesn’t fool Jared; he knows Misha’s brain is going at the speed of light.

“Jared,” Misha says. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He studies Jared a moment longer and then holds the door wide. “Would you like to come in?”

“I would love to come in,” Jared says.

He brushes past Misha and looks over his apartment. It’s a small place, full of light and neatly kept but still noticeably rundown. Misha’s past his glory days and Jared feels a pang of pity. No one forced Misha to start selling information to the highest bidder but the withdrawal of government approval has clearly hit him hard.

“Coffee?” Misha says.

Jared sits himself down on the scruffy couch. “Would be awesome.”

He listens to Misha make coffee and tries to think of something to say in order to make conversation, something that won’t be hideously awkward. But Misha seems content with the silence so Jared lets it go.

“Just how you like it,” Misha says, passing him the cup, and it is, and Jared smiles gratefully while he wonders if it’s not just a little worrying that Misha remembers how he takes his coffee. “So, what brings you to my door?”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Well, here I am,” Misha says, sitting in a squat, sagging armchair.

“Any other time that’d be a win,” Jared says with a grin, “but… I’m looking for someone else.”

Misha’s quiet for a moment, then he looks down and shakes his head. “I really hoped you wouldn’t ask me for that, Jared.” He sighs and examines the knot of his fingers. “I’m not going to help you.”

Jared blinks. “Not. I don’t Misha, why won’t you” He trails off, not exactly sure what argument he needs to be making.

“I don’t want to help you,” Misha says. “I’m sorry, Jared.”

Jared thinks about taking a sip of coffee to buy himself some time to figure out what the problem is, then reconsiders, what with the luck he’s had recently when he’s accepted drinks from friends. He’s finding it hard enough as it is to understand the situation, no need to throw in being drugged as well.

The piano music downstairs continues distantly at its stately pace.

“I don’t understand,” Jared says finally.

Misha smiles but it’s small and a little rueful. “Of course you don’t. Okay, let me try to explain.” He’s quiet a moment, frowning at his hands again. “You never led me on, never made me believe that you and I were doing anything more than releasing tension and killing time. And when I was blacklisted, you cut all communication with me.”

“It was standard protocol,” Jared says, wishing he had something more compelling to offer in his own defence.

“Yes,” Misha agrees. “And I didn’t blame you for it. I still don’t. You always played by the rules, Jared.” He looks back up at Jared. “But you’re breaking rules even being here. I can’t imagine what he must be like to have you all turned around like this.”

A cold, unpleasant realisation creeps over Jared. And the longer he looks at Misha, the more sure he is of it. “Misha. Hey, no, wait. C’mon, Misha it’s not what you think.”

Misha calmly raises his voice to talk over him. “I’m sorry, I am. I realise it’s very petty of me but I can’t help but resent him, for being the one you’ll break the rules for. So, if you want anything from me that isn’t about him, you’re welcome to stay. Otherwise, please drink your coffee and go.”

Scraping his fingers through his hair, Jared takes a breath and tries to think of the best way to approach this. He’s very aware of the way Misha’s watching him and, before the complete upheaval of his world courtesy of Jensen, it might have brought some heat to Jared’s skin, might have made him consider breaking more rules, if only for a moment.

But it seems like Jared’s a lost cause for anything other than complicated green-eyed double-agents. Also, Jared is totally not going to play Misha like that, he’s not going to be the ex-boyfriend who turns up and uses feelings that haven’t gone away to get what he wants.

If he’s going to motivate Misha to help, it’s not going to be through sex.

“Okay,” says Jared. “How much?” Misha raises an eyebrow and, more firmly, Jared says, “How much is it going to cost me to buy the information from you? ‘Cause I know you’ve got something. So, come on. Name your price.”

Misha shakes his head, starts to stand, and Jared reaches out, catches his forearm. There’s a moment of silence as Misha looks down at Jared’s hand on him, sighs and then looks back up at Jared.

Jared takes his hand away. “I’m on assignment,” he says. “I need to find Jensen and either bring him in or kill him. I’m not doing this for me. I have orders to find him. Help me.”

And again Misha shakes his head. “Let it go. It’s already taken care of.”

The bottom drops out of Jared’s stomach. He looks around the apartment again, as if he’s going to suddenly see what he should have seen before, some sign that he wasn’t the first to come looking. Misha’s good, Misha knows things, Misha’s famous for knowing things.

“How much?” Jared asks again but it’s a whole different question. It’s unreasonable to have expected Misha to do anything else - this is what Misha does - but Jared still feels a sudden urge to hurt him, like it’ll do some good against the damage Misha’s already done. He grinds the words out. “How much did you sell him for?”

“Don’t be like that.” It’s not hostile but it’s far from appeasement. “The information came through and I found a buyer.”

Jared rises to his feet and he can see the instinctive flex of Misha’s muscles as he fights the impulse to retreat.

“Tell me what you told them,” Jared says.

“It’ll cost you,” Misha says swiftly. “I want-“

“I’m not paying you a cent. You’re going to tell me and you’re going to tell me right now.”

It hangs between them for a moment, something in the air that could very easily turn very nasty. Misha stares up at Jared. His calm has dropped away into calculation and Jared feels his temper slipping away from him. He doesn’t have time for this. The others have a head start. They could have already found Jensen. He so does not have time for this.

“Do you think you have a type?” Misha says a little breathlessly. “Men you have to physically dominate to keep too scared to consider betraying you? Is he like that too? Did you have to intimidate him too? Is he scared of you, Jared?”

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Macau,” Misha says in a rush. “He was in Macau two days ago.”

Jared nods smartly and turns towards the door. He’s halfway down the narrow wooden staircase, back into the light and mirrors and sparkling piano music, when Misha calls after him. He looks back up to him. Misha’s standing in the doorway of his shabby apartment, fingers curled about the edge of the door.

“He’s getting sloppy, Jared. They’re running him into the ground.” He smiles at Jared then, just a small sad twitch of his lips. “You’d better hurry.”

~*~

Jared doesn’t find Jensen in Macau. But he finds him in Hong Kong.

He goes to the north of the city, to the apartment where Jensen’s hiding out, to wait for him. And when he gets there, he dispatches the Coalition agent who’s already there and hides the body out of sight behind the couch. Misha was right: Jensen’s definitely getting sloppy. Jared sits in the darkness that’s splashed with neon light from the street outside, and he thinks about how he just saved Jensen’s life, and about how he’s not sure what to do with Jensen’s life now.

When Jensen comes through the door, it’s obvious that the guy Jared killed isn’t the only Coalition agent in the city. Jensen’s fucked up. As he stumbles through the patches of garish colour, his face is lit up and the blood and bruises are beautifully obvious. The way he’s cradling his arm against his chest tells Jared it’s most likely dislocated at the elbow.

Jared is good enough at what he does that he doesn’t expect Jensen to realise he’s there, but somehow it scares him, makes him feel out of control, as Jensen just moves right by him and heads to the crappy little bathroom.

He considers the gun he’s holding in his hand and how it’s already killed one person tonight. He considers putting it down and then he doesn’t.

In the bathroom, there’s only the light above the mirror at the sink, and Jensen is fumbling with cotton balls and cream. Now he’s closer, Jared can see the blood sticking Jensen’s t-shirt to his belly. Jensen’s trembling, high on adrenaline, and there’s an almost feverish flush to his cheeks under the sweat and blood on his skin. With his arm held feebly against himself, Jensen tries one-handed to work the cap off the bottle of iodine, and only succeeds in knocking it to the floor. Cursing, he stoops to collect it, and Jared feels heartsick.

He gives in. He gives in to everything Misha said, to everything Chad and Jeff and Lauren, and even fucking Mike, have been saying.

Jared’s an awesome secret agent, and his Achilles heel is called Jensen.

He moves closer, tucking his gun away, and, rising, Jensen sees his reflection in the mirror. Jensen sees Jared’s face and he sees the gun and he starts shaking his head, breathing out desperate little sobs. He puts up his good hand, as if to ward Jared off as he backs into the corner of the tiny bathroom.

“No, no, please, no.”

Jared ignores him in favour of drawing him in, and Jensen’s still shaking his head and saying nononono, but he doesn’t fight. Jared curls his arms around him, Jensen’s back to his chest, and Jensen feels infinitely breakable. Slowly, as Jared moves his hands over him - careful and deliberate and impersonal - Jensen goes still and silent. In one quick jerk, Jared slots Jensen’s elbow back into place. The noise Jensen makes, wet and aching and vulnerable, goes straight to Jared’s dick and he takes a step away from him then, putting a safe distance between them.

Meeting Jensen’s eyes in order to make his intention clear, Jared picks up a cotton ball and reaches for Jensen’s face. He holds Jensen’s face with his thumb and forefinger on his jaw, two tiny points of contact that are just enough for Jared to be able to tilt Jensen’s neck back when he needs to. He gives Jensen a professional clean up, finds the slash along Jensen’s belly is shallow and tapes it shut.

And Jensen lets him. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t struggle. There’s only the occasional sharp intake of breath when it hurts. He keeps his gaze on the floor, long dark lashes lowered.

As he washes away blood, Jared uncovers bruises beneath, swollen purple and red and black. It’s clear Jensen’s been living on borrowed time. His eyes are red-rimmed with exhaustion. Jared wonders when he last felt safe enough to sleep.

Finally, Jared discards the bloody cotton balls and gauze, and leads Jensen from the bathroom. There’s a moment, as he goes through the doorway, that Jensen tries to stop. It’s a tiny stutter of his feet and Jared isn’t sure what it means but he doesn’t allow it to hold them up. Instead, he nods towards the bed and says, “Go on.”

Without Jared touching him, manoeuvring him, Jensen seems uncertain of what to do. But Jared doesn’t want to have to help him out of his jeans. So instead he watches as Jensen awkwardly fumbles them off and then looks between Jared and the bed, like a dog trying to make sure it’s following a command correctly. Without shame or, in fact, any complicated emotion, just simple appreciation and arousal, Jared studies Jensen’s body as he climbs into the bed, the cruel mess of Jensen’s back and the smooth strength of his long legs, the tight roundness of his ass, the broadness of his shoulders down to the narrowness of his hips.

Finally, Jensen is under the covers. He watches Jared, waiting.

“Go to sleep,” Jared says.

Jensen swallows and his lips press together into a bloodless line. His eyes don’t close and Jared thinks about how green they are, and he remembers comparing the colour to neurotoxin, and he remembers Jensen laughing in his ear about it.

“Go to sleep, Jensen,” he says again.

Something happens. Jared sees it on Jensen’s face, just for a moment. Jensen’s gaze drifts away sightlessly from Jared’s face. Then his eyes close.

Within minutes, he’s asleep. And Jared settles in the chair across from the bed to watch over him.

Chapter 36

At quarter to six in the morning, another Coalition agent comes for Jensen. Jared deals with the situation and dumps the body with the other one behind the couch. Jensen sleeps through it.

At eight o’clock, Jared investigates the meagre supplies in the kitchenette. He considers asking the people in the apartment next door whether they’ve got some eggs and then decides that it’s not worth risking the time leaving Jensen unprotected. He makes do with what he can find.

By the time Jensen wakes up, Jared has a plate stacked with toast and some coffee waiting for him. He keeps his back turned as Jensen rouses and still finds his breath coming a little fast just with the rustle of the blankets behind him. Then Jensen pads into the bathroom, and Jared has already rigged the window not to open but he keeps an ear out for escape attempts all the same.

Jared carefully cuts his slice of toast into triangles while he waits for Jensen to come back.

After a few moments he hears Jensen behind him again. When Jensen doesn’t move into view, Jared glances back at him over his shoulder. Jensen is in shorts and a t-shirt, and is staring blankly at the two corpses behind the couch.

“You’re gonna tell me now they’re friends of yours, right?” Jared says mildly, before going back to his coffee.

“No,” Jensen says. He’s quiet again, and then he says, “No, not friends.”

He sits down at the table and, unable to help himself, Jared’s gaze slides across the tabletop, creeps up Jensen’s forearm, catches on the crook of his neck - where Jared can remember burying his face as he rocked Jensen in his lap, fucking him slow and relentless and forever, back when they were living on a different planet - and finally stops at the bruise on Jensen’s jaw. When Jensen doesn’t speak or move, Jared dares to look at his face, oddly still pretty for being all beaten up.

Jensen is staring at the toast as if it’s a trick question.

“I didn’t expect this,” he says at last.

“It’s kinda pitiful,” Jared says. “Couldn’t even make pancakes.”

“No,” Jensen says. “I didn’t expect I thought you were I thought.” He snatches up a slice of toast and starts chewing on it furiously. The lines of his face are set so taut the strain must be painful.

Jared gives it a moment to see if he can come up with some other interpretation of what Jensen’s just said. He can’t. The toast turns stodgy and heavy in his belly, the coffee is acid.

“You thought I was going to kill you.” Bad, Jared thinks. Very bad. But worse is the thought that comes immediately after it. “You thought I was going to kill you, and you were going to let me.”

