Interludes (In the Company of Shadows Book Three)

3.25 - Medley


Boyd spread the last Journalist Guild photocopied article out on the cleared-off living room table and sat back on the couch, his forearms resting on his knees and eyebrows drawn down as he surveyed the information before him. He skimmed the dates, trying to decide which to start looking through first. Inevitably, the same article that had been on his mind for days drew his attention once more.

The April 16, 2016 edition; the article on the fourth page, upper left corner. He skimmed the headline without consciously intending to: Police Corruption in Murder Investigation.

The initial disbelief, indignation and anger he'd felt when he'd first seen the article had dulled. Even so, he still felt something shift uncomfortably inside when he thought about it. He was just starting to reach for the article when an abrupt knock on the door nearly made him jump. He jerked his hand back and looked at the door, irritated with himself for being so skittish, and left the articles strewn about the table as he strode to the door.

He peered through the peephole and saw a familiar face half-turned away, clear blue eyes narrowed slightly against the cool air and grey jacket barely visible from Boyd's angle. Boyd unlocked and opened the door, stepping aside so Kassian could enter.

"Hey," Kassian said as he moved inside, tennis shoes making muffled sounds on the carpet. "It's getting cold already. I didn't notice until I walked over here."

"It is," Boyd agreed, shutting the door behind Kassian. "Want anything warm to drink?"

"Sure." Kassian shrugged off his thick grey jacket to reveal an indigo button down shirt.

"What do you want?" Boyd asked as he started to walk toward the kitchen. "I have tea, coffee..." He paused to think and added, "I may even have hot chocolate."

Kassian followed Boyd after tossing his jacket over the back of the couch. "Coffee's good."

Boyd nodded and pulled out the coffeemaker he'd bought a few months ago to use when Kassian was around. He placed a filter in the receptacle, and scooped some ground coffee beans out of a tin can he kept in the cabinet.

"I hear your vacation got cut short," Kassian said as he sat down at the table and stretched his legs out in front of him. He rolled his shoulders slightly and appeared to be trying to lose some of the stiffness from his chilled limbs. It wasn't surprising considering Fall had come with a vengeance. Although the summer had been surprisingly pleasant, October felt more like winter than anything else.

Boyd grimaced and swung the receptacle shut firmly. "Yeah," he said, moving over to the sink to get some water. He looked over at Kassian as the glass filled. "I was unhappy but there wasn't anything we could do about it."

Kassian nodded, not looking very surprised. "I hope the mission was important."

"It was," Boyd grudgingly allowed. He shut the faucet off and poured the water into the back of the coffeemaker. The power button made a quiet clicking noise when he flipped it on before heading toward the tea kettle. "It was a storm on a large base; they needed everyone. Emilio was there too."

There was a beat of silence as Kassian seemed to digest the information. He shifted in his seat, an odd look flicking across his face before it vanished completely. "Ah," he replied finally, resting one elbow on the table. "So, uh, how was the trip anyway?"

Boyd wondered what that look had been about but decided not to question it yet. He couldn't help keeping a subtle eye on Kassian, trying to get a feel for what, if anything, was going on with him.

"It was good," he said as he filled the tea kettle. He set it on the stove and turned the burner on, turning around and leaning against the counter. A small smile pulled at his lips as he thought about the vacation and amended, "Really good. Neither of us wanted to leave."

"What'd you do?" Kassian smirked slightly. "Besides the obvious."

Boyd smirked briefly and pulled the chair opposite of Kassian out from the table. He sat down and leaned forward, his forearms resting on the edge of the table. "We just... spent time together. We checked out the local town and woods. I got time to draw. He cooked for us. We trained and went biking. We had fun." The smile grew as he tilted his head. "Moving in together came up."

An appalled expression crossed Kassian's handsome face. "You're kidding."

Boyd laughed and leaned back in his chair. He was trying not to be so stupidly happy about the whole thing but even a few days later, when he thought back to the time at the cabin he had such a good feeling that it was difficult not to let it show. "I'm not. Why, what's wrong with that?"

Kassian shrugged, eyebrows rising. "I'm just a strong believer in personal space. You're already partners as well as lovers. You know all the same people, are constantly in contact with each other's families, go on the same missions..."

The tea kettle started to make bubbling noises, the precursor to when it would whistle to indicate it was boiling. Boyd stood, the chair making a faint scraping noise across the floor in the process. He turned off the stove and glanced at the coffeemaker; it needed a little more time to get enough coffee brewed for a cup.

As he moved, he considered what Kassian said. He pulled the teapot over and checked to make sure there were still some loose jasmine leaves in the strainer before he poured in the water. He set the kettle to the side and put the top on the teapot again, then turned toward Kassian with faintly furrowed eyebrows. His hands braced on the counter behind him. He supposed Kassian had a good point, and yet it didn't change the way he felt.

"I don't know what it would be ultimately be like," Boyd said honestly. "Maybe after awhile we'd get sick of each other and have to move apart. But we lived together for almost a year in Monterrey and I liked it even then, before we got our shit together and knew where the other was coming from. At this point, I want to spend my life with him. I want him over all the time anyway so if we lived together and I needed personal space, I wouldn't mind leaving for a bit."

He shrugged, trying to figure out how to explain what was going through his mind. "I feel really... comfortable and happy with him. And since that feeling is hard to come by in our line of work, I want to feel that way as long as I can."

Kassian still had the same appalled look on his face but he appeared to be taking pains to hide it. After a moment he just said, "Did he already ask about a housing switch?"

"We're not bothering to clear anything until the new admin rolls in. We'll bring it up once the new Marshal's settled and we have a feel for what she's like." Boyd turned to the teapot and pulled the strainer out, shaking it a bit to remove as much liquid as possible.

"I bet they'll be pissed to have to change your residency now that you finally are going to install their security system here," Kassian said. "They nagged me for months before I finally broke down and did it at my place. They say it's because it's more secure than anything in a civilian market but I think they just like knowing our codes."

Boyd smiled humorlessly and nodded as he poured himself a cup of tea. The coffee pot looked full enough so he poured Kassian a cup of coffee and brought both steaming mugs over to the table.

"Probably," he said ruefully, pulling the chair over and dropping into it again. "I'm not happy about having to give over the codes. I know they could have walked in any time before but it seems worse knowing I'll have a security system and they can compromise it whenever they damn well please. It's a complete lack of privacy."

Kassian took a long sip of his coffee before answering. His blue eyes closed appreciatively as he ingested the hot liquid. "They have to keep us off-compounders on a leash some kind of way. I wouldn't be surprised if there were secret cameras hidden all over our houses."

Boyd made a face at that. "I hope not. I have enough videos of things I didn't want recorded in my file as it is." He paused to take a sip of tea, the taste of jasmine a pleasant warmth against his tongue. "Maybe I'll ask Ryan or Jon to check on that sometime. I bet they could find out."

"Probably. Not that it'd matter even if they did. They wouldn't let you get away with disabling them if they do exist and what would you do? Cease behaving normally in your own home? They already know everything anyway, so it doesn't make a difference." Kassian said the last part bitterly and his eyebrows drew together over his eyes. His mouth was drawn down at the sides and a flash of irritation crossed his handsome face.

Boyd was silent a moment, watching Kassian. He set his mug down quietly, his fingers partially curled against the warmth of the ceramic. "Is everything okay with you?"

The other man laughed humorlessly and looked into his coffee cup. "You could say that my Senior Agent Trovosky persona hasn't been up to par lately."

"What happened?"

"Hmm." Kassian up and seemed to consider the question. He rubbed a hand along his jaw and seemed to stare into space for a brief moment. "You know Boyd, I'm not exactly sure what happened to me in the past couple of months."

"What's been going on?" Boyd asked. "Hsin said they've had you working with others."

The strange look passed Kassian's face again and he shifted in the seat. A large hand wrapped around the coffee mug. "Yeah. General Carhart wanted me... monitored."

"Did something happen that made him feel that way?"

There was a brief hesitation before Kassian glanced at Boyd again. He looked embarrassed. "I'd forgotten that I had a physical and I'd been drinking already that morning. They picked up on it and reported it to Carhart. Apparently a blood alcohol level of .05 at noon is something to be concerned about," he said with obvious self mocking.

Boyd watched Kassian without judgment and shook his head slightly. He wasn't that surprised by the information; Kassian had been drinking more for a few months as far as he'd known. But Kassian had never seemed to let it interfere with work before. The fact that it had showed how he'd started to be affected by it. Or it showed how pervasive Kassian's mood may have been. Boyd felt a little bad for having not been there as Kassian's friend during this period but then again, he hadn't heard about any troubles until Sin mentioned it.

"Carhart set you up with partners right after that?"

"Yes. Not on every assignment but for important ones, he gave me a babysitter." Kassian's lip curled and it was obvious he was still sore over it.

"For how long?"

"Until I'm up to par again, I guess."

Boyd was silent a moment as he considered that. "Has it changed anything?" he asked. "Or have you been drinking the same amount?"

"I dunno. Less sometimes. More others." Kassian gestured vaguely, not seeming very interested in talking too much about that aspect. "I've just been caring about things a lot less, not pushing myself as hard. I don't really know why."

"Did something happen that started all this?" Boyd asked curiously, drawing his eyebrows down. "I remember you were starting to drink more a few months ago, around when Bridget was murdered."

"I don't really know," Kassian responded although the stiff way he said it implied it wasn't entirely true. He picked up his mug and drained it of its contents.

Boyd paused. He wasn't used to this sort of reception from Kassian, who typically was open and blunt and didn't avoid many topics. Especially related to drinking, which had been one of the first things that Kassian had trusted him to know about.

"If you don't want to talk about it we don't have to," Boyd said after a moment. "I'm not trying to get in your business. I'm just concerned about you as a friend and want to help."

Kassian didn't immediately respond and the only sound in the kitchen for a stretch was the coffeemaker finally finishing its percolation and somebody's leaf blower whirring outside. He dragged his finger against a bead of dark coffee that had trickled down the side of the mug and finally sighed.

"It's not you. It's just that I've been dealing with a new development in my life and I don't understand it enough to really talk about it out loud yet?" His brow furrowed. "So until I have things figured out, I'd rather just leave it alone."

Boyd nodded easily and let the topic drop. He didn't know what it could be that was bothering Kassian so much but he wasn't about to press his friend for further information. He finished his tea and held a hand out for Kassian's mug. "Do you want more coffee?"

"Sure." Kassian looked around the kitchen as if he were trying to clear whatever thoughts had begun to cross his mind. His gaze fell on the packages for the security material and he stood up, moving over to examine it.

"You installed that yourself at your house, right?" Boyd asked as he headed toward the counter to refill Kassian's mug with coffee and his own with tea.

Kassian nodded. "Yeah. Are you using the cameras?"

"I don't know," Boyd replied with a shrug. He brought the coffee mug over to Kassian and held it out. "I was thinking about forgoing them. Do you use them?"

Another nod as Kassian's eyes began to sweep over the windows of the kitchen. "I think they're useful. I don't look at them religiously but I like having a record of what goes on in my property when I'm gone for long periods of time. If anyone is snooping around, I'll be able to see who they are and what they were doing."

"That's true." Boyd thought about the occasional feeling of being watched. "Actually, I think I will."

"Have you eaten?" Kassian asked, turning away from the packaging. He didn't seem in a rush to get right down to the task.

Boyd shook his head. "No. Want to order something?" A small smirk crossed his lips. "I'd offer to make you something but you know my aptitude in the kitchen too well."

"Annie's delivers now," Kassian replied automatically, wincing at the possibility of watching Boyd cook.

Boyd chuckled and set his mug of tea on the counter on his way to the phone. "I'll order the usual."

He called Annie's and was unsurprised when Pete answered. The man always seemed to be working there no matter what time Boyd had contact with the place. He ordered a large pepperoni thin crust pizza, with a side of garlic knots and two sodas. Pete informed him in his typically unimpressed voice that they should expect a knock on the door in about thirty minutes.

"Half an hour," he informed Kassian when he hung up.

"Nice. I'm starved." Kassian had reseated himself at the table while Boyd called. He pulled a folded up mass of envelopes out of his back pocket and spread them across the table as he seemed to sort it out.

"Got my mail on the way out," he explained.

Boyd raised an eyebrow and dropped into the seat across the table from Kassian. "What the hell, you get a lot." He reached out and picked up a white envelope with red letters on the side proclaiming that a deadline was looming for special savings. "Anything interesting?"

"Well," Kassian said with a raised brow as he pushed a stack of what appeared to be bills to the side. "I got a letter from my ex-wife and junk mail advertising a new kind of sex enhancement drug."

He smirked and stood up, sticking that one to Boyd's refrigerator with a magnet. "I'll leave that one for you and Vega."

Boyd laughed. "Thanks," he drawled. "Nice to know you think we need it."

"Everyone can use a boost after back-to-back missions," Kassian replied wisely.

Boyd smirked and shook his head to himself. He dropped the envelope he'd been holding and crossed his arms against each other as he leaned against the edge of the table. "So what did Kelly have to say?" he asked curiously.

"Don't know. Didn't read it," Kassian replied with a tone of disinterest. "Want to do the honors?"

"Sure," Boyd said, holding his hand out for the envelope. Kassian handed it over and it was quickly evident that it was probably a greeting card of some sort, judging by the dimensions of the envelope. Boyd opened it, seeing a graphic design on front, and flipped it open. "It's a birthday card. It says 'Happy Birthday and best wishes.' She wrote a note underneath it. 'Kassian, I'm still thinking of you and I hope you're doing well. Kelly.'"

Boyd raised his eyebrows and looked up at Kassian. Not only had he been unaware that Kassian's birthday was coming up, it also was mildly surprising to him that she'd bothered to send a card judging by the way Kassian had described his ex-wife. Then again, Kassian's sisters had seemed to see her in a different light.

"It's your birthday?"

"In a couple of days," Kassian replied, looking distracted. He leaned forward and grabbed the card, giving it a quick once over. "Huh."

"She must not usually send birthday cards," Boyd surmised, watching Kassian.

"She doesn't. It's pretty strange that she did this year." Kassian flipped the card over and looked at the cover before glancing at the envelope it came in.

"Have you seen her recently?"

Kassian shook his head, blond eyebrows still drawn together as he puzzled over the card. "No. I know she keeps in contact with Leighton, though..."

Boyd considered that and wondered whether Leighton had noticed anything in her brother lately that had made her concerned. He wondered if it was possible that information had somehow made its way to Kelly and whether she had thought it would be a good idea to let Kassian know people were still thinking about him. It still seemed curious but Boyd shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

"Do you plan to call her?"

