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Their work was ugly. It consisted of blood and bullets and too many dead bodies to count. Sometimes they’d get fancy hotel rooms and business class flights. Mostly they’d get abandoned warehouses and cargo airplanes though. Sometimes not even that, sometimes all they got was mud, endless rain and mosquitoes.
It was their life and Jeremy would like to say that they had chosen it, but just like the dead bodies, the paths that had led him to this weren’t worth thinking about. He didn’t have time to live in the past when his present consisted of armed insurgents trying to shoot them.
“Get down!” Ryan yelled at him, barely audible over the pattering rain of a Thai rainy season. Jeremy wanted to give a scathing reply and ended up with a mouth full of mud instead. He coughed, spitting it out and then ducked just in time for Ryan to whip out his gun and shoot at the people following them.
He might have hit somebody. It was impossible to tell from the distance and Jeremy was too occupied trying not to drown to really care too much. He felt tired. They’d been in Thailand for less than thirty hours and he had spent roughly twenty of them shooting or getting shot at. They’d still have to cross the border to Malaysia and make it to Pasir Mas for their pickup. More walking, more rain, more mud.
A shot rang over his head and Jeremy threw himself down on the ground. He was coated in dirt and getting wetter by the second. His hands, slippery with rain and mud, fumbled for his own gun, and he blindly aimed at the direction the shot had come from.
A loud yell answered him and grim satisfaction filled Jeremy for a moment, gone almost in an instance when the bone-deep exhaustion returned. They weren’t even here for anything important, he thought dimly as he forced himself back on his feet, almost slipping and falling back down into the mud. Some weapons or drug deal or whatever and who the fuck even cared why they were in Thailand in the first place?
They could have been in Europe, for all Jeremy cared or back in America. The only difference would have been the weather and the language the people trying to kill them used.
Next to him Ryan took aim again, squinting his eyes as if he was actually able to see anything through the goddamn rain and Jeremy wondered if he felt as tired as he did. Probably not. And even if, Ryan didn’t show weakness. Not even after all this years, not even with Jeremy. Not even back in Fortaleza, Jeremy thought.
Ryan knew too well what the Agency did with those it considered to be no longer of any use. You learnt things when you joined the Agency or when you were made to join and the Agency rather you took those secrets to your grave.
His hands were shaking slightly. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t cold, he didn’t feel cold, it was too damn hot to feel cold despite the rain. Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Ryan looking at him and he immediately forced his hands to still.
“We’re leaving or you want to take some more potshots?” he asked gruffly. Ryan just nodded instead of snapping back, a sign probably that he was getting as tired of this shit as Jeremy was and turned away from him, wading through the mud towards what was hopefully the Malaysian border.
Jeremy didn’t care. Above them the rain seemed to finally be dying down and he made a half-hearted attempt to wash off some of the mud, knowing fully well that the sun would dry it instantly.
He tried to think of something nice, something to motivate him enough to keep going through this jungle but his mind came up blank. He wanted to sleep. God, he wanted to sleep so badly and he tried to imagine a bed, cool and soft and inviting, but he could only think of the hard bunk beds back at the Agency and with a start he realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in a place not chosen for him by the Agency.
His hands started shaking again and with an annoyed grunt he gripped his gun tighter. They had a border to cross, he reminded himself, trying to banish any other thoughts from his mind.
He almost welcomed it when more shots were suddenly fired from behind them if he could have mustered up enough energy to care about anything but their immediate survival.
If Ryan noticed his aim being slightly off, he didn’t mention it. Jeremy still managed to shot well enough for them to somehow make it to Pasir Mas in one piece. They made it back to the Agency from there somehow, over Kuala Lumpur and then Singapore or maybe Medan and for all Jeremy knew or cared the Agency could have routed their flights through Amsterdam. He slept badly during the several cargo and one commercial flights and tried to neither think of his dreams once he awoke nor notice the way Ryan was watching him from the corner of his eyes. He did that a lot since Fortaleza.
The exhaustion had settled so deep inside of him, it felt almost like it was part of him now. Once they had made it back to the Agency and through the debrief he wordlessly stomped towards one of the rooms the Agency provided for its agents, ignoring the way Ryan had lingered behind, a clear sign that the man had wanted to talk to him.
He didn’t want to talk to Ryan though. He climbed into one of the bunk beds and fell asleep instantly.
When he awoke he felt somebody standing next to the bed. His whole body tensed and he shot up, getting ready for a fight. He relaxed when he saw it was Ryan who was watching him silently, that indecipherable look on his face again. Jeremy looked back at him, almost defiantly and for a moment they just stared at each other though Jeremy wasn’t sure why exactly.
“Another mission. Briefing is at ten hundred hours,” Ryan then said, turning away. With a groan Jeremy let his head fall back on the hard mattress. It felt like it had been mere seconds since he had closed his eyes though a glance at his watch confirmed that he had slept for twelve hours straight. He didn’t feel refreshed at all.
