Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Courtland Gentry was never one of the ‘good’ guys, but Janie knew he was just misunderstood, as most boys classified as being in the ‘wrong’ crowd often were. Janie’s father disapproved, of course, as a good father should, although he was not a perfect man either. He would yell and curse but would not go nearly to the extreme lengths of Court’s father. His father put he and his little brother, Silas, through hell. No one knew, of course, even their own mother pretended not to see it. But Court put up a good front, covering the bruises with a cool leather jacket worn even in the heat of summer. Most of the abuse came in the form of verbal taunts and harsh emotional jabs, but physical injuries were never impossible.

Janie saw it, begged him to say something, and even threatened to do it herself. But the one time she did, Court came to school with a cigarette burn on his arm and the fear of more retribution from her words kept her lips sealed from then on out.

One day, Court came to school with an unusual look in his eyes. He avoided direct contact with hers and pulled out of her welcoming homeroom hug. His lips barely grazed hers without the devastatingly handsome twinkle in his eyes and light-hearted wink that usually followed their daily greeting. Something in her instincts festered, a deep-rooted fear planted itself in her heart. She hadn’t seen Silas come into school with Court that morning. A panic rose in her throat but before she could ask him for details, she heard loud clanging footsteps echoing from the high school corridor. As they got louder, she glanced at Court who sat nearly frozen in his seat except for tapping his fingers on the desk in a rhythmical pattern. The footsteps grew louder. She examined him in greater detail and noticed a bead of sweat dotting across his brow. She jolted upright as the door to Mrs. Crackett’s homeroom class opened with a pair of police officers, escorted by Principal Soulter. They whispered something to Mrs. Crackett, with a frown of confusion on her face, she pointed directly at Court.

Court said nothing. He was calm, stoic, and compliant without any look of surprise on his face, unlike Janie, who lept from her seat and made a desperate attempt to follow the officers, all the while begging for answers. She called after him, her voice growing louder each time she said his name, but the officers ignored her pleas and Mrs. Crackett pulled her back into the classroom and forced her to face the monotony of another day of homeroom class, as if her world had not just imploded into a pile of confusion and concern.

Rumors and whispers ripped through the school at frightening speed. They bombarded Janie with questions as if she had any clue what had happened. In the loud cafeteria, she sat with a full, untouched lunch tray in front of her, trying to block out the thumping sound of her own heartbeat which hadn’t slowed down since earlier that morning. Maddy Rudwick, the girl in all black with severely angled lines for brows and deep red lips accused the ‘egotistical, sexy bad boy’ of doing something altogether impossible and uttered something about him deserving everything he got. Janie’s face flushed red and hot tears stung her eyes. She grabbed her tray and, without a word, flung it across the room, creating a fabulous display of mashed potatoes and stale meatloaf scattered on the floor. The cafeteria grew silent and the lunch monitor ordered her to the principal’s office.

As she waited outside his office, she glanced over the pamphlets and papers on the registration counter. She saw one notated ‘if you see something, say something’. A pamphlet designed to help prevent dangerous incidents on school property. She felt a twinge of guilt about not speaking up on Court’s behalf and decided then and there she would stand by his side no matter what this situation was. But once the principal called her in, sat her down, and explained the unexpected information, a shockwave shot through her brain, opening a wound that would leave a horrendous scar on her life forever.

That next day the word of his arrest and the suspected crime came to light. The local news spread the story about the fifteen-year-old boy accused of killing his father.

“...John Walters Gentry was found shot to death with a nine millimeter handgun. His oldest son is in custody as the prime suspect, leaving his mother and brother full of grief and shock.” The dramatic, serious tone of a reporter ended another story before moving on to yet another breaking news story to be revealed after a commercial break.

Janie’s body shivered with every word but it was her parent’s response that truly sent her over the edge of emotional control. Her mother tipped her nose up and shook her head as her father smacked his hand on the table.

“I knew there was something I didn’t like about that boy!”

Janie raced up the stairs to her disheveled bedroom. Her neatly placed items strewn about with carelessness ever since the news hit. Putting away clothes seemed so meaningless now. Life was filled with bigger worries and greater consequences and she felt guilty for ever putting so much weight on such simple tasks. Every night she would toss and turn and end up with the light on in the middle of the night with her mother begging her to get some sleep. Every morning she pleaded with her to eat something for breakfast and placed a cold hand on top of Janie’s trembling hand. “He’s just a boy you’ll forget about one day,” she whispered in a soothing tone.

Janie yanked her hand away and slammed the plate full of fresh fruit and waffles onto the floor. She glared at her mother for her false statement and rushed toward the door without another word.

“Get back here, young lady! Janice Elizabeth Stetson!”

But Janice Elizabeth Stetson had already burst through the front door, leaving her family with an empty angry ache for their ‘old’ daughter. The sweet, shy little girl who made everyone smile, until she hit puberty and got with the ‘wrong’ crowd. But even then, the church members would smile every Sunday and encourage her parents that she would ‘come around’.

The small community of Lilith, Florida reeled as new details emerged from Court’s case. He was painted as the kid who ‘snapped’ at his father over a minor disagreement. The local news interviewed teachers and students trying to get any details on his personality. “Were there any signs? Did you know he had psychopathic tendencies? How close were you to the criminal?” They would ask. It didn’t take them long to discover her relationship with him and within days of his confession were knocking at the door of her family home. Her father turned them away and even tried to downplay their relationship. “No, they weren’t dating. No it wasn’t serious. We have no comment. My daughter has been through enough.” For that she could be grateful, but the guilt that she should say something to help people understand the kind of boy he really was ate at her from the inside. He didn’t deserve to be depicted like this. Or did he? She had wondered if she missed something. If he had been a danger to anyone other than his father. Was there evil behind those smokey blue eyes?

