Chapter Thirteen

Tension

Uploaded on 3/13/07

Boyd did not go to the Agency for two weeks after his birthday, and when Ryan called his cell phone a few times he never picked it up. The rest of November and all of December passed with dismal, freezing weather, and moods that were not much better. On the few occasions that Boyd and Sin were anywhere in the vicinity of each other, they were both quiet and withdrawn and barely interacted.

On his part, Boyd did not have enough energy to be able to properly deal with the repercussions of his birthday present. He never took the necklace off now, just as he never took off his shirt, and though he found himself idly twirling the ring over and over like Lou used to, he could never get the voice to say anything about it. He tried, once, to tell Sin thank you, but his throat closed up and he almost felt sick when he started to relive thoughts he'd thought far better left in the past. He'd turned from Sin, unable to speak, and walked away with his head tilted down and shoulders slumped forward. In a way it wasn't surprising that Sin did not follow or attempt to reach out again and his shift back to stony silence and blank, unfriendly stares made it obvious that he'd taken Boyd's reaction to everything poorly.

Time passed and it seemed it would never move any faster. One freezing, bitter day after another, the grinding halt of life turning into an endless blur of cold that made a person shake to the bone. It seemed like forever was caught in that transition from one month to the next, that nothing would change or move, until one day when Boyd suddenly got a call from Carhart informing him that there would be a briefing the following morning. Boyd arrived late on purpose, because he could not handle the idea of getting there early and being stuck in the room alone with Sin. Not when he couldn't properly thank him yet, not when his thank you would still be tainted with regret and pain and the vestiges of terror that echoed across the years.

It was stupid of him maybe, but he understood what Sin did -- knew Sin killed the person who did so much to Boyd -- yet he could not think about what to say to Sin without thinking about Jared too, and Lou, and that day and every little bit that came with it. He was completely incapable of picking the emotions apart, of being objective about something that had taken everything from him. So every time he tried to address Sin, he ended up finding himself addressing in his mind all the other issues involved, and it was impossible to get anywhere with that.

At the meeting, Boyd sat down next to Ryan and did not even notice when Jeffrey looked at him strangely. Owen came in even later than Boyd and, with a sleepy, disgruntled look at Boyd for stealing his usual spot, he moved to the other side of the table and dropped down where Boyd usually rested. Boyd just stared at the table in front of him in silence and almost did not seem to realize anyone else existed.

"I would ask how everyone spent their holidays but one look around the room tells me that I don't even want to know," Carhart said dryly, taking in Boyd's somber expression and Sin's non-expression. "I'm sure everyone's tired of doing nothing for so long, but the good news is that we finally arranged a meeting with Thierry."

Sin said nothing and Boyd was utterly silent as well.

Carhart stared at him and then at Boyd before glancing at the others in the room. "Is there something I need to know?"

Boyd could not even bring himself to gather voice. He just shook his head the slightest bit, his hair tilting around his face. Owen looked between Sin and Boyd with sleepy interest, and Jeffrey watched them strangely. He did not bother commenting on either of their behavior since they both looked dismal enough on their own.

"It's um-- the weather," Ryan said lamely after an awkward moment of silence. "It. Is bad."

Carhart stared at Ryan and shook his head, raising his eyebrows in an obvious 'who chose him for my unit?' expression. "The meeting will be in France. Arrangements have already been made and you will be staying at Thierry's hotel in Paris."

"He has a hotel?" Ryan asked.

"Yes. Don't ask me why. I don't wish to discuss the man's money." Carhart looked irritated and continued. "I cannot stress enough the importance of this mission. He is willing to give us data on Janus' inner core, with a very high probability that it is legitimate."

His thick eyebrows drew together as he gave Sin and Boyd significant looks. "Thierry is very fickle, as you should know Sin. His cooperation depends on his mood so you must keep him happy. I don't care what you have to do as long as you stay on his good side. As usual, his loyalty is shaky and I honestly don't give a shit whose ass he sticks his tongue up at the end of the week as long as he's kissing ours tomorrow."

"It should be noted," Jeffrey said mildly, "that the area the hotel is set in is very high class. If you stand out too much," and his gaze settled on Sin, though he was not cruel about it, "then you may irritate Thierry enough that he won't help."

Owen nodded, leaning against one hand. "Suits and ties shit, man," he said sleepily.

"Sin?" It seemed as though Sin hadn't even heard him so Carhart leaned forward and slammed his hand against the table. "Wake up."

Green eyes lifted and stared at Carhart moodily. "Yes?"

"We've already purchased proper attire for you, but you will need to do something about your hair. You are to report to Cynthia immediately after this meeting. She will assist you with that."

Sin stared at him with barely concealed contempt. "Whatever."

"It sucks for you guys, though," Owen said to Sin and Boyd, completely idly as if he had not heard Carhart and Sin's exchange. "Thierry's such a moody little bastard that he gave you no time, and then he wants you there only two days because he has some other stuff to do. Gave me no time, either... I had to get you plane tickets for tonight already, and I bet you a week's vacation that tomorrow he'll be expecting you to be bright-eyed and chipper, and..." Owen trailed off in confused, sleepy silence for a second. He turned to look at Ryan almost curiously, as if asking him silently what he had been talking about. "And all awake. And chipper."

"He will," Carhart agreed. "He demanded that the meeting be tomorrow and no later or the whole deal was off. I do not particularly enjoy playing into the hands of that windbag but unfortunately the current state of affairs leave me very little choice. He is very particular about what he wa--"

"What I don't understand," Sin began coldly, flatly. "Is why my presence is needed at all. My job is to kill. There will be no killing. I serve no purpose."

"Oh, I'm sure you can find the odd innocent bystander to rip into," Jeffrey drawled lightly, though there was not the typical bite. He seemed to still be taking Carhart's earlier reprimands into account.

Sin stared at him sourly and said nothing.

Carhart scowled darkly. "You're going because that is your job. You and Boyd are a team. Your job is to back him up when things get out of hand. Thierry is a wildcard, we can't truly trust him. For all we know this could very well be a trap."

Sin's eyes flicked to Boyd and he stared at him in consideration though Boyd did not look back up at him. Sin's gaze dropped to the table as well. "He can handle it," He said flatly. "Just put me back in my fucking box and stop making me go on these bullshit assignments."

Carhart's mouth tightened into a line and he looked at the others. "Jeff, give Boyd the overview. Sin. See me outside. Now." He stood up abruptly and his chair skidded backwards, nearly falling over. He gave Sin another furious look and strode outside.

Sin's mouth twisted into a frozen smile and he followed Carhart. Boyd seemed to wake up from whatever mood he had fallen into, and watched Sin leave the room. His expression was completely unreadable, and his gaze fell onto Jeffrey as soon as Sin was out of view.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" Jeffrey asked Boyd, actually sounding curious. He tossed two folders at Boyd; they slid across the table and stopped only when Boyd placed his hand on them.

"Nothing," Boyd said, and his voice was back to the usual dead calmness. He opened the top folder and started flipping through idly, noting plane tickets, maps, and sheets of information.

Shrugging in complete unconcern, Jeffrey didn't challenge the comment when Boyd said nothing more. He let him look through the folder for a few seconds before he spoke. "Of course, it's all coded so if you drop the folder no one will realize who you are. But that will give you more information about what to expect."