Not that it mattered. He forced himself to stand up, took a quick shower and changed mechanically from the cargo pants and black tank top he had fallen asleep in into another pair of identical clothes.
Ryan was already waiting for him in front of the office, face expressionless and without any sign of exhaustion and Jeremy wondered if he had slept at all. His bed, the one above Jeremy’s, same since they had first met three years prior, had been made when Jeremy had stumbled towards the bathrooms.
Jeremy knew very well that Ryan had to sleep just like him. He had seen him doze off during flights or in safe houses often enough. Somehow though he always seemed to be awake whenever they were back at the Agency.
At least one of them appeared well-rested, Jeremy though grimly. Though knowing Ryan he could have spent the twelve hours since they had returned in the training room and still look like this.
Ryan waited until Jeremy was standing next to him before knocking on the door. A voice called them inside and Jeremy closed the door behind them.
The man at the desk didn’t look up when they entered. Jeremy frowned a bit. It had been a woman the last three missions. Hill or Hall or whatever fake name she’d been using, Jeremy hadn’t bothered remembering it. Seemed she was gone now. It happened sometimes. Jeremy didn’t care. She had said there’d be only a group of five in Thailand. It had been fifteen.
The man was still staring at a folder in front of him, frowning slightly as he read something. Jeremy stood still, feeling once again like a naughty schoolboy in front of the principal. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Ryan clenching his jaw. He had never liked this part of the game. The one where they made it very clear who was in power. Jeremy shook his head at him, so softly it was almost unnoticeable by anybody else.
Ryan noticed. And understood. Fortaleza had at least not ruined this for them.
Ryan took a deep breath and Jeremy saw his jaw relaxing slightly.
Finally the man in front of them looked up from his file, mustering them with cold gray eyes.
“You will take over a mission for two other operatives,” he began without any preamble. Jeremy blinked, slightly taken aback. Normally they got a name and a country. Mostly not even that.
“My predecessor has prepared the mission,” the man continued. “Due to circumstances neither she nor the operatives who were supposed to run it are available anymore.” He leant back, staring at them as if he was daring them to ask any follow-up questions.
Jeremy was too much of a professional though to fall for this.
“What kind of mission?” he only asked.
“Infiltration,” the man said, shoving the file towards them. Jeremy groaned inwardly. He hated undercover missions. Weeks or even months spent in some shitty place with either fanatics or junkies. He had done two months in a militia in Nebraska and he had been ready to blow up the entire compound and everybody inside after one week.
At least they’d probably send the two of them in, Jeremy figured, considering Ryan was here too. Ryan’s presence might make several months of living with fanatic gun weirdos not enjoyable but at least more survivable.
“It’s a masquerade ball by a Silicon Valley CEO,” the man then said and Jeremy couldn’t quite keep the frown from his face.
Silicon Valley? CEO? Masquerade ball?!
He finally looked down at the file in front of him. Instead of a man with a shaved head and more guns than brain cells he was met with the picture of a middle-aged blonde woman. Her smile was as immaculate as her hair and blouse and she was shaking the hand of a top brass U.S. general.
“Catherine Cambell. 56 years old. Net worth of thirty billion dollars. Her company sells ten billion dollars’ worth of cybersecurity measures to U.S. departments every year.”
She looked like it, Jeremy thought. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“And makes fifteen billion dollars extra selling backdoor entrances to those U.S. departments to every foreign nation in the world willing to pay.”
She also looked like that.
“Masquerade ball?” Ryan interrupted his musings. Naturally that would be the part Ryan got hung up on, Jeremy thought.
“An annual event. A small gathering, only fifty people, most of them there to do business.” The man opened another page in the file. There were two ID cards taped to it.
Timothy Roberts, one of them read. Next to it was a picture of Jeremy. A feeling of unease began to spread inside Jeremy.
“We need to know who Cambell is meeting with during the ball,” the man continued.
Jeremy’s eyes wandered to the other ID card. It was a picture of Ryan, next to another fake name. James Roberts.
Jeremy noticed the same family names and the feeling of unease grew stronger.
“We had special operatives, trained in such missions. Sadly they are no longer an option. You are the only two operatives that fit the backgrounds we have created. It took us months to build up backstories that would pass Cambell’s security.”
Jeremy didn’t like were this was going.
He looked up at the man who was blankly staring back at them, not a single emotion visible in his gray eyes. For him this was business, nothing else. Sending them off to a masquerade ball at the West Coast was the same to him as sending them off to Siberia to take out an arms dealer.
“You will pose as a married couple, gain entrance and survey Cambell through the evening without raising suspicion. Further information is in the file. Props and clothes have already been provided for you.”
And with that he turned away from them, briefing over. For a moment Jeremy didn’t move. It was only years of experience that allowed him to finally grab the file and turn around, leaving the room, Ryan close behind.