She needed to look into those eyes herself, needed to hear his voice, assess for herself what
kind of person he really was for it would help her determine what kind of person she is. The unknown terrified her.

“The shocking case of Courtland Gentry, the fifteen year old accused of killing his father with a handgun, continues to be revealed. The boy will be tried as an adult and will face charges of first degree murder. Officials say he confessed to the crime without restraint. If convicted he faces up to 30 years in prison. Jim?”

“Thanks, Karen. Such a shame at such a young age.”

“It is, Jim. The sentencing trial date is set for sometime this January. And now onto the weather…”

Janie watched the screen as it blurred into a vague weather map with empty words about a heatwave coming for early fall. She barely felt her mother’s arm slide around her shoulders as she shook with sobs.

“I’ve got to see him, Dad,” she begged.

“No,” he screamed.

“Please, Daddy. At least let me say goodbye. Let me say goodbye and you’ll never have to worry about him being a part of my life again!”

Tears streamed down her gaunt cheeks. Her mother’s concern for her daughter’s mental health exploded at the chance of having this boy’s influence over her daughter extinguished. She laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder and with one look convinced him to allow her a visit to the jail.

Chapter Text

The cold temperature of the county jail sent a shiver up her spine and a wave of goosebumps down her arm. She rubbed her arms, pulling the sweatshirt from around her waist and sliding it on her shoulders. Her father, who’s mood had softened ever so slightly, approached the desk and informed the officer of their request for visitation.

Janie glanced around at the unfamiliar facility. The office area contained four desk units butted against each other, a cop standing at one, leaning against his seat with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands, while another officer sat at his desk chatting with him. To them, this place felt completely normal, but to her it made her so uncomfortable she could barely concentrate on why she was even in such a place.

A door lock clicked and a heavy-set officer escorted them into a room lined with cubbies set against a glass wall. Each had a chair, a table top, and a phone on the wall beside the divider panels. The metal chairs looked old, scuffed and rusted with a torn cushion on the seat cover made from some outdated fabric. The smell echoed the state of the chairs, stale and musty, almost as if no fresh air ever entered here.

Other people had gathered in the center of the room waiting for their inmate to enter the room on the opposite side of the glass. No one could reach out and touch each other. If she could describe this place in one word it would be ‘unloved’ for who could ever feel loved in a place like this?

The door clanked open and the inmates, in full orange jumpsuits and with their hands bound by metal handcuffs, were led to their respective cubicles. Large, burly men with tattoos lining nearly every visible body part shuffled in and plopped down in their assigned seats. But there was one person who stood out in this sea of criminals -- the figure of a blonde teenage boy without a single ink stain on his pale skin. Just the person Janie had come to see.

As he sat down in his chair, Janie’s father stepped towards the glass and took the phone off its receiver. He didn’t sit, only leaned against the counter giving Court a hard stare through the smudged glass.

Cortland sat down and slowly lifted the receiver on his end, cutting an icy glare at the man standing before him.

“You have ten minutes, son. Better make your goodbyes count because this will be the last time you ever see my daughter.”

He straightened and stepped aside, revealing his distraught teenage daughter. She looked a fraction of her vibrant self. He could only pray this goodbye would provide the closure she needed to get back to her life.

Janie lunged forward, grasping the receiver with both hands and nearly collapsing into the chair. Tears came rushing from her eyes, blurring her vision and cracking her voice.

The cold stare he’d given to her father thawed when he saw her tears. It was the first time he felt like himself instead of the tough grown-up he pretended to be when he faced daily threats from the older, more experienced inmates. He’d already lost that boyish innocence but that happened even before he entered this facility. That happened the moment he shot his father in the back. He let her gentle, familiar voice bring him back to a better time, before all of this chaos.

“I’m sorry, Court! I wanted to come sooner! Are you okay?” she asked, noticing a purple bruise over his left eye.

A small grin graced his face. It was full of sarcasm and annoyance at such a naive question. How could he possibly be alright in a place like this and how would he ever be okay after the thing he’d done? All he returned was a weak affirming nod.

“I have so many questions. There’ve been so many rumors and I-I don’t know what to believe. Tell me what happened.”

He glanced away, not wanting to recount that night to her. Truthfully, he wished she never even knew about it. She didn’t need to be tarnished by being associated with a guy like him, but that ship sailed a long time ago so he kept his answer short and vague.

“I did what I had to do,” he said without a hint of emotion.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

That stunned her. She expected it had been a struggle. Her brow furrowed.

“No? Then…why?”

“Silas.”

She tightened her eyes. Of course, his little brother, Silas had started catching his father’s rough treatment and Courtland would do anything to protect him.

“You were protecting him.”

He nodded.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, lifting her hand and placing it on the glass. It was the closest she could get to him.

“I’m not. Only wish I’d done it sooner.”

He didn’t like the flinch of fear on her face as he spoke in a stoic voice. He did the right thing - the noble thing - but no one else saw it that way. His own mother looked at him with desperate disgust in her eyes during the sentencing.

But Janie sat here with tear-stained cheeks, offering him an apology from the world. She felt sorry for him but she believed him, he could sense it radiating through the glass between them. A deep sadness overtook him, rearranging the prideful look of scorn on his face and for the first time, he felt guilt for what he’d done. A tear slipped through the corner of his eye, but he sniffed it back and swiped the cantankerous drip away with the back of his hand.