A low scoff escaped Kassian's throat before he answered with an emphasized, "No."

"Maybe Leighton will know," Boyd said offhandedly and glanced in distraction at the tea he'd left sitting on the counter. He moved his chair back and stretched, grabbing the mug by the handle and bringing it back to the table. "Or it may simply remain a mystery."

"Maybe..." Kassian still looked thoughtful but he set the card on the table with the bills and began sorting the rest of the junk.

They fell into mutual silence for a few minutes as Boyd idly sifted through the mail Kassian put to the side that Boyd guessed was the junk pile. There were a lot of useless items; credit companies, promises of free vacations to places that would cost far more than the front of the envelope declared...

He opened one of the vacation envelopes out of curiosity and skimmed the letter, which promised a whole lot for information they claimed was necessary but unimportant. Of course, that same information could be used to compromise a person's identity, get them stuck in some sort of scam, or create even more annoyance by being added to lists for other junk mail.

The pictures they included were certainly enticing, though. One in particular caught his attention of a woman on the beach, the water cerulean blue behind her and the sun a bright red sphere in the background slowly disappearing over the horizon. Boyd wondered whether that had been digitally altered or if there really was such a place in the world where such pristine views still existed.

As he scanned the photo, the woman's brilliantly green eyes reminded him of Sin, which in turn reminded him that Sin had mentioned Kassian had been on a mission with Emilio recently. That made him wonder how that had went; Kassian tended to be the alpha and didn't like others to take charge, yet Emilio wasn't exactly the sort to let everything be decided for him either.

"How was working with Emilio, by the way?" Boyd asked curiously, the photo tilting down in his hand as he looked up at his friend.

Kassian looked at him briefly before appearing to shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Um. Fine."

Boyd paused, noting the reaction, and smirked in amusement. "What? Did he annoy the hell out of you?"

"No..." Kassian trailed off and studied what appeared to be a phone bill carefully. "I wouldn't say that."

Boyd raised his eyebrows slightly and set the picture on the table. He crossed his arms and leaned against the table. "Now you have me intrigued. What would you say instead?"

Kassian spent a large amount of time closely examining the same piece of mail before setting it aside. His face was now studiously blank and he gave a rolling shrug before raising his eyebrows slightly. "Well. We fucked."

Boyd's eyebrows twitched higher. "Really. During the mission?"

"Yes."

Boyd wasn't particularly surprised to hear that it had happened given what he knew of Kassian and Emilio. Kassian was certainly attractive enough to potentially get Emilio's interest. And Kassian had said before how attractive he thought Sin was. And since Sin and Emilio looked so similar...

However, it wasn't necessarily like Kassian to have sex on a mission. As far as Boyd understood, the time they'd almost messed around on the Canada mission had been quite atypical. And Emilio took missions surprisingly seriously given his personality. In addition, Kassian's reaction was of mild interest, since he was typically so offhanded about his casual partners.

"Is that what bothers you about it?"

Kassian stared at him in relative confusion. "What? No. What are you talking about?"

"You seem unusually uncomfortable for just having sex with someone," Boyd replied with a shrug. "I was wondering why."

"Ah."

The older agent fiddled with the envelopes on the table some more and once again waited an abnormal amount of time to answer the question. It was the first time Boyd had seen Kassian fidget or avoid talking about one of his many sexual encounters. Kassian seemed just as aware of it as Boyd did, though, and a sigh escaped his mouth.

"Well, see, it was just a little different. That's all," he said finally, looking at Boyd from under his eyebrows.

Boyd drew his eyebrows down. Surely sex with Emilio couldn't be that dramatic a departure from sex with other people. "Different how?"

The chair screeched across the linoleum as Kassian pushed it back and stood, walking to the coffee pot to refill the cup he'd drained in one gulp. He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders and turned his back to Boyd as he poured.

"Different entirely," he said with an overly casual tone. "For starters, he has the art of seduction down to a science. And it isn't Thierry seduction or anything you'd expect. It was obvious that he tailors his approach for whoever is currently in his sights."

"What did he do for you?" Boyd asked curiously. The intrigue he'd felt occasionally about Emilio's playboy reputation resurfaced now that he was hearing about it from someone he knew well rather than the rumors that were most likely exaggerated by others.

Kassian turned back to Boyd and leaned against the counter. He had both hands around his cup and rolled it precariously between his palms but none of the hot liquid spilled out.

"Honestly," he said after awhile, his brow furrowing as he apparently thought back to the mission. "Honestly, I'm not sure if he'd really intended on it from the start. I'm not even sure if he really was all that attracted to me for being... me." Kassian said the last part slowly, nearly cautiously.

Boyd watched Kassian thoughtfully. "As in, maybe you reminded him of someone?"

"Yes... maybe," Kassian replied in the same cautious tone. He narrowed his eyes slightly and it was clear that he was hesitant to say outright whatever he was implying. The topic appeared to make him uncomfortable but after another hesitation, he shook his head and pushed on.

"Look, it's odd to say but do you think he ever had his eyes set on General Carhart?"

Boyd couldn't help letting out a short laugh. "It's not odd. He does. In some ways, you and Carhart are similar enough that I could see that happening but what gave you the impression that was what was happening?"

A look of relief crossed Kassian's face but just as quickly morphed into one of alarm. "They've never fucked around, have they? I mean in theory that would be an arousing mental image but in reality, I don't want to think about a world where that would go down."

Boyd considered the question as he leaned back in his chair. He absently shifted the mug back and forth in hands and tilted his head. "As far as I know, they never fucked around here."

That earned him a blank look. "Here?"

"There was a deep undercover mission years back at Brighton." Boyd took a drink of tea and set the mug down again with a shrug. "Something happened there, possibly as part of their cover story. Apparently Carhart was never interested in it continuing outside of that mission. And Emilio was."

"Ahh." A look of understanding crossed Kassian's face and he set his own cup down before crossing his arms over his chest. "That sounds more reasonable. Sorry but I can't picture General Carhart allowing himself to be seduced, especially by someone who's known for seducing."

"I can't either, honestly," Boyd replied with a subtle shake of his head.

There was another pause before Kassian shook his head slightly. "In any case, it was just the way he acted. At first he was all brooding and pissed off. I figured it'd be a miserable mission since there was a night of recon involved and I wasn't in any kind of great mood either. I actually thought we'd end up arguing like his son and I do," Kassian admitted.

"But of course I couldn't take my eyes off the bastard and he noticed. So that's when it all started. Him noticing me back. And pointing out that I remind him of the way 'Zachary' used to be with him on missions."

"Ah," Boyd said in understanding. He couldn't help thinking that Emilio wasn't exactly subtle with that reference since the interaction with Kassian later led to sex. "Was he as smooth as rumors imply? He's come onto me a few times but it's always been obvious and half a joke. I'm curious what he'd be like if he was actually serious."

Kassian grinned wryly. "I wasn't prepared for it, to tell you the truth. By the way you'd described him, he has a tendency to act a fool but there was none of that on the mission. He was very intense the whole time, even before he noticed that I existed in a manner other than being his charge to be babysat. And after, he was just fucking hot without trying to be. His eyes-- his voice."

There was a pause and Kassian cleared his throat, unfolding his arms and grabbing his coffee again. "He was just... I can't explain it. But he got me to do things I would not normally do."

Boyd raised his eyebrows slightly, growing more intrigued. "Like what?"

"Like... things." Kassian gave Boyd a significant look. "That I wouldn't normally do."

From Boyd's experience, Kassian's main compunction was that in essence he wouldn't do anything that was traditionally gay. He'd fucked Boyd and liked receiving blowjobs but he'd refused to give one in return. And he wouldn't be on the receiving end of anal sex. It had taken a lot of convincing for Kassian to let Boyd even finger him and despite the fact that he had seemed to like it, in the end that had never gone anywhere.

The significance of the situation was not lost on Boyd, to the point that for the first time surprise made it to his face. "He fucked you?"

"Yeah," Kassian said, looking a mixture of embarrassed and sheepish. "He kind of talked me into it. I don't think he would have let me fuck him just out of principle of him being so dead set on convincing me. I think I ended up just being some kind of... challenge."

There was a definite bitter quality about the last word but Kassian took another hearty gulp of coffee before Boyd could analyze his expression.

Boyd watched Kassian for a moment. Emilio certainly had an impressive set of skills if he'd managed to talk Kassian into that. Yet it wasn't something Boyd could exactly admire since Kassian didn't seem comfortable about the whole thing. "I can't tell whether you liked it or regret it."

"I liked it," Kassian said automatically. "I more than liked it. In fact, embarrassingly enough, in the couple of weeks immediately after the fact I became kind of obsessed with the little bastard. Of course he forgot I existed as soon as the mission was over though."

"Obsessed how?"

Kassian frowned but although he was clearly uncomfortable with admitting it, he didn't appear to plan to stop confiding in Boyd. "I can't explain it. I don't even really get it. It's gone now after not seeing him in weeks but right after the mission I was preoccupied with thoughts of him and what happened. I wanted it to happen again. I actually went to the compound for the sole purpose of seeing if he'd be around twice but the time I actually ran into him, he acted like he barely knew who I was."

The frown turned into a scowl and Kassian rolled his eyes. "There's something about that guy that fucking gets people all wrapped up around his finger. When he has his sights set on you and he starts making his moves, all reason is out the damn door."

"I know," Boyd said, eyes narrowing. "I don't understand it. I hated him before I met him because of what I thought he'd done to Hsin. I love Hsin; I'll always side with him. Yet when I met Emilio it was hard to hate him the way I had before. He's come onto me a few times, even twice bringing up a ridiculous idea of a threesome with Hsin--"

He shook his head to himself and made a face. "You'd think I'd dismiss it entirely like I would with anyone else but something about that damn man makes the question stick in the back of my head. I tell myself I'm only intrigued because he looks so much like Hsin but who knows, maybe it's just his charm."

"It's got to be," Kassian muttered, looking irritated by it. "Bastard."

Boyd smirked but before he could reply, the doorbell rang. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was about time for their food to arrive.

When he went to the front door, he found a pimply-faced teenager standing there dutifully holding their order. He barely looked old enough to drive and when Boyd absently gave him quite a generous tip rather than bother asking for change, the teen's eyes lit up even though he otherwise didn't change his disaffected expression. He probably didn't want to be too obvious about it in case Boyd changed his mind. The food had barely been passed over to Boyd before the delivery guy half-jogged back to his car with the money clutched in his hand.

"Hey Kass," Boyd called out as he balanced the bag of garlic knots and two soda cans on top of the pizza box. He shut the door behind him with his foot. "Want to eat in there or out here?"

The other man entered the living room. "Here's fine."

Kassian started towards the couch and stopped when he noticed the papers spread out over the coffee table and cushions. "Can I disturb any of this stuff?"

"Push it to the side for now," Boyd replied as he headed toward the coffee table. "I can put it back in order later."

There was some rustling as Kassian began moving the papers around so that he could sit on the couch and so Boyd could set the pizza down.

"What is this stuff?"

"Copies of Journalist Guild articles." Boyd glanced down, his gaze inevitably straying to the article he'd been staring at when Kassian arrived. His eyes narrowed a hint before the article was covered by others and set to the side. He frowned briefly to himself and looked away, smoothing out his expression as he set the order on the now-cleared table.

Kassian arched a brow. "Is it for a mission?"

"No." Boyd set the garlic knots and soda cans on the table, sliding one can over for Kassian. He reconsidered his answer as he opened the pizza box, the aroma surrounding them and made him even hungrier. "Well. Not one for the Agency. It's more of a personal mission."

"How so?" The question was muffled as Kassian bit into a large slice of pizza. He settled into the sofa comfortably and watched Boyd.

There was a pause as Boyd grabbed a slice of pizza and shifted so he could see Kassian better. He considered for a moment whether he should bring this up to Kassian but he knew he could trust him and it may be good to know if Kassian had any additional information.

"I'm looking into the Reapers," Boyd explained. "One of the possible leads brought me to the Journalist Guild so I've started looking through their issues."

"The Reapers," Kassian repeated slowly, brows lowering over his eyes. "Why?"

Boyd shrugged somewhat uncomfortably and took a moment to chew a bite of pizza. His gaze traveled the room absently, moving past the indentations in the wall he had never fully fixed after the night Sin had nearly killed them. He leaned forward, grabbed his soda and opened it.

"You remember what Hsin was like in Monterrey." Although it was a statement there was a hint of a question in the inflection. "When we saved him."

"Of course." Kassian rested one of his ankles on the opposite knee. "You think the Reapers had something to do with his amazing recovery?"

Boyd nodded. "I always thought it was strange how quickly he recovered but it wasn't only that. Since then, sometimes he seems even stronger and faster than he was before. He's always been capable of the improbable but now there are times when what he does seems impossible. I probably wouldn't have thought anything about it but Owen mentioned the Reapers one day. I'd never heard of them. He started talking about how they supposedly operate out of that red brick lab building by bunker three."

He looked significantly at Kassian. "Hsin said that's the building he woke up in after his coma. And later even Emilio said he knew something was off with Hsin the day they met again when Emilio returned."

"You mean during the infamous battle of the two Vegas outside of Carhart's office? People still talk about that."

Boyd nodded again. "Hsin threw Emilio across the hall."

There was a moment of silence as Kassian chewed slowly. It was punctuated finally by a swallow as Kassian said, "I thought perhaps that part was exaggerated but I can't say I'm surprised."

Boyd finished the slice of pizza and wiped his hands on a napkin. "On a mission Emilio, Hsin and I were on a month ago, Hsin ripped the counter off a bar with his bare hands and threw it like it weighed nothing." He frowned, pausing before he took a drink of soda. "I watched the metal twist and snap."

This time Kassian froze in mid motion and his eyes caught Boyd's. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately." Boyd watched Kassian seriously. "And on our trip at the cabin, he rode his bike off a small cliff, hit the ground hard and rolled down a hill. He walked away with a minor sprained ankle and a twinge in his back, neither of which seemed to bother him that much."

"If you think about it, he's escaped much more insane situations than that. Even before Monterrey, he had a way of doing a storm single-handed and coming out mostly unscathed. No one ever thought it was normal but..." Kassian trailed off for a moment and frowned. "People always talk about the Reapers but... do you really believe it?"

"I don't know what I believe," Boyd said honestly. "That's why I wanted more information on them." He grabbed another piece of pizza from the box. "Some of the theories about them seem ludicrous but some could be plausible. And when I take into account all these other coincidences... Hsin should have died after Monterrey but he recovered fully, which was unusual even for him. He woke up in that building. After that he started having his breakdowns. Seeing things, hearing things... And there are other things too. His sense of hearing is uncanny sometimes and I don't remember that being the case when we met, although it's possible I didn't notice."