There was a moment of silence when Ryan closed the door. Jeremy kept walking. The walls had eyes and ears in the Agency but years of working here had taught him where one could speak without raising too much suspicion.
“A fucking masquerade ball,” he exploded when they had reached a corner, conveniently in the blind spot of two security cameras. “By a fucking tech CEO!”
Ryan’s expression had changed too, glaring at the file still in Jeremy’s hand.
“This is so fucking stupid,” he growled. Jeremy snorted. “I thought they were sending me back to the compound in Nebraska or another godforsaken place. I think I’d prefer that.”
“We don’t this type of stuff,” Ryan said and he was right. They did wetwork, took people out or made them vanish in some hole in the ground. It was dirty and bloody and he liked it that way.
Well, Jeremy correct himself, he liked it more than whatever the hell this mission was.
Ryan opened his mouth again, probably to continue complaining about their newest mission, the same way they usually did but hadn’t really done anymore since Fortaleza and Jeremy felt tired all of a sudden again.
“Let’s just get this over with,” he said, cutting Ryan off. The man deflated slightly, looking surprised before his usual expressionless mask fell back into place.
He nodded at Jeremy and then turned around and walked away. Jeremy stared after him, the file with the two IDs with their faces and a fake marital status inside feeling heavy all of a sudden.
They left quickly afterwards, flying commercial this time. They had changed clothes, Ryan wearing a shirt that was just a bit too tight around his arms but did pass muster at airport security and Jeremy feeling weirdly naked without his usual array of guns close by. The file hadn’t said anything about weaponry but he knew that he could probably count on Ryan to at least bring several knives along.
He didn’t really have time to look through the file before they had left and certainly wasn’t going to do it on an airplane surrounded by civilians so he was left pretending to watch a movie while Ryan closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.
Maybe he actually was sleeping. Jeremy couldn’t really tell. It bothered him more than he cared to admit.
A taxi with their fake names waited for them when they landed and brought them to a hotel in the city center. Ryan, or rather James wasn’t it, checked them in, managing to charm the woman at the reception desk with one well-placed smile. She didn’t pay much attention when Jeremy stepped closer to them.
“You and your husband will be on floor ten,” she chirped, flashing Ryan a wide smile, the knowledge that the man in front of her wasn’t only taken but also probably uninterested not discouraging her in the slightest.
“Do you want a wake-up call tomorrow?” she asked.
“No thank you,” Ryan said with another smile. “We will be okay.”
A porter brought their luggage, expensive leather suitcases filled with god knows what exactly, to the elevator and up to the tenth floor with them. Jeremy had enough presence of mind to remember that they were supposed to be loaded and tipped him $20 after he had carefully put their luggage down in their room.
“Thank you Mr. and Mr. Roberts, have a nice stay” the man said.
With that he vanished and they were finally alone.
There was a long moment of silence where they both just stared at each other.
“Would you like to go the bathroom first, Mr. Roberts?” Jeremy then broke the silence. Ryan’s eyes narrowed
“I will. Are you taking care of the bedroom, Mr. Roberts?”
Jeremy just nodded, unable to keep this charade up any longer. He turned away from Ryan and systematically began to search the room for bugs. He hadn’t found any after half an hour and not a hint of dust either which proved that they were truly in one of the better hotels for once.
Ryan joined him after fifteen minutes, his silence showing that the bathroom had also been free of any wiretaps. They were done after one hour and Jeremy sank down on the bed.
The bed. Single. It wouldn’t be the first time they shared a bed, Jeremy thought. Hell, this one was bigger than the ones they had shared in the past. But it would be the first time since Fortaleza and he tried his best not to dwell on it.
Mr. and Mr. Roberts, it echoed in his head. It felt different. They didn’t have to pretend in the rundown warehouses or sleazy motel bedrooms. Didn’t have to keep up some bullshit pretense of normality. Didn’t have to do any of this nonsense.
“You are selling weapons to hunters,” Ryan’s voice came from somewhere next to him. Jeremy opened his eyes, slightly surprised that he had closed them. “Made a few billions with that, got several factories in mainland China and an office in Boston. I made you move to California.”
Ryan was flipping through the file, having sat down in a chair next to the bed. Jeremy noticed the distance he was keeping.
“We met at a golf club. I’m an art dealer though you are the breadwinner of the family and I have pretty much given up my business since we got married.”
“So basically you are my trophy husband?”
He could have sworn that Ryan’s mouth twitched at that.
“We’ve been married for three months now,” Ryan continued. “And we are building a house here. Nothing too big. Only twenty rooms, an indoor swimming pool and a zen garden.”
“God,” Jeremy said, feeling both amused and horrified. “We sound absolutely awful.”
“I wanted the house to be a light rosé tone but you overruled me and now it’s beige. I made you sleep on the couch for three days for that.”
“That’s in the file?”
