Chapter Nineteen

Determination

Uploaded on 3/13/07

Boyd looked terrible when he left the medic but he didn't care or even particularly notice. He knew his face was bruised all over from where Harry hit him and that his forehead was scattered with small cuts. His stomach and chest ached from the beating he'd received and his arm still burned from being wrenched around by them. His weariness made the limp more prominent with his injured thigh but his head was held higher than it had been for weeks and he looked at people coolly in the eyes if they glanced at him. While before he'd been content to try to disappear into himself because of all the attention he'd been receiving, he didn't care now. He had a new goal and it was incredibly important. He needed to get Sin out of fourth and safe in his apartment again.

He had to make sure he wasn't jumping to conclusions, however, so he stopped by Sin's apartment before doing anything else. He could have gone to fourth first but he didn't trust himself not to react violently if he saw anything happening to Sin. The guards at Sin's apartment were used to Boyd appearing randomly and didn't give him as much crap as most of the others would. He recognized one of them whose name he thought may be something like 'Jerry.' Jerry told him Sin had not been back for quite some time,and Boyd knew he would not lie to him. Even so, he used his pass card to enter Sin's place and looked all around for any signs that he had returned. When he was certain that Sin had not been there, Boyd knew that he was on fourth.

Thanking Jerry on his way out, Boyd headed directly for Carhart's office next. It took him longer to get there than he would have preferred simply because his body would not let him move too quickly. Taking a moment to catch his breath and put a hand against the wall to control a wave of dizziness that blurred his vision, Boyd drew in a deep breath and knocked on Carhart's door. He was starting to regret that he hadn't eaten anything or slept well in awhile; it wasn't exactly making this easier.

Carhart called out for him to enter in his usual gruff tone and didn't look up from his computer monitor. "Yes, Boyd?"

"Sin's been taken to fourth but he shouldn't be there," Boyd said without preamble the moment he shut the door behind him. "How do we get him out?" He was so intent on the idea of freeing Sin that it took him half a second to think to add, "Sir," on the end.

Carhart looked up at Boyd from under his eyebrows, took in the bruises and scars and his eyes flicked back to the computer. "And what, pray tell, has happened to you in the past two hours since we parted?"

"Harry Truman," Boyd said evenly, watching Carhart. "The man who molested and assaulted Sin on fourth multiple times. The sort of thing that is probably happening right now unless we can get him out of there..."

"According to my knowledge Sin has just killed the man so apparently he is no longer a threat." Carhart stopped his work and sat back in his chair, gazing at Boyd with an unreadable expression on his face. "I heard one story, now I want to hear yours. What happened?"

Boyd stared at Carhart and even though he generally gave very brief reports at the debriefings that left out anything embarrassing, this was one point that he would not do that. The topic was not one he wanted to talk too extensively about, but he would for Sin. "It will all be on the tapes, sir," he said as calmly as he could manage. He didn't want to be standing there discussing this sort of thing; he felt like he had to keep moving, had to get Sin out, had to do things that would keep him from thinking too much about everything that had happened recently. Even so, he stopped to explain the situation to the person who was most likely to help.

"I was summoned to my mother's office following the debriefing and when I left there I stopped at the reference library on fourteenth. I intended to simply rest there before I left for home, but Harry Truman arrived." His expression turned blank and his voice lost all inflection as he told the rest of the story, as if he were relaying a report about something completely unconnected to him. "He has disliked me since I stopped him from molesting Sin in the gym then filed a report against him. He was given several weeks suspension with no pay, but apparently payroll on fifteenth had not been paying him even since he returned. He said he went to payroll to talk to them about that but saw me entering the library, so he followed me instead."

He paused briefly, blinking slowly as something in him shifted uncomfortably at having to relay the rest of this. But he wanted Carhart to know exactly what happened so he could get Sin out of there. What was a little embarrassment compared to keeping Sin from the box?