Jensen’s body language says that, for all intents and purposes, Jensen is no longer present, and Jared is out of his head enough with what Jensen’s just admitted that he wants to drag him back into the conversation. He leans forward and, briefly, Jensen is forced to look him in the eyes. Then he turns his face away and won’t give Jared even that.

“Why? Why did you go to sleep when you thought I was going to kill you? Why did you do that?”

Jensen shakes his head, still refusing to look at Jared. He pushes away from the table but Jared’s right behind him, crowding him close every time Jensen tries to turn away or escape. He can see Jensen’s getting worked up, he’s edgy and upset, and Jared doesn’t know whether to expect him to break down or start throwing punches.

And Jared’s head is still stuck on Jensen being ready to die.

He grabs Jensen by the biceps, forces him to hold still as he ducks his head, still stubbornly trying to look in Jensen’s eyes, like Jensen hasn’t already proved a hundred times already that he can lie with his eyes as easily as with his mouth.

“I was I was tired, okay?” Jensen says finally. “I was tired and I’d had enough and it just, it just felt like it would be easy with you. I just thought it’d be over then and I could rest.”

“That’s not a fucking option!” Jared says, his voice rising to an unexpected snarl. “You don’t do this to me and then try to leave. You have ruined my life, Jensen. You don’t get to die and leave me with what you’ve done to me!”

Startled into finally looking at him, Jensen blinks. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry.”

Jared holds onto him and he knows it must be painful for Jensen how tightly he’s gripping his arms, but he can’t bring himself to let him go. He can’t do it. There’s some childish, crazy part of him that says this is the only way he can make Jensen understand and that he can make Jensen tell him the truth when he’s holding him so tight and so close that Jensen doesn’t have the space to lie to him.

His fingers are pressing bruises into Jensen’s arms.

Taking a breath, Jared tries to regain his composure. “Look, if it’s got so bad that dying seems like a good idea, what the hell are you doing it for? Just stop. I’ll help you. I’ll bring you in, get you amnesty. I can speak to…”

His voice dies when he registers how strangely Jensen’s looking at him. “What?” he says. “What is it?”

“This is karma, isn’t it?” Jensen says. He tries to push Jared away and he’s already distractedly looking for where he’s left his clothes that he doesn’t seem to notice that he hasn’t loosened Jared’s grip even a little. “I have to go.”

“No, sweetheart,” Jared says with extreme patience. “You’re not going anywhere. You walk out of here and we’re back to you being dead. You’re not in control of this anymore. So, just just sit down and work with me here.”

“No,” Jensen says. “No. I have to go.” He’s not even really listening to Jared. He starts to struggle, but it’s an odd, mindless squirming, as if he hasn’t connected Jared with the hands on his shoulders. Jensen is elsewhere - that smart, tricksy brain of his is off thinking about problems he’s not going to live long enough to reach.

And Jared is so angry with him.

He’s angry with Jensen for making it impossible for Jared to live without him and then trying to back out. He’s so angry he can barely think straight; his grip clenches tighter and he registers the small, pained grunt Jensen makes but he can’t properly understand it. Maybe he’s even angry enough that he wants to hurt Jensen, to show him how it feels, show him what he’s done to Jared.

He crushes his mouth down on Jensen’s, forces his tongue between Jensen’s lips and kisses him bruisingly, and he makes Jensen take it, holding him flush against his body despite Jensen’s struggling - because Jensen’s struggling makes his skin burn and his cock get harder. But it’s counterbalanced by the need to pin Jensen down, to hold him steady and just take, so Jared slams him first against the table, but they catch on the edge, sending them bouncing unsteadily towards the kitchen counter, until finally Jared can cage Jensen against the crappy fridge.

Jensen’s mouth is soft and pretty, and Jared kisses him more forcefully yet, because it means Jensen’s right there so long as he’s kissing him, and he doesn’t realise he’s biting as much as kissing until he tastes a sudden rush of blood.

And he’d stop, he would, except Jensen’s got his hands knotted in Jared’s hair and is dragging him down to keep his mouth on his own.

Jared’s head is spinning, his mouth is hot and it hurts, the muscles in his arms ache from crushing Jensen into his chest. But there’s absolutely no way he’s letting go now. He’s not missing this chance, not when he’s spent ages trying and failing to fall out of love with Jensen, not when Jensen’s threatening to slip away.

Everywhere but the floor is too far away and Jensen’s knees buckle easily as Jared pushes him down, bearing him down onto the filthy floor. Frustration and impatience don’t allow him to be gentle. Uncoordinated and desperate to act out all those things he’s been wanting to do to Jensen and not been allowed, Jared manhandles Jensen how he wants him. He yanks Jensen’s shorts off him and his fingers leave red marks down Jensen’s thighs.

Hips surging upwards hard and fast like they’re already fucking, Jensen hooks one leg around Jared’s middle and presses their bodies together, riding the way Jared moves as he crouches over him. The flex of muscle is smooth beneath his skin, hot against Jared’s.

The sensation of not kissing Jensen, even for a second, hits him like altitude sickness, so Jared leaves his mouth on Jensen’s, their lips pressed together, breathing into each other, as his fingers creep under the hem of Jensen’s t-shirt, drawing maddening circles with the pads of his fingertips before tugging at the shallow knife-wound, just to hear Jensen hiss. Eyes slamming shut, Jensen bows his forehead against Jared’s.

Jared’s missed this. He’s missed Jensen’s snarking and his pretty green eyes and his pissy attitude and he’s missed this, Jensen all spread out for him. Because it’s simple when Jensen’s like this, all Jared has to do is anything he wants.

His anger hasn’t been diluted by arousal, but it’s been altered enough that it’ll be satisfied by being worked out on Jensen’s body.

It strikes him how quiet Jensen is, wordless through every sound he makes when Jared touches him, and even though it aches not to be fucking into Jensen’s mouth with his tongue, Jared has to pull back enough to properly look at him. He doesn’t know why he does it, except because he loves Jensen and because Jensen flirted with the idea of dying, but Jared puts his hand, huge and powerful, on Jensen’s throat. There’s no pressure behind it - there doesn’t have to be for Jensen to understand what he’s saying.

Jensen lies there under him, mostly naked in the grime and pretty obviously turned-on, and looks Jared squarely in the eyes. It’s hard for Jared to believe that, had he shot Jensen in his sleep, there would have been anything else he could have done afterwards but follow him. It’s even harder for him to believe that he will ever get free of feeling like this, whether Jensen deserves his love or not. He wants to say something that will acknowledge it but he doesn’t know what.

Instead, while Jared stares at him and waits for words, Jensen leans up and kisses Jared, deep and filthy. It’s weirdly tender from a guy who shoots Jared’s friends and treats betrayal like it’s a necessary component of every plan, but Jared’s past wondering at the contradiction of the people Jensen can be.

“Fuck me,” Jensen says when he finally pulls free, and even if Jensen’s lips are kiss-swollen and reminding Jared of every time he’s pushed his dick between them, it’s as simple and cool as any order he’s ever given Jared. Jared ignores how final it sounds.

Jared’s hand trails down Jensen’s throat, over his collarbone, down the worn-thin fabric of his t-shirt over his chest, strokes the sleekness of his inner thigh, before he grasps Jensen’s leg and uses it to spread him wide, a decisive jerk that pulls Jensen up and closer. Jensen doesn’t look away from his face as he opens Jared’s jeans, finds the huge thickness of Jared’s cock and jacks him, a slippery sharp sound of skin on skin, until Jared’s massive and wet and so ready for him.

As his spit-slick fingers slide between the cheeks of Jensen’s ass, pushing inside him, Jared watches the door. All his attention is on Jensen and that raw awareness of him won’t let Jared forget that there are people who want Jensen dead. But because he knows - he must know - that he can trust Jared to kill every single last one of them who comes calling, Jensen doesn’t have to look away from Jared’s face, and he doesn’t.

The head of Jared’s cock nudges behind Jensen’s balls, slips over his perineum in a way that makes Jensen let out a heavy rush of breath, and then catches on the rim of his hole, not sinking up into him but just beginning to stretch Jensen open for him. With a breathy grunt that could be anger or could be pain, Jensen squirms back onto Jared’s cock, his hips working a series of small, rolling jerks to drag Jared deep inside his body and the muscles in his thighs straining.

Knocked breathless, Jared clutches hold of him. Jensen’s so tight around him and when Jared moves, just slightly, Jensen grunts and shifts fretfully. His fingertips press alongside the sweat-damp line of Jensen’s spine, under his t-shirt and digging so deep into the scarred flesh the pressure hurts his fingers, and Jared thinks of Jensen being so stuffed full of him there’s not even room for him to think.

Jared moves slowly but deliberately in a long, deep thrust that Jensen just takes. And it can’t be easy taking Jared’s cock up the ass, fingered open with nothing but spit, but as hard as Jared fucks him - brutal and demanding - Jensen only claws frantically at Jared’s back and wraps his leg tighter around him to hang on.

Once they’ve settled to a rhythm, Jared looks away from where his dick’s disappearing between Jensen’s spread legs, and he finds Jensen’s mouth again. They kiss and it’s slick and dirty, a slide of tongue and hot, open mouths. Jensen’s cock is wet against Jared’s belly and Jared only draws away from the kiss in order to bow his head and watch Jensen fuck into his fist as Jared fucks his ass.

They rock together, not smooth as much as insistent, and when Jensen is shaking and too breathless for Jared to kiss anymore, he mouths the sweat off Jensen’s face, dragging his lips over the bruises and cuts.

When he feels himself getting close, Jared grasps Jensen’s narrow hips, thumbs pressed to the hipbones, and hauls him in tight. Jensen’s hand bumps Jared’s chest as he jerks himself off with increasing desperation, and Jared goes on fucking him even as Jensen’s coming, arching and crying out. It takes Jared just a few seconds longer, a few seconds where he’s slamming in deep and rough and Jensen’s still high and beautifully pliant, giving it all up to Jared. And then he’s filling Jensen up, endless spurts of come that feel hot and sloppy in Jensen’s ass.

Still wrapped up in each other, Jared and Jensen breathe together in the stillness.

And it’s a blessed few moments before Jared registers that the floor they’ve fucked on is truly disgustingly filthy and that they’ve already stayed too long in one place.

~*~

The street market is crowded and full of noise and it puts Jared on edge. He keeps Jensen tucked in to his side as he elbows his way through the hustle and he doesn’t let himself think about how Jensen still smells of sex and of him. People are surging around them and Jared can’t allow himself to be distracted when there are too many potential threats. They’ve left the apartment - and the two Coalition corpses - far behind, but there’s still a very long way to go before they’re in the clear.

As if ‘the clear’ is somewhere a double-agent and an agent who is dangerously close to going rogue can go.

Jared is in no doubt that he has failed to follow orders. Jensen should either be in ISA custody or dead right now. If the branch executives aren’t already aware that Jared hasn’t taken either option - and did, in fact, spend the night - they will be soon. Moreover, Jared knows that everyone is expendable, even the best-trained and most competent agent in the government’s arsenal.

If Jared’s lucky, Jensen doesn’t comprehend the situation he’s put Jared in. He hasn’t said anything that makes Jared think he does, and things are complicated enough without throwing in Jensen’s possible reaction to that. Right now, Jared doesn’t know whether Jensen would try to save him or try to trade him in as some kind of deal.

Of course, Jared also figures that he should underestimate how much Jensen knows.

“Once we’re at the docks, we should separate,” Jensen says. His voice is low but he’s close enough to Jared that it reaches him. “Just help me out of the city and I can find somewhere safe.”

“You haven’t so far,” Jared says, gaze still navigating them a path through the crowd as he drags Jensen along.

There’s another rush and Jensen’s hitched up awkwardly into Jared’s shoulder and Jared is sure he catches the smell of Jensen’s skin.

“I haven’t exhausted my every option,” Jensen says. “C’mon, just get me out of the city and I can disappear.”

“We’re not arguing about this here,” Jared says.

“Jared, I’m not going with you. Last night was it’s not gonna happen again. I don’t want you involved in this.”

Jared throws a black look in Jensen’s direction. “What definition of the word ‘involved’ are you using? ‘Cause I’m in this. You got me in this.”

Jensen tugs free of him. “You don’t have to be!”

“Jesus, Jensen, what fucking choice do you think I have?”

“You have the choice to walk away!”

Infuriated, Jared snaps back round to look at him and he sees a tiny red dot flicker over Jensen’s chest. He slams his shoulder into Jensen and the bullet slips through the air over their heads with a noise like ripping paper as they both go down. Jared doesn’t stay down long. He grabs Jensen close and hauls them both to their feet. The crowd is panicking and it suits Jared just fine because it’s fucking awesome cover. Half-carrying, half-dragging Jensen, Jared manhandles him off the central avenue, while he scans the surroundings for their attacker.

The sniper is on a nearby rooftop, black against the white sky, but it’s not him who’s important. Who’s important is Weatherly and the six ISA agents he’s got with him, all heading straight for Jared and Jensen.