This break in his stoney facade brought a faint smile to her face. It was the first time she could really see the ‘old’ him. Even in this dim harsh light of prison, she saw a brief flash of light return to his eyes. He offered her a slight smile and brought his hand to the glass, meeting hers for a moment.

She blinked away more tears as she contemplated her final words to him. How did it come to this? A bell rang. The sound of sliding chairs and receivers being slammed down filled the room. She wasn’t ready. She turned her fearful eyes back to his as a guard came behind him.

“Time’s up,” he stated.

Courtland glanced up, “I need more time.”

“I don’t care.”

Her eyes darted between him and the guard, panic growing inside her. Her teenage life was about to take a dramatic hit that she wasn’t mature enough to handle.

“I gotta go,” he said.

She shook her head and forced her hand to the glass as flat as it would go. “No, wait. Court!

The guard approached him from behind, saying something that caused Court’s shoulders to drop.

“Sorry, Janie.”

“Promise me you won’t forget me?” she pleaded.

He grinned, a light twinkle in his eyes, “Never.” With a final wink, the guard whisked him away as she watched helplessly from the comfortable side of freedom. Something he would never get to see again.

Chapter Text

This job ran her ragged, but she loved it. It kept her moving around from one expensive venue to the next. This time she found the expanse of the hotel lobby a bit indulgent. Clean marble floors that shined like the bright white of a diamond, velour curtains from floor to the cathedral, high ceilings and luxurious seats that looked too expensive to sit on. This client expected to be treated with heirs of graces and so they put her up in a place to show off their desires. She wore her best suit, perfectly tailored to her size, navy blue pin-striped with a feminine pink accent on the lapel. Her heels hurt with pain that rivaled the brand name of the expensive shoes she wore.

A man stood at the check-in counter in a gray suit jacket, fitted against his broad shoulders and as well-tailored as her own. She waited for her turn at the counter with two people behind him, she glanced down at her watch for a moment to check the time. When she looked up the man sauntered past her, giving her a good look at the rest of him. He had neatly coiffed blonde hair and a stylish gotee accenting chiseled cheekbones and dark blue eyes. It was in his eyes she recognized that familiar twinkle. Her head did a double take, certain her eyes were deceiving her, but the handsome stranger was no stranger at all.

“Court?!”

He didn't turn but continued his brisk pace away from her. Forgetting her time commitment, she abandoned her place in line and sprinted after him. She called his name again, but this time caught his arm and forced him to come to an abrupt stop. She stepped in front of him to prevent him rushing off.

“It is you!” she said, her voice gasping at the sight of him.

“I’m sorry. You must be mistaken,” the man said, but his familiar voice only confirmed her suspicions.

“Don’t you recognize me?” she asked with a slightly confused but understanding face. The bright, hopeful look on her face didn’t seem to have any effect on his memory.

He shook his head again.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping away from her and making another attempt to leave her presence.

Ignoring his indifference, she continued, “I can’t believe it! After all these years! We’ve always wondered…what will your brother say,” she asked with both fear and wonder in her voice.

That gave him pause and his eyes met her with a flash of recognition and curiosity. Then the moment passed nearly as quickly as it had appeared.

“Look, I don’t know who you think I am, but you’re wrong. I have no family.”

She wanted to push but his cool tone took away her confidence.

“Alright, well, if you remember anything or just want to talk, here’s my card.”

She pulled out a business card from her suit pocket and jotted down her room number on the back. “I’ll be here until Thursday.”

He snatched the card from her hand and turned away without saying another word.

She watched her old high school boyfriend disappear…again.

…

Her keycard clicked and she pushed the heavy door into her expensive hotel room. She kicked off her high heels, and unbuttoned her suit jacket, tossing it on the velvet sofa. Distracted by the contract she had just procured, an impressive feat even for her, she didn’t hear the shuffling of footsteps outside her room until the door slammed open and four men in black masks obscuring their features rushed inside. She jumped and opened her mouth to scream but a rough masculine hand muffled the meager sounds trying to escape her throat. She struggled as they wrapped their arms around hers. Next her feet flew in the air as another person grabbed them tightly, flinging her backwards. She thrashed back and forth but couldn’t break free from their ironclad grip.

Suddenly another figure burst through the door, pulling two of the attackers towards the wall and knocking them unconscious. The other fought the newcomer but he was quickly thrust from his feet and laid out on his back after one hit.

Her feet flopped to the floor as that man was pulled away, fighting against this single foe. Without much of a struggle he too fell victim to the strength and swift movements of this person who she was finally able to see clearer. With his face now in full view, her mouth flew open but her voice remained silent. She still lay on the floor, watching the man continue to struggle with the final attacker before knocking him out cold, his body flopping to the floor next to her.

Out of breath, she stared at her rescuer, silent and unmoving. It was him. Courtland Gentry!

Her attackers began to stir. It was then she noticed each one had a gun strapped to their belts. Her heart pounded when a hand, bloody from the fight, reached out to her. She stared at it as if it might bite her. A gruff, voice, out of breath but familiar, bellowed, “You wanna wait for them to wake up? Come on!”

With a trembling hand, she took his and he pulled her to a standing position. This momentary delay allowed the attackers to regain consciousness. One of them pushed her rescuer from behind and he whipped around landing another blinding blow to his face. A distinct click sounded and she felt a cold metal in the small of her back. The gun cocked again but her rescuer pulled a gun from his waist and shot her captor within a second. His body dropped to the floor behind her, dead. She rushed from the room as another bullet whizzed past her head, leaving a small hole in the perfect portrait hanging on the hotel wall. She started running, letting out a scream as more bullet sounds popped around her.