"Harry was belligerent from the moment he stepped into the room and was clearly intent on harassing me. I did not help matters by taunting him. He said several rather vile things to me but I said a few back. He punched me several times, dragged me around the room by my hair, shoved my face into one of the glass cabinets and was a few seconds away from raping me when Sin appeared and killed him. Harry would not have stopped if Sin did not show up, and even if I was taunting Harry, even if a person wanted to argue that I may deserve any number of things, the fact remains that Sin saved me. If someone must be punished for it, I want it to be me. Sin didn't do anything wrong, and, frankly, Harry deserved far worse just for being himself. He was a terrible person."

Boyd paused again, but this time it was out of mild curiosity. "What did the other story say?"

Carhart was silent for a moment and an incredibly weary look slowly appeared on his face. "It doesn't matter. Nonsense that makes very little sense and that I did not believe. I do, however, believe you, but unfortunately the decision is not up to me. And I do not think Connors will feel especially generous about helping Sin after what happened last night."

He uncrossed his arms and rubbed his temples slowly, eyebrows knotting as he closed his eyes. "I've already attempted to reason with the higher powers but since I am apparently seen as Sin's blind protector, my word has very little weight with his punishments anymore. They think I am soft when it comes to him." He opened his eyes and stared at Boyd.

"Last night was my fault as was today," Boyd insisted. "These are both things that I should be targeted for instead of Sin." He shook his head, his expression turning just a shade darker. "With all due respect, sir, I think it's ridiculous that he was put there for helping me in the first place. When the guards arrived to take him away they didn't even bother asking what happened despite the fact that I was standing there with blood all over my face, Harry had his pants down, and Sin was standing there harmlessly staring. If Sin had been the one attacking either of us violently, he would have had the blood on him instead of us.

"Even without asking, the guards probably know, though. Harry told me that they are the ones who watch the cameras and that if he told them to ignore what was happening to me on the tapes then they would. I am certain that is the case because over this past month I have met with much harassment by guards who seemed to have no fear. They would know there was surveillance, but if they also knew that those monitoring it did not care or found it amusing, it would explain why no one stopped it. The guards knew exactly what happened but they still used the excuse to take it out on Sin. I understand that you are in a difficult position, but I'm willing to do whatever I need to in order to get Sin out of there. So, please, could you tell me what I should do instead? Should I contact Marshal Connors, or someone else? I will not mention your name at all if you wish; they can think whatever they like of me but I want to help Sin."

Carhart continued to stare at Boyd, still rubbing his temples. "Let me ask you a question Boyd." He dropped his hands and leaned across his desk, staring at Boyd intently. "Why are you so determined to help him? For the past few weeks the two of you seemed to dislike each other. Is it because of some sense of gratitude that he saved you?"

Boyd stared at him, and though his expression was blank it was not to hide his emotions this time. "I don't know," he said finally, honestly. "Except to say that I've always felt Sin deserved a certain amount of respect, probably especially due to the complete lack of it he's seemed to have his entire life. Even if we seem to argue a lot, even if he said cruel things to me and I said some back, he still came and protected me when I needed it most. I suppose..."

He trailed off briefly, trying to think clearly but quickly so he could give Carhart as honest an answer as he could figure at the moment. He wouldn't truly know what was happening until he had some time to think it all through in the silence of his home, but Carhart was the person right now who would be able to help him most and he had to give him as much information as possible. He didn't even realize that he was approaching this much as he would have any other mission. "There are very few people in my life who would do that," he said, forthright and reasonably, "and it probably helped that I came from my mother's office earlier. She is someone who one would think would protect me due primarily to blood ties, but she wants nothing to do with me unless I am in some way useful to the advancement of her career. Maybe having someone who should be protecting me but never will contrasted with a person who should have no reason to do so but still does is enough to make me want to protect him back." He shook his head slightly, thinking.

"But, honestly, if he is going to save me then I should at the very least return the favor. And for all that Sin may be, for all that he has killed and maimed, the fact remains that he is still human and should be afforded basic rights that you and I have. We still live in America, where it should be that he is innocent until proven guilty, but much of the time that does not seem to be the case. I would still want to help him if I knew he was wrongfully detained somewhere in perfect health and comfort, but I am positive that is not the case. It is stupid enough that he gets blamed for something that is not his fault and that no one ever seems to consider his side before attacking him, but it is even worse when his fears are used against him for something he did with good intentions. If the guards want to give him a trial for killing Harry, then they should go forth with that plan, but they damn well better have him in a comfortable cell before that and ask me to be a witness since I was the one this all revolved around anyway."

