by Abigail Roux
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Abigail Roux
made from the messages. “And there’s Kincaid, too.”
“Jesus,” Remy breathed as he leaned closer.
“What is it?” Carl asked as he came over and stood beside Remy. His hand
rested on the base of Remy’s spine and Remy shivered uncontrollably at the gentle touch. Thiago and Shawn stood on the other side of the table, and Brandt wandered in caressing the little mechanism he’d been searching for and sidled up between the two of them to listen.
“When we were running, we ended up in Prague,” Remy said slowly, trying
to think through the ramifications of what he was saying even as he was saying it.
“We tracked down Evan Washburn, the audio tech kid Brandt told us about working
with.”
“Prague?” Brandt asked in surprise.
“Yeah. Why?” Remy asked uneasily as he looked up into Brandt’s dark eyes.
“He worked in Tokyo, is all. Mostly, anyway. How’d you know he’d be in
Prague?”
“Tokyo?” Remy repeated in shock.
“Yeah. Japan. If he had worked in Prague I never would have crossed paths
with him,” Brandt said flippantly as he twirled the deadly little mechanism in the air to illustrate that they were, in fact, in Australia. Everyone flinched back away from it, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“I thought you said Prague!” Remy said distractedly as he tried like hell to
remember that day at the cabin. They’d all been at the computer gathering
information. Remy would swear Brandt had said that Washburn was in Prague. He
looked at Nikolaus curiously.
“I heard Tokyo,” Nikolaus said when Remy looked at him.
“Well, why the fuck didn’t you tell me that when I was looking for him in
fucking Prague?” Remy shouted.
“’Cause you looked like you knew what you were doing,” Nikolaus said
with a defensive shrug.
“I always look like I know I what I’m doing!” Remy shouted as he threw his arms up in the air. “But I only do about half the time! Christ, Niko, you should know that by now!” Remy cried as he turned to face Nikolaus completely. He knew the
others thought him just slightly saner than Brandt, and situations like this were probably the reason. “When we were looking for Fletcher Barclay, were we in the
right country? Were we on the right fucking continent?” Remy shouted with a stomp of his foot.
“We found the kid, so what does it matter?” Nikolaus asked with a little grin
on his face. At one time he would have cowered from Remy when he pitched a hissy
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fit like this, even though Remy knew his hissy fits were often more humorous than threatening. Now Nikolaus just cocked his head and grinned. Remy couldn’t help but be proud of Nikolaus’s progress, even as he fumed over the Prague situation.
“It matters because it was sheer dumb luck that we even found him! My
God, how long would you have let me wander around Prague before you said ‘hold
up a minute, Helga, this isn’t Japan!’” Remy spat in a sarcastic imitation of Nikolaus’s German-accented English.
“Can we get back to the point of the story?” Carl asked as he tried
desperately not to laugh. Remy glared at him.
“You just picked a random city and actually found the person you were
looking for?” Thiago asked in stunned disbelief.
Remy transferred the glare to Thiago, but the mix of admiration and
amusement on the man’s handsome face forced Remy’s lips to twitch with the
beginnings of a grin.
“I always said I’d rather be lucky than good,” Remy murmured as he
carefully avoided eye contact with Shawn. He had actually said that to the older man before every mission they had ever gone on together. It was like a tradition they shared.
“Those were the last words I heard before I shot him in the ass,” Shawn
mumbled.
Remy tried not to laugh. He really did. He so wanted to remain angry with
Shawn. He wanted to hate him. Fucking someone else, while hell on the conscience, was acceptable in the relationship they had. But Shawn had fallen in love. He was leaving him. Throwing away their partnership of five years after just a few months with someone else. Remy knew it was childish and stupid and just plain embarrassing to be resentful. After all, no promises had been made, no undying love declared. It hurt nonetheless. Remy tried not to laugh, but the memory of those cocky words
followed by the sharp pain of literally being accidentally shot in the ass was just too much. He snorted in amusement and glanced up quickly. Shawn stared at him
unerringly, and his clear green eyes caught Remy. They were full of sadness and pain and guilt and amusement.
“Not two minutes after I’d said it,” Remy said wryly. “Pop! Right in the
ass!”
“I said I was sorry,” Shawn said with a hesitant grin.
Remy didn’t know what drove the anger back out, but suddenly it was there.
Anger so intense he could almost taste it. Was it the grin? Was it the hesitancy, perhaps? Yes, that was it; the kid gloves Shawn was using when he dealt with him.
The fact that Shawn knew he had hurt him and was treating him gently because of it really pissed Remy off.
Remy cleared his throat and looked away before Shawn could see the anger
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in his eyes. He didn’t want Shawn knowing he was as angry as he was. He didn’t
want Shawn having that power over him. Shawn already had too much power over
him as it was. He didn’t deserve more.
“What were we talking about?” Remy asked, hating himself for being so
easily distracted. He’d never let his emotions rule him like he was doing now. If he wasn’t more careful it was going to get him killed.