Kassian rubbed his chin as he seemed to mull this all over. It wasn't clear what he thought about it but he didn't appear to be immediately brushing it off, either. "You know, there are urban legends on the street about people being illegally modified. Having their DNA spliced or tampered with. No one ever really buys into it because it would be such an expensive procedure and only the elite would be able to do it but I always thought there was some merit in the idea. If anyone would cash in on a reality of that, it would be the Agency."

"Genetic modification..." Boyd leaned back in the couch. He took a bite of pizza and chewed, considering that. He hadn't thought of it in those specific terms yet. "Do you think that could successfully be done after someone's born and not only during embryonic development?"

"Sure. I mean they've been doing it for years with gene therapy and there's always been that kind of question of when will someone do the experimentation on humans to see if they can take it all a step farther." Kassian shrugged.

Boyd made a 'hmm' noise and balanced the open soda can on his knee. "Owen said there's a theory that the Reapers were at Johnson's before the Agency. That Johnson's was doing drug experimentations and the government chose them as the cover partially because of that. It's possible Johnson's was already working on genetic modification and the Agency provided a good chance to try out concepts like super soldier programs."

"That kind of sounds like a stretch. Do you buy it?"

"Not all of it," Boyd said with a shrug. "But I don't disbelieve the concept. I think it's possible the Agency has ulterior motives and additional agendas we don't know about. The only person I know who's shown any potential signs of anything like what they say is Hsin."

"Mmm," Kassian grunted noncommittally. "What's this got to do with the Journalist Guild?"

"One of the people I talked to has a whole library at home and thought he remembered a mention of something similar to the Reapers in some periodicals. Maybe the urban legend you mentioned. He wanted to show me other books but I got curious about the periodicals and found out he has almost every issue published of the Journalist Guild since they started twenty years ago. I planned to start by checking for anything to do with Johnson's compound or anything that sounds like the Agency to me."

Boyd frowned faintly to himself. "When I was there I found an article that mentioned me, though, and I got sidetracked looking into the Guild in general."

This time both of Kassian's eyebrows shot up and he paused in mid-bite. "Why the hell were you in a JG article?"

Boyd leaned forward, setting the can and half-eaten slice of pizza on the table. He half-crouched so he could reach the pile of articles and sifted through them until he found the one he wanted.

"Because of Lou." He tossed the article on the couch next to Kassian.

There was a period of silence as Kassian abandoned his half-eaten slice and read the article. He appeared to only skim it at first but then he went over it again to read it more carefully. Once finished, he whistled softly under his breath.

"I remember hearing about this, now that I'm reading this," he admitted with a nod. "Kelly was all freaked out that such a brutal murder happened so close to the house."

"She didn't need to worry," Boyd said as he settled back against the couch. "Jared targeted Lou for beating him in a fight. He was going to kill me too but a woman interrupted it."

Shaking his head, Kassian set the article back on top of the pile. "The police got away with a lot of shit back then. The whole force became so damn corrupt after the war. Things are better now but I doubt any of the things they did got rectified."

"And the ones who are good enough to go out of their way now get put on hit lists for their trouble," Boyd said bitterly.

That comment earned him a peculiar look from Kassian but he didn't comment or ask. Instead he changed the topic back to their original discussion. "I'm still confused as to what you thought you'd find in the papers about the Reapers."

"Well, ideally I'd do all my research in-house but I get the feeling that wouldn't be a good idea." A wry look crossed Boyd's face. "I have access to some old Agency books and manuals I'll be looking into, back when everything wasn't digitized. That's so far my best lead for trying to find anything on what was happening around the Agency's origin. But even though these manuals were supposed to be destroyed so it's possible there's sensitive data in them, I still don't trust any documents made by the Agency to accurately record everything."

He looked over at the pile of articles. "That's where the Guild comes in. I'd heard they were relatively neutral but after seeing that article about Lou, I believe it. As far as I can tell, all they did was tell the truth; and not only that, they went out of their way to research the situation. I'm hoping I'll find some 'truth' they've uncovered about experimentations, Johnson's, the Agency..." He shook his head. "Anything that pertains. I'll start building a timeline and see what I discover."

Kassian didn't look altogether convinced about what Boyd's efforts would get him but he didn't voice his doubts out loud. "What does Sin think about you looking into this?"

Boyd shifted uncomfortably and looked away. "He doesn't know. When Emilio and I brought up the Reapers after that mission with the bar, he told us to drop it."

"Why are you investigating this at all if he doesn't want you to?"

Boyd made a face. He leaned forward to grab his half-eaten slice of pizza and took a moment to chew a bite. "Because I think it's important," he said after a moment. "And because I know Hsin. He doesn't want to think about the possibility that it's true because he's tired of being different. He'll ignore it until it's potentially too late. But I'm looking at it as a way to try to help him."

"Even if you find out it's true, how could you help him?" Kassian asked reasonably. "You can't stop them from doing whatever they're doing and even if you could, if they have turned him into Super Agent, do you really think that's that bad?"

"It is if he didn't ask for it," Boyd said firmly and without hesitation. "If because of that they use him more. Hurt him more."

He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. "If I'm right, they decided to use him as their guinea pig, probably for years now. They took someone who was already messed up and made it worse. They made him too fast, too strong; inhuman. They created a persona of a monster for him that alienated him from everyone and made him be their own pet assassin. If I'm right, their actions aided in years of abuse he's been suffering because they thought they could play God."

"Yes," Kassian said patiently. "But what do you think you can do about that? Even if you found out tomorrow, it's not going to stop them."

"I know." Boyd's expression set seriously. "Believe me, I'm well aware of how powerless I am in this organization and that it will get even worse with the new regime. I know I could be spending hours researching something that will be meaningless in the end."

He grimaced, leaning back into the couch and running a hand through his hair. "But I can't ignore this. I can't hear this information, know they may be doing something to him, and turn a blind eye. I have to research this. I want to know what exactly, if anything, they did to him. I want to know what help he may need; what I'll realistically be able to do to support him. I want to know what I'm working with so if there's anything at all I can do, I'm ready this time."

Kassian didn't say anything at first. He crumpled a paper napkin in his hands and looked thoughtful about the entire thing. In the end he just shrugged. "Well. I guess you'll see."

Boyd nodded but didn't answer as he finished the slice of pizza. There really wasn't anything to do but wait and see what came up in the research. He finished off the can of soda and stood, grabbing some of the garbage off the coffee table.

"I'm going to go unpack the system," he said, ready to be off the subject of experimentation.

He brought the boxes out of the kitchen into the living room while Kassian cleaned up. Kassian put the Journalist Guild articles safely on a side table and stuck the leftover pizza in the fridge. By the time Kassian finished, Boyd had unpacked the boxes and spread the components across the living room table.

There was a metal box with a bunch of wires inside that functioned as the main boards and battery supply, several LCD keypads to input the codes, glass break sensors that looked like little round cameras, the cameras and the wiring to go with, and magnetic sensors for the windows and doors.

Although directions were included, the two agents set them to the side at first. Kassian had installed the alarm system before so at first it didn't seem necessary. Luckily, the system was wireless so the amount of wiring through existing walls was next to nothing, although they knew they would still have to drill through the wall for the control panel to connect to an outlet.

One of the disadvantages of getting the wireless rather than wired was a lot of it was dependent on batteries, which Boyd knew ahead of time since he'd done research. The Agency had developed a hybrid system, however, which was much more self-sustaining than the brand name systems that could be bought in a store.

While Kassian placed the components in like piles, Boyd went through his house planning where to place sensors, keypads, and other components. They also ended up in a discussion about the placement of the cameras, how many he should use, and where the information should be routed. Boyd's father's computer had died long ago and he'd never gotten it fixed, and although he had gotten a laptop after awhile it wasn't as powerful as a desktop would have been.

They ended up in an argument over where the cameras should be placed, the angle of them, and whether it made sense to route the feedback to his laptop or whether he should buy something specifically for that task that he could keep in a more protected area. For as much as they were friends, their mutual stubbornness hadn't changed whether or not they were on an official Agency mission.

It took several hours, a few glances at the directions, and another break to finish off the cold pizza but in the end they finally got the security system up and running. Boyd was feeling relieved just to get the project over with and he suspected Kassian felt the same.

Kassian went outside to walk in and out of the camera views while Boyd checked his laptop to make sure it was properly refreshing and he knew how to use the program to record, bookmark, and watch live. Once that was confirmed they went half by memory as they put the control panel into test mode to check whether all the sensors worked. Boyd walked around the house, opening and closing windows and doors while the alarm's siren periodically went off. Kassian kept shutting the siren off with the code Boyd had designated and Boyd would move on to the next test.

It took them several minutes to test everything to the extent that they were both satisfied. They were in the process of cleaning up the mess that was left behind when Boyd turned to ask Kassian something and found Jon standing by the hallway.

Boyd was so thoroughly startled that he almost dropped what he was holding. "What the hell?" he blurted.

Jon's scarred face was as calm as ever as he shrugged broad shoulders that were enveloped by a thick black cable knit sweater and nothing more. "You respond that way to me quite often, Agent Beaulieu."

Kassian stared at Jon. "What the hell are you doing here, Logan?"

"What a chilly reception," Jon commented blandly, his gaze focusing on Kassian without expression.

Boyd looked between Jon and the hallway, as if he could see the back door from this angle. "What's going on?" he pressed, sounding as confused and disconcerted as he felt. "And how the hell did you get in without the alarm sounding? We just tested everything."

"You must not have set it properly." Jon looked at him reproachfully. "I was sent to check on things at the Beaulieu homestead because one of you tripped the alarm that goes directly to the compound."

Boyd stared at Jon and then glanced at Kassian. "Oh," he said blankly, feeling slightly chagrined. "Well. That was stupid." He leaned over to shove the collapsed boxes into the large black garbage bag he'd brought into the living room. "The alarm wasn't supposed to go anywhere; we were in test mode. We just finished installing the system."

Kassian continued to frown at Jon, not appearing appeased in the least by this explanation.

Jon stared back and smiled in a detached and polite kind of way.

"How's Harriet?" Kassian asked abruptly.

"As luscious as ever," was the serene reply.

Kassian's mouth twitched as if he was going to respond but instead he turned his back.

"Nice house," Jon commented to Boyd as though the conversation with Kassian had never occurred.

Boyd decided not to get involved in anything between Jon and Kassian. "Thanks," he said as he finished shoving the garbage in the bag and tied it. He straightened and pushed some hair out of his eyes. "I can't take credit for any of it, though. It was bought and decorated by my parents, as you can probably tell."

He gestured to the minimalist decor with a general lack of personalized decorations and the sleek-lined modern furniture that fell in line with some of the furniture in Vivienne's office.

"I wouldn't expect you to live in this neighborhood," Jon continued, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slim cut slacks and acting as though he were oblivious to Kassian's stiff posture. "But then, your mum doesn't seem like the keeping-up-the-large-two-story-home type, either."

"My dad chose this place," Boyd explained with a slight smile.

It seemed like everyone who walked into the house who knew his mother from the Agency thought it was a strange place for her to live. Since he'd been raised in this house, it was natural to him to think of the house in connection to her so it was interesting sometimes to see how others viewed it.

"She moved out years ago," he continued with a shrug. "Everything's in my name. She lives at the Agency for the most part but I think she has a condo somewhere downtown too."

Jon nodded, his brown eyes moving over the room. "I should probably inform them that all is well," he observed mildly.

Boyd nodded. "Can you show me what went wrong after that? I don't want that to happen again. I've had enough of agents suddenly appearing when I don't expect it," he added blandly.

The Irish agent smirked and nodded shortly before holding up one finger and turning away with his phone at his ear. He took a few steps down the hall and murmured quietly into his phone when he was out of earshot, likely to protect the privacy of his call-in code name.

Kassian shot Boyd a frown. "That guy irritates me."

"I doubt he'll be around long once he helps with the alarm," Boyd said noncommittally with a shrug. He'd come to like Jon for the most part but he didn't say that aloud since there was no point. Kassian obviously didn't like him, which was unsurprising given the conversation they'd had before about Harriet.

"Why should he need to help with--"

Jon returned to the room, looking even more calm and collected in comparison to Kassian's irritation. It seemed that he'd shifted his dislike for Sin onto Jon.

"I'd bet you just weren't in the test mode at some point and the sensor went off. I could have a look if you like, to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"So one of the individual alarms was for sure tripped?"

"Apparently," the other man replied. "I came in believing you were being burgled. Luckily not. I don't know what I would have done with a civilian thief."

"You mean you wouldn't have called 911?" Boyd teased blandly.

Jon raised both of his dark eyebrows. "No, I would have likely had to kill the poor bloke and then call a clean up team," he said in a near apologetic tone.

Kassian stared at him.

Boyd reflected that it was sad that the Agency would likely expect that. "We'll have to make sure that doesn't happen, then," he replied more seriously. He glanced at the control panel. "If our only mistake was not being in test mode when we thought we were that's not a problem. Now that I know the alarms work I'll be more careful and I shouldn't need to test them out again."

The other man shrugged. "Okay. No harm done."

"Thanks for checking, though," Boyd said easily. "At least this time I was wearing clothes when you showed up."

Kassian snorted and Jon just smiled politely. "Should I go out the front door?"

"Sure."

Before Jon could do more than turn toward the door, his phone rang. He hesitated, pulled out his phone and once again flipped it open. He murmured his codename so low that even with Kassian and Boyd in the room, it was difficult to make it out intelligently.

Kassian eyeballed Jon curiously as the other man started to exit the house but then paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"Yes, I'm still here." Jon's brown eyes moved to Boyd as he continued the phone conversation. "Okay. Will do."

The cell phone clicked as he snapped it shut and raised an eyebrow at Boyd. "We have been summoned."

Boyd raised his eyebrows in return. "Okay." He glanced at Kassian as he headed toward his cell phone and keys. "I guess we'll have to hang out later."

Kassian stood, the curiosity on his face more apparent although he didn't ask questions. They never really talked about missions unless they had to and with Jon standing there, it was even less likely that Kassian would say more than was necessary anyway.

All three of them left at the same time and Boyd made sure he set the alarm behind him.

===
Part II


A row of glass doors gave access to Windrift International's corporate headquarters. Two sets of revolving doors were flanked by regular doors, with polished silver bar handles and silent hinges. Despite the number of entrances, no one could walk in without immediately being funneled into a security checkpoint, with detectors and security guards standing to the side scrutinizing every move.