Before turning the corner to the stairwell, she glanced behind her and saw her rescuer slam the shooter against the wall, prying his gun from the man’s struggling arms. His body went limp as a final shot from his own gun pierced his stomach.

Court came barreling towards her, yelling at her to run. He met her in the stairwell, quickly surpassing her pace. Her lungs struggled against the effort to keep up but pounding footsteps above her triggered more adrenaline to pump through her veins. Bullets flew by them again and this time he returned fire. It startled her that he still had a gun.

“Here!” he hollered as he pushed open the stiff stairwell door and led them into the corridor.

She lost count of what floor they exited on. The high rise building had given her a good view of the city but she regretted the upper floor number as she struggled to keep running down the numerous stairs. Her leg muscles cramped and her heart ached from the exertion. She was quickly losing the ability to continue moving.

As she staggered behind him, distance spread further between them. He seemed to sense it as he looked back to see her leaning against the corridor wall.

“Come on,” he said, gripping her arm. He tried to pull her along but her muscles protested. She worked out but the daily run on the treadmill hadn't prepared her for escaping an enemy from dozens of stories above the ground.

“I can’t…I…” Her ragged breath prevented her from even forming a complete sentence.

His head darted back and forth searching for another solution. The maid cart sat a few hotel rooms down, across from the maintenance closet. The maid grabbed an armful of towels, obscuring her view of their approach. He slipped past her, swiping her keys from the cart in one swift, silent move. He darted back to Janie where she leaned against the wall, straining to follow him. He had to assist her, his strong arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her towards the closet and pushed her in. She fell to the floor and pushed herself to a sitting position with her back against a cold metal towel rack.

He peeked through the crack in the closet door to see if they were still being followed. When he heard footsteps, he pulled the door silently shut, and locked it from the inside.

He let out a slow deep breath and put the full weight of his eyes on her. She felt judged, like he was disappointed in her ability to keep up with him.

“What was that? Who were those men?” He ignored her questions. His mind seemed to be focused on something else as he rubbed his hand over his forehead now soaked with sweat.

“Courtland!” she raised her voice, garnering a stern look from him. ”Six!” He whispered with an urgent cry.

She tried again, “Court—”

“No! Six,” this time he said it, pointing a finger directly in her face. “My name is Six.”

She looked confused.

“Say it! Six! Say it!”

“Okay, okay, Six. Why Six?”

“That’s my name now.”

She shook her head, her pounding heart rate slowly coming back to a normal pace, but his stiff, emphatic tone unnerved her. Without actually saying the words, he had confirmed his identity. She was right.

“You do remember me!”

He had a cell phone to his ear and answered her in a low, distracted tone. “Of course, I remember you, you were the only one who came to visit me…”

He looked at his watch, tapping it twice. “Come on, Fitz, answer!”

“Didn’t Silas come,” she paused and gasped in realization. “Silas! What will he say when I tell him about you? He needs some good news. It’s been a rough few years for him.”

Six looked down at her, pausing his racing thoughts for a moment. It had been so long since he’d even thought about his past life, but he never forgot. After all, Silas was the match that started the fire that destroyed his entire chance at a normal life. It made sense his younger brother wouldn’t have had much of a normal life either. His only brother killed his father and his mother hated him for it. She didn’t believe Court when he told her the reason. She never supported them or stood by them, but Janie had. His gaze softened ever so slightly when he looked at her, taking in her appearance now. He felt a connection to her…familiar but not the same.

She glanced up, feeling his eyes on her, but he didn’t let them linger. Finally a voice came through on the line.

“Fitz here, Six, where are you? You’re supposed to be—”

“I know where I’m supposed to be but I ran into a…complication.”

“Do you need an extraction?

“No—but I have a…liability.”

“What do you need me to do?”

He paused. For the first time since his first mission with the CIA, he didn't know what to do.

Chapter Text

The hallway had gone silent since they took shelter here. Even the maid had moved on, unaware of the hidden occupants in her closet. Janie watched Six lean against the door, phone in one hand, the other on his forehead. She noticed now the wrinkle lines stretching across it and around the corners of his eyes, much like those on her own face. It had been ten years but it felt much longer. She always imagined what he looked like. She half expected him to still be wearing that same leather jacket and ripped jeans with the stair-step shaved pattern in his right eyebrow. He thought he was so cool and edgy. The cringe of its untrendy fashion statement made her smile, but his stone-cold voice cut into her trip down memory lane.

“Hey, you got a family? Husband, kids?”

She shook her head. Her career kept her far too busy for all of that, at least, that’s what she told herself. Maybe it was something else entirely.

“What about your parents,” he continued in almost accusatory fashion.

Her face dropped. She didn’t like to talk about her parents, but he was one of the few people who might understand. “Mom died about five years ago. Cancer. And I don’t speak to my dad anymore.”

He turned his attention back to the person on the other line. “Alright, I need an extraction for one. Got a WPA.”

“Understood. What am I looking for?”

“Female, age 25, brown hair, brown eyes, 5’6 maybe a hundred and…” his eyes ran up and down her body, “a hundred and twenty-five pounds.”

“Hey! One hundred twenty-TWO pounds, thank you very much,” she interjected, both impressed and offended at his assessment.