"Ah," Boyd said, for lack of anything better to say.

Jeffrey just shook his head and looked back at his papers. "I'm sure you can read and you have an eight hour flight so I don't really see the need to tell you detail by detail right now."

Boyd nodded, and said softly, "I understand."

Jeffrey gave up with a mildly irritated sigh.

Ryan frowned slightly and leaned closer to Boyd, speaking low enough to be unheard by Owen and Jeff. "Boyd... are you sure everything is okay?" He chewed on his lower lip worriedly, thin eyebrows drawing together. "I thought I saw something-- I hate to be nosy-- He was so weird that night-- and now..." He trailed off and looked frustrated. "What happened? You were both doing so well."

Boyd stared at the folder in front of him. So Ryan was watching that night in Sin's apartment... he'd wondered about that. It must have been so strange for him to see. And Ryan knew so much more about Sin than Boyd did; he was practically obsessed with him. He didn't seem it, but Boyd could not help wondering if Ryan also resented him for being able to get close to Sin. For even having something as strange as what happened that night.

He didn't want to lose Ryan as a friend; but Sin... he was also someone he didn't really want to lose. He was getting along with him fairly well, and for awhile he was actually enjoying his company. Boyd was also one of the few people who seemed to look at him as anything other than a monster. Yet now when he saw Sin, he also saw the chain and the ring, and then he saw Lou, and then he just couldn't react. He didn't know what was happening anymore, he just couldn't think. He still felt raw and a little edgy and completely uncertain. It was just that Sin's gift had too much history, things he had buried deep down and did not think about for years, and that simple ring ripped it all out into the open without giving him a chance to prepare.

And now, that dusty house with the warming shadows, he had purged the ghosts from his mind viciously years ago because every room had a history, every space had a memory, and when he was alone endlessly in the dark it became too much. It'd taken him years to shut his mind down enough that he could walk those halls without noticing, but now that silence was gone again. He sat in his room and he could hear Lou laughing, he walked by the office and he imagined he heard the clacking of keys. He stopped in the kitchen, and he saw the towel with Sin's blood and Jared's blood and then it became Boyd's blood and Lou's blood in his mind and he had to back out quickly, walk around in circles with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands to his temples and, shakily steady, he breathed, breathed, just tried to meditate and make it go away and just breathe.

But he had no way to explain this to anyone. How could he say that part of him felt edged in insanity, that it was a desperate, scrabbling thing that screamed with a broken voice every time his fingers brushed Jared's scar on his stomach? How could he say that now when he closed his eyes at night, he saw Lou's face, covered in blood with more spurting from his neck, and when he opened them the image was still there only now he could hear the gurgling as well?

His fingers curled around the edges of the folder and he made an effort to take in a slow breath. He couldn't handle worrying Ryan too, nor could he afford to let his weakness affect the way he interacted with anyone, or the missions. What sort of pathetic excuse would it be to say he couldn't properly deal with Thierry just because a month ago he received a birthday gift he wasn't expecting?

This was unprofessional of him.

While all those years ago he was able to hide like a child in his house and let the emotions fall away one by one, here he had responsibilities. He had people who actually realized he existed and noted when he acted out of the ordinary. If he continued to worry them, then he would never be able to forget his own problems, because they would always be looking at him a little strangely and he wouldn't be able to lie to himself as easily, telling himself that everything was alright.

And it was now, really. In a way. Lou's murderer was dead. Sin took care of him for Boyd, because Boyd was too weak to do anything on his own. ...And, God, how did Sin even know about--? The question had bothered him since that first night, crouched over the toilet with thoughts that scattered everywhere at once and refused to be pulled back in. But he couldn't dwell on it. It was too distracting, he was being too pathetic. His mother would say she was disappointed in him, and he had to admit that he agreed with her.

Realizing he had been silent for a little too long, Boyd looked over at Ryan finally. His expression was hard to read, though ultimately it was calm. "It's not that, I'm fine," he said, also softly so Owen and Jeffrey would not hear. "I just haven't been feeling well." A brief pause. "I got sick."

Ryan frowned and his eyes looked almost skeptical behind his glasses. "I know it's none of my business but..." He trailed off, hesitating, not sure about how far he should go, not sure what was confidential and what wasn't. He looked a little guilty as he continued. "Ever since that night Sin came to my apartment--"

The door slammed open with a crack, cutting Ryan off. Carhart reappeared, a black look on his normally affable face. "Boyd, get in my office."

Boyd was just giving Ryan a strange look (What the hell? Going by Ryan's expression and the fact that he was so obsessed with Sin, did that mean they were involved?) when Carhart startled him into jumping. He looked over immediately and felt his stomach drop at his expression. Even if Carhart's voice sounded more angry and weary than murderous, Boyd still did not want to go. He stared with slightly widened eyes just for a heartbeat before he looked down at the table and pushed himself up. His expression was back to the blank blandness when he said, "Yes, Sir," and walked toward the door with the folders in hand.

Jeffrey stared after him as if he wanted to be gleeful but was just too confused to quite make it there. Owen was wide awake for once and watching everything with a bewildered look. Ryan watched them disappear with a confused, frustrated expression on his face.

---

Carhart's office was fairly spacious and had windows which took up an entire side. The walls and shelves were cluttered with various certificates and awards, military achievements from before the war. There were images of him shaking hands with the previous President before he'd been killed during the bombing of DC; that appeared to be where Carhart's career in the military had ended. Just like many of the other major figures in the Agency, it wasn't known when or how Carhart had been recruited from the military but it was obvious that he was now cut off from it for one reason or another.

Carhart stood in his office facing his window, hands clasped behind his back. His spine was ramrod straight and everything about his posture screamed anger and tension. He seemed upset from whatever had been said in his exchange with Sin but Sin was nowhere in sight.

Boyd shut the door behind him quietly, but did not move much further into the room. He had never been in Carhart's office and certainly was never summoned to a meeting with him alone. Every time Boyd could remember being in his presence before he had seemed in a relatively good mood and if he was angry it was never at Boyd. But now that he stood here, he did not dare look at the walls, did not dare do anything but stare at Carhart's back with the utmost respect. He could only assume that Sin told him something that would anger Carhart, but he didn't know what it would be or why Sin would do that. He wrapped his arms around the folders, held them over his stomach in an almost protective gesture and waited.

Carhart stood there for several moments before saying anything. The silence practically hummed with tension that thickened the air, radiating off the obviously upset General.

"I don't suppose anyone ever told you how I met Hsin's father?" Carhart said finally.

Having no idea why this was brought up, Boyd decided not to question anything. "No, Sir," he said softly.

Carhart nodded and continued to stare out the window. "After the war began, the military was a mess. Our Commander in Chief was dead, the Vice President was dead, the Secretary of Defense... dead. The Pentagon was in shambles." He was quiet for a moment. "I began to work for the Agency as a field agent at first, quickly moving up because of my military background. I met Hsin's father here." There was the hint of a smile in his voice.

"He was such a cocky fuck. I disliked him immensely, especially because everyone else loved him. I was quiet and he was outgoing, I was a loner and he was so damn charismatic. He bated me and we'd argue, but it was always good natured on his part. We worked together for awhile and he saved my life on more than one occasion. It made me feel worthless at first. I was the one with the military background, the apt pupil, and he was some scruffy Mexican American, self trained and brash, learned everything he knew from street fighting... but yet he was better than me." He turned finally.