The men and women who entered the establishment were well-dressed, with finely chosen articles of clothing that were tailor made. When Boyd had gone to the Civvie Squad to get a suit, Jazz had almost tried to give him the suit he hadn't worn at a similarly high-end mission months ago with Emma when they'd infiltrated what amounted to a secret society of wealthy and influential individuals. Luckily, Cynthia had stopped her.

He'd ended up with an Italian three-piece suit, deep charcoal grey with pinstripes and a crisp white shirt beneath, his tie black and skinny. His hair was held back in a low ponytail, with the front pieces falling forward to frame his face. They used some sort of hair product that made his hair look perfectly done without losing the masculine touch. His black shoes shone as he walked confidently into the building, a briefcase at his side like many of the other men. The silver watch on his wrist was very expensive as was his leather brand name briefcase.

He hadn't seen Jon since they parked, which was unsurprising. Jon and he were entering separately on purpose, to minimize the risk to the mission. Boyd had entered first, to stake out the building and ensure nothing was amiss, while Jon watched discreetly from afar. If Boyd didn't give a signal, Jon was to enter a few minutes behind him. That way, if Boyd ended up being caught he would simply serve as distraction for Jon, who was the one needed for extracting the heavily-encrypted files.

No one paid Boyd any attention as he entered the line to go through the security. Two women ahead of him chatted about what to do for an upcoming deadline and behind him a man was in an irritated conversation with someone on the phone. Boyd couldn't tell what it was about since the man's responses tended toward clipped, one word answers.

Boyd checked flashed his expensive watch after a moment as he checked it. He looked around with a briskly impatient set to his features as the line slowly inched forward. In the process, he took a moment to look around for anything out of the ordinary.

Windrift International was one of those companies which made it impossible from the outside to say what exactly it did. Their PR touted phrases like 'global strategy' and 'operationalizing change' and the informational brochure Boyd had seen of the company was, despite key phrases and specific verbage, vague at best. He was accustomed to having some sort of background on a mission; to knowing what specifically they were doing and why, even if the reason they were given was likely to have some sort of propaganda instilled.

In this case, however, he had no idea. He and Jon had been called to the Marshal's office to be informed that they would go undercover into this building, find their way to John Karr's office, copy some heavily encrypted files off the harddrive without leaving a trace that they had done so, and leave with no one the wiser. There were to be no gun fights, no confrontation, no explosives. It was a quiet operation that was as confidential as any Level 10 mission, and they were under strict orders not to raise anyone's suspicions. She had explained that they were chosen because they were the best undercover operatives of their classification level.

The two women ahead of time cleared security and it was finally his turn. The security guard eyed him suspiciously but it was no more than he had done to everyone before him. It was interesting to Boyd that the security guards here actually seemed to be paying more attention than he'd seen in other buildings. Between that and this clandestine operation, it made him wonder what exactly Windrift International was hiding.

"Show me your ID," the guard said, holding his hand out. Boyd held out the fake identification card he'd received from the Agency. The guard's eyes narrowed as he looked along it, noting all the features that were meant to authenticate it, and then held it up to look between the picture and Boyd's bland face. The name on the card was Nathan Aaronson, and after a long moment the guard nodded and handed the ID back.

"Please proceed, Mr. Aaronson."

Boyd walked forward with the absent yet slightly impatient movements of someone going through a routine, even though he'd never set foot in this building before. He set his briefcase on the revolving belt and walked through the detector. It was specially designed to analyze the body through bioscanning technology as well as not react to the typical accessories like metal in a belt buckle or shoe sole. The detector, he suspected, would alert to more than simply metal; no doubt it would also detect explosives or other common weapons as well. He and Jon had been unable to bring any weapons, after all.

The detector stayed silent and the briefcase, filled only with fake papers, went through without trouble. By the time Boyd picked up the briefcase, the security guard had already turned his attention to the next person.

Boyd strode across the nearly echoing chamber that served as the foyer. It was wide open, with a ceiling that had to be at least thirty feet high due to several stories of what amounted to balconies looking below. In the center of that vast open space was some sort of glass art fixture suspended from the ceiling. When Boyd looked up at it as he passed underneath, it looked like it could have been blown glass but it was hard to tell, as the intricate installment hung a good fifteen feet off the ground floor.

There was a main desk that he walked by without a second glance. He didn't know the specific layout of the inside of the building but he wasn't about to belie that fact when he was supposed to be an employee who'd worked here for some time.

He casually walked past a directory and glanced at it with no more interest in his expression than he would show staring at a blank wall. In the quick glance, he didn't see Karr's name listed, which was unsurprising. However, he knew that Karr supposedly worked in the consultation services department, which was listed as the tenth floor. That fell in line with the minimal information he'd received during the briefing.

He calmly headed to the elevator bank and stood in the crowd of other people waiting to ascend. The elevator system seemed to be as quick as the Agency's, and in no time there was a ding as the sleek silver doors slid open. He and a number of other people crowded into the elevator, leaving only a few stragglers to wait for the next available car.

When he made it to the tenth floor, he headed down the right hallway. The information they'd received from the informant stated that John Karr was typically out of his office at this time of day on an extended lunch break. However, they weren't positive that would be the case.

In addition, he knew that Karr had a receptionist who worked in the main room, with Karr's office around a disconnected wall behind her desk. He was aware that she was overly conscientious and had worked with Karr for five years, which would make it more difficult for Jon to pass by undetected.

As a result, Boyd was to serve as a distraction.

He paused long enough to pull a folder out of his briefcase before striding confidently down the hallway. He made it appear as though his attention was solely on the papers but as he approached the the main part of Karr's office he checked in his peripheral vision to ensure no one else was in there. The only person who he could see inside was the receptionist.

He strode into the main room without looking up.

There was the sound of a chair rolling across the floor and a woman's sharp, "Stop right there."

He ignored her, pretending he hadn't heard her while in truth he was testing her to see how far she would go. If she was the type to relent immediately and call security, that would tell him a lot about how much effort he had to put into this.

She wasn't, as it turned out.

Her heeled steps were quick and loud as she strode over to him and with a grip he wouldn't have expected from a woman her size, she jerked him to a stop. "No one is allowed back there without an appointment," she said coolly, and he finally looked over at her.

She looked to be about his mother's age, maybe a few years older. Her eyes were lost between hazel and brown and her hair was long, wavy, and a deep brown with auburn highlights. Her dark grey skirt suit fit her well, revealing glimpses of a curvy, large-busted woman with shapely legs. The three-quarter-length jacket fit her perfectly while the silky white blouse with a colorful design beneath showed off a hint of cleavage. Her high heels looked like a lacquered burgundy color with a peep toe.

Her full lips were currently tightened and her eyes narrowed. Despite her age, there was barely a single wrinkle he could detect on her face. Her makeup was tasteful but a little on the thick side, especially accentuating her eyes.

He had to wonder how much of her appearance and body was due to cosmetic surgery.

Knowing that he was going to have to talk to her for awhile in order to distract her, he made sure to put in a slight pause when he first looked at her. A quick, appreciative once-over of her that he made seem like second nature; like he just couldn't help taking in how attractive she was. It was there and gone within the space of seconds and although she didn't react to it, he knew she would have noticed.

"I just need to see John," he said, smoothly slipping the folder and envelope under his free arm without dropping his briefcase.

"Your name?" she stated, unmoved by his excuse.

"Nathan Aaronson," he replied, watching her evenly. He held up his ID where she could look down and scrutinize it with narrowed eyes. "PR."

There was a long moment in which he wondered whether she saw something the Agency had done wrong when replicating the ID style; she was scrutinizing it more than even the guard downstairs. But then she met his eyes again and he knew she thought it was legit.

"What reason does PR have to be in Consultation Services?" Her fingers remained on his arm and he didn't move, wanting to have the chance to work with her. He didn't want her to think he was going to be resistant and have her call security after all.

He raised an eyebrow, giving her a look as if he were reassessing her intelligence. "You can't be serious? You must know in our line of work that sometimes certain clients have," he paused, "red flags. It's in all our best interest to mitigate any issues before it becomes a nightmare for my office and an embarrassment for yours."

Her eyes narrowed further until she flicked her gaze toward the entrance on the side of the room, where Karr's office was hidden by the disconnected wall. She seemed to be debating something until she nodded curtly and tugged him in the direction of the desk. She didn't hold his arm the entire way and although her eyes weren't on him, he knew she was watching him like a hawk in her peripheral vision. He could tell she would call him on the first suspicious move he made.

He kept his body language slightly impatient, glancing at his watch with a displeased frown. He set his briefcase and paperwork on the desk a little harsher than he needed to. She rolled her chair back in front of the desk and sat down, expression all business and curtness as she turned her attention to the computer screen. From his angle, he couldn't see what was on it.

"Do you have your calendar available?" she asked tersely. "I can schedule an appointment for you."

He let out an exasperated puff of breath and leaned against the side of the desk. "Is this really necessary?" he asked pointedly. "It'll take five minutes. I just need to see the man--"

"You will see nothing but the back of that door if you don't follow the rules in this office," she said shortly, turning hard eyes up to meet his.

He could see the strength and stubbornness in her gaze and he reflected that she probably would have made a good agent. He wondered whether she knew exactly what it was that Karr was into that had gotten the Agency's attention, or whether she was simply that loyal and discreet of an employee.

He raised his eyebrows and leaned back a little, an unspoken agreement to back off. "Alright," he relented, glancing quickly at the little name plate on the side of the desk, "Eva. I apologize if I came off as too forthright. Deadlines, you know."

Eva stared at him closely for a long moment, studying him as if looking for anything to imply he was simply placating her. When she didn't find it, she nodded and there was a subtle relaxation of her shoulders. She turned her attention to the computer screen again. "Understandable but it isn't Mr. Karr's problem if you didn't have the foresight to schedule this ahead of time."

"I wish it were that easy," he grumbled and leaned one arm against the desk. "It's not even my problem. Abbey dumped this on me just this week."

She didn't rise to the bait. "I can get you in at 3:15 next Tuesday."

He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. Her eyes flicked up to him almost of their own accord, and it was the first time he was able to see through her tough exterior that she did think he was attractive. Her gaze focused on the breadth of his shoulders beneath the tailored jacket before flicking down briefly to take in the rest of his build. Her eyebrow rose minutely but her face gave away nothing more.

She looked at the computer again and seemed ready to ignore or deny her brief lapse but he latched onto it, wanting to find a way to wheedle away at her attention.

"Eva," he said more quietly, putting a subtle sense of entreaty into his tone.

She seemed the type that would like someone who had some spirit but who also would let her be the boss. He was hoping that tone would get her attention and he was rewarded with her hazel-brown eyes turning up to meet his golden brown ones.

"I hate to ask this," he said, his eyes narrowing as a pained expression crossed his face. "But I really don't have a choice. You heard of the layoffs in PR?"

She didn't look away, her lips pursing slightly. "No."

A slight, wan smile crossed his face and she very briefly flicked her gaze to his lips before she seemed to catch herself and returned to his eyes with a subtly hardened expression.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he mused. "PR at its finest. Not even letting the rumors make it to the rest of the building..."

"What rumors?" she asked, seemingly despite herself. For a moment she looked slightly annoyed, her eyes narrowing faintly and mouth tightening. He didn't let her get too far along the thought that he suspected she was having: that she should just tell him to shut up and go away.

"We had a scandal a few weeks back," he explained in a neutral tone, glancing around discreetly as if to make sure no one was within hearing distance. It was unnecessary since they were alone in the office and the open door to the hallway was too far away for even normal speaking voices to carry.

"You won't get anyone to say it since it was a pretty big deal and Janice isn't in the habit of admitting defeat." He casually named the head of Public Relations that he'd seen listed downstairs.

Eva quirked an unimpressed eyebrow. "Then why are you telling me?"

"Because it's pertinent," he said grudgingly.

He rested one arm on the desk and leaned closer until their faces were only a couple of inches apart. Pursing his lips slightly, he raised an eyebrow and began speaking quietly enough to give reason for the sudden proximity. "It was a simple mistake that compounded."

Judging by the way her eyes magnetized to his face despite her best efforts to find something to do on the desk to take them away, it didn't seem as though she would have minded if he had continued speaking at normal speaking level. Regardless, he didn't want to make himself entirely obvious just yet in case the level of her attraction wasn't strong enough to go beyond simply admiring the view of the young attractive man who was currently focused entirely on her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the slightest hint of movement as Jon went by. Boyd had arranged himself at the desk so Eva was more angled away from the door, her head tilted so that she shouldn't have been capable of seeing the movement even in her peripheral vision.

Her body didn't so much as twitch when Jon passed across the room and he knew she was too engrossed in him to have noticed anything else. He felt a brief sense of relief but knew it wasn't over yet. Now he had to keep stalling her until Jon was done.

Boyd started spinning his tale and speaking lowly. He leaned closer as his gaze captured hers. "It shouldn't have happened. We lost two of our best people and one of our worst to the aftermath and everyone else has had to take up the slack. I'm one step away from a promotion but I got saddled with the majority of their projects."

Boyd gave her a significant look, not missing the opportunity to once again allow his eyes to move about her face in a manner that wasn't entirely necessary but implied interest in what he saw. "One of them was something our worst employee should have taken care of long ago and is now about to erupt in a second scandal. If I don't take care of it this week, ideally by tomorrow afternoon, I can kiss my career goodbye."

After his speech, Boyd pushed away from her slightly. He composed his features to look as though he were waiting for condemnation about the state of his career in the face of a woman who obviously had her own together.

Eva finally tore her gaze away from him and shifted in her chair. She raised one manicured hand and brushed hair away from her face, simultaneously adjusting the collar of her blouse with her other hand. Only after she had seemingly composed herself, she looked at him again.

"Even so, that doesn't affect Mr. Karr's schedule." Her voice wasn't quite as firm as it had been before but she still didn't seem convinced.

"Come on, Eva," he said in a cajoling way, leaning closer. When she didn't immediately reply, he raised his eyebrows and extended a finger, touching it beneath her chin.

Eva's eyes narrowed and for a moment Boyd wondered if he'd moved to physical contact too soon. It was a risky move and one that would likely get him kicked out of the office if she considered it condescending. But when she merely quirked a challenging eyebrow without moving away from his touch, he allowed his mouth to twist up into a smile.

"I could always repay you for your kindness. Although I suppose my idea of repayment would suit my interests as well."