But he gave no reaction to her response. Back to his phone he listened intently, nodding his head as if he were making mental notes.

“Hey Fitz,” he paused and lowered his voice, “thanks.”

A glimmer of a smile showed on his face as he clicked the phone and slipped it in his pocket. He peaked out the door to be certain the hallway was clear of any danger. “Ready?”

She stood up and shrugged her shoulders. “For what?”

He sighed but gave her no explanation before exiting the closet and escorting her down the stairs, silent and stoic.

…

His eyes darted around every corner as they exited the hotel. All the guests stood around the bottom of the building looking upwards as police set up barriers to keep them from reentering the crime scene —- her crime scene. She stared at the circus of cops and EMS workers gathering to help decipher the situation. Six guided her away from the crowds, glancing at each person to see if they noticed them leave.

He ducked between two cars, gesturing for her to follow him. He pulled the handle of several cars until one handle finally opened. Her mouth dropped as she realized they were about to commit another crime.

With every turn they made, he did a double take in the rearview mirror. Janie echoed his movements glancing in the side mirror almost as often. They rode in silence for a while until they exited the city. Once the road cleared out of traffic, his shoulders dropped by a fraction of an inch. She took the opportunity to open the lines of communication, but he started before she could get a word out.

“Okay, listen, when we meet the Constable, you need to let me do all the talking. They should have your I.D. ready and get you on the plane. After that, Fitz’ll take care of you.”

“Wait, I can’t leave. I have a job to do.”

“Not anymore, that’s all over now. Now you become who Fitz says you are.”

“You’re saying I can’t go back to my life? You expect me to disappear just like that?” she said, snapping her fingers. “I have to. I have friends, well, co-workers, I have a home, a place I sometimes reside and, well, plants that need tending.”

As she explained her meager life, she realized just how little she really had. Perhaps she could just disappear. Would anyone notice? But then she remembered her biggest priority. “I can’t leave Silas. This is the first time he’s stayed anywhere long enough to get the help he needs.”

“Where is he?”

“A rehab facility in upstate New York.”

“Which one,” he demanded.

“St. Augustine’s.”

“All right, I’ll get Silas, you worry about yourself.”

She frowned. “You don’t understand, he can’t leave. This is the third place he’s been in four years!”

“You’ve been looking after my brother?”

“Someone had to. His mom — your mom — kicked him out after his first bout in jail. Then she tried again but sent him away after she caught him doing drugs in the garage. He was sixteen, living in his car, and struggling to survive.”

His skin bristled. After all he had done to protect his brother, Silas still suffered from a torturous life. He should’ve been there for him. Damn justice system!

Janie saw the guilt-ridden look on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply… It wasn’t your fault.”

“Nah, of course not. Who else got sent to prison, leaving him alone to fend for himself?”

“I know you would’ve been there.” She risked placing a hand on his forearm. He stared at it for a second, making her uncomfortable. She quickly pulled it back.

The conversation died but the winding road continued on. The car took a sharp turn onto a dusty field. She bounced up and down, shooting him a surprised and annoyed look. He didn’t flinch or even offer her an apology. They pulled up to a small airfield with a two-seater plane on the tarmac. She swallowed hard, uncomfortable with the thought of riding in what looked like an old beat-up car.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

He approached a middle-aged man wearing a ripped wife-beater tank top and grease-stained jeans, leaning against the plane. They spoke a few words and he gestured for her to join him.

Steeling herself for the next step in this crazy journey, she stood beside Six, still in disbelief of the turn this day had taken. How one day can change everything!

The man introduced himself as John and after giving her the one up, he opened the door to the plane. She turned her terrified eyes back to Six’s dead-pan stare, only dropping it for a moment when John approached Janie a little too closely. Six stepped in front of her and gave John a stern glare, setting his jaw tight and with one nod, John cowered and returned to his position nearer the door.

“M’lady, if you will, we’ll get this chariot going.”

Six stepped back giving her the approval to move forward, but her feet wouldn’t budge. Fear gripped her and she felt almost faint.

“Hey,” his voice a harsh whisper and she turned her attention to his eyes, “Fitz got me out of prison, he’ll get you out of this. Promise.”

Her voice barely raised its volume and she forced the words out of her mouth. “You’re not coming?”

“No, I still have a job to do.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Hopefully. If your little detour doesn’t cost me my contact’s trust.”

She scoffed. “Gee, I’m so sorry my life interfered with your job.”

“Good, we understand each other then.”

She twisted her lips and forced her trembling legs to step into the plane. He slammed the door behind her. Heart pounding, she placed the headphones over her ears as the pilot instructed and looked down at Six, praying this was all one big joke and he’d pull her from the unknown. He didn’t, but he did give her a wink and a fragment of her past returned a spark in her heart.

The plane engine roared to life and took off into a vast empty sky. Whoever she would become, started here and now.

Chapter Text

The engine of the plane sputtered and her stomach lurched with the rough landing. The pilot gave her a smug look with a not-so-subtle plea for her approval. He added a sly grin when she shuddered at his response. She felt his eyes glance down her body as the plane's vibrations caused an uncomfortable physical sensation in her chest.

The plane cruised down the small tarmac of a place she didn’t recognize. It hadn’t been a long flight so they could still be in the same country.

She looked around at the lush trees and green grass bordering the runway. Below she saw an older gentleman in a thick trench coat with an umbrella hanging from his arm. His kind smile looked much more welcoming and distinguished than Six’s pilot friend.