Boyd thought Sin and his father sounded quite opposite, other than the brash part, but he said nothing.

Carhart watched him as if pausing a moment for Boyd to speak, but when there was only silence he continued. "There was a time when things were especially bad. The government was still picking up the pieces and everyone was an enemy. Emilio was sent on long solo missions, assassination missions, he'd disappear for months on undercover stints. Our main form of communication to him was via e-mail for two years." He paused and stared at Boyd calmly. "He was to come in for a debriefing after the completion of a long series of dangerous assassinations. It was interesting because Emilio had a certain flare in everything he did, even killing. He had a sick sense of humor and it was always evident in his work. That flare was not evident in his last assassinations." He paused. "Do you know why, Boyd?"

Boyd watched Carhart with an unreadable expression, not answering at first. Ryan said that Sin's father trained him, and that he came in when he was fourteen, but he didn't know if it was directly related. "Because Sin helped him?" he ventured.

Carhart smiled. "You could say that." He walked around his desk and leaned against the front of it. "We expected Emilio for the debriefing but instead we got Hsin. In walked little Vega with his father's laptop, fourteen years old, skinny as a reed and with his father's same crazy green eyes. We still don't have complete intel on the events that occurred during that time but as far as we gathered, Emilio concealed his son's existence from us for six years as he trained him and took him on assassination missions. It seemed as though he'd been planning to get us to recruit the boy but it didn't happen exactly as he had planned." He paused for a moment and shook his head. "We're not sure how Emilio died. We never saw a body, never got a straight answer, but it seems that he'd been dead a year before the debriefing and little Vega had completed the assignments on his own."

Boyd thought about Sin's words the month before, and the insanity that seemed to take over sometimes. 'It increased after I began to live with my father and worsened after he died.' How did Emilio die? Did it get worse because Sin had to do the missions on his own? "Why did he come in?" Boyd asked instead. "He could have ignored the summons, could he not?" If he never came into the Agency, would he never have been placed in the box? Would he never have gotten the collar? Would he be the same way he was now?

Carhart spread his hands. "I don't know. I don't even know why he completed the missions after Emilio died. A normal child would have... run away, I imagine." He looked away, sadness evident in his features. "I had the utmost respect for Emilio, he was my friend. But at the same time, I do not think it was the best thing for Hsin to have been raised by him. I don't know what this 'training' was and I don't know how long it lasted, but when little Vega arrived here he was half the age of any other agent and ten times as skilled a killer."

Looking down at the folders in his hands, Boyd nodded for lack of anything better to do. He felt a little somber; Sin had been killing for so long, and Boyd could not help wondering if anywhere in there he got a normal childhood. Everyone deserved at least a single friend they could be themselves around, and at least one lazy day spent just having fun.

"I always knew it was a bad idea but no one listened to me at that time," Carhart said with a sigh. "I had no real authority. They could not pass up so good a killer, despite his age. Or the fact that there was something... wrong with him. I suppose one could say that there's something wrong with all of us, who plot and murder so easily, but at the same time it's hard not to do these things in this day and age." He shook his head. "But little Vega was different. It seemed that he knew nothing else but violence; it seemed that he could react in no other way than with violence. He was like a dog that had been trained only to fight; he had no bark. It was all bite."

He looked into Boyd's eyes again. "The people here did not help. They knew he was mentally unstable but still they used him and while they used him, they ridiculed him. They labeled him as a freak because he was so young and such an adept killer; they sent him to murder but flinched at him because he did it so well and without any emotion. He got older, colder, more violent. They treated him like a wild animal that could never be tamed, even if they could force him to do what they wanted at times. I'll never understand the depth of his illness or the triggers of his behavior, but as his violence began to spread outside of missions... the Agency began to worry. He was too skilled an assassin to give up but at the same time he was wild and out of control. They began devising ways to control him without having to get rid of him."

His hands curled into fists. "I'm ashamed to say that I've continued in that vein. I'm ashamed of the box; of the collar. But you have to understand that at this point, after all of the years of his instability growing while untreated, it seemed like it was too late. It seemed as though he was too far gone to ever come back. And although he'd done some heinous things, I knew it was because of his upbringing and I couldn't blame him entirely. I convinced Connors to give him another chance because I can't stand to see him in that box, where his claustrophobia pushes him further into insanity. So I devised a plan. I gave him the collar, I tried to do something to let him have some freedom while attempting to rein in his impulses. I didn't think it would work, I didn't think you would last as his partner, but for awhile it seemed..." He trailed off for a moment, his expression growing weary, sad.

"For a while I began to see a side of him that I'd never seen before; I began to see some of his father. But now for some reason it's gone. Now he's back to being cold and dead, relishing violence, looking forward to the kill. He told me that if I didn't put him back in the box, he would make me sorry. That he would force me to get rid of him." Carhart narrowed his eyes. "I need to know why."

Boyd's eyes were a little wide as he stared at Carhart. He had never thought of the collar as anything but a way to further demean Sin, like collaring a dog. Looking at it the way Carhart said, he could understand the necessity for it, even if he still did not think it should be used. But if Sin was claustrophobic... He had heard about the box, he even saw it briefly when he ran up to the fourth floor trying to track down Luke. He thought little of it at the time, but now he could imagine Sin in there, feeling terrified and trapped, and what if he was also being attacked by people like Harry? How could Sin stand up to that, how could his mind handle it?

He felt terrible for Sin, and for a moment that feeling was visible in his expression. It changed to confusion, though, as he shook his head. Even if Carhart had also noticed Sin getting better, even if Boyd hadn't imagined Sin's change, how was he supposed to understand what went on in Sin's mind? Especially if that was what Sin told Carhart... that he wanted to go back in the box. Was it so terrible to be out anymore, or perhaps to be around Boyd, that he would choose that sort of torture instead?

"I don't know," Boyd whispered, unable to even fully process what he felt. His heart hurt a little, and he was confused, and somehow he felt like this was all his fault but he didn't know why. Was it because he didn't thank Sin? Was it just because he pulled away when Sin touched him? He didn't know what to think.

Carhart's brow creased and his lips pursed as he stared down at Boyd. "You don't know," He repeated. "You have no idea at all what could have caused this drastic change?" It was clear from his tone that he was skeptical but yet he still did not sound unkind.

"Nothing that makes sense," Boyd said a little helplessly.

Carhart was silent for a moment before shaking his head with a sigh. He didn't seem like he wanted to give up that easily, but for some reason he decided to let it go. "I didn't mean to ramble at you like this, but I felt you should know since you are his partner. I wanted you to know my reasoning behind what I do. I'm probably the only person here who sees him as something other than a tool for killing or tries to treat him like a human. Not that he lets me," He said wryly, a somewhat bemused expression on his face although he seemed disappointed at the same time. After a moment he shook his head and cleared his throat. "Now I'm going to get to the real reason I called you in here. What happened to your remote? I know the chip has either malfunctioned or been destroyed."

Boyd was a little caught off-guard by the question. He had almost completely forgotten about the remote, and he certainly didn't think that anyone would be able to know that anything happened to it. In retrospect, it did make sense that it would be monitored; Sin was only controllable as long as the remote was active. But why didn't they bring it up earlier if they had known about it for so long?