There was a long pause and this time Eva's eyes took him in more obviously. She didn't try to hide the examination of his physical features and she did it in a way that was nearly businesslike. He wondered if she were weighing the pros and cons of the situation; an opportunity to pursue an incredibly attractive man over two decades her junior or missing the chance of that over a favor that likely wouldn't cost her much in the long run.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked finally, focusing fully on his eyes once again.

He smiled and this time he allowed it to become overtly flirtatious. "Dinner, if you're interested. L'Atelier Rouge. Friday night at seven."

He watched her consider that. The way he'd rattled off the name of one of the most expensive restaurants in the city without hesitation should show her how serious he was. And how much money he had. If she was the type that liked to have a little money with her fun, he wanted to make sure he was offering it to her as extra incentive.

"And if I'm not?" she murmured, watching him with a different sort of scrutiny. Now it was more like a hunter honing in on her prey.

"We could always skip dinner," he said smoothly, letting his eyes speak volumes.

She smiled finally, and it was a sharp, predatory look. She casually slid her hand forward, her fingernails dragging lightly across the back of his fingers. He dropped his gaze to watch and then looked up, making sure to take in her cleavage before meeting her eyes again.

"And how do I know I can trust you?" It was a challenge and an invitation all at once.

He put all his seductive charm into the expression that crossed his face. "What would you like me to do to prove it?" He felt rather pleased with himself when her fingers twitched against his skin, her breath quickening subtly.

There was a brief moment where he wondered if his question had been poorly worded. How could he really prove it, anyway? But then she seemed to shake herself and shifted in the chair once again.

"Where can I reach you?" she asked finally.

Boyd leaned forward without hesitation, reaching for a pen and pad of paper that was near her keyboard. He let his fingers trail across her hand as he reached out and she shifted so the back of his hand brushed the side of her breast as he pulled the paper and pen nearer to him.

His gaze lingered on her before it dropped to the paper in front of him. He wrote a phone number the Agency provided for covers. He rarely used those sort of options but it was a precaution on any undercover mission involving a cover story and it would help cement his identity if she called and got the voice mail proclaiming him to be Nathan Aaronson. Eventually, in a few weeks or months, the number would come up as disconnected or would switch to a different name in a different voice, making it seem like the phone number had switched to a new person entirely.

He took his time writing the phone number and his name, trying to draw this out as long as possible, although he didn't make it obvious he was stalling. When he was finished he looked up and saw that her attention had zeroed in on him completely. It was possible it was due to her attraction to him but it was also likely that she was watching him for signs of deception.

He grinned at her slightly, one that he knew would look just a bit arrogant but mostly confident and overall, very seductive. It was a smile that reeled people in if done the right way. A smile that contained unspoken promises without appearing overly aggressive. It was the kind of smile Emilio used on women all the time and Boyd hoped he was mirroring it properly.

So far his valentine assignments had dealt with men. The only flirting with women he'd ever had to deal with had been side conversations on normal missions. This was his first time having to specifically focus on a woman as his assignment. Seducing a man was a lot more straightforward than a woman and stealing a few moves from Emilio's repertoire seemed like a good idea.

He folded the paper into a small square without looking down and moved to the side of the desk. He didn't break eye contact with her the whole while, wanting her to continue to forget the rest of the world around them so that Jon had all the cover he needed.

Boyd leaned forward and, still watching her eyes, slid his hand along the edge of her ribs and down. It was a touch that he knew would be leaving a tingling wake along her skin despite the fact there was clothing between his hand and her body. At least, that was how he imagined he would feel if Sin touched him like that.

He moved his hand down until he could slip the paper into the pocket in her jacket.

Eva's legs seemed to unconsciously shift apart further than they were. Her skirt was tight across her thighs and ended at her knees. At a different angle, he would have easily been able to see what underwear she was wearing today. Somehow, he imagined something black and lacy.

He let his hand linger for a moment before he pulled away, but not without running his fingers against her ribs again, followed by casually brushing his fingertips along her thigh on his way to bracing his hand on the edge of the desk. Her lips parted briefly, eyes narrowing on him. For a moment, he thought she was going to yank him down into a heated kiss.

But then the moment passed and he leaned away briefly. When he spoke, it was low and husky. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Eva?"

He was was greatly relieved to see Jon slipping out again from the corner of his eye. The man's hacking abilities were brilliant and at the moment, Boyd was more than a little thankful for how fast he worked. Boyd had no real idea what else he could do for the woman out in the open.

However the relief faded quickly as Eva seemed to sense something. Her eyebrows furrowed and she started to turn her head in the direction of the door. Jon wasn't quite out of the room yet and the whole mission would be ruined if she saw him.

Boyd reached out without thinking, running his hand down the side of her face and effectively stealing all her attention again. Her eyes snapped to him and she leaned against the touch as he slid his fingers into her hair, his palm warm against her cheek.

All recollection of whatever she had sensed vanished and this time Eva reached up and slid her hand slowly down the length of his hand. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and guided it away from her face but there was no denying the steadily building desire in her expression. She wanted him, all right. But it would happen on her terms.

He brought his hand up to his hair and ran his fingers through it, making the motion look slightly nervous and abashed. He ensured that his body language was apologetic, making it seem as though he'd simply gotten caught in the moment.

She didn't speak at first and looked back at her computer. The realization of where they were seemed to have resonated through her mind because she glanced around briefly as if ensuring that they were still alone.

When she didn't see anyone, she returned her attention to Boyd as he walked to the other side of the desk, stealing glances at her as he started to open his briefcase. Meanwhile, she was busying herself with straightening her jacket and smoothing her hands over her skirt.

He felt bad for a moment, imagining her waiting for him at L'Atelier Rouge and getting stood up, or calling his phone number repeatedly, wondering why he wouldn't pick up or return her messages. He didn't like the idea of leading someone on, yet it had been necessary for the job.

She was an attractive enough woman that if he hadn't been gay, he may have been intrigued by her. But as it was, there was no chance. Then again, he suspected she didn't have trouble finding dates when she wanted them. For all that it would probably irritate or upset her when she never saw him again, he doubted she would let it bother her for long. She seemed too tough to get hung up on a guy she knew for ten minutes.

He didn't let any of that make its way to his expression, being sure to keep up appearances as he left out the manila envelope but slid the folder into his briefcase and clicked the locks shut. She couldn't seem to stop watching him despite the few times he saw her try to drag her gaze away to focus on the computer screen.

At length, she cleared her throat and said more professionally, "He has no time for an earlier appointment. But if you leave the information with me I'll see to it that he receives it."

He gave her a full smile, with a mixture of relief and gratefulness. "That would be wonderful, Eva. Thank you."

He picked up the sealed manila envelope, with a sticker on the lip marking it as confidential. Inside was forged information about a fake company the Agency had recently had contact Windrift International as a possible client. The information warned against accepting the company's contract, based on evidence that was all fabricated. It would appear legit and since there was little doubt John Karr would deny the client's request, the Agency's involvement in any of this would never be discovered.

"For Mr. Karr's eyes only," he murmured, leaning forward as he slid the manila envelope over to her. Her lips twitched as she accepted the package.

"Of course," she replied smoothly.

He ran his gaze along her face and dipped briefly down to her chest again before he dragged his eyes away as if it took effort to look away. He stood up straight and cleared his throat quietly. She had turned to the computer screen but there was a knowing look on her face and something smug in the lifting of the edges of her lips. She subtly shifted so her cleavage was more visible to him.

He straightened his suit coat and took a moment to compose himself, running a hand absently through his hair again. He could feel her watching him from the corner of her eye so he made sure he lingered his gaze on her as if he wanted to take her in while she wasn't looking. Her smile increased in satisfaction just a hint.

"I have to get back," he said by way of apology and she nodded, then paused to glance around the room once more before meeting his eyes.

"If you're playing me, I'll track you down and make you regret it," she warned. He could see in her narrowed eyes that she was serious. She probably figured she'd find him within the company; it would make her job much more difficult to find him elsewhere.

After a point, he doubted she would bother to look for him at all; especially after she found the fake termination file Jon was supposed to be setting for him. It was a precaution; the Marshal didn't want anyone realizing later that someone who hadn't existed had been here. A fake notation of him being fired would help explain his absence.

And if she went to the Public Relations department asking about him, the size of the company would work in his favor since it was highly unlikely everyone was memorable within the system. Even if she recounted his tale to Janice, if Janice denied it then it would reinforce his comment that as the head of PR she didn't want any embarrassing information to be revealed. It was a neat little package of lies that he was fairly pleased with, considering some of it he'd made up on the spot.

"I would expect nothing less from you," he said smoothly with a smile. She watched him but didn't reply and after a moment he left before either of them had to say anything else.

He walked calmly through the building, navigating his way easily down to the main entrance. No one looked at him twice along the way and he left Windrift International without incident. It didn't take him long to arrive at the meeting place around the corner two blocks away.

A sleek black car was waiting for him, with Jon already situated in the driver's seat. Boyd didn't know if it was Jon's personal vehicle or an Agency issued one.

"How did it go?" Boyd asked Jon as he got in.

"Very tricky," Jon said mildly, guiding the vehicle into traffic. He drove with one hand and idly tugged at the tie he was wearing. "They had more booby traps set up than I think is decent."

Boyd was tempted to ask how much constituted 'decent' but decided against it. "I suppose that falls in line with the little bit of information we received on this," he said instead, putting the briefcase on the floor. He belatedly put on his seat belt. "Did you see what the file contained?"

"No. I was told not to even open it."

Boyd nodded, unsurprised. "I'm still curious what the mission was about but we'll likely never know. I didn't see anything around Eva's desk that gave any clues."

Jon gave him a sideways look. "What were you saying to her, anyway? She looked quite flustered."

Boyd shrugged with a ghost of a smirk. "Let's just say she wouldn't suspect I'm gay."

A low chuckle escaped Jon's mouth and he guided the car through the traffic, weaving between lanes without using his blinker and likely irritating the other drivers on the road. Despite that, he wasn't driving particularly fast. It seemed that he simply didn't want obstacles in his way.

"Well, you did a good job of it. I thought she was all hard as nails and what not. Turns out she was just a regular old cougar."

"Sometimes looking young is more convenient than other times." Boyd leaned back in the seat and idly looked out the window. "She probably won't be happy when I don't show up at dinner like I said I would."

Jon calmly cut off a nearby motorist and glided towards their exit recklessly. "At least she has fantasy material when wanking from now on, though. She had a regular GQ model type hanging on her for a good ten minutes."

Boyd couldn't help a faint, bemused smile. "When you put it that way I just made that woman's week."

The other man gave a discreet smirk and nodded. "That was likely the most interesting bit in the whole mission. Goddamn waste of my time, honestly. As clever as it all was, I was hoping it'd have been a bit trickier to make it worth the trip. Any level 10 hacker worth their salt could have handled that but I suppose I'm the only one they've got."

"I know what you mean," Boyd agreed, shifting in his seat and trying to stretch one leg out. His foot was caught beneath the briefcase, though, and he didn't bother to move it. "Despite the fact that we were thrown into it with little information, that may have been the shortest, smoothest, and least interesting mission I've been on yet. Walking out of there, I half expected something to suddenly go awry simply to fall in line with my luck."

"Damn waste of time," Jon murmured again. "I had plans with my lady this afternoon and everything."

"What were you planning?" Boyd asked curiously.

"I'd wanted to get laid, quite honestly," Jon said in a completely unapologetic tone. "But after having to ditch her to go check on the Beaulieu homestead and not having even been able to contact her regarding that assignment, well..."

"It's still fairly early in the day," Boyd said easily. "There's probably still time."

"She likes afternoon sex," Jon said solemnly. "After her daily workout. She's most vigorous then."

"Ah," Boyd said knowingly. He could sympathize with that since he tended to get most invigorated after working out or missions as well. "Maybe you'll have better luck tomorrow."

Jon opened his mouth to comment, ignoring yet another driver who was honking and flipping him off, when his cell phone rang. The other man grimaced and used one hand to pat his pockets. He extracted a phone that was small and silver, different from the one he'd used earlier when Vivienne had called. Unsurprisingly he had one for his own personal use; most agents did.

He glanced at the screen and his expression went from its typical calm to downright cheery. "Hello, vision of loveliness," he said into the phone, winking at Boyd.

A faint smirk crossed Boyd's lips and he idly looked out the window at the passing traffic. He didn't have to ask who was on the other line.

"Of course, you're right. I am the most thoughtless git in the history of all things unholy and terrible. But I do in fact have a defense and a piece of evidence sitting to my right who can vouch for my innocence in the matter," Jon replied to whatever accusation Harriet was likely making. He seemed a lot more talkative ever since the two of them had become involved.

Boyd couldn't even hear a murmur of Harriet's low pitched voice on the other end but whatever she said caused Jon to tsk.

"Doubting me, are you? Well I'll have you know that Boyd and I were sent on a very daring pilfer mission that required me to slither into a den of evil quite unseen while he, the nasty bastard that he is, practically humped some old broad out in the open. Quite sick he is, but we likely would have died if he hadn't."

Boyd couldn't help an amused grin at the exaggeration. He returned his attention to Jon, wondering if the story was going to end there or if Jon was going to add more. Maybe he'd get in them rappelling down the side of a building, too.

There was silence for a moment before, out of nowhere, Jon did an abrupt U-turn in the middle of the street. He swerved around the traffic without blinking.

"See you soon," Jon said into the phone and hung up. He cast another look at Boyd. "Her car is dead and she's been waiting on me to pick her up."

Boyd thought that explained why it sounded as though Harriet had been especially displeased. He nodded in understanding and bent one knee as the briefcase started to feel uncomfortable against his foot. "Does she know what's wrong with it?"

"Nah. I told her I'd have a look tonight." Jon paused as if a thought occurred to him. "You don't mind me picking her up now, do you? If so I can drop you first."

"I'm in no hurry," Boyd replied idly. "I don't have any plans after turning in a report."

The other agent nodded and turned down a side street off the main road. He appeared to be heading into the Industrial District. The scenery of the reconstructed downtown area quickly morphed into hulls of old factories and plants. They passed the waterfront and the ship graveyard that loomed there.

After the initial conversation, Jon seemed to have lapsed back into his customary silence. Despite that his expression was not stoic; he just appeared calm. He was definitely a man who could appreciate comfortable silences. It seemed that he saved most of his chit-chat for Harriet unless he actually had something specific he wanted to discuss with anyone else.

They drove for another few moments before Jon pulled around to a nondescript building that was huddled between two mammoth-sized factories that appeared to have been deserted for a long time.

Harriet was standing by the curb. appearing unconcerned about the sketchy neighborhood she was in. She was zipping up a fitted army green jacket as they pulled up, not even looking at them directly from under the brim of her matching cap.