“Prague,” Carl supplied uneasily. Remy looked at him closely. Carl always
seemed to sense when there was tension long before the others did, Remy could tell simply by the way the man held himself whenever there was about to be a row. He
had a built-in Brawl-O-Meter.
Remy was grateful for the other man’s sensitivity to the moods of the others,
but right then he really hated the concerned look in Carl’s eyes. He didn’t want
concerned. He didn’t need concerned, dammit!
Remy took a deep breath, heading off another hissy fit before he had a
chance to lose his head again, and he looked down at the lists.
“Anyway!” he huffed. “Right. Prague. We found Washburn and he told–
Christ, Niko! Stop giggling!” Remy yelled as Nikolaus snickered at his side. Remy shook his head and refocused on Carl’s face as he spoke. He knew he should have
been watching the reactions of the others as he relayed this information, but he just couldn’t force himself to look at Shawn. He needed neutral ground to remain calm.
Carl was perfect for neutral ground. “When we found him he told us that he didn’t know who the Archer was, but that he’d been approached. Recruited, almost. In
exchange for doing a job for the Archer, they would fake his death and allow him to get out of the Organization. Fucking hell! Why didn’t I remember this before?”
“What sort of job?” Thiago asked suspiciously.
“He… he told them how to bug the operations room.”
“The….”
“In the Facility in Paris,” Remy added hesitantly.
“Carajo,” Thiago whispered.
“You didn’t think to perhaps mention this before?” Shawn asked angrily.
“I was a bit distracted when I showed up!” Remy responded heatedly.
“This is a tad more important than you being distracted!” Shawn growled as
his hackles raised and he took a step around the table.
“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you fucking tried to kill
me!” Remy shouted as he backed away from the table and put his left shoulder facing Shawn, unconsciously assuming a fighting stance as the anger finally began to boil over.
Shawn immediately relaxed, and he looked at Remy as if Remy had just
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kicked him in the gut. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I’m sorry,” he muttered as he turned around and ran his hand shakily over his face.
That was a classic Shawn in distress signal. The hand over the face. That was
usually when Remy would crack a joke, begin a seduction, or shoot someone.
Remy was really liking door number three at this point.
“What else did Washburn tell you?” Thiago asked as he stepped between
Shawn and Remy and looked at Remy pointedly.
“Well, I think the most obvious point we’re trying to make here,” Nikolaus
said as he tossed the list of agents who’d been killed on the table and pointed to the name on the list. “Is that Evan Washburn is not, in fact, dead. Neither is Gray
Kincaid, obviously. I think we're missing something here, meine Freunde.”
XV.
THIAGO stood between Shawn and Remy with his hands held out to his sides as if he could keep them from jumping each other if they lost control of their tempers again.
He looked at Nikolaus and blinked rapidly as he absorbed what the younger man was saying.
“Of course we’re missing something, bioque!” Remy growled as he turned
away from the rest of them and walked slowly toward the balcony. He stopped at the door, turned and began to pace back and forth, and Thiago relaxed somewhat as he
watched the other man get further and further away from Shawn.
“Don’t be a bastard, Remy. I mean, I think there’s something inherent about
the Archer that we’ve overlooked,” Nikolaus said slowly as he watched Remy pace.
“Are you alright?”
“Oui,” Remy spat as he made a pass by the table where Nikolaus stood.
Nikolaus raised a dubious eyebrow and looked at Carl uncertainly.
Thiago always thought it funny that whenever a fight started, everyone
seemed to look to Carl to make peace. He just had a calming presence, which was
amusing considering he was a world-class assassin. Thiago also noticed that the Kiwi was super-sensitive to everyone’s mood. It was a nice trait to have, but probably a bit stressful on the poor guy.
Carl shrugged and looked at Thiago. Apparently, he wasn’t sure what to do
this time. That meant it was up to Thiago to keep the peace, and that meant they were in for trouble.
“Nikolaus,” Thiago said in his best authoritative voice. Nikolaus actually
jumped at the angry sound of Thiago’s voice, and Thiago scolded himself and toned it down a bit. “What is it, exactly, that you think we’re missing?” he asked in a gentler voice.
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“Well…,” Nikolaus trailed off and looked around at them all uneasily.
“Speak up, lad!” Shawn barked angrily as he turned slightly and glared. His
flashing green eyes followed Remy’s movements like a lion stalking an antelope.
Thiago locked eyes with Brandt, who looked even more distressed now than
when his little explosive thingy was missing. Thiago turned his head in time to see Remy halt right behind Nikolaus and glare threateningly back at Shawn. His hand
rested on Nikolaus’s shoulder protectively, and Thiago was startled to see that he’d once again pulled the cord that brought out the hardened agent. Thiago had seen it back at the hotel, when Shawn jumped the younger man, and the ability fascinated
him. It was called cloaking, and Remy was the best Thiago had ever seen. He could change personalities at the drop of a hat.
Right then, he looked like an entirely different person; cold and menacing,
and Thiago’s alarm bells started clanging once more. This would not be pretty if
Remy felt he needed to defend Nikolaus from Shawn. Not pretty at all.