“No,” Ryan admitted. “Just adding some flavor.”
Jeremy laughed sharply.
“This is such bullshit,” he mumbled. “Let me guess, we go on vacations three times a year, do Thanksgiving with your family and Christmas with mine.”
There were too rich for white-picket fences and Sunday BBQs with the neighbors but Jeremy somehow could still see it in his mind. He shuddered. He had been Timothy Roberts for less than five hours and he already despised the man.
“What else is in the suitcase?” he asked, attempting to distract himself.
“Suits and masks.”
Jeremy had the vague suspicion that it wasn’t the type of clothes he was normally used to. He considered trying the clothes on but they had three hours left before the ball began. Normally he’d check his weapons or guard whatever shitty excuse for a safe house they were staying at. You waited a lot in their line of business but it wasn’t exactly downtime.
Right about now, neither of those things really was an option though. There was a television in their room aimed so it could be watched from the bed. Maybe he should turn it on, Jeremy thought. Wasn’t that what married couples did? Watch television together and talk about their day?
He thought of Ryan sitting or rather lying down in the bed with him and them watching the news while they talked about stuff that didn’t involve weapons and how best to use them. He almost laughed out loud at the mental image.
Maybe they could order room service, just a little snack before they’d get ready for the ball, and then Ryan could fuss over his clothes or the other way around, a newly wed couple who hasn’t quite left the honeymoon phase yet and James Roberts would fix Timothy’s tie before leaning in closer with a smile and…
Abruptly Jeremy sat up.
“I’m doing another sweep for bugs,” he said, not looking at Ryan before disappearing in the bathroom.
He allowed himself one deep breath once he was inside the bathroom before he almost mechanically began looking for any listening devices. It didn’t distract him for long but Ryan had put the file aside when he returned to the bedroom and Jeremy gladly picked it up, happy about the distraction. The bulk of the file was background information about Catherine Cambell.
Their target had made it big in the cybersecurity sector some fifteen years ago and was now so loaded she could probably afford to buy the entire hotel they were currently staying in. She came off as a cunning and ruthless businesswoman and Jeremy read about her without much of an emotional reaction. Her kind were dime a dozen in their business and if she didn’t happen to sell access to the Department Of Defense to the highest bidder, the Agency wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass about her.
He finished the pages dedicated to her and went on to read about his undercover identity for the evening.
The more he read about Timothy Roberts though, the more he hated the guy. The backstory established was extensive, almost overwhelmingly so and Jeremy hoped nobody would quiz him about his mother’s maiden name. A hell of a lot of work had gone into this mission, that much was obvious.
Whatever had happened for the Agency to put Jeremy and Ryan on this last minute must have been an absolute clusterfuck though Jeremy didn’t really care about the details.
He forced himself to at least try and memorize the inane and extensive details about Timothy Robert’s background, from his education to his first job at his father’s store to how he had first met his husband two years ago.
A charity event at a golf club, it seemed. James Roberts, still James Green back then, had been a friend of a friend. They got introduced, got talking and went on their first date the following week.
All pretty normal, Jeremy thought. No smoke bombs and knifes involved, not anything like how the two of them had actually met. Jeremy had been new, had been called in as backup to a mission that had gone completely to the dogs. Ryan’s other team members had been already dead and Jeremy remembered being faintly impressed that Ryan was both still standing and still shooting. He was less impressed when Ryan’s reaction to his sudden and unexpected appearance had been to punch him in the face, almost breaking his nose in the process.
It was his first time he had met Ryan, still Agent Haywood to him back then, and it had turned into a somewhat fond memory over the years of them being partners.
They worked well together, Jeremy thought, now just aimlessly flipping through the pages of the file.
Sure, Timothy and James Roberts went to the Bahamas together and Timothy had proposed in the restaurant they had their first date in but Ryan had stabbed a man trying to electrocute Jeremy, using the knife Jeremy had smuggled onto a drug cartel’s prison boat to do so.
Really, who needed honeymoons in the Bahamas when you could swim three miles upstream in the Rio Grande while drug dealers were shooting at you.
“We should get ready,” Ryan interrupted his thoughts. He had pulled out some clothes from one of the suitcases. Jeremy mustered them suspiciously before standing up and coming over.
“That one is yours,” Ryan said, already unbuttoning his own shirt. Jeremy forced himself to focus on his own clothes.
“Tuxedos?” he asked, the lack of enthusiasm obvious in his voice.
“Least you get a black one,” Ryan said, his voice slightly muffled as pulled a different shirt over his head. “Mine’s white.”
With a silent sigh Jeremy got to putting on his own tuxedo. Nobody had made him wear a white dress shirt during his stint in with the Nebraska militia, he fumed as he fumbled around with his button cuffs. He wore tank tops most of the time and nobody ever had any complains about it. Timothy Roberts probably had never seen a tank top up close though in his life.