Weatherly was never interested in Jensen being brought in alive. Weatherly only wants Jensen dead. And Jared gets it, he does. But Weatherly wants Jensen dead because of what Jensen did to Jessica Alba and Jared kind of wants Weatherly dead for what he’s trying to do to Jensen.

If Weatherly’s got a guy on the roof, who knows how many else he’s got? It only takes Jared making a tiny mistake and Jensen’s dead.

He barely has time to think it, but it occurs to Jared right then that this is why agencies don’t like their agents knowing the big picture, don’t like them getting involved on a personal level. Because Jared is willing to do whatever it takes to get Jensen - Jensen who’s lied and murdered and betrayed him over and over again - out of this alive.

The odds aren’t great. In fact, later, Jared might realise that it was most likely he’d be taken down, and Jensen soon after. But it never comes to that.

When Weatherly’s only a few steps away, there’s a screech of tires on the street behind them, and a big black SUV skids to a halt. It’s Jeff Morgan, accompanied by some agents Jared doesn’t recognise. Wordlessly, Jensen leans in towards Jared, and Jared finds his hand in Jensen’s for a short moment, their fingers slipping together and then letting go.

“I don’t remember asking for your assistance,” Weatherly says to Morgan. He’s full of a spastic fury and Morgan’s easy coolness is even more pronounced in comparison. “This is an ISA matter and we’ve got it under control.”

“I’m sorry, Weatherly, but it’s out of your hands now.” He jerks his head for his agents to come collect Jensen. Jared tenses, ready to stop them, but the debate isn’t over yet.

“No. No,” Weatherly says. “Teague goes into ISA custody.”

“He represents a security breach that goes a little higher than ISA. Why do you think I was called in in the first place?”

Again the agents move closer, but this time, Jensen looks at Jared and shakes his head. “Don’t,” he says. “Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

He gives himself up and Jared watches in mute horror as they cuff him and pull him towards the SUV. Weatherly’s barely able to contain his rage and he watches them take Jensen away with a burning intensity. Jared’s so fixed on losing Jensen that it takes him a moment to realise that someone’s trying to put cuffs on him as well. Instinctively, he jerks free, looking to Morgan incredulously.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demands.

Morgan raises an eyebrow at him. “You were sent to bring him in or kill him.” Morgan smiles in that sleepy, friendly way of his. “Looks to me like we have a problem.”

“Wait!” Weatherly says as the agents go for Jared once more. “You can’t Jared’s an ISA agent. You can’t do this!”

“Jared belongs to the US government,” Jeff corrects him. “It’s in my authority to terminate his contract to ISA at any point, and I’m doing it now. He’s been compromised.”

“No!” Jensen shouts. “No, no! He’s not in this! Don’t you fucking do this! He’s not in this!”

He’s fighting against the agents now, twisting uselessly in their grasp before he’s picked up bodily and flung into the back of the SUV, still shouting and cursing. Jeff watches him out of sight, then looks back at Jared.

“‘Fraid we’re taking you too, Jared.” There’s an underlying steel to the warmth of his voice.

“Can he do this?” Jared says to Weatherly. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

Weatherly’s lips go thin but he at least he seems calm when he answers Jared. “He can do it. Go with him, hang tight. I’ll get back to the other branch executives and we’ll get this straightened out.” He shoots Jeff a warning look but he backs off.

And Jared stares at the cuffs slapped on his wrists, his mouth hanging open. He’s too dumbfounded to fight as they steer him towards the SUV. The only thing that makes sense in all this is that at least he’ll be with Jensen.

They shove him into the back, and Jeff climbs in with him, and then the doors close and they’re moving, going God knows where. Jensen is huddled on the bench, looking at Morgan like he’s figuring out what he’s going to do to him first when he’s got his cuffs off.

“He’s not in this,” Jensen says, cutting the words out with his teeth.

Jeff shakes his head with a dry laugh. “You keep telling yourself that, boy.”

Then he flips Jensen a key, which Jensen catches and fits into the lock of his cuffs. Then, free, he wordlessly leans over and does Jared’s wrists. Jared doesn’t move a muscle. He just watches.

Almost as if he’s afraid to, Jensen looks up and catches Jared’s eyes.

Jared raises an eyebrow at him, barely able to draw breath. “Something you want to tell me, sweetheart?”

Jeff laughs again.

Chapter 37

By the sounds and the way the SUV moves, Jared guesses they’re being loaded onto a ship of some kind. He really hopes they’re not taking the long, watery route back to the US. On the other hand, maybe it’ll take that long to get Jensen to give him yet another version of the truth.

Of course, seeing as Jeff Morgan is apparently in it up to his neck too, maybe Jared should be looking to him for answers.

“One of you want to tell me what’s going on?” he says.

Jeff and Jensen exchange looks. Jensen’s expression is sullen and stubborn, and he shakes his head at Jeff. It feels like Jared’s come in on an argument that’s been going on for a while. Jeff gives him that fucking grin again.

“Don’t look at me like that, Jensen. We tried it your way and it was a goddamn disaster. Now we do it my way.”

Whatever Jeff’s way is, Jensen pretty obviously doesn’t like it. He sinks back into his seat, rocking anxiously, hands flexing open and closed. He watches Jared like he doesn’t even realise Jared’s watching him right back. It’s been driven into Jared over the years and years that he’s done this job that whenever things don’t go as expected, number one priority is to reassess the situation and come up with a new reading to operate upon. He should be asking questions, demanding answers, but he only goes on watching Jensen with this strange sense of cold concern.

“C’mon,” Jeff says finally. “Damage’s done. We can do it this time, Jensen. We’re almost there.”

The promise of ‘there’ instantly attracts Jensen’s attention, and his odd, too-intense gaze snaps to Jeff. He lets out a small breath and nods. Then he looks back at Jared, wets his lips and says, “I’ve been working for Jeff for the last-“

And just as Jared’s almost getting answers, Jeff opens his fucking mouth and interrupts. “Drop the revisionist bullshit,” he says. “Haven’t you fed the poor guy enough lines already? Give it to him straight. I don’t think you gotta worry about him thinking less of you, he’s stuck with you so far, hasn’t he?”

Jensen’s lips go tight and thin but he’s only quiet for a moment, before he takes another breath and says, more firmly, “I went to Jeff because I thought I could use him. Turns out, he wanted to use me right back. Mutually beneficial partnership.” He smiles thinly at Jeff and the smile says that while the partnership may be mutually beneficial, it’s not particularly amicable. “I worked the Coalition end of things for him. He kept me informed and gave me an extra line of protection.”

“Why?” Jared says.

Jensen looks to Jeff again, his expression faintly desperate. And Jeff isn’t budging.

“Whatever it takes, that’s what you promised me,” he says. “I told you this wasn’t gonna be easy, and you said whatever it takes.” He shrugs and moves to the SUV doors. “I’m gonna go check in with Cortese and Hodge. Give you some privacy.”

After he’s gone, Jared leans forward in his seat towards Jensen. He doesn’t try to touch him, just looks at him steadily.

“Tell me what was a lie and what was the truth,” he says. And he knows he’s hoping that it was all lies and that Jensen can be someone he’s allowed to be in love with.

Jensen doesn’t answer for a long while. His lips are parted, like he’s trying to find where to begin, and he doesn’t look straight at Jared.

“I met Mike, I got myself recruited into the CIA, I joined the Coalition, I was transferred into ISA and over the course of about two years, I brought down twelve agents. Some I fed false info, others I handed over to my associates within the Coalition.”

His gaze flickers back to Jared and if he sees the hopelessness on Jared’s face, he doesn’t respond to it. His eyes are bright, shining. “I was incredible, Jared. I brought them down one after another and nobody even looked at me. My name wasn’t even mentioned.” He says it in a tone of faint surprise.

“Then what?” Jared says, as flatly as he can manage.

“Jessica Alba.” Jensen pauses, frowns. “I hated her. She was neurotic and insecure and a diva and she made stupid demands. And I killed her and the world wasn’t a better place. Nothing really changed. It made me start thinking, y’know, about how many people would have to die before the world was better. And I know there’s no such thing as a bloodless revolution but I think I should be willing to die for the cause, not kill for it.” He looks at Jared and smiles, sharp and crooked. “I hated Jess but I don’t think I ever really got over killing her. Killing her was my first big mistake.”

“And that’s when you went to Jeff?” Jared says.

Jensen shakes his head. “No. I went to Mike.” He laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Y’know, considering I’m so good at reading people, you’d think I’d’a seen how that one would go down.”

He laughs again but it becomes a sigh. “I’d been hurt on assignment, helping my agent, and Mike put that together with me saying I didn’t like what I was doing anymore and he figured my agent was getting to me. So Mike did what he does best, and blew him up. He thought he was protecting me and” Jensen wets his lips again before he says, “I don’t think Mike’s ever gonna realise that I’m not that kid he knew anymore. I’m not, I can’t be. I’ve tried, but I can’t be.”

When he looks at Jared, Jared tries to think of something comforting to say. But the only thing he can think is, something like you’ve made some fucking terrible choices but I still love you, but yes, those choices you made, really fucking terrible, terrible and stupid and how could you? But yes, I still love you. I still love you. Which doesn’t seem reassuring enough.

So he just looks at Jensen until Jensen drops his gaze, flushing slightly and fidgeting in his seat.

“I figured it was penance,” he says. “I figured I got myself into this, and trying to get myself out would only raise the body count and so I would just, y’know, just have to learn to live with it. I got by. I managed to avoid having to kill anyone, didn’t raise any suspicions at ISA. I did okay. Then I met Chris.”

“You didn’t really kill him,” Jared says in a rush.

“I did,” Jensen says. “HeOh God, Chris was” He scrapes his fingers through his hair, his eyes screwed shut. The sound of water beneath them is thick and heavy, almost sickening. “He was like you, kind of. He never gave me a chance. I tried so hard not to give a damn about him. But he just he got right in and, y’know, I’d never had a friend like him before. He saw how fucked up I was and he wanted to help. He got it all figured out, everything I’d done, and he still wanted to help me.”

Jensen hasn’t looked at Jared for a while now. It seems more important that Jared say something, anything that isn’t accusatory or angry or disappointed. But Jared can’t, because he doesn’t want to stop Jensen talking, not yet. Not when he’s finally hearing what he thinks might be the truth.

“He asked me outright if I was a double. And I said yes. Second big mistake. I should have lied. Convinced him he was wrong. I let him get involved and he’s dead because of it. And I can’t let that happen to you-“

There’s movement: the SUV being taken somewhere, a lot of metal clattering and then the doors open and Jeff’s there. He gestures them out, herds them across the slippery deck of the tanker they’re on, towards a waiting aircraft. Jared glances around through the blustery wind and notes how few people there are present, and how the majority of those are clearly agents.

He sticks close to Jensen, distractedly falling back on routines of threat evaluation and locating potential weapons, and he’s aware that his planning still encompasses how best to protect Jensen should a situation arise. He supposes he’ll eventually give up on expecting that to change.

It’s important that he now knows the truth. It should simplify things between them. It means that any relationship between them from here on in is based on the truth. Jared knows the guy finally. But Jensen has not gone from good guy to bad guy and back; he’s gone from good guy to bad guy to a guy who’s somewhere in between. Everything comes in shades of grey but Jensen’s managed to reinvent the shade.

Inside the aircraft, Jeff somehow ends up between Jared and Jensen, and Jensen turns his face to the window and stays silent. Jared watches the tanker disappear below them as they rise and idly toys with the notion of asking Jeff where they’re going and how he’d force the information out of him once Jeff refused.

~*~

It feels like forever before Jared and Jensen are alone again. After the flight that lasted an eternity, they’ve been hustled from the aircraft to an underground garage, driven for fucking miles, and then deposited at God knows where. Through the window of the office they’re in, Jared can see a small paved courtyard with a few tidy tubs of plants. He’d guess they’re somewhere around Washington, considering travel times and climate.

Jensen has settled in a chair, nursing a cup of coffee and with a pack of cigarettes close to hand. Once he’s done with the coffee, he methodically and carefully begins to tear strips off the cigarette pack.

Jared has remained standing. He gives Jensen time to pick up where he stopped, but when he doesn’t, Jared says, “You were telling me about Chris Kane. I wanna hear the rest.”

Jensen’s hands still for a moment. Then he looks up at Jared, and in the fading sunlight his bruises look like shadows. “He tried to help me.” For a moment, it seems like that’s all Jared’s going to get out of him. Jensen slides back into himself, introverted and lost in his own head. Frustrated, Jared thinks about taking him by the shoulders and shaking him. Or maybe kissing him and begging him to explain it.

Then, as if he never stopped, Jensen says, “We came up with a plan. To explain all the asking around Chris had been doing about me, I would make a report to Kripke and Kring saying that Chris suspected I was a double but I was dealing with it and I would report again if the situation changed. And Chris went to someone in ISA to talk about what could be done. Someone he said he could trust. And I can just bet how that conversation went down.”

Jared’s not sure he needs any more explained about Chris. He kind of thinks he gets it and it’s so ugly - it’s ugly enough to explain so much of what’s wrong with Jensen. He starts to tell Jensen that he understands, but the switch has been flicked and Jensen doesn’t even hear him.

