by Abigail Roux
despised not knowing where Remy was or what he was doing or even if he was still
alive.
But most of all, Shawn hated that he’d begun to enjoy Brandt’s company.
His presence– larger than life and boisterous and outlandish and insane– was like a soothing balm over the wound Remy’s departure had left.
They could have been brothers, Shawn found himself thinking. They were so
very much alike.
It was as far as he would allow his thoughts to wander down that road.
XVII.
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AFTER landing themselves in jail, Nikolaus and Remy knew they had to get out of
the States for a while. They left the bikes in the long-term lot of Hartsfield
International Airport in Atlanta, and Remy took an inordinate amount of time saying goodbye to Rougarou, a word Nikolaus still didn’t know the meaning of.
The more time Nikolaus spent with him, the more endearing Remy became.
From Atlanta, they flew to Glasgow in search of Fletcher Barclay, the first of
the agents on their suspect list, in order to question him. They never found any trace of him.
Next they flew to Prague, where they searched for and found Evan
Washburn, who was supposed to be dead, according to their lists.
“Please don’t kill me, man,” Evan begged as Remy held him pinned against
the wall of his flat. “I’m just an audio tech, I don’t know a thing.”
Nikolaus stood behind Remy, watching in fascination. Evan Washburn was
an American. He was a smaller man, a little shorter than Nikolaus, with impossibly blue eyes and dark hair. Remy held him off the ground, and his feet dangled just
barely above the carpet. Just enough to tantalize, apparently, because he kept pointing his toes and kicking his legs, trying to find solid ground.
“If you answer our questions, we won’t kill you,” Remy told him matter-of-
factly. “Deal?”
“You’re a fucking hired killer, man! How do I know you’ll keep your end of
the deal?”
“I always keep my word, and I promise you that if you don’t answer my
questions, I will kill you. Slowly.”
Evan’s eyes widened impossibly further. When Evan’s tongue apparently
didn’t allow him to respond Nikolaus saw a slow, evil smile spread across Remy’s
handsome face. “Nikolaus,” he murmured pleasantly. “Go in there and find me a
spoon, will you?”
“A spoon?” Nikolaus repeated, not certain he’d heard correctly.
“Mais oui,” Remy hissed with relish, his piercing gaze never leaving Evan’s.
“I’d like to take his eyes with me when we go.”
“I’ll talk!” Evan screamed almost immediately.
“Who is the Archer?” Remy asked without dropping the other man.
“I don’t know.” When Remy tilted his head as if to give Nikolaus another
request, Evan shouted a panicked: “Seriously, man! I never met him! It all went
through back channels and shit.”
“Did you receive messages from him?”
“No, man. One of his agents contacted me. Said if I helped him with a
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bugging job he’d get me out.”
“Out?”
“Out of the business, dude. I just wanted out.”
Nikolaus saw the muscles in Remy’s jaw jump as he clenched his teeth, and
then he released the American so suddenly that the smaller man fell to the floor with a thud.
“So he helped you fake your death,” Remy concluded softly.
“Right,” Evan gasped as he rubbed his throat where Remy had been holding
him.
“How?” Remy demanded.
“An explosion. They pulled out my fucking teeth, man, and then planted
them in the van I was supposed to be in. Thing burned forever.”
“What did you bug?”
“I didn’t do the actual bugging. I just taught the guy and gave him the
equipment.”
“Do you know what it was?” Remy asked patiently. Evan licked his lips
nervously.
“It was… it was the operations room of the Facility in Paris.”
This was met with stunned silence. No fucking wonder the Archer was
always one step ahead.
“Christ, Peeshwank, we’re running in circles,” Remy murmured to Nikolaus.
“You’re not gonna… you’re not gonna tell the Organization I’m still alive,
are you?” Evan asked miserably as he struggled to his feet.
Remy was shaking his head as he walked away, and Nikolaus watched him
go in confusion. He turned to look at the other man and smiled. “No worries,” he
offered with a small smile, “you’re safe.”
The look of relief on the younger man’s face did wonders for Nikolaus’s
conscience.
“Are you really going after the Organization?” Evan asked tentatively.
Nikolaus made sure his features were schooled into a passively blank mask, but Remy came storming back into the room and started growling in what Nikolaus had begun
calling Frenglish.
“Where did you hear that?” he asked dangerously.
“Well, it’s all over the underground. That six operatives got screwed over
and now the two that lived are gunning for the bad guys. That’s you two, right?”
Nikolaus and Remy shared a look. “If you ever need help, you can obviously find
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me,” Evan offered wryly. Nikolaus let his lips twitch into a smile. Now that was
brave. Remy nodded and mumbled and moved back out of the room silently.
Nikolaus hustled after him, throwing a, “Sorry about the… y’know, torturing
thing,” over his shoulder as he went.