She longed for the plane to come to a full stop so she could feel the fresh air from outside. It finally stopped and she jumped up ready to exit the doors but before she could gain her freedom from the confinements of the cramped cockpit, the slime ball of a pilot made one more inappropriate advancement toward her. He slid open the doors but blocked her exit with his arm across the opening.

He inched closer to her, his foul breath a mix of beer and onions filling her lungs. She sucked in the disgusting stench and pressed her body against the cold metal wall of the cabin behind her. Then an inner strength filled her as she remembered Six’s warning to this man. She brought her eyes directly into his and leaned closer to his face.

“I believe your friend, Six, made it quite clear to maintain your distance from me. He doesn’t seem like the sort of man you want to cross.”

The pilot’s eyes blinked and a flurry of fear brushed across his face. He dropped his arm and stepped aside, offering his hand to help her down the steps. She ignored it. The fear from a simple mention of the mysterious Six’s name intrigued her…and scared her. What had he become?

An older gentleman with white hair and stylish mustache stood near a shiny new sedan a few feet off the runway.

“You must be Ms. Stetson,” the gentleman said with a bit of American southern-drawl.

“You must be Mr. Fitz?”

He nodded. “Donald Fitzroy,” he said as he extended a hand for a cordial greeting. She shook it with a hesitant grip.

“I apologize for the transportation. It was the best I could do with such short notice. I usually afford my client’s a higher class of vehicle. I hope it wasn’t too uncomfortable.”

She glanced back at the pilot and then cringed at the sight of the dilapidated plane. Uncomfortable didn’t come close to describing the voyage.

“Oh no. It was lovely,” she said with sarcasm dripping from her lips.

He nodded as if it wasn’t the first time he’d heard complaints.

“Don’t worry I promise your next transport will be much more relaxing.”

A driver from the black sedan stepped out and opened the car door for her. The chauffeur was tall, slender, and silent. He simply opened the door and waited for his passengers to enter.

Inside the leather interior filled her nostrils with the scent of fresh cleaner, not a single crumb or finger print tarnished the pristine condition of this vehicle. Either it was a rental or this man took great care of it. She hoped if he cared this much for a car, he would show that same amount of care in her security.

While spacious inside the car, she still felt trapped. She slid as far to the other door as she could when Fitz sat next to her. He let her settle into a safe distance apart from him before speaking.

“I’m terribly sorry about all of this. You must have a thousand questions, but I can assure you, you are safe here and I promise to keep you that way. I should’ve taken care of this years ago, but I honestly didn’t think you’d given a second thought to your high school boyfriend. Figured you’d moved on.”

She squirmed at the assumption. She had indeed thought of him several times throughout the years. It was difficult to displace such a huge moment from her memories. She looked away, choosing to keep that to herself.

“How do you know me?”

“I know all about you, Janice Elizabeth Stetson. Born October 5th, 1980, graduated Lilith High School class of ‘98, FSU 2002, majored in business economics, right? You work at Samson’s Associates as a contract specialist and if I’m correct, you just secured their biggest account yet. Impressive. Jeilson is no easy client to persuade.”

After noticing her horrified surprise, he paused and decided to explain.

“I run a top secret security detail for the CIA, Ms. Stetson. I specialize in making people disappear.”

“Safely?”

“Mostly.”

She shivered.

“But Six takes care of that part.”

“So he’s an agent, then?”

“Of sorts, yes. All you need to know is of all the past boyfriend’s to run into, Six is the best. You’re one lucky lady.”

“Lucky? Really? Ever since I said hello to him, I’ve been shot at, stolen a car, ridden in a plane I’m pretty sure should be junked and told I have to give up my entire life to be protected. No Sir, I do not feel lucky.”

“I can understand that. Trust me, I will rectify this as best as I can.”

“Trust you? I don’t even know you.”

“I’m the one that took him out of prison. I made him disappear and I’ll do the same for you.”

She sighed, bristled with frustration.

“I sure didn't count on the fickle finger of fate, if you will. But I guess that’s just the optimism in me. Here we are,” he said as the car came to a slow stop.

She tried to see out of the tinted windows of the car but her environment only became clear when she stepped outside and took in the vast stone castle before her eyes.

“This is my personal residence.”

“You trust me that much already? Why?”

“Because I consider myself an excellent judge of character. After all, I’m the one that selected Six and turned him into the successful person he is.”

She eyed him suspiciously, wondering how good his judgment was by turning a reluctant criminal into a willing participant of violence. What kind of success did he value?

“Look,” Fitz said, bringing her attention away from her thoughts, “I know you’re scared but I have a niece in there who is ten years old so please trust me when I say this is the safest place in the world right now.”

She nodded as she stepped forward to the house of a stranger.

Chapter Text

Claire Fitzroy was an impetuous young girl and had faced more hardship in her few years on this earth than Janie had faced in her lifetime. Both her parents died from a drunk driving accident and a pacemaker already resided in her little heart. It left her nothing less than jaded — already. And now her Uncle Donald had brought another stranger into their house. This one would be in and out within days as well. No one worth getting attached to.

Still, the lady who was introduced as Ms. Fuentes, though clearly not her real name by the obvious disapproving look on her face as he said the name. Claire smiled briefly and made no other efforts to make the lady feel welcome, but for the first time, Uncle Donald admonished her for it. He whipped his head towards Ms. Fuentes and gave her an insistent look. She just shrugged her shoulders but decided it wasn’t worth an argument.

“Where ya from?” She asked with forced effort.

“Umm—,” Ms. Fuentes hesitated, looking over to Uncle Donald for an answer. Claire rolled her eyes at the obvious ruse.