“He’ll have gone to whoever it is he thought he could trust,” says Jensen blankly, “and he’ll have left my name out and he’ll have said that he knows there’s a double in ISA and that he wants to do something about it.”

Jensen rubs the pad of his thumb over his lips, backwards and forwards, and Jared watches the gesture with detached fascination.

“I knew as soon as the door sealed on him and I couldn’t get him out. I figured it out then but it was too late. They told me I was just directing him to a console that would fake access. They made me walk him in there and the door sealed and I figured it out.” Jensen chews on his lip and adds, “Only thing that’s still a mystery is how it could have never fucking occurred to me that there’d be more than one Coalition agent active in ISA.”

“I’m sorry,” Jared says.

“I couldn’t not do anything. Do you get that? After Chris, just being fucking miserable wasn’t enough. It was wrong what they did to him, what they did to me. I had to make it right.” Jensen shrugs jerkily and his hands shake slightly as he lights a cigarette. “That’s when I went to Jeff. And I’ve lied to him to keep Mike and Tom alive, and I’ve lied to Mike and Tom to keep, y’know, the rest of the world alive. And I’ve done nothing but lie to you. But I promise you, I’m telling you the truth now. All I want, all I’m looking for is justice. I’m just trying to put an end to the killing.”

If Jared spends long enough thinking about how much he loves Jensen, it’s easy to believe him. He is so in love with Jensen that he will willingly accept that this is the truth. Because this is a truth he can bear. If this is true, then Jensen has done bad things and made bad choices, but he is not a bad person. Not all the way through.

If this is the truth this time.

He looks Jensen in his big green eyes and only sees himself reflected.

“Where did I fit into all of this?” he says.

Jensen hesitates, like he was hoping for something else from Jared, maybe a loudly voiced declaration of faith. Then he says, “I only ever tried to protect you. I knew the other double in ISA would target you so I got Mike to convince Kripke and Kring that I could co-opt you. Basically, between Jeff and me, we kept the crises to a minimum, kept the body count low as we could. And you were part of that. I was just supposed to keep you alive.”

He worries his lip, looking down at the cigarette in his hands. Quietly, he says, “There was never supposed to be anything between us. I screwed up.”

Neither of them breaks the silence that follows.

~*~

By the time Jensen’s chain-smoked his way through half his pack of cigarettes, Jeff makes an appearance. He drops a bulging file on the table in front of Jensen and says, “We’re on. 48 hours. Think you can handle it?”

Jensen grimaces and flips the folder open like it’s infectious. He sighs and looks up at Jeff, casts a meaningful look at Jared and says, “I’ll do my bit. Make sure you do yours.”

It prompts an eye-roll from Jeff, but he looks at Jared and says, “C’mon, I’m not leaving you around to distract Jensen. Boy’s got a lot of work to do.”

Jeff leads him down a deserted hallway and into a very neutrally decorated and very neutrally lit lounge. Wherever the hell they are, Jared isn’t supposed to get any clues from the décor. Jeff gestures him towards the couch and heads to the small kitchenette to make more coffee.

“So,” Jared says, “I guess you need me for something. Something Jensen doesn’t want me to do.”

Jeff doesn’t look up from the machine as he answers. “The double in ISA sends a secure data transfer to Kripke and Kring once a month. If we can get hold of the data they’re sending, we can figure out who they are. But Kripke and Kring have some really impressive security in place. We were close to getting Jensen in to put a trace on the network when Rosenbaum was supposed to hand you over to Kripke and Kring.” Jeff shoots Jared an amused look. “Then Jensen contacts me to say he’s aborting and that he was setting you loose and I should get ISA over to pick you up before Rosenbaum can recover you.”

“So now Jensen’s got no choice but to do it your way,” Jared fills in. “Which means sending me in, right?”

“Right,” Jeff agrees.

“Okay, yeah. Count me in.”

Jeff goes still in the middle of making coffee and gives Jared his full attention. “He tells a good story, doesn’t he?” Jared raises an eyebrow and gives Jeff nothing. “Listen, I wanna get this ISA double about as much as anyone, Jensen included. But it’s not gonna be done without Jensen’s involvement, and I don’t want you going into this with some false idea of him. I’m guessing it’s probably too late for that but”

“You don’t trust him,” Jared says, and he’s surprised by the bitterness in his voice. Jesus, even Jared isn’t sure if he trusts Jensen this time round. But he needs someone to believe in Jensen, someone who isn’t certifiably crazy.

Jeff considers the question carefully and Jared prays for someone else to champion Jensen’s trustworthiness.

“Seems to me,” says Jeff, slow and thoughtful, “that if Kripke and Kring hadn’t been stupid enough to put Jensen face to face with the reality of what he was doing, there’s a real good chance he’d still be doing it.”

Chapter 38

After Jensen presents Jeff with his proposed strategy for infiltrating Kripke and Kring, Jeff questions him about it for two and a half hours. Jensen answers each question thoroughly and patiently, but it doesn’t take long for Jared to realise just how much information is missing.

The assignment for which every single detail is known does not exist. There are also areas where information is sketchy or unreliable, and agents are trained to be able to deal with whatever is thrown at them.

This assignment, though, is nothing but uncertainties.

Knowing what he does of Coalition SOP, Jensen has made some reasonable assumptions and combined them with what few facts are known about the setup to produce a plan. Once Jeff is done quizzing him, Jensen is allowed to brief Jared.

“Where are you at this point?” Jared says, touching a finger to one of the sheets.

“Still at the second terminal,” Jensen says. When Jared raises an eyebrow at him, Jensen says, “My job isn’t done until you’re out. Besides, there’s no way you’re getting out without me working the system.”

It’s true: there are two points at which Jared is solely dependent on Jensen. What Jensen has just said is the closest anyone has come to acknowledging it. They all know it, it’s in the way Jeff watches Jensen, and how there’s been nothing even remotely resembling an actual expression on Jensen’s face for the last forty minutes.

If Jared were to refuse the assignment, he doesn’t think anyone would be too surprised. It’s unlikely that any attempt by Jeff to persuade him to take it would hinge on Jensen’s reliability. Jeff would have to work on Jared’s willingness to do the right - and suicidal - thing. But there’s also the fact that Jared could count the number of people in the world who could successfully complete this assignment and get out alive on the fingers of one hand, and three of those would be his more commonly used aliases.

And there’s also that thing about how Jared seems completely incapable of staying the fuck away from Jensen, whether Jensen’s his handler, a terrorist, or all of the above.

Jared’s in this, and he doesn’t know if it’s part of some master plan Jensen’s playing or not, but he doesn’t think he’s got the option of walking away anymore.

~*~

There’s an unsettling quietness about the facility Jeff’s got them hidden away in. All the windows face inwards, looking at paved courtyards, and the corridors are deserted. The majority of the doors are locked but when Jared picks a couple of them open, he finds just more of the same, drab meeting rooms. One of Jeff’s agents showed him to a small room with a bed and attached bathroom, told him to rest up, but Jared doesn’t want to rest. He wants to find Jensen or a gym, or if he’s really lucky, he’ll find Jensen in a gym.

Even Jeff would be welcome right now, because he could point Jared in the direction of Jensen or a gym or maybe even something to fucking eat. And speaking of Jeff, the guy must have balls of steel to allow someone like Jared to wander around his top-secret facility without a babysitter of some kind. So it serves him right when Jared decides he’s had enough of the same three floors and bypasses the security seals to enter the lower levels of the building.

It’s like a fucking psych test. It’s more of the same: same corridors, same doors, no windows. Jared feels like he might be going crazy. He’s supposed to be doing this insanely dangerous thing for them in just a few hours that could really easily kill him, and he’s alone and kind of freaking out and he just wants to see Jensen. The silence is smothering him, and frustrated energy has got him trembling with having to restrain the urge to take the whole fucking building apart.

Screw it. If Jared’s gonna die tomorrow, according to plan or otherwise, then right now, he kind of doesn’t exist. He’ll exist again once it’s all over. It really doesn’t matter how badly behaved he is tonight.

He stops where he is, draws in breath, and yells, “Jensen!” at the top of his lungs. “Jensen! Where the fuck are you?” It’s almost hard to breathe. This must be what panic feels like. “Jensen, c’mon, where are you?”

Still silence. Jared’s hands hurt. They’re fists, balled tight. They hurt. The muscles in Jared’s arm bunch, because he needs to punch something now. He needs this violence to go somewhere.

A door opens near the end of the corridor and Jensen steps into sight. They look at each other.

“Why are you shouting?” Jensen says, mild reproach in his voice.

Jared doesn’t answer him. He strides down the corridor towards him and barges into the room. It’s an archive, stalls and stalls of card boxes illuminated by a creamy blue light. Jensen is obviously working at one of the desks - a cup of black coffee is set beside several open files. Another of Jeff’s agents is at the far end of the room. He’s a big, good-looking guy with a large forehead. He’s not doing anything and it’s not hard to figure out that he’s here for the sole purpose of monitoring Jensen.

Jared looks down at the papers Jensen’s reading and he catches sight of his own face looking up at him before Jensen reaches over and flips the file shut.

“It’s getting late,” Jensen says. “Shouldn’t you get some rest?”

Jared’s gaze stays fixed on the closed file. Then, slowly and deliberately, he opens it back up again. Beside him, Jensen sighs.

“I’m just trying to make sure I know as much about how to support you as I can,” he says. “That’s all.”

He sounds tired and maybe a little pissed. He’s got no right to be pissed.

“What happens after this?” Jared says. Jensen looks at him blankly and Jared wants to hit him, if only to get a reaction. Instead, he grits his teeth and says, “After the assignment, what happens?”

“ISA will be shut down, probably permanently. It just doesn’t look good to have harboured two double agents for extended periods of time, y’know? Your contract will be expired, obviously, and higher authorities will step in to reassign you. Jeff says he’ll speak on your behalf, explain your role in this.”

“Yeah, awesome,” Jared says shortly. “What about you? What about you and me?”

Jensen sighs again and straightens one of the piles of papers on the desk. Even his hands are pretty, Jared registers distantly. He smells of stale cigarettes and sweat - it’s not pleasant. But his hands are so pretty.

“It won’t be as bad as the ISA prison they’d have locked me up in.” Jared draws in an angry breath but Jensen cuts him off, his own voice sharply raised. “I’ve admitted my role in the murders of more than a few agents. I’ve been an accomplice to acts of international terrorism. I’ve leaked classified information. I’ve betrayed the government in just about every way it is possible to do so. What do you think they’re gonna do to me?”

“Well that sucks.” Jared’s snarl has got Jeff’s agent on his feet, not approaching them, not yet, but watching. Jared ignores him. He’ll break all ten of the fucker’s fingers if he tries to intervene. “You go to prison and I might get to carry on with my life. Wonderful. And I guess me being in love with you just isn’t your problem, right?”

Jensen screws his eyes shut and scratches his fingers through his hair, shoulders hunched. There’s a coffee stain on his t-shirt Jared didn’t notice earlier, little spots where his cup must have dribbled and he didn’t realise.

God, his hands are pretty.

“To be in love with me, you’d have to have met me,” Jensen says very calmly. “The guy you’ve met is a combination of personality traits I picked because I thought they’d appeal to you. He’s not real. You have no future with him.”

Jeff’s agent looks almost embarrassed to be witness to this. He meets Jared’s gaze for a second then looks away. His suit strains over his broad frame as he shifts and sits back down.

“You’re so full of bullshit,” Jared tells Jensen, every bit as calmly as Jensen spoke to him. “If you’re such an awesome fucking puppet-master, then why are we here? You’d have shaken me off already. Unless this is what you wanted all along, in which case, I’m screwed, so I might as well go along with it until you manipulate me some more. So stop fucking lying to me. I’m in love with you, least you can do is give a damn about it.”

Jensen’s eyes narrow. “It’s funny,” he says, “somehow it’s always so much easier for people to believe me when I’m lying than when I tell the truth. You don’t know me. I was never that guy, not really. I just let you believe it.”

Jared starts to take a step towards Jensen, sees Jensen lift his chin just a little, to take the hit he thinks might be coming, and Jared gives up.

“You are not in control of this,” Jared says, “and you are not in control of me.”

He slams the door shut as he leaves. It’s not nearly violent enough.

~*~

It’s 3am. The room is still dark and the facility is still silent. It feels like death, like being buried. Jared isn’t scared. He lies there in the nothingness and experiences the sensation, and he anchors himself with the sound of his own breathing.

Not long and he’ll be heading out with Jeff’s team and Jensen. Not long and it’ll be over, one way or another.

He should sleep but he’s not tired. He’s not tired but he wants it all over. Maybe, he thinks, maybe the day he retires is not too far off. It’s not exciting like it used to be. Nothing’s like it used to be. It’s complicated and painful and it makes Jared’s heart beat faster but for all the wrong reasons.

The door opens and Jared turns his head, watches Jensen move hesitantly through the doorway. He stands there in the meagre shaft of light from the corridor outside. Without a word, Jared throws back the coverlet on his bed. Jensen closes the door and crosses to him. The bed creaks slightly at his added weight as he curls in against Jared. He’s warm and still a little damp from the shower, his wet hair brushes Jared chin while they figure out between them how to get as close and comfortable to each other as possible.