He somehow managed to get the bow tie on at the first attempt, immediately disliking the way it felt around his throat and its bright red color. He started at himself in the mirror for a long moment after he was done, a deep frown on his face. He looked absolutely ridiculous.
Allowing himself to look at Ryan, he turned away from the mirror, hoping the other man was finished dressing up. Ryan had gotten the bow tie on without the help of a mirror, the bastard.
He looked unnatural in his white tuxedo. All proper and made-up and very much not like himself. He’d just get blood on the tuxedo, it shot through Jeremy’s head, who the hell had thought that putting Ryan Haywood in white clothes would be a good idea? But then he remembered that he wasn’t looking at Ryan but rather at James Roberts.
James Roberts who was currently opening a box revealing several rings and eyeing them critically before pulling one out.
“That one should fit,” he then said, handing it over to Jeremy.
It was a wedding ring. Right, Jeremy thought, right. Mr. and Mr. Roberts.
He put it on, slightly pissed off at how well it fit.
“You done?” Ryan asked. He had also put one of the rings on and was now fixing his ponytail, completing the picture of an artist who had married rich.
“Yeah,” Jeremy said. What did married couples do in these situations, he wondered suddenly. Would Timothy have told James that he looked good?
“We look fucking stupid,” Jeremy said instead. Ryan snorted.
“These bow ties are the worst, feels like somebody is choking me.”
“Told you if you don’t want to get choked stop provoking German arm dealers.”
“She had it coming,” Ryan said dismissively and Jeremy laughed, feeling a bit lighter all of a sudden.
“Well, let’s get this over with,” he said and both of them left the hotel room.
They talked little on the way to Cambell’s house, conscious that even with the privacy barrier the driver might overhear them.
Ryan pulled something out of his pocket once the car stopped in front of a house with a driveway larger than the barracks back at the Agency.
“Masquerade ball,” Ryan said as an explanation as he tossed something at Jeremy who caught it with ease. He didn’t know if he felt better or worse when he recognized that it was a simple white mask.
Ryan was already putting another one on, the same type of mask as Jeremy only in black and with sudden horror Jeremy realized that with the same red bow ties and the contrary color codes they were basically wearing matching outfits.
God, he thought as he put his own mask on, normal people sucked. Ryan tipped their driver before both of them turned towards a smiling young woman shadowed by a bulky bald man who screamed security detail. Jeremy ignored him, having already discounted the man as a potential threat.
“Good evening,” Ryan said, that charming smile that had already worked wonders on the receptionist returning. It wasn’t lost on the young woman either whose beaming smile turned even wider if that was possible.
“James Roberts and my husband, Timothy Roberts,” he said, handing over a piece of paper, their invitation for the evening.
“Welcome to the party,” the woman said, her eyes scanning the invitation. “If you could just quickly show me some identification.”
“Yes, sure,” Ryan said, his hands going for his wallet.
“Honey, did you bring yours?” he asked Jeremy over his shoulder.
“Sure,” Jeremy said, very briefly startled. James Roberts felt like the type of person who would use pet names. Ryan meanwhile very much wasn’t and it felt like the juxtaposition between the two should be obvious to anybody, as if the young woman should start laughing at just how ridiculous it was to hear Ryan call him honey.
Nobody laughed though. The woman just continued smiling and checked their IDs after they handed them over.
“Have a wonderful evening,” she chirped after she was done.
Jeremy nodded, not quite sure he trusted his voice as Ryan and he entered the house and walked down a hallway into a big room that opened to a terrace.
The interior of the house looked as expensive as its outside though it felt understated in its excess to a point that made it clear that a lot of thought had gone into furnishing and decorating. Jeremy felt immediately out of place. They had slept on the floor of an abandoned warehouse in Chile last week. There had been rats and a hole in the ceiling. The ceiling of this place meanwhile had been taken over by a giant chandelier and any rats here probably ate caviar instead of cheese.
“Champagne?” A butler appeared seemingly out of nowhere, carrying a tray. Jeremy got a glass and then, remembering that they were obviously here as a couple, quickly got one for Ryan too.
“Thanks, honey,” Ryan said and Jeremy could tell that he was starting to enjoy this bullshit.
He took a sip instead of answering, letting his eyes wander through the room. It was filled with people but there was enough space for it to not feel crowed. Small groups had formed, with discrete butlers carrying trays making their ways from one cluster to another and some people sometimes breaking off from one group to join another.
Jeremy couldn’t see Cambell anywhere. There was an abundance of pretty blonde woman all naturally in masks though so they might had to get a bit closer.
Great, Jeremy thought miserably, time to make small talk. He gripped his champagne flute tighter and wished he was in Kharkiv instead, fist fighting a Russian spy. This would be less painful than this charade.
They managed to somehow insert themselves in a group, Jeremy getting an easy in when he overheard somebody mentioning that she and her husband had gone hunting last month. He had no idea how interesting the small group of three women and two husbands actually found his advice on which type of gun the woman should use instead the next time they went hunting but everybody smiled and nodded politely.