"Sorry," Jon said as she climbed into the back seat.

Harriet scoffed at him and nodded a greeting at Boyd.

"Hi Harriet," Boyd greeted, looking over his shoulder at her. "Were you waiting long?"

She shrugged. "Yes, but it doesn't matter if you were on assignment."

Boyd nodded and turned back toward the front of the car to avoid getting a crick from craning his neck. "In Jon's defense, Kassian and I accidentally triggered the alarm on my new security system so Jon was called out to check on me. While there, we suddenly got word that we had a mission."

"So, you still spend time together," she observed.

"Yes," Boyd said, glancing in the rear view mirror at her. "Although we hadn't seen each other in awhile."

She nodded, not appearing particularly surprised by the information but her expression didn't give away what she was thinking or why she'd commented on it. "How was the mission, without Logan's theatrics?"

"It was fine," Boyd replied with a shrug. "We had to get unknown information for unknown reasons for the Marshal. Jon took care of downloading the encrypted files and I distracted the receptionist."

Harriet looked out the window, not appearing very surprised that Jon had fabricated his version of events. Jon just smirked in the driver's seat.

"Do you want me to drop you off home?" he inquired. "Boyd and I have got to do our reporting to the Marshal."

"Might as well, since I missed my training session with Lorna." Harriet hesitated briefly before raising her eyebrows at Jon. "Are you coming over after? I hope you're not planning to leave me alone with everyone after you partially encouraged this affair."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Jon replied although he didn't appear too enthused about whatever she was talking about.

Boyd quirked an eyebrow, intrigued by their reactions. "What horror do you have planned tonight?"

"I saw Emma recently and she encouraged me to have a dinner party type affair," Harriet said darkly, her eyebrows drawing down at the notion. "For some reason I agreed. She, Pat and Blair will be there."

"I'm impressed that she managed to talk you into that." Boyd looked over his shoulder at Harriet. "She even got you to do it at your place?"

"Unfortunately." She looked at him. "You're welcome to come if you like. Agent Vega too."

"Hmm." Boyd considered that; initially he'd planned to spend the day with Kassian but after everything that had happened, he didn't anticipate them getting together again. "What time?"

"You could show up around eight or nine," Harriet replied. Surprisingly, she actually appeared pleased that he'd agreed to it. "Do you think Sin will come?"

"I don't know," Boyd said honestly. He wondered why she seemed pleased about him coming, and couldn't help reflecting that it was certainly a change since when they'd first met she'd all but hated him. "I'll ask."

"Well, let me know."

Boyd nodded assent and they fell back into silence. The Agency soon loomed before them and it wasn't long before they parted at the car, Harriet heading in one direction while Boyd and Jon went to write their reports and turn in the information. Given the short mission, it was no wonder that it didn't take too long before he was finished with everything. He checked his watch and saw that it was just past 2 pm.

He grabbed his things and as he left the main level of the Tower, he flipped his phone open and called Sin.

"Yeah."

"What are you doing tonight?" Boyd asked without preamble. He almost plugged his other ear to tune out the chatter of the crowd moving around him in the main foyer of the Tower.

"Nothing to write home about. If I had a home, that is."

Boyd smiled to himself mostly about the reminder of 'home' and in turn thinking of them getting a place together sometime in the future. He evaded two guards who were moving quickly in the other direction. They looked intent but since there were other guards standing around in the area and there didn't seem to be any sort of crisis occurring, he ultimately ignored them.

"Harriet invited us to a dinner party at her place tonight. I'm thinking of going."

"Okay?"

"And I'm wondering if you want to come with me," Boyd said patiently, although there was faint amusement in his tone. "I got the impression that Harriet would like it if you came."

Silence. Then a doubtful, "And who else is going to be attending this dinner party?"

"Jon, Patrick, Emma and Blair," Boyd listed as he walked through the double front doors of the Tower and headed into the courtyard.

"That sounds terrible."

"Why?" Boyd asked as he paused, holding the cell phone between his cheek and shoulder as he dug for his keys.

"Because I don't particularly like Patrick, Emma or Blair."

"I don't think it'll be that bad," Boyd said reasonably. "Patrick's quiet, Blair can be too, and Emma's usually good about reading a situation and knowing when to lay off a subject. If you don't mind Harriet or Jon, you may enjoy it. You could always leave early if you didn't."

"I already said I didn't like them," Sin replied blandly. "But if you want me to go, I will."

Boyd took a moment to seriously consider his answer.

He could easily go on his own and it wouldn't matter that much. At the same time, since he and Sin were a couple now this sort of thing was bound to happen once in awhile. He liked the idea of avoiding polarized social circles, with he and Sin almost alone in one, and the majority of the other people Boyd knew in another. He preferred the idea of being able to spend time with Sin as well as others at the same time. Still, he knew how little Sin liked these sorts of functions or dealing with other people, especially when it wasn't necessary.

"I'd like it if you did," Boyd said honestly. "But if you think you'll be miserable during it then I can go alone."

"If I get too annoyed, I'll just leave."

A brief, pleased smile crossed Boyd's face and he slowed as he approached his car in the parking lot. "Okay. She said we can come by around eight or nine. I can stop by later if you want."

"That's fine. See you then."

After they hung up, Boyd called Harriet to tell her that they'd be coming. Their conversation was brief and it turned out it was good he'd called since, once he got her address, he realized she didn't live anywhere near where Jon had picked her up. Harriet hung up sounding a hint less unenthusiastic than she had when they'd spoken earlier.

===

Part III

Boyd ended up spending a few hours cleaning up the mess he'd left behind earlier, breaking down the rest of the boxes and shoving the packaging into bags which he dragged out to the curb to be collected the next morning.

When that was finished, he set to work rearranging the Journalist Guild articles by date and subject. He hadn't yet determined how he was going to do this. There were twelve editions per year of Journalist Guild and it had been released for twenty-one years; almost his whole life.

From even the few editions he had, he could see that they seemed to vary in size. It wasn't a dramatic change but enough that he noticed it. Taking that into account as well as the fact that the articles themselves varied in length, there was probably anywhere from six to sixteen articles per edition.

He would probably be best off making some sort of database but that seemed like too much work so he decided instead to jot notes down on a notebook, with detailed information about the edition and where he had found the information. He felt more comfortable working on this project with paper copies than anything electronic, which could more easily be tracked by the Agency.

As he arranged the articles by date, he decided it may not be a bad idea to verify whether there was any consistency to the release dates as well. When he pulled up a calendar and started checking, he was somewhat surprised to see that the Journalist Guild magazines were released on the third Saturday of every month. That seemed like a strange release date to choose but maybe the people who worked on it had regular Monday through Friday jobs and found it easiest to work on their side project on the weekends.

He had to admit that the more he skimmed through the articles, the more he liked the Journalist Guild. He appreciated the way they simply told the facts without taking that irritating extra step of trying to force-feed an opinion in addition. It was left up to the reader as to how to interpret what the information meant.

For almost all of the articles, that was. Yet for some reason, the Lou article seemed to be one of the exceptions...

His gaze inevitably slid over to the article and, after a moment, he picked it up. His back was starting to ache from slouching on the edge of the couch so he settled back, drawing his knees up and resting his arms on them as he held the article in front of him and reread.

Local police appear to be covering up a corruption scandal. At 1:13 pm on Wednesday March 23, 2016, city residents Louis Krauszer and Boyd Beaulieu were attacked outside First Bank on Dauphin Street in the Financial District.

Krauszer and Beaulieu, local teenagers, were walking down the street when they were interrupted by five teenage males. Based on research into the incident, it is the belief of the Journalist Guild that the culprits' names are Seth and Thomas Nguyễn, Vincent DeMarco, Kenneth Stratford, and Jared Strickland. The five of them appear to be related to a local gang known as 'the Outlaws,' which has claimed responsibility for a number of thefts and attacks in the area...

He drew his eyebrows down, once more skimming the names. He would never have been able to forget the names of those men, yet if it hadn't been for this article he would not have known their full names. He wondered how in the world the Journalist Guild had tracked that down; and why they even cared. From what he'd so far seen, it wasn't unusual for the Journalist Guild to go the extra step to identify as much information as possible.

But it couldn't have been easy figuring out who was there when it was an attack no one witnessed in the first place. Why did it matter to the Journalist Guild who had been there, when the majority of the rest of the article focused on Jared anyway?

The gang members were led by Jared Strickland. Journalist Guild subscribers may recall his name from previous reports in which he was accused of sexually assaulting two women on separate days as they returned home from work. He has also been accused of multiple accounts of assault with a deadly weapon and manslaughter. At least five incidents can be proven to involve him and yet the police have so far chosen not to investigate...

It was unsurprising to Boyd to find that Jared was already on the Journalist Guild's radar, or that they'd realized even back then how many crimes he'd been committing. It made Boyd wonder whether Lou had known that; whether he'd realized just how dangerous the teenager he'd been messing with was. He had to believe Lou hadn't, or else why would he have provoked him earlier?

At the same time, Lou had always been a bit foolhardy and when it came to a fight, he'd never been willing to back down. That may have been what had happened the fateful night that he and Jared had fought and Lou had won.

The night Jared had probably decided that he was going to kill Lou.

Boyd's eyes narrowed and he leaned back further against the couch. Enough time had passed that he didn't get emotionally unbalanced about Lou's murder the way he used to, but it didn't stop him from still feeling regret that it had happened. And he still couldn't help feeling anger toward Jared's reckless disregard for life; the way he'd seemed to revel in others' pain. It felt good to know that eventually, Jared had gotten exactly what he'd deserved.

Despite that, though, it still struck Boyd as a little odd just how far the Journalist Guild had gone for Lou's death. He knew that the Journalist Guild was all about truth and presumably justice, and it sounded from the article as though the writers were displeased with Jared not being held accountable for the crimes he'd committed.

Yet... The Journalist Guild had tracked down the surveillance footage, they'd submitted it to the local police precinct and requested the case be assigned. They'd pressed multiple police contacts about what standard procedure was in a homicide and why hadn't the case been investigated. They kept following up and found out that the surveillance tape had been destroyed, supposedly an error in the inventory room, and after that they'd submitted the information to the statewide gang task force and even the FBI. That had gotten them nowhere as well.

The Journalist Guild had even done research and determined that there were multiple instances where Outlaw-related incidents weren't investigated or charged, while the crimes related to Outlaws' rival gang Westside saw a dramatic increase in assignments and prosecution.

Boyd hadn't yet seen the other articles where Jared had been mentioned, but he had to wonder if that much effort had been placed on the other incidents. He had to wonder why they seemed so upset...

The Journalist Guild will continue to watch the actions of the police department closely, as it has been proven in this most recent horrific event that the men and women who were hired to protect the citizens of this city will look the other way when particular gangs are involved. This is a travesty for the the city at large and an outrage for innocent victims such as Louis Krauszer and Boyd Beaulieu, who cannot trust the police department to do a proper investigation even in a homicide with clear surveillance footage.

The article stated that corruption would only increase if left unchecked but he wondered whether there was something more to it. Whether someone who worked for the Journalist Guild had been a victim of Jared's at some point as well, and something about the incident with Lou stirred up those sentiments.

Or maybe it had something to do with Lou himself. After all, his parents had been influential left-wing politicians who, as far as Boyd's memory served him, had been interested in a lot of the same ideals the Journalist Guild strove for. Maybe they were partially upset that the Krauszers' son had been the victim of such a horrific crime.

It was also possible, he supposed, that they recognized his own name in relation to his dad's and connected that he was the son of a well-liked journalist. But he couldn't be the only child of a journalist who'd run into hard times after the war so that seemed less likely to him unless the Journalist Guild focused the same amount of attention on any family member of any journalist. Doubtful, he thought, and determined it had to be something to do with Lou.

He couldn't help wondering what Lou would say about this all. About the fact that his killers had been identified by a news source within weeks of his death and law enforcement had apparently all but outright refused to get involved.

He wondered what Lou would have done had the roles been reversed. If Boyd had been the one killed, would Lou have not stopped until the killers were found? Would he have been stronger than Boyd in those initial few weeks? What would he have thought about this article?

That led to questions he'd asked himself so many times since Lou's murder: What would he be like now? What would he be doing? If Lou could talk from the grave, would he consider Boyd's relationship with Sin to be a betrayal or would he be happy that Boyd had moved on and started living his life again? What would he think of Boyd being in the Agency?

If Lou hadn't died and Boyd had instead, would it have changed Lou's life? Would he have gotten out of the somewhat sketchy things he'd been doing and straightened out? Or would he have fallen into it further and ended up losing his life later over something equally inane? Or would he be happy and in love with somebody new? Would he be the one wistfully reflecting over the sort of person Boyd may have become?

Boyd shook his head to himself and set the article to the side. Such thoughts did him little good. The what if's didn't really matter when compared to reality.

Regardless of the Journalist Guild's reasons for anything they did, despite even the invasive feel of knowing that one of the worst moments of his life had been dug up and put on display for anyone to read-- in a way, it was nice to know that someone, somewhere had cared. That someone had noticed the senselessness of the situation and had fought against it.

Since joining the Agency, there had been too many times when people like that were taken out for the supposed greater good. The Finleys and McCalls of the world were not only killed but maligned first, to destroy the causes they'd given their lives for. He felt something like relief to know that the Journalist Guild's presence meant there were probably still some people out there like that who hadn't yet been silenced forever.

He got so distracted by the articles that he didn't realize what time it was until after 8 pm. He hurriedly picked up Sin and ran a red light or two on the way to Harriet's.

Her neighborhood ended up being a quiet, middle-class area with mostly one story, ranch-style homes and well-kept lawns. A few houses had kids toys strewn in the front yard and several of the houses had Halloween decorations. One in particular appeared to have a haunted tour of some sort set up in the back yard.

He recognized Emma's car as he parked his car on the street. The closing of Sin's and his car doors sounded especially loud on the quiet street. He took a moment to take in Harriet's house as they approached.

Her house blended in nicely with the rest of the neighborhood. Pale brown siding emphasized the length of the house while white trim and darker brown shutters made the windows stand out. Her porch light was on and he could see that lights were on in the house as well, although her curtains were closed so the light was diffused. She had a small porch in the front that was little bigger than the size of her entryway. Like the other trees on the street, they were medium-sized but still fairly young, and her landscaping was colorful but looked like it was low-maintenance.

By the time they walked up to Harriet's, it was a little past 8:50. He could already hear voices inside when he knocked on her door.