Jared swallows down the thickness in his throat and nuzzles Jensen’s temple.

“If I had a choice,” Jensen says, “I’d spend the rest of my life making sure you never had reason to doubt me again. If I had a choice.”

Jared tugs the blanket over them both more tidily and, brushing a kiss over Jensen’s forehead, he pulls him in tighter against his body.

He closes his eyes and sleeps. It’ll be morning soon.

Chapter 39

Jared watches Jensen knot his tie and tries to think of something to say that won’t sound like goodbye. It’s never smart to get too deep in thoughts of how this could be the last time, but both Jared and Jensen know it. Jared is very aware that he might walk into Kripke and Kring’s compound and never walk out again. His own mortality has never felt so heavy before. There’s been so much wasted time and so much he still needs to deal with.

Today, Jared might die and Jensen might be locked away somewhere he’ll never see sunlight again. And all that should really matter is that they uncover the double-agent within ISA today.

Jared is so very ready to retire.

“We’re gonna keep radio silence until you’re out,” Jeff’s saying. He looks to Jensen as he continues, “As soon as Jared’s clear, you let us know and we’ll make our move. Then you make your way back to us, no detours. Understood?”

“Yes,” Jensen says, patient despite the fact they’ve been over this a hundred times already.

“Right, I’m gonna go check in with the others,” Jeff says and he climbs from the back of the SUV.

Jared recognises the gesture for what it is and is grateful. But before he can speak, Jensen gets there first. He looks up at Jared, clear-eyed and intense.

He says, “This isn’t worth dying over, so don’t. You understand me?”

Raising an eyebrow at him, Jared says, “Okay. I’ll come back alive. But you’d better be waiting for me. And don’t give me that ‘condemned man’ bullshit, Jeff ain’t gonna be hustling you behind bars in a hurry, he’s gonna have too much else to deal with.”

“I’ll be here,” Jensen says.

“Promise me?”

Jared’s only teasing but, “Yeah, “Jensen says. “I promise.” And Jared’s not sure whether the fact Jensen sounds so genuine makes it more likely he’s lying or not.

~*~

A little after 7am, Jensen picks up his briefcase, straightens his tie again, looks back at Jared for just a second, and climbs out of the SUV.

The SUV moves on.

~*~

Karczescka Factory is a huge building that sprawls among a wasteland of snow thirty miles from the nearest thing approaching civilisation, belching smoke into the winter-white sky. It’s not clear what is supposedly being produced in the factory, primarily because it’s illegal weaponry and that’s not the kind of thing you put on the website.

The wind stings Jared’s cheeks and makes his eyes water. He’s got a tight schedule to work to, so he gets moving.

“Sasquatch, this is Zoolander,” Jensen says. “Are you there?”

“I’m here,” Jared says. He feels warmer just for the company, just for Jensen being there. “I’m gonna make my entrance in five.”

“You’ve got a clear field. I’ll tell you when that changes.”

Inside, the factory is pretty much like every other factory Jared’s ever been in, boring and a little grimy. It’s not until he gets to the underground levels, the levels that slant deep down into the cliffs that overlook the factory, that things get interesting.

In this case, ‘interesting’ means hanging from the underside of a metal walkway that’s suspended over a two hundred foot drop, carefully grappling his way along. Jared concentrates on the familiar sound of Jensen at the other end of the earpiece. He can hear Jensen breathe, the occasional clack of the keyboard, and it’s just like it used to be, before things got crazy and complicated.

“Y’know,” he says, “if this assignment should come to an abrupt and fatal halt, I’d go out listening to you. I think that’s cool.”

“Don’t,” Jensen says, low and aggrieved.

“I mean, not that I wanna put you through listening to someone else die but, y’know, from a purely selfish perspective, it’d be, I don’t know, a silver lining.”

Hanging upside down over the gaping drop, the cool air that rises up from it ghosting over his skin, Jared unfastens the control panel and works at the wires.

“A silver lining to being dead,” Jensen says. He’s not letting up on this and Jared regrets bringing the subject up at all. He didn’t mean to freak him out and he doesn’t know how to reassure him, aside from not dying, which is already an important part of his plan. Jensen lets out a short, little breath, and says, “Okay, you’ve done it. Security’s down.”

Jared hauls himself back up onto the walkway and jogs to the unsealed door.

“I’m just saying that” He goes silent, back pressed to the wall as armed guards patrol past. He waits until they’re round the corner, and then continues. “That I like having you in my ear while I’m working.”

“See?” Jensen snaps. He sounds harassed and on edge. “It is possible to say that without talking about how you’d like to die during this assignment.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Jared says. “Don’t be like that. It’s all gonna be okay.”

Jared wishes he were as confident about the outcome as he sounds. He’s even less confident when he gets the next door open and realises he’s not facing a single patrol of armed guards, but maybe about fifteen of them at once.

It’s a good thing Jared’s trained in extreme violence.

~*~

It takes four minutes to get through. Four minutes.

Jared takes the last guy out by pretty much throwing the corpse he’s been using as a shield at him. The guy staggers and falls, and Jared puts a bullet in him, quick and smooth. After the deafening noise of the fight, Jared allows himself chance to revel in the sudden silence of being the last man standing. His own breathing, coming a little fast, is all the noise there is.

He fingers the rip in the side of his shirt where a bullet grazed him. It’s bleeding but nothing serious.

“Any of ‘em get a message through to Central?” Jared says.

“Negative. But move fast, it’s not gonna go unnoticed for long.” Jensen pauses, then there’s another of those quick breaths, and he says, “You hurt?”

“I’m good. See? Easy.”

“Jesus,” Jensen moans.

~*~

Unfortunately, punching a path through fifteen armed guys is the easy part. The laser field requires some acrobatic moves of the kind that almost have Jared thinking he’s physically too old for this shit. The time between a hacked pass code being entered and the doors resealing is really not forgiving. And if Jared couldn’t handle heights he’d be totally screwed considering how many of them he has to get over in limited time and without anything resembling a safe pathway.

And there are armed guards. Wave after wave of them. One of them nearly gets through Jared’s defences and he ends up with a slash across the front of his shirt to go with the rip in the side.

He’s bruised, bloody and limping by the time he reaches his destination.

But the final door opens and the room is huge and silver and beautiful. There is a terminal in the centre of the room. Everything else is just polished and curved wall and ceiling, or the dizzying drop into God knows what below. It’s serene in the central hub and Jared steps over the corpse of the last guard he killed and goes inside.

“Time?” he says.

“Twenty-five,” Jensen says.

Jared has no idea how far below the surface he is. It feels like another planet. No wonder Kripke and Kring have been able to keep this exchange point safe for so long.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” Jared says.

He jogs over to the terminal, drops to his knees to hook up the techo-piece Jensen had given him and-

“Jared, behind - !” Jensen starts to say.

-And Jared swings round and smoothly puts a bullet in the armed guard who’s followed him in. Then he goes back to ensuring the bug’s properly connected.

“Told you I was coming back,” he says under his breath.

Jensen laughs shakily. And they wait together in the calm for the double to send their report through from ISA.

Receipt of the information is announced by the light on Jensen’s bug going green. It’s just a little green light, but it means the double’s career is over. The information is relayed instantly to Jensen, and then on to Jeff and his team. And that’s it. Jared knows that even if he doesn’t get out, his job is done, it’s done.

“I’m moving to the second terminal,” Jensen says. “I’ll pick you up in a few.”

Jared’s fully planning on getting out.

The comms. line goes dead and the silence in Jared’s ear is unsettling. It’ll take Jensen approximately three minutes to reach the second terminal; Jared just has to not die in that time. He can handle keeping himself alive for three minutes.

He picks himself up off the floor and makes his way back down the corridor, picking a path through the dead bodies he left behind earlier. It’s still quiet but Jared knows better than to expect an easy run out. Still the lasers and the heights and hacking door codes. And there’ll be more guards, and they’ll be pissed. But it’s done.

One door hacked open, Jared starts on the next.

When Jared gets out of here, he’s retiring. He doesn’t care what Jensen says either, he’s not letting Jeff put him in prison. If Jeff puts Jensen in prison, Jared will just have to break him out. And he’ll keep breaking him out until Jeff can’t afford to replace all the shit Jared will fuck up in doing it. Maybe Jared’ll travel, go places because he wants to, not because there are bombs or data or prototype WMD there. Maybe he’ll even go back home, introduce Jensen to his mom and dad.

He’s still young, still got his life ahead of him. He’ll take Jensen and they’ll get the hell out of this life.

The door does not respond to the hacked code. Jared pauses then re-enters the numbers, which apparently is a bad idea because the temperature in the small chamber between doors begins to rise, fast. Trying the first door doesn’t help. It’s resealed and the keypad’s unresponsive.

Jared is trapped. And it occurs to him that it’s been more than three minutes since Jensen cut off comms. It’s been significantly more than three minutes. The information has been sent, Jared is trapped and Jensen’s disappeared.

Sweat beads on Jared’s skin as he tries to come up with some other explanation for what’s happened than the obvious one. It’s so fucking hot and it’s only getting hotter. And Jared can’t come up with any other reason for Jensen not being here.

Jensen’s betrayed him. He’s taken what he wants and he’s left Jared to die. And Jared wants to be angry but all he can think is if Jensen really is this person, this horrible ugly person, then maybe it’s better Jared dies because then he won’t have to be continually disappointed by him.

The heat’s making him delirious. He’ll be damned if he lies down and dies just because Jensen’s done with him. He leans against the wall, skin burning, while he takes another shot at the keypad. But he only gets one number in before the door slides open.

“Sasquatch!” Jensen says breathlessly in his ear. “Are you okay? Come in, Sasquatch. Talk to me.”

The rush of cool air is an immediate relief and Jared staggers out of the chamber. His mouth is dry and he’s drenched in his own sweat. But he’s grinning, because Jensen didn’t betray him. Jensen is still hot and fucked up and crazy and he didn’t betray him.

“It is so awesome to hear your voice, beautiful. Wanna tell me where you disappeared to?”

“Got held up,” Jensen says. “Sorry.” He laughs, low like a sigh, and adds, “Why? You miss me?”

Jared grins even more broadly. “Always.”

~*~

It takes fifty-seven minutes for Jared to make it out. There are sirens going by the time he skids out into the snow. It’s freezing compared to the interior of the factory but Jared barely has time to register it. He races across the uneven ground, waiting to hear the clamour of pursuit.

“Message through to Sir,” Jensen says. “Extraction team’s in position.”

“Did I mention I decided you’re not going to prison?” Jared says. The sound of dogs barking rises behind him. Jared doesn’t waste time looking back. “Zoolander,” he says, when Jensen doesn’t answer. “Prison, not happening.”

“Yeah?” Jensen says.

“We’re gonna retire,” Jared says. He tumbles headfirst down a snow bank, rolls back onto his feet and carries on running. “We’re gonna retire and we’re gonna travel and we’re gonna fuck like bunnies.”

“Awesome. Good plan.”

“Extraction team’s in sight,” Jared says. “I’ll be with you in forty. Tell you all about it then, specially the fucking, ‘cause that one? That’s a real detailed plan.”

“I love you,” Jensen says. He sounds tired but happy.

Jared grins as he races towards the waiting helicopter. “Yeah, baby, I know you do.”

~*~

It only takes one thing for the glow of victory in Jared’s chest to disappear. That one thing is Jensen not being there when he gets back. Nobody else seems to be worrying about it, they’re all set on getting the hell out of Dodge, so Jared grabs Jeff’s arm and says, “Where’s Jensen?”

Jeff glances over at his agents, then back at Jared. “He’s gone.” And the way he says it suggests he thinks Jared should be satisfied with it as an answer.

“Gone where? What happened? Tell me what the hell’s going on!”

When Jared’s voice rises dangerously, Jeff looks over at his agents again, as if to make sure none of them are planning on getting involved. Then he makes a discontented noise in his throat. The SUV’s going somewhere, sure, but Jared’s willing to bet it’s not to wherever Jensen is.

“Look,” Jeff says, deep and grudging, “a lot of people are dead because of Jensen, but there are even more alive. I don’t wanna put him in prison if I can help it. He knows that. So I’m guessing he’s done the smart thing and taken off. If you want me to chase him down, I can. But it ends with him going to prison. That what you want?”

Jared doesn’t want that. Of course he doesn’t. But Jensen should be here.

“He said he’d be here,” Jared says. “He said he would.”

Jeff’s expression would be pitying if there weren’t so much irritation to it. “And the boy’s always played straight with you, hasn’t he?”

Jared drums his fingertips on the leather and shakes his head. “No. I’m going for him. He said he’d be here and I don’t think he was lying this time. He wasn’t. So, either you let me out or I get out my own way.”

For a moment, Jeff looks at Jared, and Jared bets he’s trying to see if Jared’s bluffing. This is Jensen at stake and Jared is so not bluffing. They let him out, or he takes the whole damn SUV off the road and gets out that way. He doesn’t mind which way they want to do it. But he’s going after Jensen.