"Ah," Boyd said after a moment, a little awkwardly. "It..." He wanted to lie, but he couldn't bring himself to do so to a commanding officer. Especially not after Carhart had seemed so angry, and certainly not after he took the time to explain his viewpoint to Boyd. "It broke," he finished, a little lamely.

"It broke," Carhart repeated flatly. There was a stretch of silence. "I am not one to listen to the rumor mill," He drawled. "I am not one to worry about an agent's personal life as long as it does not affect the mission. I didn't mention the remote before because Sin had showed considerable improvement in his behavior. But now that he has gone right back to where he'd been before, I feel it is imperative that you have it."

He paused and seemed to be searching for the right words. "I can see that you are like me, that you don't just consider him a tool. At the same time, you must take into consideration that despite everything, despite the fact that he can appear just as normal as you and I, he is deeply disturbed. He is capable of snapping at any moment and when he does, it is difficult to judge what he might do. As I said, I don't listen to rumors but... be wary of getting too close to him. Be wary of him in general. We don't know what makes him tick, we don't know what might make him improve and what might worsen his condition. Considering the state he is in at the moment, I strongly advise you accept a replacement--" he walked over to his desk and set a new remote on top of it. "--And use your best judgment about its usage."

Boyd stared at the remote for a long moment. Again, someone mentioning the rumors. He was certain it was all over the Agency by now that there was something happening between he and Sin. Maybe they even believed they were fully lovers and this recent silence between the two was nothing more than a spat. More than anything, Boyd felt wearied by it all. It wasn't like any of that was happening, and yet he had to deal with the repercussions of everyone's perceptions that it was. Carhart may be right about Sin's instability, but Boyd had always managed to stop him before without the collar.

Even so, he didn't know what to expect of Sin now that he was acting like that again and it was certainly true that Boyd didn't know what made Sin tick either. The warning to be wary of him, of getting close.... Had Sin acted like this before to anyone else? His other partners, did he mess with them too, only those times it was when they were not in his apartment where everyone watching on the cameras could see? Boyd was highly aware of how much people used Sin, but he was still trying to figure out how much Sin was using Boyd. And where did Sin's relationship with Ryan come into play with all this?

He walked forward finally, staring at the remote. It looked so innocuous, just a small black rectangle with two buttons. But it was a means of controlling a human like an animal; a way to reduce Sin from a person to a thing huddled on the ground incapable of reacting. Boyd could understand the thought that went into the collar, the best of intentions that kept him from the box, and though he also saw that the collar gave Sin a certain amount of freedom to move around he still didn't agree with it. He wanted to leave the remote there; to tell Carhart he wasn't interested and to go on his merry way. But he knew that Carhart was not suggesting so much as ordering he take it, and it wasn't like he had to use it even if he carried it with him. Slowly reaching out a hand, he curled his fingers around the remote and lifted it, let the edges dig into his palm as he turned it over and studied it for a second. Then, silently, he slipped the remote into his trench coat pocket and kept his head tilted toward the ground, watching Carhart through a fall of straight blond hair.

Carhart nodded shortly, all business again. "Sin is with Cynthia at the moment, getting ready. I'll send him to you shortly so you can go over the details that Jeff gave you. Your flight is in five hours." He turned towards his desk again and was silent for a long moment. "Sin is not the only one you should be leery of on this assignment. Thierry is a good source of information but he has a knack for putting us through hell in order to get it. Regardless of that, we must have it. The information he's hinting at could turn this entire war around for us, Boyd. It could change everything. And I need you to do whatever it takes to get it." There was another pause but not one long enough to leave Boyd time for questions or comments. "Good luck."

"Thank you, Sir," Boyd said, and left the room without another word.

He went back to the conference room only long enough to find out where Cynthia was located, and head over. Although he was told Sin was there getting ready, he did not actually see Sin or Cynthia. Boyd left a message with the woman at the desk that he would be waiting at the base of the main stairs and to please inform Sin. The trip to the bottom of the stairs was uneventful, and he leaned against a nearby wall, not certain how long it would take Sin. Only about five minutes passed before he heard his name being called.

"Boyd! Hey, Boyd!"

Boyd turned curiously at the familiar voice, his hands slipping into his coat pockets. The remote was cold against his right hand, so he pulled his hands out and put them in his pant pockets instead. He was mildly surprised to see David running toward him with a huge, friendly grin.

"I knew it was you," David said cheerfully as he slowed to a stop next to him. "No one lurks quite the same way."

"I wasn't aware I was lurking," Boyd said, though he nodded his head in greeting.

"That's all you do," David said with a soft chuckle then looked around. "What are you doing here? I heard you had a mission coming up. Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

Boyd leaned against the wall, idly watching the set of stairs that Sin should be coming down. "I have to wait for my partner to get prepared."

David followed his gaze, his expression hard to read. "Your partner," he said a little too casually, nodding as he turned back to Boyd. "How is that going, anyway?"

"It's fine," Boyd said with little inflection, not looking over.

A crowd surrounded them; agents returning from missions, cleaning staff with buckets that they rolled around with their mops, rookies laughing and shoving at each other as they headed toward the mess hall. The Agency was filled with people going about their business, while Boyd and David stood to the side in slightly awkward silence. A cleaning woman stopped near them, mopping the floor and not appearing to pay attention to them.

David raised his eyebrows when he realized after several seconds that Boyd did not intend to elaborate. "I haven't seen you in months, and all you can tell me is, 'It's fine'?" He looked at Boyd in exasperation. "There I was, kicking my ass to make sure you were prepared, and I don't even get to feel like it was worth it."

"I wouldn't be alive if it hadn't been," Boyd pointed out mildly. "Without your training, and everyone else's, I would have died immediately."

"Probably," David agreed amiably. He leaned against the wall too and looked around idly at the people passing by. When he spoke again, his tone was decidedly casual. "Word is you and that partner of yours are pretty fresh."

Boyd looked over, blinking slowly. There it was again, that stupid idea. "Why is that even a rumor?" He couldn't understand why anyone even cared.

David stared at him for a moment. "These things get started when there's something juicy going around. There was something about a video, and you kicking Harry's ass from fourth just because he was touching your partner." He shrugged idly, though his look was no less alert as he watched Boyd. "Things like that spread, especially when your partner's involved. He's freaked out and fascinated enough people that they watch for anything new with him. And now there's all this talk with the guards getting involved, like Harry..." He trailed off pointedly, waiting for Boyd to explain.

There was a long moment in which it did not seem Boyd would respond, but he finally turned toward the stairs again. He sounded and looked completely unconcerned as he said, "I filed a report." A pause. "He was harassing Sin."

"And that bothered you?" David asked lightly.

"It would bother me for anyone," Boyd said firmly, and pushed himself away from the wall. He turned toward David with a distant nod of his head; he was perfectly polite when he spoke but there was little life behind it. "It was very nice to see you again, David, but if that is all..."

Giving him a strange look, David pushed away from the wall as well. "What, you thought I'd let you go that easily? I didn't come looking for you just to bug you, you know."

Boyd tilted his head, his hair swinging slightly. "You were looking for me?" There was so little inflection in his tone that he did not even sound curious or surprised; it was simply as though he were confirming a fact.

"Yeah," David said easily, "I haven't gotten a chance to check your progress yet. You've got time before the mission, right? Come spar with me."