“Okay, let’s start with an easier one. What’s your first name?” Again, the lady looked to Uncle Donald. Claire sighed. This was pointless.

“How am I supposed to ‘make nice’ when you don’t even give her enough false information to answer these basic questions. She’ll never make it. Best kill her now before she talks,” Claire said, adding a malicious laugh to continue the joke.

Her uncle laughed as well, wagging a finger in her face. “Very funny,” he said with a roll of his eyes and a side glance of curiosity.

It was clear Ms. Fuentes didn’t find any of this amusing.

Janie’s face drained of color at the girl’s laughter. Nothing like restarting a life as a new person after a near death experience should be humorous. Donald Fitzroy guided her away from the giddy girl.

“Don’t worry. She doesn’t actually know what we do here.”

“Are you sure about that? Kids are much more perceptive than we give them credit for.”

“Perhaps you’re right. I have tried to shield her from all of this but occasionally I do have to bring clients through — a very few mind you. Only ones that possess the lowest level of threats and Six will make sure your threats are over soon.”

“He’s that reliable?”

“Hasn’t let me down yet. Why don’t you make yourself at home? I’m collecting your new documentation and I’ll have some clothes brought over too. Eat, rest, and try to relax. I promise this’ll all be over soon.”

...

Janie nibbled the food off of the plate in front of her. She felt a little more rested after a shower and while the clothes weren’t hers they did fit and smelled fresh and clean. She didn’t complain, just listened to Claire rattle on about her little life.

She didn’t spend much time around children but this was more like talking, or listening rather, to an adult. Claire explained about her parent’s death and her heart condition. How she’d learned to live with her uncles’ mysterious job. She knew more than her uncle thought, as Janie suspected, but all she did was shake her head, trying to wrap her brain around this sad life of a poor preteen. Life could be cruel and unfair especially to the young.

After dinner, Claire made her way to the parlor. Janie followed her for fear she would get lost in a house of this size. The parlor had tall ceilings, like the rest of the house, but bookshelves lined the walls of this room, each shelf filled to the brim with books from all over, spanning many genres. In the center of the room sat two leather sofas, with nail-head studs dotting the edges and the low coffee table in front of the seating had ornate carved legs with a chess set in the center.

Claire grabbed one of the velvet tasseled pillows from the wood chair in the corner and plopped it down on the floor in front of the table.

“You play?” She asked Janie.

“Not really.”

“It’s easy. I’ll teach you.”

Janie sat down on a plush Persian rug that was probably worth more than her entire salary. A government job must pay higher than they used to or Donald Fitzroy had a lucrative side business.

It had been forty-eight hours since her attack at the hotel. She sat across the floor from this little girl who faced death many times over and suddenly she felt a connection to her. Her shoulders relaxed and her eyes focused on Claire’s fingers as she pointed to each chess piece, explaining each movement and path they could take. It took Janie several games before she got the hang of it.

The door knob jiggled, causing Janie to jump and knock over the chess pieces of her game. Claire sighed, disappointed at losing when she had an easy win. Fitz stood up and everyone stared at the door. A surge of nervous energy pulsed through the room.

Before he could open the door handle, the door slammed open and two men stood in the opening. Janie’s eyes spread wide, thrusting her eyebrows upward and giving fire to her feet. She ran towards them, one of the men headed towards her at a slightly slower pace.

“Silas,” she said with an exhale as he leaned into her arms, relief filled her lungs. She glanced back towards Six, who leaned against the doorway, an awkward but confident glean in his eyes. She mouthed the words thank you and he offered a tiny nod in response.

She pulled back from Silas to take an assessment of his physical condition. Dark circles still remained under his eyes, despite the six months it’d been since she last saw him. He looked frail, the white button down shirt hung loosely on his thin shoulders. All of the rest of him looked intact until her eyes reached his wrists. Tight white bandages surrounded each one. She gritted her teeth. Not again!

“Silas Gentry! She grabbed his hands and pushed up his sleeves to better scrutinize the damage. Last time was bad enough, accidental according to him but the psychiatrist said the dosage amount was clearly written on the prescription. But now with Courtland standing right here beside him rage filled her face and she unleashed her utter disgust at his disrespect.

No one expected such a loud voice to come from her small frame. Fitz sent Claire off before the subject matter came to light.

“How could you?” She shook her head, not allowing him to provide an answer. “You dare take the chance with such a precious, hard-earned gift. Your brother gave up everything for you. Everything! And you just try to throw it all away. You have no right!”

Silas caved under the weight of her words as if a great rock had been placed on his back, one he was far too weak to withstand. Through her anger, she couldn’t see his shame. She carried on until another voice broke through her rampage.

“Janie!” Six’s thunderous voice echoed in the vast emptiness of the tall ceilings. He jerked his head to the side ordering her to follow him with one small gesture.

She prepared her defense as she followed him into the kitchen which was only open to the living room by a small window through the overhead wood cabinets, but he spoke over her in a hushed, deep tone.

“You don’t talk to him like that! Look, I don’t know what happened to him in the past, but that kid out there is the one suffering, not you. You berating him like that is not helping. All you’re doing is resurfacing memories from the voice that I silenced years ago.”

Her breath caught with a sharp stabbing sensation. Was she being as harsh as their father? The thought broke her and she crumbled into a sobbing mess. Her hand covered her quivering lips as she forced out two words. “You’re right.” She glanced up at him hoping for an encouraging, forgiving face of a friend, but his cold eyes and set jaw only made her feel more ashamed. “I’m sorry,” she pleaded.