“I haven’t seen you around before,” one of the woman, wearing a green bunny mask, said after he was done. “Have you moved here recently?”
“We are working on it,” Jeremy said, forcing himself to smile. “The house is currently being built. He has a different opinion regarding color options but we will manage, I’m sure.”
He nodded at the direction of Ryan who was talking with one of the husbands who was wearing a red carnival mask about the art business. He hoped to hell Ryan hadn’t just skimmed the background information about the current state of things in the art trade the way Jeremy had done.
“Ah, first marriages,” the woman said, sounding wistful. “Even waking up in the morning together feels wonderful then.”
They had never woken up together anytime. If one of them was sleeping, the other one was keeping watch. Even in Fortaleza Jeremy had silently slipped out of the bed afterwards and had started watching the door.
“Yes, it’s … it’s nice,” Jeremy said belated and somewhat lamely.
Out of the corner of his eyes he spotted another blonde woman, one that was gracefully working the room.
“If you excuse me,” he said quickly. “I’ll be getting some more drinks for me and my husband.”
He slipped away, leaving Ryan to the mercy of the husband who had been extolling the merits of whoever the hell Cecily Brown was for the last fifteen minutes. He probably should save Ryan, he figured, but so far he seemed to be doing fine by just nodding along with the man’s remarks.
Making his way through the crowd, he tried to inconspicuously keep an eye on Cambell or at least the person he thought was Cambell. He spotted her again, talking to a few serious looking men in red and blue masks.
Slowly he made his way over to the group, grabbing another flute of champagne on his way. His mind was racing, trying to come up with an idea of how to insert himself into the group without it being too obvious.
It proved easier than he thought. The blonde woman who was wearing a rather ornate owl mask spotted him and turned towards him with a smile.
“Mr. Roberts, isn’t it?” she said. Her voice was smooth and friendly but Jeremy didn’t fail to notice the way she was sizing him up from underneath her mask.
“I’m so glad you could make it to my little gathering,” she said with a smile. There was nothing little about the gathering but Jeremy didn’t think pointing it out would endear him to her.
“Catherine Cambell. We have common friends, the Darwsons.”
The Darwson would be confused about the insinuation that they knew Jeremy or rather Timothy Roberts. They’d be even more perplexed and probably furious about the mails they had written to Cambell, sadly having to decline their invitation for this year’s party but suggesting that some friends of theirs, a newly wed couple moving to San Franciso, would love an invitation.
“Yes, it was wonderful of Hannah to tell us about this party. And thank you for the invitation.”
It wasn’t just Ryan who could be smooth if the occasion called for it, Jeremy thought, a weird sort of satisfaction flowing through him at Cambell’s slight smile.
“Let me introduce you,” she said, turning back to the small group of men who politely nodded at him. One of them didn’t quite manage to conceal his scowl when Jeremy was smoothly inserted in the group by Cambell, stealing the man’s place next to her.
Introductions were made and Jeremy felt his interest vanish the moment he realized that almost all of the people were in real estate. Probably equally shady but not what they were looking for right now.
“You brought your husband along, didn’t you, Mr. Roberts?” Cambell asked.
“Yes, James is talking to somebody about art or something. I fear I would just embarrass him there.”
“When did you get married? Hannah wrote me it was just recently.”
“Three months ago. It feels like we have barely returned from our honeymoon.”
“A spring wedding, how delightful! I hope the weather worked out for you, where did you get married?”
“Wisconsin, James’ family is from there and he didn’t want his grandparents to travel so far.”
Never before had Jeremy been so glad about how diligent he had read the mission files. And even now he was improvising though James was probably the type of person who’d want his grandparents to attend his wedding.
Ryan meanwhile would never even entertain the idea of getting married. Jeremy wasn’t even sure they could, considering you probably needed actual real ID or some other bullshit.
Not that they ever would get married, he reminded himself sternly.
“And now you are moving here?” Cambell continued to inquire. Slowly Jeremy was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable with her questions.
“Yes,” he said, still trying his best to appear polite and friendly. “In a few months, once the construction of the house is finished.”
“Your first house together?”
“We have a flat in Boston.”
Flats were better than houses. More anonymous and less of a paper trail. Ryan and him would have never gotten a house if they were married.
“And now you’re moving to the West coast?”
This conversation started to feel less like small talk and more like a cross examination. Bells inside Jeremy’s head that had been ringing quietly for the last few minutes suddenly became a deafening alarm.
“Yes,” he said, feeling his guard go up. “I prefer the climate. And James has been trying to get back into the art scene.”
“So will you be opening a new subsidiary of your business here then?”
This was a trick, Jeremy suddenly realized. Somehow, though he really wasn’t sure how, she had gotten suspicious of Timothy Roberts and now she was trying to get to the bottom of him, trying to find holes in his backstory.