Hesitating, Boyd looked to the stairs then back at David. "I should stay here."

David rolled his eyes. "What, is your partner too stupid to find you if you're not standing right in front of him? Humor me a little here, Boyd. Let's go spar. I want to see if you've improved." Boyd did not answer immediately, so David just huffed and grabbed him by the arm. He started dragging Boyd along with him to the training room, but Boyd did not resist; he simply stumbled along expressionlessly.

"I saw you a few times in the hallway," David said as they neared the room. He looked over at Boyd and studied him closely. "I thought you were past this whole dead-eyed doll thing, but here you are, staring blankly and barely talking again. Did I just imagine you changed?"

Boyd looked over at him with the exact expression that David referred to. "You imagined it," he said calmly, and David looked away after a moment without comment.

They found the training room relatively empty, and David waited only long enough for Boyd to drop his coat off by the clothing racks before he dragged him to a center mat and grinned widely. "So," he said with his eyes alighting in a challenge, "Show me what you've learned."

Over an hour passed, and Boyd found himself actually almost enjoying himself. He hadn't thought of David at all in the past months, but he was a good sparring partner. He was closer to Boyd's level than Sin was, though that was not unique as no one could match Sin's skill. David volleyed between pushing Boyd to the limit and backing off when he least expected it; he was completely unpredictable, and it kept Boyd alert. Boyd found himself thrown to the floor a few times, but he also managed to do the same to David, and in one particularly amusing moment, he even stole David's weapon from him in the process.

David scrutinized his stance, his attacks, gave him pointers and suggestions and praised him on what he had improved upon. "You're faster and sneakier," he said at one point, panting with a wild grin. "But you still hesitate to fully attack. You're not ruthless enough yet."

Boyd panted, his long-sleeved shirt clinging to the sweat on his body, his stance casual but a little wary. He pulled his hair back from his face, lifting it off his neck and holding it up so he could cool off a little. "Maybe it is just my style," he said calmly.

David tilted his head, studied Boyd for a long moment, then casually shrugged. He stood straight and stepped back, his body language signaling that he was finished sparring. "Yeah, maybe," he said casually.

Tilting his head down a little, Boyd relaxed and worked on catching his breath. David started to walk past him, headed toward the showers. Boyd didn't know why, but something about the way he moved made him tense; he was just starting to jump away, anticipating an attack, when David wrapped his arms around Boyd's torso and flipped him onto the ground. Boyd landed with a thump that resounded through his body and made him briefly lose his breath. David stood above him with a triumphant grin, one foot resting lightly on Boyd's stomach.

"You're also still too trusting," he said with a strange sense of evil amusement.

Boyd stared at him, but did not seem upset. For some reason, it did not really bother him when David had him down like that; probably because his foot was too light to truly be holding him and Boyd knew it was all just a spar. He trusted David enough to back off before anything got too far. Although he had been a ruthless teacher, he was not merciless.

Pushing David's foot off him, he was about to stand when David's hand hovered in front of him. He looked up to a fierce grin and let David pull him up with a strong grip. When he was standing, David gave him a friendly slap on the back and grinned. "You're doing better, though. Keep it up and maybe one day you'll be an actual threat to me." He laughed loudly.

Looking at him sidelong, Boyd shook his head to himself. "Perhaps," he said neutrally, but he seemed a little amused.

---

Sin had left Carhart's office in a foul mood, and it did not improve over the following hour. It'd been tempting to not to listen to Carhart; not to cooperate, not to go to France. Something in him wanted to rebel, wanted to be punished and locked away in the box where things were horrifyingly simple. Where he didn't have to think because his mind was so out of control with terror, which slowly turned into a hazy, never ending nightmare once the drugs were in his system. The words had been on the tip of his tongue but just as they began to spill out, he'd turned away and stormed over to Unit 16, agreeing to do his job but not promising to do it as he was told; threatening to do what he wanted and ruin it for them all.

His thoughts had grown darker as of late and he was experiencing the blankness that he'd dealt with for the past twenty years. But this time it was different; there was something else in him that had almost come out and didn't want to be suffocated again. It was that part of him that wouldn't allow Boyd to go to France alone, despite the fact that he'd done his best to crush those ridiculous sentiments in the past month. Ever since it had become obvious that Boyd didn't want his friendship, didn't want him finding out about his past, didn't want... his touch, Sin had reminded himself every morning and every night, that it was more obvious than ever that he was nothing more than a tool; nothing more than a killer and that he had been out of line to think anything else. But even then, he couldn't help but feel protective, concerned, wary of sending Boyd off alone and that was why he'd agreed to go.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of the uncomfortable and constraining slacks they'd given him and walked in the direction of the lobby, where Cynthia's secretary claimed Boyd was waiting for him. It'd seemed as though Cynthia had been expecting him to grace her with his usual sarcasm and cold smiles, but through the whole ordeal he'd stayed eerily silent and stone faced, not having the energy for his usual games. They'd spent an hour playing Frankenstein with him in some vain attempt to make him look presentable for the high class snobs that Thierry associated with. Their result was mortifying and it only served to put him in an even fouler mood.

Boyd was not in the lobby and a flash of irritation went through him because of it, but he ignored it and looked around idly. Boyd took these missions more seriously than he did most of the time so he was most likely not far. He wandered around for a little while and finally wound up in the training area. He ignored the various looks people were shooting at him and his attire, walking into the main training room with an unreadable expression on his face. As soon as he entered the room, his eyes fell on Boyd and a muscular Asian man, who he absently noted was David Nakamura. David was helping Boyd up, laughing and touching him in a very familiar way; Boyd's eyes were no longer empty as they had been earlier that morning, he seemed accepting and somewhat amused.

A hot spark of anger shot through Sin and his eyes narrowed slightly, zeroing in on the way David's hand touched Boyd's back. He didn't know what it was he was feeling but he knew it made him want to lash out; he wanted nothing more than to rip David's arm off and watch him bleed. His teeth grit, but he kept his face perfectly blank and waited silently for Boyd.

It took awhile, but David was the first to glance over. He had just asked Boyd what he was doing for weapons, but when he glanced Sin's way he fell silent and just stared.

Boyd did not notice at first; he pulled his hair behind his ear and was looking at the weapons wall opposite the entrance to the training room. "I have found that being trained in multiple types of weapons is what has helped me the most," he said calmly, gaze caught on a pair of nunchucks, and started to turn to David again. "It makes it easier to improvi..." He trailed off when he noticed David's expression, then turned and followed his gaze to the training room entrance.

He almost didn't recognize Sin at first. He wore nice black slacks, his hands slipped inside the pockets. A very nice-looking, long-sleeved white shirt was buttoned all the way to his neck, and even though it was untucked it still looked elegant. A black jacket went over that, smoothly pressed and perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders and thin waist. His hair was all black, the red dyed out of it, and was actually combed back from his face. Even his ever-present stubble was gone; he was clean-shaven and his skin looked smooth, soft. He would have been the picture of elegance if it weren't for the sullen way he held himself, as if resenting having to wear such fancy clothing. Although Sin's expression was perfectly blank, there was no doubt that his pale green gaze was locked on Boyd.

