The Archer

by Abigail Roux

  stare at him in surprise. Thiago looked up at him from under lowered brows. “Don’t make me say it again,” he added in the same low voice.

  Shawn stared at him for several more tense moments, then slowly made his

  way back to the couch and sat down. Thiago let out an inaudible sigh of relief and looked back at Nikolaus.

  “You think he’s some sort of… what?” Thiago asked, a little lost as to what

  Nikolaus was talking about.

  “He’s sort of like Robin Hood. Except instead of stealing money he’s

  stealing agents.”

  “He made a deal with Washburn for services rendered, then helped him get

  out after the job was done,” Remy murmured thoughtfully.

  “So he’s what, some sort of guardian angel? Going around and freeing

  agents who want out before their time?” Thiago asked.

  Nikolaus shrugged. “Could be. For a price, of course. I mean, look at Remy.

  He’s got five more years after this, and….” Nikolaus looked at Shawn warily. “And I know there are others like him who just want out. They’d be willing to do whatever to just be free of it all.”

  “If you wanted out then why didn’t you take their deal?” Shawn asked in a

  low voice without looking up from his hands, clasped tightly in his lap.

  “I never said I wanted out,” Remy responded evenly.

  Shawn looked up at Remy sadly and Thiago unconsciously rubbed his hand

  over Remy’s shoulder in a soothing manner.

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  “There are only two things I can’t imagine not having in my life, Shawn, and

  if I lost both in one fell swoop I just don’t think I’d live through it,” Remy said in the same calm, matter-of-fact voice. “You were already leaving. I had to have something to cling to,” he finished evenly as the rest of them watched him uneasily, expecting another outburst or a tantrum or something. But no tantrum came. His features

  returned to the same blank, killer-shark expression he’d worn earlier, and Thiago found himself thinking they’d be seeing a lot more of it from now on.

  Remy looked around at them all and then patted Thiago’s hand on his

  shoulder. Thiago removed the hand and Remy stood gracefully. “I need a smoke,” he announced quietly as he dug in the pocket of his shirt and made his way slowly

  toward the balcony.

  Thiago watched him go, noticing the lack of the usual bounce in his step and

  the broken slump of his shoulders. It was heartbreaking, even if Thiago didn’t know the whole story. A tussle on the couch drew his attention as Remy slid the door open, and Thiago turned in time to see Brandt actually thump Shawn on the nose.

  “If you don’t go after him, I will,” Brandt growled as Carl and Nikolaus

  watched tensely.

  “We’ll finish this later,” Thiago murmured as he stood up. “I’ll go after

  him.”

  The others watched him go in silence, and, as Thiago stepped silently

  through the still open door, he heard the beginnings of another brawl commence

  behind him. He really couldn’t be bothered with it, though.

  Remy leaned against the railing in the same position he’d been earlier, the

  smoke from his lit cigarette haloing his head in the pale dark of dusk.

  “Come to trip me up again?” Remy inquired quietly into the night as Thiago

  took a silent step toward him.

  XVI.

  CARL watched Thiago walk hesitantly toward the door. He knew from their time

  together that the Argentinean wasn’t comfortable dealing with personal situations unless he knew he got to kill you afterward and ease the embarrassment, and he

  wondered if Thiago was as nervous as he looked about going out to speak with Remy.

  “Stop thumping me, you fuck!” Shawn roared as he grabbed Brandt and they

  both spilled off the sofa and onto the floor.

  Carl tore his attention away from Thiago and lunged forward, taking hold of

  Shawn’s arm before a blow could be landed. He was pulled into the brawl, like one of those cartoon dust clouds that sucked in all the cats in the alley, and he called out wordlessly as he tried to break it up. He received a kick to the groin for his trouble.

  He doubled over, not truly hurt because the foot had missed anything of

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  anatomical importance, but kneeling there in relief and frustration. If he didn’t get peace soon, he would simply kill all of them and be on his way to wherever the fuck.

  He couldn’t stand the bickering any longer.

  “You bastard!” Brandt shouted in a panic. “You’ve broken Trigger!”

  Carl looked up to see Shawn go rolling across the floor like a dust bunny and

  Brandt crawling toward him.

  “You hurt?” Brandt asked concernedly as he helped Carl to his feet.

  “You kicked me,” Carl muttered accusingly as he rubbed the inside of his

  thigh and glared at anything that moved.

  “Come on,” Brandt said, and before Carl could protest, he was actually

  physically picked up off the ground and carried out of the room. “Quit being a

  bastard!” Brandt shouted over his shoulder at Shawn, who was just getting his

  bearings, sitting up in the middle of the floor and looking after them in irritation.

  “What are you doing?” Carl demanded in confusion as he struggled to get

  loose. Basically being dragged now, he couldn’t get free of Brandt to save his life.

  Come to think of saving his life, where was that explosive thingy? Did Brandt still have it on him? Carl debated whether to call for help. He no longer had any pride when it came to these men, he could call for help.