“Yes,” he said loudly. He needed to leave. He needed to find Ryan and they needed to regroup. “Though I will likely travel between my businesses for the foreseeable future.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something else but Jeremy was quicker.
“If you excuse me, I think I saw my husband waving me over,” he said and with that he made a less than gracious exit. For a moment he thought he could see disappointment in Cambell’s eyes but her smile reappeared quickly as she turned back to the man next to her who had taken over Jeremy’s vacant spot in an instance.
Fuck, Jeremy thought, his mind racing as he made his way through the crowd, looking for Ryan. What had given them away? He thought he had played Timothy perfectly. Had there been something he had missed? Maybe he hadn’t quite sounded lovingly enough when talking about the man he had supposedly been married to for three months.
He couldn’t find Ryan. The group of people he had last seen them with had dispersed. Had Cambell gotten to him somehow? Inconspicuously he mustered the security men that were stationed around the room. Ryan could have taken all of them easily, even without any weapons.
Though maybe they had lured him into a trap? The terrace opened out into a big garden, where more and better armed security forces could potentially be hiding. A few people were out there smoking but the vast majority of the people were inside, mingling. Jeremy passed them by, mostly focused on trying to see if he could find Ryan somewhere in the darkness of the garden.
He stopped when he heard a voice.
“…this won’t do.” Cambell sound impatient. Her jovial tone from before was gone completely, had turned hard and cold instead. She was now also speaking Korean.
Curious Jeremy slowed down, quietly moving closer to her.
“We have discussed a payment of fifty million dollars, nothing less.”
She could just be talking about providing some South Korean firm with new anti-virus software. But somehow Jeremy doubted it.
The woman she was talking to wearing a fox mask nodded.
“We understand, but we need more proof that this will actually get us inside the system and their computers.” Unlike Cambell, she was a native speaker, Jeremy could tell that much. He wished Ryan was here, he was good enough at Korean to pinpoint whether or not she was from South or North Korea.
“I have always provided in the past.” Cambell’s tone was so sharp you could almost cut yourself on it. “And once I have the money, I will continue doing so. You will have access to both the State and Commerce Department.”
Well, Jeremy thought, at least he now knew what Cambell’s was selling. And who she was selling it to. He was wondering if he should get closer to try and get a better view of the woman Cambell was talking to when suddenly a hand covered his mouth and another grabbed his arm.
He immediately elbowed back but whoever was holding him saw it coming and moved out of his reach before pulling him backwards towards them. Jeremy wanted to kick, tried to force his arm out of the tight grip but he was turned around instead.
His fighting died down the moment he recognized Ryan.
“Fuck you,” he hissed when Ryan moved his hand away from his mouth.
“You are ruining your bow tie, Tim,” Ryan just said, moving to fix it. Jeremy almost slapped his hand away. They hadn’t really touched since Fortaleza. But something in Ryan’s voice made him stop.
“Good thing I have you as my personal fashion advisor, James,” he said carefully.
Ryan laughed, too high and too faux-happy to be real. There was no dark amusement or the rare genuine enjoyment that usually accompanied his laughter.
“You’d be absolutely lost without me, honey,” he said and then he suddenly leant down and kissed Jeremy.
His lips were soft and warm and suddenly Jeremy was back in Fortaleza. They had also kissed back them, roughly and desperately. Jeremy had grabbed Ryan, had tried to pull him as close as possible, unwilling to let go of him.
They had fallen down onto the bed and Jeremy wanted to say that it had just been sex, an adrenaline-filled stupid decision brought upon by once again having almost escaped inevitable death.
But the way Ryan had looked at him, the way Jeremy had returned his look proved it to be a lie.
You almost died. He hadn’t said it but it had hung between them, a heavy and inescapable truth.
You almost died and I would have burnt down this entire fucking place if you had.
It was less the realization that he loved Ryan. He had known this for a long time now, had masterfully pushed it so far away from him that it was an irrefutable truth that need not further be acknowledged. The sky was blue, they killed people for money and he loved Ryan.
But that night in Brazil, on that lumpy mattress with the water stains on the ceiling, the feeling of Ryan’s hand on his body and his lips against his own, he also realized that he couldn’t imagine his life without Ryan in it anymore.
Didn’t want to.
It was an inconvenient realization to say the least. The way Ryan was kissing him right now, so soft and careful, almost hurt. Ryan didn’t kiss like this. Ryan kissed hard and with almost bruising force. He tasted like blood and smelt like gun powder.
He kissed in a way that reminded Jeremy that this was all he could ever have. One night in a run-down motel room. They would never get anything more.
Timothy Roberts got dates in posh restaurants and honeymoons in the Bahamas. Jeremy got combat rations and being shot at in Thai jungles. Timothy Roberts got to softly kiss the man he loved at parties. Jeremy didn’t.
And he would never want to be Timothy Roberts but he still hated him for it.