A little dumbfounded by how different Sin could look from having relatively little done to him, Boyd just stared at him. He didn't know what to say at first, but that was not a large surprise as he had not known what to say to Sin for the entire month. David seemed to notice when he glanced at Boyd with a poignant look.

"Hey," David said, stepping away from Boyd to head toward the door. He grinned amiably enough, and wiped his sweaty hands off on his pants. "You're Sin, right? I told Boyd you were smart enough to find him even if he wasn't by the stairs, and I was right. He has so little faith sometimes." There was wry amusement in the last sentence.

An eyebrow rose despite the fact that he hadn't wanted to respond at all and Sin's eyes flicked over to David. "I would have to agree with that," he said coolly.

David blinked, and Boyd's expression shut down behind him.

Boyd was a little annoyed by Sin's reply; he still didn't understand what Sin was thinking, but that didn't mean he appreciated being insulted in front of others. There was something in Sin's tone that showed him he was not being cutely sarcastic--he truly meant those words. He strode across the room, walking past David without even slowing. "Thank you for the spar, David," he said calmly, "I will take your suggestions into account."

David looked over at him, a little startled, and nodded. He said nothing, though, and Boyd turned his attention to Sin.

Pausing to swipe his coat and the folders off the floor, Boyd looked sidelong at Sin. "I need to stop at my house but otherwise I am ready."

Sin watched the way Boyd's expression had changed as soon as he'd seen him. The heat of emotion that he'd felt not even an entire minute ago vanished, leaving him cold once again. He shrugged at Boyd, muttering a quiet "Whatever" and nodded at David absently as he turned to leave. The nod was a simple enough gesture but even that caused the cold, dark thing within him to hiss in disgust. Who did he think he was?, it seemed to demand. Who was he to feel anger and sadness? Since when did he acknowledge people? Since when did he act even remotely agreeable? Why did these strange new habits come out when he was in Boyd's presence? What was wrong with him?

It was amazing how much damage had been done to his training in the brief months that had passed. He wondered if it was permanent, and what effects it would have.

He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and followed his partner silently.

---

The flight went quite well, considering it was eight hours and they were almost the only people on there. It was a semi-private jet that Owen ended up booking them on; the only other people there were a couple of very rich looking business men whose suits probably cost more than a typical person could earn in two years. They spoke over wine about nothing in particular, but Boyd found himself idly listening to them as he read through the information in his folder. He gave the other folder to Sin, but Sin did not so much as look at it. His pale green gaze was focused solely on the window, and for the entire flight the only time he was not looking out there was when he closed his eyes and sat silently for long periods of time. He had unbuttoned his white shirt a little near the throat, but otherwise he did not touch his fancy clothing.

Boyd spent his time going through every piece of information in the packets, so he could get an idea of what the layout of the city was, what to expect for the hotel security, what sort of person Thierry would probably be, and anything he may need to know about the mission in general. He slept only a little on the flight, and did not look over at Sin to see if he did as well.

By the time they arrived in France he was tired but not exhausted. The pilot welcomed them to France, and the single flight attendant smiled amiably at them and helped them with their bags. Boyd looked around, feeling a moment of disorientation as he realized everything around him was in French. Of course that would be the case, but he had never actually been fully surrounded by the language to the extent that it was all he saw, and it was an interesting experience. Especially since he was half-French, and this was, in a way, his homeland.

Vivienne was born in France and his father in Canada, that much he knew. When Boyd was very small his mother used to still speak French at home. She taught him since he was a baby to be fluent in French as well as English; for a period of time, she conversed with him only in French, and if he answered in English she would pretend she didn't know what he said. This was done in the best of intentions to make sure he actually utilized the language. He remembered it all a little vaguely; as he grew older, she began to speak English more often as she tried to rid herself of the accent that remained in her voice. By the time his father was killed and the already tenuous ties with countries like France were broken, she no longer wanted to admit to anything that linked her to a homeland that would not further her profession in America. But Boyd had retained the ability to speak French and continued to enjoy the language. He still read books in French, still wrote in the language sometimes; he had an entire notebook filled with terrible French poetry that he'd written mostly after his father died. Some part of him was probably clinging to the memory of his father, and happier times when his mother spoke to him more, when she acknowledged part of his ancestry and told him tiny bits about his family.

Even though now he rarely spoke French he could still fluently read and write, and did not think he would have a difficult time conversing with anyone. He still knew the accent, the slang, the mannerisms, and wasted no time falling back into the language. He'd had no real reason to keep up with French but he had. What was probably some strange need to stay connected to his family roots ended up being incredibly helpful on this mission.

The day passed relatively quickly. They found Thierry's hotel with few issues, as Boyd was able to stop anyone on the street and ask for directions. He did not speak to Sin much, except to switch between French and English to explain pertinent information. When they made it to the hotel, they were able to get the keys easily to the suite that Thierry had booked for them in anticipation of their arrival. It was one of the few buildings that remained quite tall with multiple levels, and their suite was toward the top. Boyd had a theory since the first time he'd visited his mother's office on the seventeenth floor of Johnson's Pharmaceuticals. As far as he had seen in movies, books, and in his life, the richer and more powerful a person was, the higher their office was situated in the building. He theorized that they preferred this, because when they looked out the windows all the people were the size of ants, and they could feel like God. This thought only seemed emphasized to him when he walked into the suite for the first time.

Situated on one of the upper floors of the hotel, it would have been more accurate to refer to the suite as a small apartment. Everything about it was decadent and luxurious, with rich décor, smooth carpeting and a wall of windows overlooking one of the few views in the city with very little lingering damage from bombs. The curtains were whisper-soft to the touch when Boyd ran his fingers down them, the large sitting area had multiple couches and even a television with an old DVD player. There was a cabinet which appeared to be stocked full of expensive liquor and a small fridge next to it was already filled with food. The bathroom was larger than Boyd's living room back home, and the two individual rooms were each nearly the size of Sin's apartment.

Boyd took in the suite with an unreadable expression, thinking that he could understand to an extent General Carhart's distaste for Thierry's excessive wealth. On the other hand, Boyd still drove around his expensive car when there were people next door who did not even have access to clean water. So who was he to judge? Looking away, he chose a room without speaking to Sin.

They spent most of the day resting; jet lag was also a good excuse for them each to disappear into their rooms and not talk.

Boyd was careful not to wrinkle his clothing at all. When it was coming upon the time for them to meet Thierry, he found himself feeling a little... Well, it was not nervousness he felt, so much as he did not particularly relish this meeting. Carhart had made it absolutely certain that they had to keep the man happy, but it sounded as though Thierry was so fickle that no one knew what that would mean from one moment to the next. Beyond that, Sin was a wild card right now; he already disliked Thierry, and he apparently wanted to go back to the box, so it was entirely likely that Boyd would end up having to negotiate more between those two than as a representative between Thierry and the Agency. Although he partially felt that it may be easier to do this without Sin's presence, he was strangely grateful that he would be there.