  “It’s been a while, Trigger. Too long,” Brandt said as he kicked open the

  closest door and carried Carl into one of the bedrooms. Carl opened his mouth to call out as the door slammed shut.

  XVII.

  SHAWN heard the pitiful cry for help through the thick door as he sat on the floor dejectedly.

  “Bugger,” he muttered disgustedly, having no intention of going to Carl’s

  aid. “Crazy wankers. All of them.” He looked up at Nikolaus, who was trying to

  blend into the sofa, and Shawn’s mood deteriorated further as he realized what a

  bastard he was being. He sighed heavily and flopped gracelessly back onto the floor.

  He just wanted to stay there and wallow for a while, feel sorry for himself and lament the hornet’s nest he’d poked his nose into. “I’m a daft bastard,” he said as he stared up at the ceiling.

  “Ja,” Nikolaus agreed readily. Shawn looked at him and raised an eyebrow,

  but at least Nikolaus looked more angry than scared. “How could you do that?”

  Nikolaus asked angrily.

  “Which ‘that’ would you be referring to?” Shawn asked dryly.

  “You broke his heart, is what you did. And instead of having the decency to

  own up to that, you’re letting your guilt force you into snapping at him every chance

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  you get. It’s not his fault,” Nikolaus snarled at him.

  Shawn sat up and looked at him in alarm. How much did the younger man

  know? So far as Shawn knew, no one else knew about the discussion he and Remy

  had the night before. Unless Remy told them all at lunch, then no one should know that he’d broken Remy’s heart.

  Oh, fuck. Broke his heart.

  The thought made Shawn physically ill, and a rush of icy nausea raged

  through his body as Nikolaus glared at him.

  “He’s the most loyal person I’ve ever known,” Nikolaus was sayi
ng. “And

  instead of welcoming him back like you should have done, you accused him of

  betraying us!”

  Heat rushed back through Shawn’s body as he realized what Nikolaus was

  talking about. It shamed him that he had to pick from a list of wrongdoings in order to follow the admonishments, and yet here he was. Shawn the Bastard.

  “He did what he had to do to survive,” Nikolaus continued heatedly. “He

  was willing to die to save the rest of us. Maybe that’s something you don’t

  understand.”

  “I–”

  “And then instead of apologizing or being, I don’t know, a decent human

  being, you go and snap at him every chance you get just because you feel guilty.

  Yeah, you’re a bastard. And no, you don’t deserve him.”

  Shawn opened his mouth to respond, but there was nothing he could say in

  his defense.

  XVIII.

  NIKOLAUS glared at Shawn as the man sat stricken on the floor. A pang of

  sympathy lanced through him, but it was brief and inconsequential when Nikolaus

  thought of the way Remy’s eyes had gone black and heartless at the sound of Shawn’s voice. Nikolaus had never seen Remy’s eyes do that. They were always warm and

  brown and laughing. It was frightening, like Shawn had simply killed a piece of Remy with everything he’d said to him. Nikolaus knew it was something more than just the argument they’d witnessed. There had to be something else, and Nikolaus was pretty sure it had something to do with Brandt.

  “What did you do to him to make him look like that?” Nikolaus asked after

  Shawn had failed to respond to his last statement.

  “Just like you said,” Shawn quietly, the sadness in his voice almost palpable.

  “I broke his heart.”

  Nikolaus sat silently, waiting for an explanation, and Shawn looked up at

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  him miserably.

  “It’s Brandt, isn’t it?” Nikolaus asked pointedly.

  “Yes. I don’t… I didn’t expect it,” Shawn said ashamedly.

  “Doesn’t make it right.”

  “No. No, it doesn’t.”

  Nikolaus glanced out toward the balcony. Remy and Thiago hadn’t moved at

  all since Thiago stepped out there. Thiago still stood behind Remy, and Remy was

  still hunched over the railing, blowing smoke rings into the night. Nikolaus wondered what they were talking about, or if they were talking at all.

  He looked back to see Shawn looking out toward the balcony as well. The

  sadness and confusion on the older man’s face broke through most of Nikolaus’s

  righteous anger, and he decided to take pity on him. Sort of.

  “Come on,” Nikolaus said suddenly. He stood up and looked down at

  Shawn, who was still sitting on the floor feeling sorry for himself and looking out onto the balcony longingly. Nikolaus walked up to him and smacked him on the side of the head to get his attention. “Leave Remy alone. Let’s go,” he said harshly.

  “Pushy little bastard,” Shawn grumbled as he stood up and growled

  menacingly. Nikolaus suddenly felt a little less brave as Shawn glowered down at

  him, but he stood his ground and pointed stubbornly toward the hallway and the door behind which Brandt and Carl had just disappeared.

  Nikolaus noticed that while Shawn hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away

  from the balcony, he hadn’t given the bedroom a second glance.

  XIX.

  “YOU’RE joking, right?” Carl asked incredulously as Brandt set him down at the

  foot of the bed and stood looking at him appraisingly.

  “No. Been a while since we talked. I’m tired of Shawn being a prick and I’d

  like to talk to you alone.”