“Two that lived?” Nikolaus murmured worriedly as they left the building and walked quickly to their stolen car.
“Obviously the others are doing a better job than we are of remaining
under,” Remy answered under his breath. “That, or whenever they’re spotted they’re simply taken for ‘the two’ that lived.”
There was really nothing they could do about it, and so they carried on.
They had several close calls in France and England before finally returning
to the States. But as they strolled casually through the airport in Atlanta upon their re-entry into the U.S., Remy turned to Nikolaus and said possibly the most frightening thing Nikolaus had ever heard.
“It’s good we’re back in the States,” he said with a large grin. “I feel like I
know what I’m doing now.”
“You feel like you know what you’re doing now?” Nikolaus repeated
hollowly. “Now?”
“I mean, I spent me some time in Paris and all, but this is my region, you
know?”
“Now?” Nikolaus repeated angrily as memories of their last frantic dash
through the crowded avenues of Calais and the subsequent dive into the freezing
waters of the Channel flashed through his mind.
“Mais oui. Hey, look! Pretzels!”
They’d made the fatal error of thinking they had covered their trail to
Atlanta.
They hadn’t even made it through the security gates before Remy spotted the
two men milling about near the end of the long queue of people. He immediately
drew Nikolaus into the men’s restroom and dragged him into a stall.
“You know,” Nikolaus murmured cheekily as Remy frantically scrabbled at
his own belt
buckle. “Last time we were in Georgia we had a little problem like this. I don’t think we should make the same mistake twice.”
“Shh,” Remy hissed as he pulled a small plastic bag out of a patch sewn into
the waistband of his briefs.
“What are you doing?” Nikolaus whispered.
“This is a health supplement called inosital. You remember all that money
we dropped at that supplement shop?”
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Nikolaus nodded. Remy had gone in and spent well over fifty euro for a little
bottle of white powder. It looked suspiciously like cocaine.
“It’s supposed to improve communication between the cells or some shit like
that,” Remy continued in a hurried whisper as he took out a little roll of one-hundred dollar bills and wrapped them around the bag with a rubber band. “It’s also used to cut cocaine ’cause it looks like it, see? If we can plant this on them and have security detain them we should be able to get far enough away before they’ve caught our scent again.”
“Jesus, Remy.”
“It’s all I’ve got,” Remy told him regretfully as he opened the stall door
cautiously.
Nikolaus jumped when Remy was grabbed and yanked out of the stall, and
he found himself unable to react as he too was pulled roughly out into the open.
They were both forced to their knees, and the two men held guns to their
heads as a tall, distinguished-looking older gentlemen strolled into the room.
“Fuck,” Remy breathed shakily.
Nikolaus didn’t know the man, but he knew that if Remy was frightened,
then he was frightened.
“Hello, dear boy,” the man said in an educated British accent.
“Hello, Sir John,” Remy responded shakily. The name hit Nikolaus like a
load of falling bricks. He was sure that he paled noticeably. It was the Gray Ghost.
Nikolaus began to tremble where he knelt, paralyzed with awe and fear.
Sir John McTiernan tsk’d at them.
“You have been very naughty, my boy,” he said to Remy as he took Remy’s
chin in his hand and lifted his head. Remy probably could have killed him just then, Nikolaus was sure of it, but he thought probably the gun digging into the Cajun’s cheek was a major incentive for him not to move. “What have you done with Shawn?
It’s been ages since I’ve seen him.”
“He’s dead, John,” Remy said as his voice wavered quite convincingly.
“They’re all dead.”
A shadow flashed across McTiernan’s face, but he recovered quickly. “That
is a shame,” he murmured sincerely.
“Shame?” Remy repeated angrily. “They killed him, John! They would
have–”
“He was a traitor, dear boy. As are you, I’m afraid.”
Before Remy could form a retort the sound of dress shoes clicking against
the tile floor sounded. Remy and Nikolaus took advantage of the momentary
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distraction to rush their captors. Remy grabbed John and rolled backwards, taking out the legs of the man holding the gun to his head as Nikolaus flung his own body at the other man and toppled him. In the chaos, the two of them scrambled to their feet and past the unsuspecting citizen who’d just saved their lives.
It hadn’t been pretty by any stretch of the imagination, but it had worked.
They fled toward the security checks, but Remy took hold of Nikolaus as they
skidded to a stop at the end of the line and yanked him toward a door that read
‘Airport Personnel Only.’
“This leads to the roof,” Nikolaus hissed as he and Remy fled up the sterile
gray staircase.
“Right. We have to hide. We can’t outrun them and get through security
too.”