Then Jeff shakes his head and leans forward in his seat to speak to the driver.

“Change of plans. We’re going to pick up Teague.”

~*~

Afterwards, Jared only remembers fragments, a list of details that don’t make sense until he puts them all together.

On the sixth floor of the building, Jensen’s floor, there’s a man’s body with a bullet hole between the eyes, inexpertly hidden in a storeroom. There are three droplets of blood on the floor further down the corridor.

They have to burn through the door to the comms. room because someone has sealed it from the inside.

Jensen is still at the terminal. There is a smudge of blood on the keyboard and the steady drip of a larger puddle forming beneath his chair. Jared remembers seeing the front of Jensen’s shirt black with blood as he rolls him from the chair, boneless and limp.

Later, Jared remembers trying to warm Jensen’s cold hands in his while Jeff swears and curses and yells for a medic. He remembers telling Jensen that Jared had done it for him, he’d intercepted the data and he’d come back alive, and it’s all over, so let’s go to Hawaii again, yeah?

He’s pretty sure he also remembers blacking Jeff’s eye when Jeff tried to get Jared away from the body - Jensen - long enough to get him on a stretcher.

The last thing Jared remembers before he comes back to himself is sitting in the helicopter beside Jeff. They’re going somewhere, he doesn’t know where. He’s watching Jeff receive a call and then Jeff heaves a breath and looks at one of his agents. He shakes his head, just once, and Jared falls away.

~*~

According to the surveillance footage, the guy caught Jensen on his way to the second terminal. They struggle, Jensen flinches, and then he gets the gun long enough to shoot the guy in the head. Wavering on his feet, Jensen stuffs the guy in the storeroom and moves on to the comms. room. He seals the door shut then fuses the keypad, locking himself inside. Only then does he put a hand to his belly, look down at the blood on his hand.

Then he goes to the computer, puts in the earpiece and sets up at the terminal.

He bleeds to death over the hour it takes to get Jared out of the factory.

“An agent’s only as effective as his handler,” Jeff says, after he allows Jared to see the video. “We should’a seen it coming. They must’a gone for him when they realised you were in the building. Damn it. I thought he’d made a run for it. I was so goddamn sure of it.”

He is sombre and tense around Jared, like he expects Jared to try to black his other eye and won’t stop him when he does. Jared isn’t capable of hating him just yet. Not yet. He can’t muster up any emotion right now. Give him time. There’s a whole lot of hatred and anger waiting to come out.

“He always said his job wasn’t done until I was out,” Jared says. He stares at the screen, watching as the door is burnt open and he and Jeff and the others come into the room and find Jensen. It makes him feel weirdly detached from reality, seeing himself cradling Jensen onscreen.

Jensen was dying just moments after they brought the double down between them. Briefest victory in history.

“You figured out who the double was yet?” Jared says.

“Yeah,” says Jeff. He pauses, rubs his beard like he’s thinking whether to tell Jared or not. Jared doesn’t really give a damn. Jensen’s dead. Jensen will never know. Jared only asked because this is what Jensen died for. “John Schneider. He turned in the eighties. We’ve got him in custody now. He hasn’t even bothered trying to deny it.”

Jared can’t even find it in himself to be surprised. It doesn’t matter. Not now. He gets to his feet and turns for the door.

“I know it don’t mean much, Jared, but,” Jeff says, “I’m sorry.”

Earlier, they took Jared down to the morgue to see Jensen. They had him on a slab and they’d folded the blanket back, and Jared has seen hundreds of corpses in his time but seeing Jensen, cold and laid out and never gonna open his eyes again, had made something close up and die in his chest.

Afterwards, Jared was given some time alone and he spent it carefully rinsing Jensen’s blood from his hands.

“You should have seen it coming,” Jared says. His hands clench to fists and his mouth is suddenly dry. He stares sightlessly at the door. He knows. He knows but he has to ask. “This is really happening, isn’t it? He’s really dead, isn’t he?”

Jeff sighs heavily and his chair creaks as he sits down.

“What do you want me to say, Jared? I wish to God it weren’t true. I can think of fifty things, right now, that I could’a done so that he wouldn’t be dead right now. And I’d have done ‘em for anyone else. But I didn’t do them for him.”

“Why not?” Jared’s jaw aches where his teeth are gritted together. The words come out barely coherent.

Jeff’s quiet for a long moment. Jared turns to look at him and sees Jeff has his head in his hands. Finally, Jeff’s dark gaze flickers up to him.

“Because I was too busy working out the contingency plans for when he double-crossed us.”

~*~

It’s sunny the day they bury Jensen. Not many people turn up. Jeff and a couple of his agents are there. Glover and O’Toole come; apparently Weatherly doesn’t find it any easier to forgive Jensen now he’s dead. Chad and Lauren come but it’s obvious they’re only there for Jared. They stand either side of him, wordlessly steadying him. Neither of them has made any attempt to talk to him about it and he’s grateful. Other than that, there’s only a handful of security officers who are keeping a tactful distance from the service.

They are lowering Jensen’s coffin into the ground while the minister speaks deliberately generic words, nothing that even starts to explain Jensen, when Jared registers Lauren’s drawn in breath.

“Jesus,” Chad says beside him.

Jared looks up. Walking across the cemetery towards them, trailed uncertainly by the security officers, are Mike and Tom. They’re dressed smartly and in black, and Jared can’t help feeling a certain relief at seeing them, at not being the only one present to actually be sorry Jensen’s gone. O’Toole and Glover exchange a look and then Glover gives Jeff a single nod.

Jeff flicks a finger at the security officers and they fall back. Mike and Tom come to stand on the other side of the open grave. After a moment, the minister continues with the service.

Once the coffin is down, Jared stoops to pick up a handful of earth. It is soft and powdery in his hand. He drops it in and the sound of it hitting the polished lid of the casket is almost completely lost in a breeze that rustles the fresh green leaves of the surrounding trees. When he straightens up, Mike is looking right at him.

Then Mike and Tom turn and start to leave. And Jared follows them.

Behind him, he hears Jeff call his name. He keeps on walking.

~*~

Mike pours three glasses of whiskey. He pushes Tom’s and Jared’s towards them, then raises his own in the air.

“To the most deceitful and manipulative little bastard I have ever loved,” he says.

Jared downs his in one go. His throat burns and he pushes his glass back to Mike. The bar they’re in is deserted. There is a block of sunshine through the glass door but the rest is in shadow. It makes Jared’s headache tolerable. The alcohol might not help his headache but it’ll hold back feeling anything for a little while yet.

So far, Tom has been silent. He frequently shoots glances at Jared, who ignores him. Jared doesn’t want to talk either, not even with them, the people who probably knew Jensen best. He wonders what Jensen would say if he could see them here, miserable and getting drunk together. Probably something snarky.

God, he wishes Jensen were here to snark at him. Instead, he’s on his own, in a bar with two terrorists who were at least partly responsible for driving Jensen even crazier than he already was, and there are probably government agencies looking for him right now, and Jared doesn’t give a damn.

He can’t get away from it, this hurt that just won’t stop coming.

A choked noise escapes his lips and he wrenches the bottle of whiskey away from Mike, forgoes the glass in favour of drinking straight from the bottle. He drinks and ignores the hot wetness on his cheeks and the way his sight blurs. He drinks until his hand is wobbling too much for him to hold the bottle steady.

When he slams the bottle back down, Tom is looking at him and Mike is apparently contemplating the shutters at the windows. Then he looks to Jared like he’s about to say something. But instead, he shrugs and spreads his hands wide in something like apology or helplessness.

“The good die young,” Mike says at last. “And Jenny was the best of us.”

He and Tom leave Jared alone with the bottle of whiskey.

~*~

On the eighteenth day that Jared ignores all phone calls, Jeff sends one of his agents. She’s small and dark-haired and Jared’s pretty sure her name is Cortese. She lets herself in to his apartment and lingers in the doorway to Jared’s bathroom, where Jared is sitting by the open toilet, waiting to finish vomiting up the rest of yesterday’s liquor.

He ignores her as easily as he ignored the phone calls.

After a second, she crosses to the sink and fills him a glass of water. Jared ignores that too. So she sets the glass down on the windowsill.

“I have no idea how much you’re hurting,” she says. “And I know that nothing I can say will make it better. But this isn’t what he’d want.”

“Yeah, like you fucking knew him.”

“I knew him a little,” she corrects him. “And I also know he allowed himself to bleed to death rather than go get help, just so you’d get out alive. This is really what you’re going to do with yourself now?”

Jared never asked whether Jensen was a whiskey-drinker, or whether he favoured something else, vodka maybe or just plain old beer. He doesn’t know if Jensen ever got stupidly drunk, whether it was a risk he couldn’t take just in case his tongue got too loose and he tripped himself up in one of his own lies. He thinks Jensen would probably have been an adorable drunk, all grouchy and befuddled. He should have got Jensen drunk, just one time.

“Jeff wants you to come back in,” Cortese says.

Jared shakes his head, regrets it when his stomach lurches up into his throat and he has to hunch over the bowl to vomit some more. He hasn’t been this drunk since he was a kid.

Cortese’s shadow moves across the bathroom’s tiled floor. There’s a rustle and she puts something beside the glass of water on the windowsill.

“Back when he was still working with you at ISA Jensen asked me to hold onto this. I was only supposed to give it to you if in the event of his death. Maybe it’ll help you.”

After she’s gone, Jared pulls himself to his feet and goes to the windowsill. He rinses his mouth out with the glass of water while he looks down at the envelope with his name on it - his name in Jensen’s writing. He takes the envelope back to the couch, sits down and looks at it some more.

He tears it open slowly and takes out the single sheet.

Jared,

If you’re reading this then I’m dead. Wow, I never thought I’d have a chance to use that line. You’ve got to admit, it’s an attention-grabber.

I hope I died doing something you can be proud of, or at least something that won’t make you hate me. I hope you understand now why I’ve done the things I have, but if you don’t, get in contact with Jeff Morgan. Ask Cohan, she’ll be able to put you in contact with him. He’ll explain it to you.

If you can’t believe anything else, believe that I love you. Nothing between you and me has been a lie. I wish I could be the person you think I am. I’m sorry that I’m not, I really am. Being loved by you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and it’s something I have done nothing to deserve. I’ve done bad things, Jared, and I can’t walk away from them. But if I could, I’d be walking straight to you.

This is stupid. I don’t know what else to say. I’m sitting here, trying to think how I’d explain it to you and all I keep coming up with is I love you and I’m sorry.

Guess that’s all I’ve got then: I love you and I’m sorry. Do good, Sasquatch.

JRA

~*~

The government doesn’t want Jared to retire. They’ve invested too much time and money into him. They give him a medal and offer him exciting opportunities. Jeff negotiates with agencies on Jared’s behalf and Jared would be grateful if he didn’t kind of want to rip Jeff’s head off and if he didn’t already have his own plan worked out.

His plan, however, requires time and preparation, and the appearance of obedience and willingness. So Jared goes along with it. Jared pretends. He’s good at it. He’s okay, ask anyone. They’ll all tell you that Jared’s grieving but he’s okay.

Five months after they put Jensen in the ground, three and a half months after Jared’s psych test pronounces him mentally stable and fit for work, they send him out to the desert to retrieve a kidnapped agent. Brock Kelly was little more than a kid and though Jared gets to him within hours of being given the assignment, Brock’s already been dead for at least a day when Jared arrives.

Jared tugs the scarf down from his mouth, grains of sand trickling to the filthy floor of the cell they’ve been keeping the kid in, and meets Brock’s blank stare.

“Yeah,” Jared says, and sets to work picking the locks to Brock’s cuffs. “I know. Sucks, don’t it?”

He carries Brock’s corpse back through the desert, trudging across the sand to his exit point and the waiting helicopter. He sits beside him on the flight back to the US and tries to figure out how old Brock was, what Jensen would have been doing at that age, just what grade crazy he was back then. Naturally, he doesn’t voice any of these thoughts during the debrief. If he did a crazy thing like that they’d send him back for more psych testing. And Jared doesn’t need more psych testing. He’s balanced, he’s functional and he is totally focused. He is totally focused on the plan.

Val finds him two days later. Jared lets her look him over speculatively before he speaks.

“You got what I asked for?” he says.

“I got it,” she says. She cocks her head at him. “You sure about this?”

Jared smiles and holds out his hand. “Yeah, Val. I’m sure.”

She hesitates then drops the tiny glass tube into his palm. “Anything within two metres drops dead, real fast and no takebacks.”

The tube is maybe a couple of millimetres in diameter and apparently empty. Jared knows better. He closes his fist around it carefully and feels warmth burn through him for the first time since Jensen died. There’s something to look forward to at last. A little of the weight he’s carrying lifts.

Val is still waiting for a response. Jared gives her another smile because there’s nothing else to say. She smiles back at him and Jared wonders if it looked as tragic on him as it does on her. She leans in and kisses his cheek.