  “Oh,” Carl responded uncertainly as he looked around the room. Brandt

  studied him intently. He looked nervous.

  “You look nervous.”

  “I am nervous,” Carl responded candidly as he looked back at Brandt.

  “Where’s your blow ’em up thingy?”

  “Huh?”

  “The….” Carl looked around the room uneasily again and made a clicking

  motion with his hand.

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  “Oh… the timing device?” Brandt looked down at his hands as if he

  expected to find it still there. It wasn’t. “Fucking hell!” he muttered as his hands flopped to his side. “Now what the fuck have I done with it?”

  Carl began to shake slightly. Brandt found it highly amusing. He lunged at

  the other man, suddenly needing to hug him for some reason, and as he pulled Carl to him, a peculiar warmth spread through Brandt’s body.

  It wasn’t the heat of passion. It was more sedate and calming than that, and it

  wasn’t the fever of Brandt’s need for destruction, either. It was something close to comfort. Familiarity. Friendship.

  “I missed you, Trigger!” he exclaimed happily.

  “I can’t breathe!” Carl responded as he tapped at Brandt’s shoulder and

  sputtered slightly.

  “Oh, sorry,” Brandt said as he pulled away and held Carl at arm’s length.

  “I missed you too, mate. It was almost dull without you around to instill the

  fear of God into me here and there,” Carl told him with a wry smile.

  Brandt grinned at him and pulled him close once more. “Well, as soon as we

  find that timer we’ll have a spot of fun,” Brandt said indulgently. “But I need to talk to you first.”

  “Fun?”

  “Yeah. But no worries, we’ve got a good hour before the thing goes off.”

  “Uh….”

  “Have you ever been in love, Trigger?”

  “What?”

  “Love.”

  “Uh… not… not that I know of,” Carl answered uneasily as Brandt moved

  away and flopped himself down on the bed. “Is that… is that what you think has

  happened? To you, I mean?”

  “I thought so. And I think Shawn thought so too. And I think he thought I

  thought so.”

  “Wait–”

  “But I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for and–”

  “Hold on–”

  “And since we both thought the other thought it then we never talked about it

  we just thought it and–”

  “But–”

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  “When we finally stopped thinking it and started talking we were on the

  plane and–”

  “Wally–”

  “We never actually finished talking about it so we just went back to thinking

  and now something’s changed and I don’t know what the hell to think and I don’t

  know what he’s thinking and I don’t know what he thinks I think and I don’t know

  what to do about thinking that something’s changed. What do you think?”

  “What?” Carl asked desperately as he stared down at Brandt incredulously.

  A knock at the door stopped Brandt’s response, and he and Carl looked at

  one another blankly before Brandt called out, “It’s open.”

  Nikolaus opened the door and stepped into the room, dragging Shawn along

  by the arm. Brandt was a bit surprised to see how miserable Shawn looked.

  “What’s wrong?” Carl asked immediately as Nikolaus let Shawn’s arm drop

  and closed the door behind them.

  “He’s a bastard,” Nikolaus said without further explanation as he sat himself

  down on the bed beside Brandt and glared up at Shawn.

  “That’s all?” Brandt asked distractedly.
<
br />   “Ja. I smacked him for it,” Nikolaus responded.

  Brandt watched in amusement as Carl walked up to Shawn, looking very

  sympathetic and understanding, and smacked him on the side of the head.

  “Ow! What the hell?” Shawn snarled as he rubbed his ear and glared at the

  bigger man.

  “I wanted to get one in, too,” Carl explained with a shrug as he crossed his

  arms and looked threatening.

  Brandt really liked it when Carl looked threatening. It was such a contrast to

  his gentle character. It was sexy as hell, too.

  Was he allowed to think other people were sexy if he thought he was in

  love? Brandt really didn’t know. That was another of those tricky etiquette questions.

  As if lightning had struck him, Brandt’s entire body began to sizzle with the

  spark of revelation. He knew now what was going on in his head. The spark was

  back. That glorious flame of slight madness. He’d been broken. Driven temporarily sane by Shawn’s grounding presence. But now he was back to his good old skewed

  self, and he could see clearly. In pairs, perhaps, they’d needed the added trust of stronger feelings, and maybe they’d manufactured them a bit. Brandt loved Shawn.

  But no more than he did Carl. Or Nikolaus. Or Remy or Thiago. As a group, they’d

  been split apart by their pairings, but now Brandt saw the light and he knew how to fix it.

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  “Fucking hell!” Shawn growled as he looked from Carl to Brandt. “You

  want one too, do you?”

  Brandt lunged to his feet and gave Shawn a good smack before the other

  man could take back the offer. Then he took him by the shoulders and steered him

  toward the bed as Shawn swatted at him irritably.

  “We have to talk,” Brandt said seriously as he knelt in front of Shawn.

  Shawn stared at him blankly. “Trigger’s convinced me that we’re not quite so in love as we thought we were.”

  Shawn’s green eyes clouded over and Brandt heard Carl stammer, “What?

  I… no… but–”

  “When you were sitting out there in the floor letting Gizmo work you over,