He had unconsciously brought his trench coat with him to France, and found himself eyeing it contemplatively for a moment, thinking about what he was wearing and what the coat would look like with it. He had just chosen to wear the nice clothing he had at home rather than taking the time to get freshened up elsewhere. He had a deep crimson shirt made of soft fabric that was buttoned all the way to his throat. His black slacks were smooth and the right length, and he even traded in his scuffed combat boots for a pair of nice black shoes. He had a black tie, and a black jacket, and he thought it all made him look too pale but it was what he had to work with. There were, he supposed, merits to having a mother who bred certain qualities into him since childhood. Even when she had disappeared for long periods of time from his home, he had always kept one nice set of clothing in case she would ever reappear suddenly and want to go somewhere with him. He knew enough about her that she would not, in that unlikely event, wish him to look scruffy or poor. This particular outfit he had from years ago; at the time the slacks had been too long but he had grown just enough since then that they now looked tailored. Other than the fact that he was thinner now than he was when he purchased the clothing, he thought it fit pretty well.

However... As much as he loved his trench coat, it would look ridiculous with that outfit. He threw the coat over the couch and walked into the bathroom to finish getting ready. Boyd combed his hair and pulled it back into a low pony tail, leaving a few strands loose along the sides because it looked better somehow, and he called for Sin to come down with him. It took awhile for Sin to appear from his room, his shirt unbuttoned and body language as sullen as ever, but when he did he had the same blank expression as before, and Boyd gave up even trying to interpret what was happening in his mind.

The dining hall they walked into was beautiful; chandeliers hung from the ceiling with little crystals that dangled and made the light sparkle. There were several tables, each perfectly set with a white tablecloth, beautiful plates and shining sets of silverware. Couples in elegant clothing dotted the room, with the occasional group of three or four, and Boyd paused just inside the room to scan the people. He knew what Thierry looked like from a picture he had in the folder, but he did not see him. He was just turning to Sin to ask him if he saw Thierry when he noticed someone appear behind them.

The man was tall, over six feet, and seemed slender although it was obvious that he had a muscular physique. His thick brown hair was brushed back from his forehead, deep blue eyes sparkling as he approached them with a welcoming smile. "I see you have arrived," He said smoothly; he had a French accent but it was slight and barely noticeable. "Precisely on time. How wonderful. I am Thierry Beauvais, but I'm sure you already knew this."

His eyes had immediately focused on Sin and his grin turned mischievous. "Enchanté, Sinful one. Have you missed me in these many months of separation?" He moved closer, smile growing. "I see your time in prison has not taken away from your beauty." He raised a hand as though he were going to touch Sin, but Sin moved out of the way.

"Touch me and I'll break it," he said flatly, face almost expressionless despite the dangerous gleam in his eyes. Irritation swept through him, partly because he had to deal with Thierry again but mostly because for some reason he was following orders and not putting his fist through the man's face like he wanted to.

The good humored expression dimmed and a flash of irritation shown in Thierry's eyes. "Nothing has changed with you, I see."

Boyd looked sidelong at Sin. This was exactly as he'd thought; it would be up to him to make sure the Agency did not lose standing with Thierry. It was extremely important that they both be on their best behavior, but since Sin did not seem likely to do so, Boyd would have to overcompensate. Stepping forward slightly to catch Thierry's attention, he smiled politely and greeted him with a perfect French accent. "Monsieur Beauvais, c'est un plaisir de faire votre connaissance." He made certain to keep his body language respectful as he looked up at Thierry.

Thierry looked away from Sin and focusing on Boyd, eyes lighting up in pleasant surprise. "Parlez-vous français?"

Boyd smiled very slightly and tilted his head forward in a polite nod. "Oui," Boyd said in French, "My mother is from France."

Thierry's dark eyebrows rose as he took in the young man in front of him. His cobalt eyes roamed Boyd in a manner that lingered longer than necessary without seeming necessarily impolite. "Ah," He said in French, a grin showing off perfectly white teeth. "Excellent. It is rare to find an American who speaks my language these days. How delightful. And you must be Boyd, correct? Boyd Beaulieu. How silly of me, the name should have given it away."

His eyes continued to feast on Boyd, smile growing wider. "I am beginning to wonder about the human resources of your organization. They seem to hire such beautiful young men. It is almost too much for me to bear. And so well dressed, both of you," he continued before transitioning to English effortlessly. "Even you, Sinful. Whatever has become of your ripped pants and vulgar t-shirts? Bloodstains and old hems, everywhere. This transformation is incredible."

Sin gave him a dull look and said nothing.

"You are very kind," Boyd said in English before Sin could find his voice and potentially get them in trouble. He kept his tone polite and infused with a little warmth. "To be invited to France to meet your esteemed acquaintance, how could we arrive in anything but such dress?" He let his gaze drift across the tables. "Although, I fear even with the ties and slacks, we pale in comparison to the beauty of your hotel."

Sin's stared at Boyd doubtfully for a long moment, mouth twitching down into a mildly disgusted frown even though he remained silent.

Thierry, however, seemed to thrive on the compliment and looped his arm through Boyd's with an even wider smile. "I cannot begin to explain how pleased I am to see that they have finally sent someone who can appreciate the finer things in life. These military people are always so serious, only concerned with strategies and fighting and intrigue. But you and I will be different," Thierry enthused, tugging Boyd in the direction of the dining room. "You will tell me about yourself and we will become best friends." He looked over his shoulder at Sin. "Come, Sinful."

Boyd glanced briefly at Sin, but made sure to keep up with Thierry. In all truthfulness, he thought the hotel was ridiculous. In a world with so little money available to so many, why act as though the richest of the rich still existed? Such decadence was overkill, and Boyd thought that surely with the money Thierry spent on the creation of the hotel he could have done any number of more worthwhile things. But, again, he could not object too much considering he still had a home to go to and an expensive car that still worked. His mother had been independently wealthy even before her job, so when she'd thought to give him allowances he'd tended to have a little more than was necessary. And now that he was being paid by the Agency... Well. Who was he to complain about rich and poor, as if he was doing anything with the money he had either?

Regardless of what he truly felt about the hotel or Thierry, he was going to take this seriously. He would tell Thierry what he wanted to hear, and constantly find ways to ingratiate them to his presence as much as possible. Although Boyd would normally never be so obsequious, and part of him was mildly impressed that he was able to say such things with a straight face, he had also always been good at mimicking behavior around him. It was really no different than infiltrating a base and pretending he was a rookie; except now instead of armbands and rifles he had suits and salad forks to work with. He would do this all night long if that was all it took to get Thierry to give them the information.

Waiting until they stopped at a table and took their seats, Boyd smiled at Thierry. "There is very little to tell about myself, I fear. What would you like to know?"

Thierry summoned a waiter with the crook of a finger and ordered a bottle of wine. Returning his attention to his guests, he rested his chin on his hand, leaning towards Boyd with a smile. "It is painfully obvious to me that you were brought up well. You reek of finery and good taste, your French accent is excellent, your manners are impeccable. It leads me to wonder how you came to be involved with such an organization. Why are you not studying abroad in Berlin or somewhere, seeking higher education? How did you become partnered with such a ruffian as this? I love Sinful, I do, but he can seem so crude at times. Did you know that he broke my nose on our last meeting?"

"I apologize for the behavior of my colleague," Boyd said smoothly, not even looking at Sin, "be it past, present, or future. He, regrettably, does not appear to have the same refined background that one such as you would be accustomed to, and thus he does not always realize how insulting he can be. If you do not mind my saying, for some people a broken nose could be catastrophic, but for you it only adds to your features." While that was actually true, he still didn't quite like that he had to say something like that. He preferred to just keep things simple and without flattery, but Thierry was not the type of person to attempt that on. And there was no way in hell he was going to screw up this mission just because he didn't feel like throwing out a few compliments.