Harriet answered and blinked at them in seemingly relative surprise for a moment. It could likely be attributed to Boyd actually showing up. It was no big secret among his fellow trainees that he'd mostly gone back to his natural reserved tendencies following the first few months of their training completion. They didn't give him crap about it though; not even Toby. They seemed to accept that it was his way and didn't immediately label him as arrogant anymore.

The expression of surprise lapsed into one of relief and she backed out of the way of the door. She was dressed in a pair of indigo distressed jeans and a dark red sweater that contrasted nicely with her rich caramel skin.

"Hi," she said only a little awkwardly.

Sin looked around with distaste. "I can't believe all of you people own actual houses."

Harriet made a face at him and some of the awkwardness disappeared. She seemed more relaxed around Sin for some reason which was an oddity in itself. "Well. I don't even know what to say about that."

Sin shrugged and looked at Boyd for a cue as to what he should do next. Harriet didn't seem in a rush to move out of the entryway and into the next room where the sounds of voices were coming from. She in fact seemed content to stay in the half darkened foyer.

The air was crisp and Boyd didn't want to spend more time outside than was necessary. He tilted his head toward the house, his hands in his pockets. "Can we come in?"

Harriet shrugged and a grimace stole across her face before she nodded them further inside and shut the door behind them.

There was a hall that led deeper into the home and immediately branched off into an open room that served as a large living room and dining area with a bar separating it from what appeared to be the kitchen. There was another hall leading off from the living room which likely led to the rest of the house. It was a nice space and was decorated modestly in deep earthy colors with the occasional dark red or burnt orange thrown in.

When they walked into the room, Boyd could see that the others were already there with the exception of Jon. Patrick, Emma and Blair were in the middle of a conversation, although Boyd's initial impression was that Blair was doing most of the talking, his eyebrows drawn down and expression serious.

"--ade it there in no time and we still never knew what happened," he was saying darkly.

Emma was sitting in a chair, a frown marring her face in an unusually somber way. "So did you--" She cut herself off when she noticed movement, and when she looked up at the newcomers she broke into a smile. "Boyd! You made it. And Agent Vega, too," she said, sounding pleased.

Blair twisted and looked over, taking in Boyd and Sin with that same intense look Boyd remembered from the first time they'd met. "Hey. I wanted to place a bet on whether you'd show but they wouldn't let me."

Emma made a face and opened her mouth to say something but Boyd merely shrugged idly and said to her, "You should've let him. You could've made some money."


"Well, I don't gamble on my friends," she said seriously.

"No sense of fun," Blair muttered blandly, scooting to the side of the couch to give more room for the new arrivals.

Boyd sat down on the couch in the middle, between Blair and an empty spot to his left, giving Sin the option of sitting next to him or taking one of the other seats in the living room. Instead, Sin just crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall.

Harriet sat on the arm of a chair and looked at them. "Blair was just telling us about a mission that went South recently."

"A rescue mission," Blair explained, shifting so he could view the others more easily. "In Palermo. Agents Gidding and Mathaus were on a joint Intel mission. It was supposed to be maybe three weeks long but a week and a half into it we got an SOS from Mathaus. The message said there was trouble, he didn't trust even the secure communication, there was a breach of security, and he'd explain the situation upon retrieval. He referred to something to do with Gidding but it was unclear what he meant. I'm Pararescue," he added, glancing at Sin, "so I was the one of the responders. When we got there, Mathaus was dead and Gidding was nowhere to be seen."

"How did he die?" Boyd asked, shifting further down the couch to give himself more room.

"Professional hit from behind," Blair replied. "Even if we'd gotten there in minutes he probably wouldn't have made it."

"Why don't you think it was directly related to the mission they were on?" Harriet asked with a raised brow.

"A combination of the message, how it went down, and Gidding," Blair said with a shrug.

"Why Gidding? Do you think he ran?" Boyd asked but it was Emma who replied.

"Maybe. Gidding was always," she paused, frowning faintly and drawing her eyebrows down as she seemed to search for the correct word. "Questionable," she said diplomatically. "And Mathaus was an extremely paranoid and hyperaware person. He consistently beat his peers in physical training and even David wasn't able to get the drop on him from behind. Blair was telling us that Mathaus didn't have any defensive wounds. So either the killer was extremely adept to the point of imagining someone taking, say, Jon by surprise, or he knew his attacker."

"That still doesn't answer Harriet's question," Boyd pointed out. "If Mathaus felt they were in trouble enough for an emergency evacuation, it isn't inconceivable to imagine the enemy was that good. It doesn't automatically mean Gidding was to blame. What specifically did the message say in reference to him?"

"That's the problem," Blair said with a frown. "It got cut off and he was hurrying so he did single words. It was something like, 'Important. Gidding.' And nothing more."

Boyd considered that. "It's possible he turned traitor, then, but isn't it equally possible that Gidding was hurt or otherwise compromised? That could be the breach of security. Maybe he wanted to ask for additional help."

"I would probably think the same if I didn't know Gidding," Emma said with a frown. "But I did and, unfortunately, there isn't a better word to describe him than 'creep.'" She seemed to have given up on being polite in her description. She looked at them all before continuing seriously.

"He was good at his job but there was always something a little... off about him. The way he looked at others; the things he'd say to you. I don't want to get too far into it but he never seemed particularly trustworthy. He would've sold out his own mother to get what he wanted. I never heard him say anything against the Agency within the compound but I was on a mission with him once at a hotel. We had to sit in a bar for hours and after a few nights of surveillance he got sloppy and started drinking."

She shifted in her seat, the seriousness not leaving her expression. "I had to bring him back to his room and when he was drunk, he talked about how he wasn't paid enough at the Agency. How the people who raided it did him a favor by taking out some of the people he didn't like. Wondered how much independent, professional hitmen made compared to us. The next morning when I tried to bring it up, he said he had no recollection. I didn't care for him but I didn't want him to get in trouble with the Agency so I never reported it. I thought it was the rantings of a bitter man. But now..."

Her frown increased and her eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head. "Let's just say, I certainly wouldn't put it past him to not hesitate if he was offered something better."

"Some people would describe me a lot worse than creep," Sin finally added in a bored tone. "I wonder what people would think if I'd been there..."

"Do you actually want an answer to that question?" Harriet asked doubtfully.

"I don't need one. They wouldn't suspect me in a second. For some reason they think I'd never turncoat on them."

"You don't seem the type to sell out others for your gain," Emma said with drawn down eyebrows. "You wouldn't have gone so easy on us in training if you had been as callous as they say. I think Gidding would have, to make himself look better. That's the difference in the impression I get."

Despite Emma's words, Harriet continued to study Sin thoughtfully. After a moment she shrugged her shoulders and averted her gaze. "That's assuming, though, that one's gain is monetary. If someone's freedom is at stake, that's not callous. A lot of people hate being chained to the Agency. A lot of people would do anything to get out of the threat of do or be killed."

"Maybe," Emma said doubtfully. She was looking pensively at nothing in particular, her gaze distant. "But to kill a coworker who did you no harm? It seems so cold, especially since they're in the same position as you."

"It's a lot different for some than others," Harriet said a touch impatiently. "You don't have a tracking device implanted in your body and a torture device waiting for you if you misbehave. If Vega went rogue tomorrow and planned to burn the compound, I can't say I would honestly blame him."

Sin's gaze remained on Emma as if he were wondering what her response would be without actually being very interested in it. His expression was relatively unreadable and it wasn't entirely clear whether he even cared about the debate or if he was just stirring things up for impending boredom's sake.

Emma leaned back slightly and her gaze moved quickly to Harriet with an assessing look. She seemed taken aback by the response. "Sorry. I was talking about Gidding. I know him well enough to know what type of person he is and that he's basically in the same position as you or me. Agent Vega's circumstances are different."

Emma looked at Sin. "I don't know you at all so I don't really know what you would or wouldn't do. It's none of my business, regardless." She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something more, glanced at Boyd, and then returned her gaze to Sin. She shrugged a little awkwardly and fell silent instead.

Sin didn't bother to reply and looked fairly pleased with himself for disrupting the peaceful brainstorming session about Gidding's motives.

Patrick frowned slightly but he didn't seem to be aiming it at anyone in particular. He'd seemed disturbed by the conversation and Emma's obvious discomfort with the turn of the conversation likely only made it worse.

"It's possible," he began in his low, deep voice. "That everyone is just on high guard because of the raid. Because we never found out who was responsible."

Harriet shrugged. She didn't seem at all perturbed by Emma's and her impromptu debate but she was by nature a far more confrontational person in general. "I'm not arguing with that."

"I'm still trying to figure out who that bastard is," Blair commented, kicking his feet out and leaning back into the sofa.

Boyd nodded slightly, eyes narrowing. "And I still want to know is who framed Hsin."

"A lot of people think it's the same person who was behind the raid. Whoever raided the compound knew a lot about the compound," Patrick rumbled, eyebrows drawing down.

"Could be," Boyd replied. "Both have the same effect: causing havoc."

"If it's the same guy, it must be one seriously pissed off employee to take it out on another agent too." Blair frowned, crossing his arms and moving his feet back and forth idly.

"Whoever it is probably views the Agency as a whole as their enemy which would include all of its minions and lapdogs too," Harriet said with a raised eyebrow. She stood up, glancing at her watch and moving over to the portal that led to the kitchen area. She could still be seen through the open area through the bar.

"You seem to have a lot of insight on how rogues think," Sin observed mildly. "Given defection any thought lately?"

Harriet snorted quietly from the kitchen and didn't deign to reply as she audibly punched numbers into a cordless phone.

Boyd furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about the situation. "What seems incongruous to me if it really is related to the raid, is why was there over a year lull?"

"We all figured there was a reason they broke in like that," Blair responded with a shrug. "Maybe they stole sensitive data."

Emma absently played with the beads on her long necklace. "If they did, it's possible it took that long to decipher it, given the level of encryption the Agency typically uses. Maybe they used the information to bring down the cameras when the evaluations were starting."

"It seems different, though," Boyd said, shaking his head. "What does raiding the compound have to do with an Investigator from Euro? And why Hsin? There isn't a feasible connection."

"I agree that it seems strange but whoever raided the compound obviously made that move for a specific reason and got what they wanted at the time from it because it wasn't attempted again," Patrick put in, as neutral as ever.

He paused, looking at the wall thoughtfully before speaking again. "I wouldn't think the point was theft. Material is stored electronically and a good enough hacker can get that from thousands of miles away. Perhaps it was just the first step in a process of breaking down the system. Decapitating the Agency by killing Connors and having an entire readjustment occur while all of these other events start spiraling out of control when the new administration is coming to take over. If it is related, the person involved has done a wonderful job at making the Agency look inept. It could be that they want the entire chain of command killed off and replaced."

Boyd's eyes narrowed at that and he looked away, gaze absently resting on Harriet before shifting past. He didn't know what he specifically thought about Patrick's point except that despite everything there was still a part of him that resisted the idea of Vivienne dying.

Emma glanced at Boyd with a faint frown before turning her attention to Patrick. "I hope it's just replacement that happens from now on."

"It'll be interesting to see if everything stops when the new admin rolls into town or whether it'll be unaffected," Blair put in. He drew his eyebrows down in a perplexed manner. "I don't know which way I'd prefer."

"It'd be interesting if Carhart and Vivienne were demoted to field agents," Sin added randomly, completely off topic.

Emma looked over at Sin, mildly startled. Blair looked highly intrigued by the idea.

Boyd shook his head. "Vivienne was never a field agent so if that happened, she would have to become a menial civilian or lose her position at the Agency altogether. I can't even begin to imagine how furious that would make her."

"Imagine her in Payroll," Harriet scoffed as she walked back into the room, still holding the phone. There was irritation written across her striking face but she didn't comment on why that was. Judging from the lack of conversation that had drifted in from the kitchen, it was safe to assume she hadn't gotten in touch with Jon if that was who she'd been calling. The man seemed to always be behind schedule for something to do with Harriet.

"That would be a catastrophe," Boyd said mildly. "She would focus all her control tendencies on our paychecks. We would never receive our money and she would be perpetually angry."

"Sounds a lot like Mona," Blair said blandly. "She's been there, what? Thirty-five years?" He looked around for confirmation.

"Thirty-eight and be nice," Emma replied, making a face. "She isn't that bad. She's just... socially disinclined."

"If you say so," Blair said dubiously. "More than once I've wanted to get her with the Helicopter." He raised his hands in a martial arts gesture. "Some of our enemies have nothing on her glare."

"That's ridiculous," Emma said, shaking her head. Even so, her tone was more dismissive than harsh. She turned her attention to Harriet. "Is everything okay with Jon?"

"Late as usual," Harriet grumbled, appearing peeved. "It's ridiculous how ADD he is off a damn mission."

"What's he doing?" Boyd asked. Because he didn't smell food and didn't see Harriet spending the time cooking for this gathering, he followed up with, "Picking up the food?"

"Supposed to be," she replied in a clipped tone.

His gaze lingered on her briefly before he nodded. He wondered if Harriet thought something else was going on. Jon had, after all, seemed quite interested in women from what he'd said during their training. Although he seemed to truly care about Harriet, Boyd didn't know Jon well enough to say whether cheating was something he would contemplate. Until there was any evidence, he saw no reason to suspect that was what was happening, though.

"There was a surprising amount of traffic given the time," he offered. "He may be delayed."

"Maybe."

Patrick's eyes were also trained on Harriet as if he were trying to gauge the true source of her irritation but after a moment he looked away. A slight crease was between his eyebrows and he looked troubled but said nothing.

There was a lull in the conversation that afforded Blair a chance to stand and stretch. He absently crinkled his can of beer and headed toward the kitchen with only a brief glance toward Harriet. The sound of aluminum against aluminum was muffled as he presumably threw the can into the recycling in the other room.

Emma's eyes were partially narrowed, her eyebrows twitching down thoughtfully along with the edges of her lips. The expression was brief, her eyes sweeping past Harriet and the direction of the front door, before she tilted her head and crossed one leg over the other. Her dark red skirt rode up on her thighs but the black stockings she wore beneath covered what would have been bared flesh.

"Did any of you see the batch of rookies this morning?" she asked curiously.

"I did," Blair called from the kitchen. The sound of the refrigerator door opening was followed by, "Anyone want anything?"

Unsurprisingly, Sin didn't answer. He looked increasingly bored to Boyd but the others likely just thought he was being stoic. Boyd wondered how long he would end up staying around after all and felt a little bad about asking him to come since he obviously wasn't enjoying himself. Then again, Sin had seemed to get along with Harriet decently in the past and Boyd thought it was possible that once Jon arrived, they'd get along as well.