Thiago took a deep breath and hoped he wouldn’t regret what he was about
to do. So far, he’d managed to hover on the periphery of everyone’s consciousness, sort of like Carl. He simply went along and didn’t stir up trouble and hoped he would make it through alive. But now their leader was an emotional and mental wreck, their peacemaker was clueless, their brain was scared shitless to open his mouth, their crazy was suddenly disturbingly sane, and the heart of their little group had just blacked over like a Great White shark going in for the kill.
Thiago had to take control, and now.
“Everyone, sit down, shut up, and don’t move a fucking muscle!” he
shouted. Everyone froze and stared at him as if he had lost his mind. “On the couch!
Now!” he shouted again. He gave Shawn a shove and herded them toward the couch
with more shoves and curses and growls. “Sit!” he ordered as Remy and Nikolaus
walked warily over, and Carl slid onto the end of the couch. Shawn and Brandt sat on the other end, and Nikolaus practically sat down in Carl’s lap to avoid being attacked by Shawn, who still seethed quietly. “I said fucking sit!” Thiago shouted as he got right in Remy’s face and shoved him.
The younger man reeled backward and landed in between Shawn and
Nikolaus, practically on top of them. Thiago was most pleased to see Shawn reach out to catch the falling man, and hold him there protectively against his chest as they all stared at Thiago in silent shock.
Thiago glared at them all, feeling somewhat like an overworked nanny as
they all looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Wow, Thi,” Remy muttered as he struggled to right himself. He was
practically in Shawn’s, and Nikolaus’s, and Carl’s laps, and, since Shawn still held him around his neck and shoulders, he was having difficulty with sitting up straight.
“That was… that was incredibly hot,” he said with a mischievous grin. Thiago gaped at him as Nikolaus began to snicker. “You should do that more often, podna. Really.
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Wow.” Brandt snorted and clapped his hand over his mouth and Carl began to laugh
quietly. Even Shawn was fighting the laughter that showed in the twitching of his lips.
“I think I need a moment alone,” Remy continued.
“Que quilombo,” Thiago murmured as he fell back onto the overstuffed chair and stared at them.
“Did he just call you Columbo?” Brandt asked Remy in amusement.
“Columbo was awesome,” Remy answered with a huff as he squirmed and
tried to remove himself from the laps of his companions.
“Quilombo!” Thiago shouted to clarify.
“Means chaos or a mess,” Carl supplied helpfully. “He tends to use it when
things go to shit.”
“Columbo was still awesome,” Remy muttered disconsolately.
Thiago snorted and looked at them all fondly as the three men summarily
dumped Remy onto the floor.
“Ow! Salaud,” Remy muttered as he rubbed his hip gingerly. “What were we
talking about?”
“We were talking about the Archer. And Nikolaus had a theory,” Thiago said
patiently. “Now if we could please not threaten the man while he explains his theory, perhaps we could get something done. This is the most useless bunch of forros I’ve ever seen!”
Shawn and Remy had the good grace to look ashamed of their behavior.
“What, exactly, is a forro?” Brandt asked curiously. Thiago pursed his lips and twirled his finger in the air next to his ear to indicate that all of them were, in fact, forros. Brandt made an ‘ah’ sound, and that seemed to satisfy him.
Remy crawled over to Thiago and settled himself cross-legged on the floor
in front of the chair to watch Nikolaus as he began to speak. Thiago watched Remy curiously, both ridiculously delighted that Remy picked him as a backrest and at the same time wary of the reason. If Remy planned on running to Thiago for comfort
while he and Shawn were having a spat, then Thiago could deal with that, he just
wanted to know a little bit ahead of time.
“Well, it’s been bothering me ever since Prague,” Nikolaus said with a little laugh he covered by clearing his throat. Remy growled quietly and Thiago absently patted his head. “What if we’re… what if we’re on the wrong side of this fight?”
“What do you mean?” Brandt asked as he leaned forward and looked at
Nikolaus across Shawn’s lap.
“I mean, we all know what the Organization does. What if the Archer isn’t
trying to set up a rival outfit, but… but rather just trying to take it down? Solely for the purpose of being rid of it, I mean.”
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“Why would he do that?” Carl asked.
“I don’t know,” Nikolaus responded with a shrug.
“That’s not much help,” Carl grumbled.
“Maybe he’s clearing the way for something,” Nikolaus suggested vaguely.
“Maybe he wants to set up shop and he knows the Organization would fight it. It’s not necessarily a rival just… something the Organization would object to.”
“Like what?” Brandt asked.
“I don’t know,” Nikolaus said with another shrug.
“Christ, Niko, you’ve been spending too much time with Remy,” Shawn said
in disgust as he got to his feet and began to pace once more. “You’re going around in circles.”
Thiago felt Remy tense, but he gripped the younger man’s shoulder hard and
forced him to remain seated and quiet.
“Sit down, Shawn,” Thiago said in a low, threatening voice. Shawn turned to