Boyd paused briefly, not knowing how to answer Thierry's other questions. Somehow, he did not want Sin to know how much he was lying when he finally did. He did not know if Thierry would be upset that he spoke in French to answer a question in English, but he intended to gauge Thierry's reaction this time to see if he could do it again in the future. He leaned forward very slightly, keeping his voice smooth and conversational, and put on a small smile. "If my manners are anything to be praised, and I thank you for your kind words, then I can only say it is due to my mother's upbringing. She is French, as I mentioned, and no doubt that is part of the reason. As for my presence, I suppose the best answer I can give is that my time with the organization is much like study abroad would be for another. I took a break from college to get a better understanding of the world and its people, and this is the path that I found myself upon."

Thierry's eyes focused solely on Boyd's lips the entire time he spoke and he appeared somewhat distracted when he answered. "That is one way of looking at it. I just would hate to see such a beautiful young man be harmed in any way by some ridiculous rag tag faction, a supposed ally or otherwise."

The words seemed genuine and Boyd did not know what to say to that so he just silently kept the smile.

Thierry's eyes flicked to Sin briefly as he lit a cigarette. He took in the way Sin's pale green eyes had focused on Boyd and the slight way they narrowed when Boyd had leaned closer to Thierry, away from Sin. Thierry's mouth curved into a small smirk before they ordered dinner. When Sin refused to order anything he gave him a slightly impatient look. "Come Sinful, don't be impertinent. Be gracious and order."

Sin made a face. "I don't eat French food."

"Yes, I remember, you only eat junk food," Theirry replied, his tone condescending.

Sin shrugged, expression bland. "Same thing."

Thierry observed him for a long moment before waving the waiter off with an elegant shrug. "Well, I tried." The mischievous look returned and he inhaled deeply from his cigarette. "Tomorrow we will sight-see," He decided.

The announcement was mildly surprising but boded well. Although Boyd would have preferred they get the information immediately he could not have expected that to happen. At least Thierry wasn't sending them away. "You are too kind," Boyd said diplomatically. "We appreciate that you are willing to spend so much of your precious time with us."

"If I had it my way," Thierry replied with a lingering look, "I would spend every breathing moment with you."

Boyd noticed the look and was caught off-guard by the comment mostly because it seemed relatively genuine compared to his general prattle. That caused Boyd to fall briefly silent, though he did not let his pleasant expression change. It was not that Thierry was an unattractive man, but Boyd had never liked idle flattery and had not had to deal with it constantly for a long time. He didn't know if he was doing well, so he just concentrated on reading Thierry's body language and figured it was better to overdo the flattery than not do it well enough. It was strange being around Thierry, though; his personality was a far cry from what Boyd was used to, or even what he felt entirely comfortable around. He also found it interesting that Thierry knew all these little details about Sin. He thought they had only met once, but perhaps it was more. After a moment he finally smiled again. "You are too kind."

The look Sin gave him was indescribable although it was obvious that he was surprised at Boyd's behavior. Surprised, incredulous and... jealous. Even before the disastrous birthday, Boyd had never acted like this with anyone. Sin knew it was most likely because of the assignment but there was something in him, the irrational, possessive part of him, that seethed at the idea that Boyd was enjoying the attention from such a rich, attractive man even though the man had no problems belittling his partner.

Thierry did not seem to notice or mind the brief moment of silence. He smoothly poured himself a generous glass of wine before looking at Boyd. "Do you drink? I know our sullen friend does not."

Boyd smiled automatically. "I must admit that I do not in general, but for such an occasion I would be remiss to say no."

Thierry looked pleased and he filled Boyd's glass, gazing at him the entire time. "That color becomes you," He said smoothly, gesturing to Boyd's crimson shirt. "However I would like to see you in white. You would look like an angel with that silky skin and golden hair." Once again he seemed distracted and almost poured wine in Sin's glass, stopping abruptly and sitting the bottle down. "What should we order for the child to drink? Milk?"

Sin's eyes seem to freeze over and he looked at Thierry silently, his jaw clenching. His face remained calm but his eyes spoke volumes, the threat of violence unmistakable as Sin's powerful hands flexed absently.

Boyd looked over at Sin, amazed by his self-control; he couldn't believe that he did not say anything in response to that. Later, he would have to thank him. For the moment, he was trying to formulate a suitably diplomatic response. He definitely did not think he would look an angel in any color or light and he would never have described himself as having 'silky skin.' Everything he thought of quickly would just anger Sin further or likely distance Thierry, neither of which he could afford to do. Thankfully, Thierry took away the need by changing the subject. Boyd did not even realize that slight tension had built in his shoulders until he felt it release with the new topic.

"Ah, well, anyway," Thierry looked away and patted his nose absently. "Is this your first time in Paris, beautiful?"

Picking up the glass, Boyd sipped the wine slowly. He had not had any alcohol for a few years, and even then it was just the occasional drink with Lou. He did not dare drink too much, or he would not be in the correct state of mind. "Yes," he said, inclining his head slightly, "and I am very pleased I was able to visit. I have always wanted to see France."

Answering Thierry's questions seemed to lead inevitably to flattery, or a calm disparaging remark sent toward Sin before it became a compliment later. For the rest of the evening, which seemed to drag extremely slowly and unproductively, they did not speak about anything of consequence and not once did Thierry even hint at anything related to Janus or the reason they were here. Boyd did not bring it up, as he believed it best to leave that in Thierry's hands but after awhile it seemed obvious that Thierry had no intention of discussing it at all that night.

During the next couple of hours, Sin sat silently and seemed sullen and resentful about the fact that he had to be there. Just as he'd said to Carhart, his presence was not needed and he was completely useless, serving only as the punchline of a joke that Thierry seemed to find endlessly funny. He didn't eat, didn't drink and didn't say anything, even when Thierry continuously sent belittling remarks his way. For the most part it didn't bother him other than the frustration that he couldn't knock the man's teeth out but the insults only stung when they were followed by long strings of dialogue in French between Thierry and Boyd that Sin could not understand and couldn't help feeling betrayed by. He wondered if Boyd was joining in the Sin bashing 'for the sake of the mission' and he grit his teeth and looked away from the flirtatious chatter, eyes darkening every time Thierry's hand brushed Boyd's, every time they leaned close or laughed.

Boyd, for his part, felt like he did nothing but smile sycophantically all evening. He laughed at Thierry's jokes and did nothing in any way to upset him. It seemed to take an eternity for the meal to come to a close, but when it finally did, Thierry stood with a very pleased expression and told them he would see them the next day for their trip around Paris.

Sin and Boyd made their way back up to the suite in an elevator, with quiet music playing a little annoyingly in the background. It was only as they headed into the suite and shut the door behind them that Sin finally muttered that there was no need for him to be there during that meal. Boyd looked at him sidelong, pulled his hair free of his ponytail, and started to loosen his tie.

"It went very well, though," he said calmly, and paused briefly before he added, "You did well, too."

Sin just looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable and not entirely pleased. "If you say so," he said blankly, then disappeared into his room.

Somehow, Boyd did not think Sin had interpreted that the way he'd meant it. Sighing softly, he ran his fingers through his hair and shut the door to his room behind him.

Continue to Ch 14 ~ Jealousy