A throat was being cleared behind them and Jeremy startled, feeling annoyed at himself for having gotten lost in the kiss.
He turned around, seeing Cambell standing behind them. She looked amused.
“Sorry for disturbing you two lovebirds,” she said. “Mr. James Roberts, I assume?”
“Ah, yes,” Ryan said. He actually sounded embarrassed as he shook Cambell’s hand. He was a better actor than Jeremy had given him credit for in the past, Jeremy thought.
“You were gone so quickly, I forgot to give you my contact details,” Cambell then said. From seemingly nowhere a card appeared in her hand that she handed over to Jeremy.
“If you are expanding to the West Coast, you must be looking for security for your company,” she said. “I might be able to work out a good deal for you.”
The friendly tone was back but now Jeremy recognized it for what it was. A businesswoman sensing an opportunity to make some money. It wasn’t all highly traitorous deals with Koreans in her patio.
“Thank you,” Jeremy managed to say. “I’ll think of it.”
“Well,” Cambell said, seemingly having lost much of her interest in them now that she had gotten what she wanted out of Jeremy. “I will leave you to it then. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”
With that she sauntered back to the house, Jeremy staring after her, faintly impressed with just how cold-blooded she was.
“And to think that she just sold out her nation to the North Koreans,” Ryan said through his teeth next to him.
“So you heard that part?”
“Most of it.”
“I got the details.”
“Defense?”
“Commerce and State,” he said. “For fifty million dollars.”
Ryan whistled through his teeth.
“Not bad. The Agency is going to be quite happy with us.”
“No too happy I hope. I’m not in the mood to do this again anytime soon.”
His lips were still prickling slightly from the kiss.
“I dunno,” Ryan said. “I think we make for a good married couple.”
Jeremey wanted to laugh at this, wanted to play along and point out just how ridiculous this entire façade was. The two of them married and building a house and going to parties in matching clothes. He didn’t feel like it somehow though.
“It’s stupid,” he managed, his voice sounding hollow and unconvincing even to himself. Ryan mustered him silently. Jeremy returned his stare suddenly feeling exhausted again.
What did it matter, he thought suddenly, if Ryan knew. What would even change? Maybe Ryan would ask for a different partner, maybe he would just say nothing. And they’d just keep going the same way they were doing now until one day someone got unlucky and then it was just one of them left. This was their life, it was all they ever had and all they’d ever get, Jeremy thought bitter. Blood and bullets and one day their own dead bodies added to the pile.
What did it really matter if Ryan knew that Jeremy loved him and didn’t want it to end this way.
“The house is a bad idea,” Ryan then suddenly said. “Too easy to trace back to us. We would have to go for a flat instead.”
Confused Jeremy stared at him.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “And not in San Francisco.”
Ryan shook his head.
“New York,” he said. “Bigger. And you like the city.”
“I do.” Jeremy had no idea what they were actually talking about.
“I have contacts in New York that can help,” Ryan said.
“We should probably lay low first for a bit, Canada or Mexico,” Jeremy added automatically.
“Right,” Ryan said, with a thoughtful nod. “They won’t just let us go like this.”
“No,” Jeremy said, his mind and heart racing. “They won’t.”
Ryan silently looked him. This didn’t feel like a joke anymore. Not like the two of them making fun of the picture-perfect life Timothy and James were leading.
The moment Ryan had mentioned them, had mentioned the Agency it suddenly had become real.
“They don’t know about my contacts in New York,” Ryan said softly. He was still looking at Jeremy. Still wearing that stupid mask and Jeremy’s hand shot up to take it off, suddenly needing to see Ryan’s face.
Ryan’s own hands came up, doing the same with Jeremy’s mask, his hand resting on Jeremy’s cheek for a moment.
They were just looking at each other and Jeremy could feel his heart pounding loudly in his chest.
“I have fake IDs and cash hidden in Nebraska,” Jeremy then said. “For both of us.”
It was a confession. One he knew Ryan would understand.
“I have a safe house in Washington State nobody else knows about.”
It was an answer. One Ryan knew he understood.
“Do you want to go?” Jeremy asked.
“Do you want to go?” Ryan asked back and Jeremy thought of Thailand.
Of Asia and Europe and America and so many other places he had been and only remembered by the scars he had gotten there. Of Fortaleza and how it would have been if Ryan had died there, bleeding out in some alleyway instead of now standing across from him and asking if he wanted to leave all of this behind.
“They’ll come after us,” he said. “They will never let us leave.”
And Ryan grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly and he grinned widely at Jeremy, the madness and violence that Jeremy had fallen in love with so obvious in his grin.
“Let them,” he said, his voice rough. “Let them try.”
And Jeremy might have not really chosen how he had gotten to this point. But maybe he could choose the paths ahead.
“Yeah,” he said, squeezing Ryan’s hand back. “Let them fucking try.”