“Look at you,” she says. “Kid Jaybird, all grown up and planning his very own little suicide mission.” For a second, her expression is tight and painful, and then she nods, drawing the guards back up. “I’ll take care of your dogs.”

“Thank you,” Jared says, but he’s already looking at the tube again.

~*~

It’s awkward but necessary. Jared puts the file down in front of Chad and waits. Chad glares at him and doesn’t touch the file.

“No,” Chad says. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Chad. C’mon. Please. I’d take it to Lauren but you know the system better.”

“What part are you having trouble understanding? I’m not fucking doing it! Even if he was fucking worth this, he wouldn’t want it! This isn’t gonna prove anything! Except that you’re an over-romantic jackass!”

Chad is upset. Jared sighs and cards his fingers through his hair. Everything aches. His jaw aches, there’s a pain in the back of his neck, his head won’t stop pounding. He’s been holding himself together so tight and so long, and he needs to rest.

He takes a deep breath and tries to speak calmly. “I know you don’t get it. I didn’t think you would. But I don’t care what Jensen would want. Jensen’s not here.” His voice has risen at some point and Jared has to pause, get himself back under control. “Please, Chad. I’d do it myself but I can’t.”

“I didn’t get into this to help my agents fucking kill themselves.” At last, Chad opens the file, but he only looks at the first page before he closes it again. “No. No, it’s fucking pointless. You don’t have to do this. Just let it fucking go. Move the fuck on, Jared. He’s dead and this won’t fucking bring him back!”

There’s a sudden, shocking silence, as if Chad suddenly realises he might have gone too far. But Jared’s not pissed. He should have known Chad wouldn’t go down without a fight. Jared, though, is definitely willing to take him on.

Jensen would say it was a lost cause and that the extent of Chad’s understanding goes so far as how to undo the clasp on a bra and no further. If Jensen were here.

“I finally kind of understand Jensen,” Jared says. “I mean, not totally but I know what it’s like to have to put something right-“

“Not like this,” Chad protests immediately.

“Yeah, Chad, exactly like this. This is how I’m doing it.”

Silence again. Jensen would know how to interpret the silence. Jensen would read all kinds of things into it and file each little detail away to be used at a later date. Jared tries to drag his mind away from Jensen, just long enough to get this figured out, but every single thought process leads back to him. And Jared would hate him for doing this to him if he didn’t love him so much.

“Please,” Jared says.

“Whatever,” Chad says. “I’ll get you in. You’re a motherfucking cunt for making me do this, but I’ll get you in.”

And everything’s in place.

~*~

On the last night, Jared phones his mom and dad. He’s been away so long they don’t recognise that he doesn’t sound right at all. He says he can’t talk for long, that his unit’s just got a few hours downtime and he wants to check in with them. He sits on the floor, cradling the phone between his shoulder and cheek, and listens to all their news. He asks to talk to Megan but she’s staying with a friend.

He guesses it might be just as well.

After he’s hung up, Jared takes out the yearbook photo of Jensen and puts it in front of himself. It feels crazy that it’s just about all the evidence he has of Jensen’s existence. All the time, all the drama, and all Jared’s left with is an old photo of a dorky looking kid he never knew.

His eyes stay trained on the photo as he slices his forearm open and works the tiny glass tube Val gave him under the skin.

~*~

“How do you suck so bad at reading maps?”

Jensen glares a little harder at the map. “I don’t suck at reading maps. Whoever is responsible for this-” He waves the cheap tourist handout in Jared’s face, “-sucks at drawing maps. Besides, it’s Hawaii, it’s not big enough to get lost on.”

“Congratulations then,” Jared says. “Because we, sweetheart, are lost. This whole ‘not knowing where we are’ thing? That’s called being lost. I don’t mind, y’understand, it’s kind of a new experience for me.”

“Okay,” Chad says. “You’re in.” He sounds faraway. “Listen, it’s not too late. You could just-“

“Thanks,” Jared says. He doesn’t falter as he takes the steps but he wonders inside of himself if there’s anything he can say to Chad to make this easier for him. There’s not. “Thanks,” he says again. “You’ve been awesome.”

Chad starts to say something but Jared tugs the earpiece free and drops it underfoot. It breaks without a sound.

Inside, Jared approaches the first line of security and trusts in Chad to have done his job. It’s a deceptively pleasant building. It looks like a well-kept barracks, surrounding by greenery. The high metal fences, that glint silver-white in the sunshine, and the number of guards are all that suggests what it really is.

They check on the computer system and Jared waits patiently. Then he’s waved through.

Jensen glares some more at the map, glares at their surroundings and then glares at the map again. Jared watches him, not even trying to fight grinning at him.

“I should be concerned really, I guess,” he says, as Jensen frowns, turns the map around in his hands again. “One of these days, Imma be on assignment and you’re gonna map-read me right into a pit of lava.”

Jensen sighs and doesn’t look up. “Exactly when was the last time any assignment of yours involved lava?”

“S’my point!” Jared says. “I’ll be in the middle of a regular assignment and you’ll manage to direct me right on into a huge-ass pit of lava.” He stops, cocks his head at him. “Am I putting ideas in your head now?”

Jensen decisively crumples the map into a ball and bounces it off Jared’s forehead. “Your momma puts ideas in my head.”

Under the scrutiny of the guards, Jared strips off and is searched. He watches the far wall while their hands move over him, right over the tiny glass tube hidden beneath his skin, doesn’t signal triumph when they move on without noticing it in even the slightest tic of a muscle. He raises his arms, spreads his legs, opens his mouth, tilts his head - follows every command quickly and without protest.

Jensen’s mouth opens under his immediately, kissing him back fiercely. Jared groans and spins Jensen around, barely catching the impulse to slam Jensen up against a tree in time. Instead, he makes do with gathering him close and kissing him back as hard as Jensen’s kissing him.

Jensen’s skin is heated by the sun, smooth where Jared’s fingertips slip below the waistband of his pants. Instantly, Jensen crowds closer, arching up into him. His head rolls back, lips still parted and Jared sets to kissing the throat he’s presented with instead.

“God,” Jensen says breathlessly. “You have no fucking idea how much I love you, do you?”

After Jared’s dressed again, they lead him across the courtyard. There are soldiers everywhere but Jared isn’t worried. Jared has his security escort and Jared’s name is on the file as being a permitted visitor: everything’s fine so far as they’re concerned.

It’s not fine yet but it’s real close. It gives Jared a serenity he hasn’t had in months. There are no complications, nothing to worry about, and anything that still hurts won’t be hurting much longer.

The brilliant sunshine of the courtyard is replaced by the cool shadows of the corridors of the inner complex. Jared’s footfall is barely audible alongside the heavier thud of the security escorts’ boots. The farther along the corridor they go, the more locked doors that are opened, Jared’s heartbeat starts to pick up. It’s anticipation, not fear.

And then, the final door. Jared wants to smile. He knows he can’t because the guards’ll know something’s up but, oh God, Jared’s made it, he’s made it through.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” the guard says.

The door opens. Jared breaks the skin in his arm unobtrusively and the tube falls, wet and hot, into his hand. He steps into the room. Behind the wire, Schneider looks up and sees him.

The door closes.

~*~

“I’m not lost,” Jared says.

Jensen raises an eyebrow at him, muzzy and indulgent as he comes down. He smoothes the sweat damp hair out of Jared’s eyes and says, “Okay. So where are you?”

“I’m with you,” Jared says. “I think it’s a good place to be.”

Epilogue

The story is this: In the same week that John Schneider has a heart attack and dies in prison, Jared is killed while on assignment.

Lauren shrugs and knows better than to ask questions. There was no assignment and there was no heart attack, and Chad Michael Murray is not too busy to return her calls, he’s avoiding her because he knows the truth and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Lauren accepts the story that is given without question, because that’s how this goes, and, most of all, because it should be over now.

Six weeks after Jared’s death, Lauren goes to a florist and buys twelve white roses. And then, because she thinks Jared wouldn’t like Jensen’s grave being left bare, she buys some lilies as well. She drives to the cemetery in the afternoon, when the sun is wintry and fading. The leaves are beginning to fall from the trees. She has been to this cemetery twice already this year. She wonders how many more times she will come, how many more funerals can be fitted in before the year ends.

When she is halfway to the two graves, she sees someone’s already there. She recognises Justin Hartley from his file, and when he shifts, she sees a woman on her knees at Jensen’s grave. It’s Danny Harris. They’re both wanted on charges of international terrorism. Keeping her eyes on them, Lauren reaches for her cellphone. She dials the number.

Then she sees the flowers they’ve laid on Jensen’s grave, but there are fresh yellow roses on Jared’s too. Hartley and Harris brought flowers for Jared, just like Lauren’s brought flowers for Jensen.

Maybe this is how it begins, she thinks. Or maybe this is how it ends.

Lauren hangs up before her call can be connected. She walks towards the graves.

~*~

Classified Information

It’s all very grey and blurry at first. Blurry, but painfully bright. The pleasant numbness recedes and Jensen slowly and uncomfortably becomes aware of his body. He blinks, tries to swallow and finds his mouth is sour and tastes like dust. He tries to move but something’s pinning him down. A little panicked, he struggles until he realises it’s just the heavy fatigue of his own limbs. There’s a needle in his arm. His skin looks pale and unhealthy.

He’s been conscious long enough now for his thought processes to be firing properly.

He’s undergoing medical treatment of some kind. So what happened? He reviews any additional injuries on his body that he’s aware of. His stomach feels tender. Stitches, probably. What’s the last thing he remembers?

Jared.

God, where’s Jared? Did he make it out alive? Yes. Yes, he did, Jensen remembers that. So why isn’t he here?

Jensen fights down panic again and concentrates on being proactive. There’s got to be someone around. This can’t be the only unstaffed medical facility in the world.

It’s more tiring than it should be, but Jensen manages to croak, “Hello? Hello, is anyone there?”

There’s no answer just long enough for Jensen to start considering whether he has the physical strength to get out of the bed. Then there’s movement outside the room, and the door opens. A woman comes in and Jensen thinks he recognises her as one of Jeff’s agents.

“Cortese,” he says. “Where am I?”

“I’m gonna get a doctor to look you over,” she says. And then she’s gone again.

Jensen is halfway to making his leg cooperate and damn well moving when Cortese is back with a doctor and a couple of nurses. Jensen spends the next twenty minutes answering the doctor’s questions instead of getting answers for any of his own. Cortese disappears long enough that Jensen figures she’s gone to call Jeff. He’s not entirely sure he’s got the energy to deal with Jeff.

From what the doctor says, Jensen gathers he almost died and that he’s been in a coma for something like weeks. He also picks up that the possibility of him waking up didn’t have great odds. Figures they’d write him off early. He wonders how many plans he’s ruined by regaining consciousness.

It’s another two hours before Jeff turns up. Jensen has tried to stay awake but his eyes are heavy and his body feels like it’s got lead weights attached to it. So he’s dozing fitfully when he hears Jeff’s voice.

“How is he?”

“Lucid,” Cortese answers. “I don’t know how much he remembers.”

“Has he asked about Jared?”

Jared, Jensen thinks. God, where is he? Why isn’t he here?

“Not yet.”

“Jared,” Jensen says. He forces his eyes open and Jeff’s face swims into focus. “Where is he?”

Instead of answering, Jeff pulls over a chair, legs shrieking against the floor. He sits down and leans forward to look Jensen in the eyes. Panic’s coming over Jensen again. Hard to breathe. Vision swims. No, no, stay focused. Get it together. Calm.

“Dead?” Jensen says. His voice is small, child-like.

“No,” Jeff says instantly, shaking his head. “He’s not dead.” He sighs heavily. “But, uh, you’re dead to him, Jensen. Listen, it’s my duty to do what’s best for the country, not for you and not for Jared. We couldn’t let Jared go. When it was all touch and go with you, we let him think you were dead. If he believed it, everyone else would. You’d be safe and he could move on.”

Dead. Jensen feels dead then. He feels as dead as Jared thinks he is.

“No,” he says. “You can’t-“

Jeff hasn’t stopped talking and he only makes it worse. It shouldn’t hurt so much being dead, should it?

“A decision had to be made and I made it. Put a wax mask of your face on a similar corpse in the morgue, took him down to see it while he was still in shock. He’s seen your body, Jensen. He went to your funeral. And now he’s going back on active duty. I’m sorry. I really am. But I had to do what I thought was best. Now,” - the tone of his voice says this is the good news, the news designed to placate Jensen - “I’ve set up a place in Canada for you. When you’re well enough, you’ll retire out there. There’s a pension set up for you. It’s all taken care of.”

“Not prison then,” Jensen grinds out.

Jeff’s quiet a moment. Jensen keeps his gaze on the soft, pale blue blankets on his bed.

“I know this seems like a shitty thing I’ve done to you. And it is. It really is. But you can’t tell me that you don’t understand. You’ve made decisions like this yourself, Jensen. You know it makes sense.”

It makes sense. It does. The cold, rational part of Jensen’s brain that never functioned too well where Jared was concerned understands perfectly. It’s all about the preservation of advantage. Jared is a valuable commodity. Jeff has ensured that the government can continue its use of him. It makes sense and Jensen can’t panic anymore because he understands. He’s dead.