Nikolaus was now seriously considering trashing his plans and his loyalties
and killing Remy. He didn’t think it would be so hard. Just a little nudge and Remy would fall off the side of the building they were even now clinging to. Just a kick of his leg and Remy was a goner. Too bad Nikolaus was so fucking attached to the
cheeky bastard.
“I was so looking forward to seeing my Rougarou,” Remy murmured
mournfully.
They both tried to control their inappropriate snickering, and Nikolaus
pressed his forehead against the rough wall to which he was clinging in order to
control them. They were standing on what was essentially a decorative ledge, roughly eight feet below the top of the building. The heels of their feet jutted out into thin air, and their hands were pressed to the wall in a vain attempt to suction themselves to it.
Nikolaus had the horrifying thought that if a plane were to come by they would
simply be blown off the side of the building. The thought made him snicker even
more.
As the sound of gravel crunching beneath a heavy boot echoed above them,
they both instantly quieted. Remy had his cheek pressed to the wall, and Nikolaus did the same, unconsciously trying to make himself flatter. His eyes locked with Remy’s, and Remy discreetly moved his hand until it was resting atop Nikolaus’s. They twined their fingers together and waited breathlessly, wondering if they were finally caught.
They’d had plenty of close calls, and during one tense moment in Calais a
man actually got close enough to brush his fingers against Nikolaus’s jacket. But this situation was by far their most desperate. They were cornered, hiding, and hoping they wouldn’t be found.
They listened intently to the crunching of the boots. Nikolaus’s entire body
began to shake with adrenaline. Remy’s fingers tightened around his as little bits of dust and gravel were kicked over the side of the roof, and for one tense moment
Nikolaus thought that all was lost. But then the crunching faded into the distance, and Remy’s body relaxed next to his.
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Neither man dared to move for five more minutes, but when nothing more
came of the encounter Remy pointed upwards and reached tentatively for the edge of the roof. They pulled themselves up slowly and peeked over the top before hefting their bodies over and kneeling there at the edge, slowing their breathing and calming their racing hearts.
“That was a nice little move you showed back there,” Remy finally said
quietly, a smile on his face as they both stood.
“Yeah well, I may be a computer nerd, but I’m still a trained agent, ja? I can take care of myself,” Nikolaus said proudly with just a hint of sarcasm.
Remy raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Keep talking like that and you may
have to fuck me into the mattress tonight.”
Nikolaus grinned and snickered. “I will never understand how nearly dying
can turn you on so much,” Nikolaus observed fondly as they made their way carefully to the door through which they had fled earlier.
“It’s a psychological thing,” Remy said with a dismissive swipe of his hand.
“Look, here’s the plan. If we run into these blokes again, we’ll be a little on the screwed side.”
“Yeah,” Nikolaus said uneasily, afraid that he knew what was coming next.
“I still have–”
“No.”
“What?”
“I will not let you use me as bait. Again.”
“But you’re so good at it,” Remy protested.
“Don’t care. It scares me.”
“Well, okay then. I’ll be the bait, and you can plant this on the big scary guy
with the gun, non?” Remy suggested as he held up the roll of money and the plastic bag.
“Err… fucking hell.
What do I have to do?”
“Make sure they see you. I want them running after you, got it?” Remy
instructed as they made their way slowly down the stairs. “Then make sure you find a security officer. You have to tell them that you saw these men with weapons. Now, they’ll probably have them stashed somewhere by now, but they won’t know they
have the bag so they’ll surrender to the search thinking they’re clean. This much cocaine would be enough to get them put away for a lot longer than a drunken
blowjob, I can tell you that.”
“Right. Run. Security. Tattle. What else?”
“That’s it. Oh, and don’t get killed, okay? That would really ruin my plans
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for the night.”
“Right.”
Thankfully they never had to implement their risky plan. McTiernan and the
other two goons were nowhere in sight when they re-emerged, and they easily slipped out of the airport and back to their bikes. Remy stroked the seat of his Rougarou affectionately, and Nikolaus couldn’t help but grin.
“Where to?” he asked as he they revved up the bikes and let them idle,
letting them warm up after nearly two weeks of non-use.
“We’ll go north a bit, I suppose,” Remy said thoughtfully. “Stop at the first
motel we see that allows screaming and blowjobs in the hallways, and then we’ll
consult the Holey Map after that.”
Nikolaus nodded and donned his helmet.
XVIII.
“WHERE do we plan to go, oh fearless leader?” Brandt asked as he casually walked
over to his bag and began packing as if nothing untoward had just occurred.
This had become the norm for them. Brandt would destroy something,
usually something little and inconsequential, and Shawn would go apeshit and try to kill him. Then after a few minutes of threats and growls, which would inevitably have Brandt’s libido going into overdrive, they would separate amicably and pick up the conversation they’d been having as if none of it ever happened. More often than not it would end in a nice brutal shagging.