Even so, he made a mental note to thank Sin later and, if he continued to be bored all night, make it up to him in whatever way Sin wanted. Which, knowing them, would probably end up being sexual. He didn't think Sin would be getting a bad deal, in that case.

"I'll have a beer," Emma replied. After a glance toward Pat in which something unspoken passed between the two, she amended, "Make it two."

Blair ended up mumbling, "Okay," and then there was the sound of cans moving around and him juggling with them. There was a faint rattling as the refrigerator door was shut.

He came around the corner and without having been asked, pressed a beer into Harriet's hands with one of his silent, intense stares. Boyd thought it was possible something passed between them as well but it was hard to tell with Blair, sometimes.

Considering that Blair and Harriet had been regulars in Kassian's teams in the past, Boyd wouldn't be surprised if Blair knew Harriet well enough to be able to get thoughts across without having to speak them aloud. Or know what she wanted without her saying anything. But Blair was also a fairly strange person and sometimes it seemed like whatever was going through his head didn't always match up with what was going on around him.

Blair distributed the beers to the others and ultimately plopped down in his spot on the couch again. The hiss of the beer cans opening scattered around the room.

"Anyway," Blair said contemplatively, drawing his eyebrows down and staring intently at apparently the blank wall as he took a long drink. "Looks like it'll be interesting."

"Why?" Boyd questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it seems like the Agency goes in waves sometimes," Blair responded with a frown. Even so, he still seemed more contemplative than anything. "A few of the recruits looked like a couple of hard asses."

"Prison recruits?" Emma asked and Blair nodded.

"One at least, anyway, I'd venture." He shrugged idly and looked at the others significantly. "He didn't exactly have the crew cut and here-to-follow-orders-Sir! vibe that the military recruits seem to have."

"Rank?" Sin asked, idly interested.

Blair's dark gaze slid to Sin with the same deep stare he'd given everyone else. "Level 1 and up like the rest with no background, far as I know," he said blandly. He paused and flicked a look at Boyd with a slight frown. "Well. Most of the rest, anyway."

There was no reproach or judgment in his tone and Boyd didn't take it as a slight; more than anything, Blair seemed to be amending the statement to be more accurate. Boyd had known for a long time that it had been extremely unusual that he'd been sent straight up to Level 9 without any sort of background at all. Usually, even the recruits who were highly skilled and trained couldn't be recruited at higher than Level 8.

"You know," Emma was saying thoughtfully, her face scrunched up as she didn't seem to be fully paying attention to the rest of the conversation. "I think I saw the kid you're talking about. Asian? Kind of young-looking with tattoos on his arms? Trailing behind the others?"

Blair nodded and took another drink. "That's the one."

"I wonder why they recruited him," Patrick mused out loud, not appearing very impressed with the system of taking felons out of prison.

"The reason they recruit anyone," Sin replied, still maintaining his position against the wall with his muscular arms crossed over his dark grey sweater. "They have a skill that the Agency wants. He could be a master thief, good at infiltration or hacking. Or he could be a good murderer."

The crease between Patrick's eyebrows reappeared and he opened his mouth to speak but paused. He glanced at Boyd and looked at Sin again before saying dubiously, "A good murderer?"

Sin shrugged, pale green eyes focused on the man. "Good at the art of killing. Maybe he knows how to inflict pain in such a way that would make him a good addition to the staff on the Fourth. Or perhaps he was a good hitman until he finally got caught. Or maybe, he killed someone that the Agency wanted dead already and that brought him to their attention."

Harriet looked suitably distracted by Sin's words that some of her irritation at Jon appeared to fade. Everyone was looking at Sin directly for the first time since they'd arrived. He never spoke this much unless he had to.

Patrick's mouth turned down even more and he shook his head. "That's..."

"That's logic," Sin cut him off flatly, seeming to sense that Patrick was uncomfortable with this side of the Agency. "It's a lot harder to find a good assassin than any other position here. Storms, undercover assignments... You people can fool yourselves into feeling noble about your task. You're told there's a bigger reason. A greater good. Assassination doesn't have that wiggle room. It's just you, your target and a gun. Usually in cold blood and from a distance. They don't even know you're coming."

Patrick's deep brown eyes narrowed at Sin slightly. He didn't appear offended but there was something unnerved about the look on his face. There was obviously something he wanted to say but he didn't seem capable of bringing himself to say it. He shook his head and glanced at Boyd before allowing his gaze to move over to Emma.

Sin didn't seem at all uncomfortable with the heaviness his comments had brought to the conversation. In fact he seemed kind of smug about it. No matter how much his disposition changed, Boyd could tell there was always a part of Sin that enjoyed getting under people's skin.

"When did you become an assassin?" Harriet asked bluntly.

"Officially?" Sin raised his eyebrows. "I was 14. Unofficially, I was 11. Maybe 12. I'm a little unclear about my birthday."

Patrick's gaze snapped to Sin but Harriet just shook her head. "Man, you're weird," she said.

Sin laughed out loud at that and the tense moment appeared officially broken.

Boyd lingered his gaze on Sin briefly; he always liked to see Sin laugh or smile. It made him feel good, even when he had nothing to do with it. Especially since they'd gone through their fair share of difficulties over the years, he felt drawn to any of Sin's less serious expressions.

He thought that if he'd had his sketchbook with him he would have drawn Sin. It wasn't that the moment was particularly important, or that Sin was showing an expression Boyd had never seen before. It was just the feeling he got that made him want to be able to remember it. No matter what happened in the future, if he could take snapshots of the good parts of his life by drawing them then at least he would always have proof of those memories.

After a moment he dragged his eyes away from his lover and saw Blair looking unaffected by the entire conversation. That dark stare of his was latched onto Sin, unwavering, but his expression was unreadable as he sipped his beer.

Emma, on the other hand, wasn't quite looking at anyone. There was a small smile on her lips reflecting the mood of the room but it didn't make it to her eyes, which were more sober. He wasn't surprised, since she'd shown sympathy during training about the idea of a child being used in an agent's capacity.

"Well," Boyd said idly to draw the conversation back. "I'm sure we'll run into him and the others at some point."

"Who cares?" Harriet grumbled, looking moody again as she checked her watch. "By the time he catches up enough to matter to anyone in this room, half of us will probably be burnt out or dead or something equally horrible."

"What a charming girl, you are," Sin smirked.

"I try my best," Harriet retorted flatly.

The sound of keys jingling and the door bursting open interrupted any further exchanges. Jon blew in, looking more than a little harassed. His thick black hair was windblown, cheeks red and his eyes narrowed as he carried in bags of takeout that smelled strongly of Indian food.

"And where the hell were you? I could have sworn that Dhaba House was on Breaker Street, not in Sudan," she sneered at her boyfriend, looking unimpressed by his stressed-looking expression.

Jon sighed and disappeared briefly behind the bar to deposit the bags on the dining table. "Well darling, all I can say is Americans can't fucking drive, takeaway boys can't fucking bag-- I smell like I took a bath in a plate of Masala for all the shite leaked all over me in the goddamn car," he griped.

Some of Harriet's hostility seemed to dissipate as she took in Jon's stained shirt and genuine agitation.

On the contrary, Patrick smirked behind his can of beer, appearing to want to laugh out loud. This was the first time most of them had seen Jon lose his cool and it was over such a hilariously domestic issue that amusement seemed to bounce off Patrick and echo on several other expressions as well.

"At least you smell good," Harriet offered with a shrug of her toned shoulders.

"Right. I don't even like Indian food. That's all I fucking ate when I lived in the UK. I had every nearby takeaway on speed dial," he groused, stripping off his shirt without hesitation and exposing his incredibly toned and muscular upper body.

His pale skin was smooth with the exception of the scars that riddled his body. Boyd noticed Sin's eyes briefly lingering on Jon's bare chest but didn't know what to make of it. He'd never actually seen Sin take notice in another man before.

Harriet nodded, not looking sympathetic in the least as she began taking out containers. "Well you have some stuff upstairs. Thanks for going, Jon."

"No problem, my Nubian goddess," he muttered, still appearing grumpy and not his usually overly charming self when he spoke to Harriet.

She scoffed. "Take it easy with that. I'm from Texas."

Jon just smirked and left to change. The rest of them stirred from their spots, drawn by the delicious smell of the Indian food. Emma helped Harriet get everything ready and by the time Jon returned to the room, they were already starting to eat.

They didn't talk about anything in particular over dinner. They mused about the new administration coming in a few months and what that would be like, and at one point the discussion returned to the new recruits although they didn't say much more than was already mentioned. Emma brought up a movie she and Pat had seen recently with his kids, which led to Blair blandly observing that she may as well marry him already if she was already doing kid duty and acting like their mom. In typical Blair fashion, it was uncertain whether he was joking or not and Emma had gotten suitably flustered that she forgot to continue with that topic.

Boyd didn't speak much; he found that when he didn't force himself, he had little to say. Even so, he enjoyed the company of the others. He kept an eye on Sin, half expecting him to leave early since he didn't seem that enthused. Still, the food was good and Sin seemed fine with sitting quietly to the side, interjecting in the conversation once more by the end of the night.

Jon remained in a bad mood for awhile but by the end he'd started to return to his normal self, although he still seemed a little off his game. Boyd wondered if Jon was so unaccustomed to getting stressed out over something that it took him a little longer to recover. After all, the man typically seemed to do everything practically perfectly on his first try.

The conversation started to die down once the food was finished and the takeout boxes were thrown away. Emma, Pat and Blair seemed content to hang around for a little while longer, chatting about nothing in particular, but Boyd didn't want to make Sin stay any longer than he already had. He didn't have much interest in staying, anyway.

He pointed out the time and said he was getting tired, and made an excuse for them to leave. There was the process of saying goodbye and Emma enthusing that it had been fun and she hoped they'd come again. That maybe a dinner party would have to become a semi-regular thing. Boyd gave a noncommittal answer as they left.

The air was cool on their skin when Boyd and Sin walked away from the house. The lights on in Harriet's house glowed through the windows, warming up the immediate atmosphere. Several of her neighbors had lights on in the houses and a few had their porch lights on even if the rest of the house was dark and silent. Boyd and Sin's steps sounded especially loud with nothing else happening on the block. The Halloween decorations on one of the houses shifted uneasily in the breeze. The way the ripped, white cloth danced and twisted in the dark would have seemed eerie if Boyd had been in the mood.

He looked over, assessing his partner for any sign of what Sin had thought. He didn't imagine Sin would be interested in attending another dinner party in the future but he wondered whether Sin considered it to be a completely wasted night. He couldn't read anything in particular in his expression, though.

"Did you have an enjoyable time?" Sin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Boyd couldn't tell if Sin was being sarcastic or not so he simply shrugged and dug his car keys out of his pocket. "For the most part, yes. At times the conversation bored me because I had nothing to contribute but overall it was fine." He walked around to the driver's side and looked at Sin over the roof of the car. "You?"

"It was curious."

Boyd got into the car and waited until Sin did as well before he continued the conversation. His car started up nearly silently. "How so?"

Sin shrugged, threading a hand through his long black hair. "People react very interestingly to me. To us, as well."

Boyd drew his eyebrows down, looking at Sin askance and turning the car off Harriet's block toward the main road. "You, I get. But us?"

"Perhaps," Sin started slowly, rolling the word on his tongue as he glanced at his lover. "They think you are my keeper."

"What are you talking about?" Boyd asked, not bothering to hide his confusion.

"They just act strangely. As if they are either too intimidated to be completely forthright when they address me or they want to ensure that it's okay with you if they engage me directly or something along those lines."

"I think they're probably intimidated. Emma, at least," Boyd amended. "I didn't notice Blair or Harriet acting strangely and Pat's hard to read sometimes. I don't know why you got the impression they needed my okay, though."

"Because they look at you before speaking to me," Sin replied blandly.

Boyd had to take a moment to think back on the night. He hadn't noticed anything particularly out of the ordinary at the time but when he thought about it more, he did remember Emma and Pat doing that more than once. Harriet, Jon and Blair never seemed to. But then, Harriet had been around Sin a few times, Jon wasn't the type to do that sort of thing, and Blair was... Blair.

Even so, Pat and Emma were enough that Boyd could imagine that being irritating or uncomfortable from Sin's perspective.

"I guess they did," he acknowledged with a small frown. He glanced at Sin. "I don't think they meant anything by it, though. They probably just didn't know what to do with themselves."

"Maybe," Sin said noncommittally. "But you don't know what they're thinking."

"I don't," Boyd had to agree. He took a moment to concentrate fully on driving as he merged onto one of the few streets in the city that always seemed to be busy, no matter what time of day or night. "But you don't either." He looked over at Sin. "Have you noticed that happening with anyone other than Emma and Pat tonight?"

"Yes. It happens a lot when we are together."

"Oh." Boyd considered that. "With many different people?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's irritating," Boyd said, unimpressed by this information.

His eyes narrowed slightly. It irritated him if people really did think of him as Sin's keeper, because for all that Sin could tear him apart in a few seconds flat, he still thought of him as his equal.

"I'm sorry I never noticed," he continued. "I'll call them on it next time."

Sin snorted. "Why bother? People are never going to react to me in a way that you'd want them to. And I don't exactly need you to defend my honor."

Boyd gave him a sidelong look. "But what if I want to?"

"I'd still tell you not to," Sin replied blandly.

"Alright," Boyd relented. "I won't say anything." He turned on the last street before he had to make a decision about which place he was headed. He gave Sin a curious glance. "Am I bringing you to your place or mine?"

Sin shrugged. "Either is fine. What do you prefer?"

"I don't have a preference," Boyd replied easily. "I just wondered if you wanted to spend the night with me. I felt bad making you go to the dinner since you didn't seem to enjoy it." A quirked smile flashed across his face. "If you're interested, I thought I'd make it up to you."

There was a brief pause and a small smile played over Sin's full mouth finally. "Well. Since you're offering."

Boyd's smile widened and became pleased. He took the turn toward his house, since it was closer. "Good, because if you'd said no I would've been thinking of it all night. I've been wanting to kiss you since halfway through the party."

"Am I that irresistible?" Sin asked dryly, although his smile inched up a bit more. "Is my blank face that attractive?"

Boyd had to chuckle. "Sadly, for me-- yes. You could probably be staring at paint drying and I'd think you're the sexiest person in the room. And it didn't help when you laughed earlier." He glanced at Sin again, his softened expression showing that despite the slightly teasing smile, he was being honest. "I always love to see that."

Sin just shook his head and looked out the window so that Boyd couldn't see his expression anymore. "You're insane."

"Maybe," Boyd said lightly as he turned onto 5th Avenue North. "But somehow, I doubt you mind."