But it’s Jared.

“No,” Jensen says. “I understand but I’m not going to let you do this. Jared loves me. I’m not gonna leave him miserable and alone and thinking I’m-“

“He’s okay,” Jeff says. “He’s doing okay, Jensen. I’m not saying he didn’t mourn but he’s functioning.”

Jensen wishes Jeff didn’t sound so damn sympathetic. He doesn’t want sympathy. He wants Jared. And he can’t have Jared. He’s dead to Jared and Jared doesn’t need him anyway. Jared is better off without him.

Jeff stands up to go, then pauses. “It was Schneider, by the way.”

Jensen blinks at the non sequitur. “What was?”

“The double. It was John Schneider.”

The question of the double, the whole reason Jensen had started on this crusade, hadn’t even occurred to him. He tests the new information against what he already knows, inserts the value into the equation, and he nods, satisfied.

“Yes,” he says. “Of course it was Schneider.”

It doesn’t change anything now. Chris is still dead. Jared’s still lost to him. And Mike and Tom probably wouldn’t even have cared in the first place.

“There’s one other thing,” Jeff says. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small box. Jensen knows what it is before he opens it. The medal is shiny and gold and it makes Jensen uncomfortable. “Services to your country,” Jeff explains. He’s about to put it down beside Jensen’s bed when Jensen stops him.

“No,” he says. “Take it to my mom. Tell her I got a medal. Been dead to her for years as it is, but take it to her. Tell her something good. Let her think it was worth it.”

Right now, Jensen doesn’t know if any of it was worth a damn.

~*~

It’s another three weeks before Jensen is released from the hospital and transferred up to Canada. The house they give him is in a remote location but not completely cut off. It’s large and comfortably furnished, and the bank details Jeff shows him are very generous.

If Jared had never been in the picture, Jensen would be very pleased with this result. The double was uncovered and Jensen survived and, instead of being punished for everything’s he done, the government has given him a pleasant retirement that he doesn’t deserve.

And Jared still thinks he’s dead.

Jensen stands in the spacious bathroom, catches his reflection in several different polished surfaces, and refuses to let his awkwardness show. He knows he’s coming across as blank and ungrateful but if he lets anything through, everything will come. He just wants them all to go so he can take this mask off and be as miserable as he feels.

“So,” Jeff is saying, “you need anything, you think at any point that you’ve been found, you let me know. Okay?”

“Yes,” Jensen says. There’s a tense silence where Jeff waits for something else from him. Something more. “Goodbye,” Jensen says.

The door clicks closed after they’re gone and Jensen stands in the empty house, in the middle of nowhere, and falls into the silence.

~*~

On the second month of his retirement, Jensen begins to consider the question of resource allocation. He has achieved his objective: the double has been uncovered and removed from ISA. Now, he has no objective and would be unable to achieve one if it even existed.

He is kept under close surveillance and his activities are monitored. Jeff was not comfortable allowing Jensen access to the internet, or even allowing him to have a computer of any kind, and apparently thought offering him a subscription to a daily newspaper was compromise enough.

Jensen is still considered a threat.

Jensen has no purpose and resources are being wasted on keeping him alive and neutralised. This house, the agents watching him, the time spent doing paperwork that must exist somewhere could all be put to better use. They could use the time and expense on keeping Jared alive. They’re doing this because it alleviates Jeff’s guilt, not because it makes any kind of sense.

On a very basic level, Jensen objects to being involved in something so sentimental and counter-productive.

It’s not self-pity. It’s the simple analysis of the figures. Jensen is unnecessary. Jensen is unable to ignore what his brain is telling him. There is a very logical course of action and though Jensen has always had a very strong survival instinct - superhumanly strong, unfortunately for some - he’s helpless when it comes to doing the sensible, smart thing.

They gave him a handgun a while ago, for protection, and Jensen keeps it in the drawer of his desk. Over the next three days, he takes the gun out of the drawer, sits and holds it, and then puts it away again.

On the fourth day, Jensen puts the muzzle in his mouth. At this angle, death would most likely be instantaneous and the chance of Jensen surviving in a vegetative state is very low indeed. Jared already thinks he is dead and Jensen might as well be and free up some much-needed resources. His finger is on the trigger when he hears someone enter the house. He barely has time to get the gun back into the drawer before Jeff is in the room.

There’s a strange moment where Jeff simply looks at Jensen’s hand on the drawer. Jensen does not let anything show on his face. Over the years, it’s become habit as much as a conscious decision. His default expression is nothing at all.

Then, as if nothing happened, Jeff says, “The Coalition seems to have bought your death. We don’t have much info to go on, but the rumours that are coming through say you’re in the clear. So long as you keep your head down, looks like you should be safe.”

“Thank you,” Jensen says. “That’s good to know.”

“Thought I should let you know,” Jeff says. He lingers just a moment, then leaves.

He’s back the next morning. This time, he’s brought a box of files with him. Jensen doesn’t allow his curiosity to show but he watches Jeff unpack the files onto the desk. There are a lot of them and the dates on them go back quite a way. Finally, Jeff dusts off his hands and looks back at Jensen, hovering in the doorway.

“You’ve got a talent for logistics. Figured it’d be a waste to have someone like you around and not put you to work. I want you to go through these records and figure out what went wrong in each of them. I want a report on them all. When you’re done, let me know and I’ll bring you the next box.”

After three days, Jeff brings the next box. Jensen finishes that one and Jeff brings him another. Once Jensen’s finished that one, Jeff asks him to review the plan that’s been put together for a future assignment. He seems pleased with Jensen’s work.

Jensen continues to take the gun from its drawer everyday and think about using it.

There is never anything of Jared in the files. There are occasional mentions of the Coalition but Jensen is only looking for Jared. He never finds him.

~*~

“It wouldn’t work,” Jensen says. “They’ve failed to consider the implications of the power loops here.” He points at the plans and Jeff looks down, then back up at him, eyebrow raised. “There’s a tertiary system in place. And my guess is that it’s supporting secondary security. Until the agent’s dealt with that, they’re not getting to the central hub. I still say Richardson’s profile suggests he’s open to bribery.”

Jeff nods slowly, looking back at the plans. “Okay. I’ll make sure we get that looked at.” He flips the folder shut and then looks back at Jensen thoughtfully. “How are you doing?”

Jensen doesn’t hesitate. “I’m fine.”

“You still miss Jared?”

The question is so totally stupid that Jensen doesn’t think he can answer it without making it very clear to Jeff just what a shit-for-brains asshole he is. Instead, he busies himself with moving on to the next file he needs to report back on.

“I’m asking because well, because there’s a chance that Jared isn’t doing as well as I hoped.”

Just for a second, Jensen’s hands go still. It’s an obvious lapse but he can’t help it. He can’t help it because it’s Jared and all his self-control drops away when it’s Jared. He swallows and opens the file, smoothes the already pristine sheets of paper a couple of times.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think Jared’s gonna do something pretty stupid in the next week or so. S’just what I’m hearing.”

“How stupid?” Jensen says.

Jeff catches his gaze and holds it. “Suicidally stupid. He’s going after Schneider and he don’t intend on coming back.”

It takes all of Jensen’s self-discipline not to fall apart right there and then. This is so much worse than anything before. Before, he always had a hand in it. He could get involved, turn the situation to his own advantage. Now, Jeff is expecting him to watch from the sidelines as Jared goes down.

Not going to happen. It’s not.

Jensen’s turned on people before. He can turn on Jeff just as easily. And just like that, his brain is gone, off making plans for getting out of the house, out of Canada, finding his way back to Jared.

But Jeff says, “I need to know that if he decided he wanted to move in here, with you, you’d be okay with that.”

Jensen’s gaze snaps to him. “What about not letting Jared retire?” he asks sharply.

Jeff shrugs. “I’d rather have the guy breathing and out of the business. If he’s made up his mind to go then can’t stop him. And I’m not saying for sure that it’s gonna happen like this. Maybe it’s gonna be enough for him just knowing you’re alive and he’ll be able to keep going with you safe in the background. But, I wanna give him the choice.” Jeff grins ruefully and adds, “I’ll probably get two black eyes and a broken arm. I’ll let you know when I’ve got any news.”

Jensen knows that Jeff is trying to prepare him for Jared choosing not to come. Realistically, Jensen knows that time has passed and that maybe in that time Jared will have realised what Jensen kept telling him: Jared doesn’t really know him. Well, he does, Jared knows Jensen way better than Jensen is comfortable with, but Jared doesn’t know all of him.

Jensen is aware that he can’t be an easy person to love.

But there is that chance. There is always that crazy, random decision that someone makes to ruin everything Jensen thinks he knows about a situation. Jared might make that decision. He might.

~*~

It’s one week since Jeff last came round. Jensen doesn’t know if this is a good sign or not. He’s sure that if there were news, Jeff would have told him by now, but he can’t understand why there hasn’t been any news. He wanders aimlessly around the house, distracted and unable to concentrate, and finally decides to do something mundane but busy, like changing the sheets on the bed.

So he strips off the covers and is halfway through getting the sheets off when Jeff’s car pulls up outside. Instantly, he abandons the bedding and launches himself down the stairs, thoroughly prepared to torture a status report out of Jeff if he has to.

But when he gets out the door, he realises Jeff hasn’t brought news. Jeff has brought Jared.

Jensen doesn’t know what to do. Jared is right there, still that weird combination of elegance and power, still incongruously sweet and deadly. Jared is staring at him, not even blinking. Jensen is suddenly aware that he must look a mess. His feet are bare and he’s sweaty from wrestling with the laundry.

“Anyone ever told you you’re real pretty for a dead guy?” Jared says. His voice only betrays a little unsteadiness, but it’s there.

It’s too much. Jensen is so pleased to see him, just seeing him, let alone the idea of having him stay. It’s way too much, too strong an emotion, and instinctively, Jensen is ruthlessly refusing to let it show on his face. Old habits die hard and they tell him that an emotion as overwhelming as the happiness he’s currently feeling is a risk, that he should stay blank, hang onto his composure. Don’t let them see what this is doing to him. Don’t let them see.

Jensen goes on standing there, his expression giving nothing away. Jeff frowns uneasily.

“Guess it’s not a pleasant surprise, huh, sweetheart?” Jared says. He sounds hurt, disappointed.

And Jensen suddenly realises that if he’s not honest now, there’s no point ever being honest. Because Jared will leave him and not come back.

Fighting every instinct he’s spent years honing, he says, “Jeff, go away. Jared’s here and you’re in the way. I’m gonna have a little breakdown and then I’m gonna do some really dirty things to Jared.”

As it turns out, as soon as Jared starts kissing him, Jensen doesn’t wait for Jeff to be gone before he starts on the dirty stuff.

~*~

“Dude, what’s with your bed?” Jared says later.

Jensen flops around in the mess of sheets they fucked on and surveys the half-made state of his bed.

“I was changing the sheets when you turned up.” He frowns slightly and tugs at the corner of the sheet. “These were the clean ones.”

“Whoops. Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry,” Jensen says.

“Still as perceptive as ever, huh? You’re right, I’m not sorry at all. To be honest, I’m thinking these sheets are gonna be a lot dirtier ‘fore I’m done, ‘cause I’m planning on spending the rest of the week finding new ways to fuck you.”

“Oh,” says Jensen. “Guess I’d better clear my calendar.”

They lie together on the floor in contented silence. Jensen’s body aches in all kinds of good ways and he’s blissed out and stupidly happy. Jared is reassuringly solid beneath him. Jensen listens to Jared breathe and he watches Jared’s fingertip circle the scar of the bullet wound on Jensen’s belly. The first time he saw it, he dropped to his knees and he kissed it, tender and reverent, and, thinking about it, Jensen begins to wonder how life’s been for Jared.

“So,” he says, “I know why I’m not dead. How about you?”

Jared’s quiet and Jensen tilts his face up to look at him. It must have been close, Jensen thinks.

“I got into a room with Schneider, all ready to do my thing,” Jared says. “Then Jeff turned up. Said he wanted a word. I was all for telling him I was busy but, y’know, doing it like that, well, I’d’a taken out too many people along with me and Schneider. So I thought, go along with it, then come back and finish Schneider off.”

Close then. Too close.

Jensen tries to think of a way of saying what he wants to say without actually saying it. Then he gives up and says it directly as it comes out of his brain.

“I’m happy you’re not dead.”

“Aww! I’m happy you’re not dead either,” Jared says, as happy as he is teasing. “Let’s not be dead together.” He’s quiet again but the silence is without that tortured quality. “So, what do two super secret agents do when they’re retired?”

“I’m thinking plenty of highly classified assignments in the bedroom. And in the shower. And on the kitchen counter.”

Jared makes a pleased noise. “Count me in. Just” He twists a little awkwardly so he can look Jensen in the eye. “Do you think you could try to be a little less, y’know, surprising in future?”

Jensen laughs, says, “Now where would be the fun in that?” and kisses him.

The End

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Epilogue