“Don’t tell me, tell him,” he jabbed his finger toward the living room. Without a breath, she rushed out of the room and made her way back to Silas’ side and put an arm around him.

“I’m so sorry, Silas. What can I do to help? I’m on your side, you know that, right? Do you want to tell me what happened?”

He shrugged his shoulders and slumped over to her side, resting his head on top of hers. Six watched them with an uncomfortable feeling settling into his bones. He imagined if that feeling had a color it would reveal a hint of emerald. But that moment didn’t have time to fester as Fitz appeared beside him.

He nudged his shoulder and followed Six’s line of sight. He wondered if it was possible that one of his Sierra’s could be capable of feeling attachment. They are, after all, still human. Although if any of them were to be considered beyond that, Six would be the one.

“That gonna be a problem for you, son?”

Six’s eyes and demeanor switched within a second of Fitz’s presence. He didn’t even grace the question with an answer, only stared at Fitz, giving him no need for an answer. He moved on.

“Contacts still intact?”

“Nope. Assets are taken care of.”

“Really? How’d you manage that and get your brother out in time?”

Six ignored him, not even bothering to glare at him for the inquisition.

“What is my brother doing in a rehab facility under his given name?”

“We didn’t see the need to change it.”

“You see it now?” He drove an accusing glare into Fitz’s unsteady features.

“Won’t happen again.”

“Damn right. You make them disappear and this time make sure it’s permanent. No traces.”

“Is that really what you want?”

Six chucked the water bottle he’d been sipping into the trash behind him without taking his eyes from Fitz.

Without words, he’d given Fitz an answer and yet Fitz’s instinct still superseded his best Sierra and he doubted if Six even knew the true answer.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Six’s perspective had switched directions with the winds of his past blowing back into his present. They breezed back into his life and fit back into that hole the CIA had left behind after years of beating it out of him. They trained him how to deal with assassins, distractions, and weapons but never matters of the heart. In the Sierra program there was no heart, only focus, discipline, and death.

Chapter Text

Later that night after she’d tucked Silas safely into the bedroom nearest hers, she walked onto the balcony of the estate. The building was too massive to be called a house.

The moon hid behind a cloudy night sky, but she stared at it anyway, lost in thought. Suddenly, Six appeared beside her without making a single noise to alert her to his presence.

With her hand over her heart, she gasped.

“You scared me!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled without any actual sorrow.

“I suppose you’ve had a lot of practice sneaking up on people. I fear I’d be dead by now if I was one of your targets.”

“An easy in and out kill.”

He offered no emotion, like he was explaining what he’d eaten for breakfast that morning. All she could offer him in response was a dumbfounded head shake.

He found her distaste for him growing by the second.

“I told you, I’m not the boy you knew.”

“I can see that and yet…,” she turned towards him, searching for something in his eyes. He held her stare, unafraid of what she would see. He knew the darkness that lay within them. “I believe he’s still in there somewhere. People don’t really change, you know. Deep down inside a shadow of their youthful self still lives on.”

He scoffed at her naivete because she hadn’t been tainted by the things he’d lived through, but it was refreshing and a little comforting knowing someone still believed there was good in him. Denying the relief he felt knowing about her life would be foolish and Six was no fool.

“I’m glad I know you now. Having unanswered questions made it hard to let go,” she said in almost a whisper.

“Good. Now you can forget.”

She bit her lip, unhappy with his scathing response. She had hoped he’d kept his promise to never forget, but he was right. She needed to move on, accept her new life where Courtland Gentry doesn’t exist anymore.

“I guess so,” she sighed, a tiny tear hovered around the corner of her eye. She rubbed it away, feigning tiredness instead of true sadness. “Well, good night then, Six.”

“Night,” he said as he watched her leave the balcony.

She didn’t wait for him to offer her any alternative to going to bed. Courtland was gone and she would say good night, put a period and move on, just as he had done. She checked on Silas to be sure he was resting comfortably before finding her own bed where she let out the remaining tears she’d held back.

In the morning, everyone gathered at the table for breakfast. The housekeeper had made a nice spread but Six stood away from everyone, hovering near the window. Janie tried not to notice.

Fitz went over all their documentation and instructions for a safe escape and acclimation to their new life.

Six sipped on his coffee, purposefully avoiding the details of the conversations. Janie pretended to ignore him, the way he did, with ease. But as they rounded out the final details ,she approached him to say her goodbyes. Silas began the process and Six indulged his brother's hug, wished him well, and cautioned him to take better care of himself which he promised he would.

Then came Janie’s turn. The air closed in around them. She had been cautioned not to tell Six her new name, but she ignored the advice. As she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, she whispered in his ear. “Helen Fuentes. Just in case you need to know someone out there cares whether you live or die. We both do,” she said, giving Silas a little grin who smiled in return, oblivious to the risk she’d just taken in revealing her new name to Six.

“If you remember nothing else, remember that.”

He nodded, keeping silent to hide his regret from his life choices which led to her life’s upheaval. But as she took Fitz’s car to the train station, he followed all the way behind them to ensure their safe exit and catch one more glimpse of Janice Elizabeth Stetson. He took in every ounce of her, placing it in his memory, never to forget just as he promised all those years ago.

Someday they might reunite and maybe discover they hadn’t changed just as she said.

She glanced out of the train window, hopeful that one day she would see him again. Not Six, but Courtland Gentry.

Someday that old flame might reignite and give them a second chance at a new life.