Carhart sighed and stood up abruptly, folding his hands behind is back. "If only things were that simple," He murmured. "But it doesn't work that way in this organization, unfortunately, and it doesn't matter that Sin had every right to do what he did. You are his partner; his job is to protect you and that is what he did. However, he is the whipping boy of this Agency and things that go wrong get blamed on him. Despite the fact that his actions were justifiable in this instance, people do not forget the instances when that was not the case." He paused, pondering. "I can not comprehend a world where Connors would care whether or not an imbecile like Harry Truman lived or died but this happened at the perfect time for him to punish Sin for not getting what he wanted out of the assignment last night."

Carhart looked at Boyd with a scowl. "Unfortunately, my hands are tied. I've already requested the surveillance video be brought to me but there are more people against us than for us in this matter and I suspect that it will get lost along the way."

That was his fault too, then; Boyd was the one who completely screwed up the mission and Sin was the one who saved him then as well. How could he possibly leave Sin to be punished for things that were not his fault? It angered Boyd that he was not the person punished instead as he was the one who actually deserved it. Unfortunately, he knew if he showed up at fourth offering to go in the box for Sin he would just get laughed out of the room, and seeing Sin in there would only put Boyd in danger of doing something he would regret.

He had to think about this clearly; had to see it as a mission. He attempted to negotiate with the first leader and though Carhart was amenable to his plight he also was unable to do anything. Connors was mentioned several times already, and Boyd knew that ultimately he was the person he had to convince. Even though Carhart had a point that some things Sin did were probably not justifiable as far as society's view was concerned, Sin should have been punished at that time for those instances and then it should have been evened out. Constantly attacking him with any excuse was utterly ridiculous. The more Boyd thought about this, the more protective he realized he was getting. He was irritated that Sin had only himself and Carhart (and probably Ryan) to run around trying to get him out of the box when he should not have been placed in there in the first place. Old frustrations regarding that rose within him but he forced his expression into remote respect and simply nodded.

"Understood, sir. If it's possible, I would like to know if the tape arrives so I can make my own copy if it's needed for evidence."

He didn't relish the idea of having to see such a pathetic display of his own inability to force Harry into killing him, but he would keep it in case Sin ever needed it for evidence. It occurred to him that it was probably good that he hadn't managed to convince Harry to kill him; Boyd assumed at the time that no one would come looking for him, but if Sin had arrived to find Boyd's mangled body, he wondered what the outcome would have been instead. Even just yesterday he would have assumed Sin would rejoice at the thought, but after seeing the look in his eyes before the guards arrived... well, Boyd couldn't be so sure anymore.

Carhart continued to frown thoughtfully and went back to rubbing his temples. Although he wasn't outraged and screaming, it was obvious that the man was upset. Boyd wasn't the first person to have the rumor mill center on them because of Sin; Carhart had been a victim of that for years. His unwillingness to give up on Sin and his never ending campaign to defend him fueled people to create rumors questioning Carhart's sexuality, saying that either he was in love with his charge or had been in love with Sin's father and felt obligated to protect the man's spawn. However, Carhart's almost fatherly support for both Ryan and Boyd made it obvious that he was just incredibly kind.

"I want you to stay here," Carhart said slowly, narrowing his eyes at Boyd. "I'm going to make another attempt to plead his case but I do not want you wandering this compound at a time like this. Not until I can get my hands on the video and make an official report. The rumors already associated with the two of you will worsen and unfortunately, right now the unofficial story places the entire blame on you. I have no idea why that depraved sex offender, and he actually was a registered sex offender before coming here--" Carhart added disdainfully. "--is so popular among the men, but I can only assume it's because people are weak and will follow anyone who tries to take charge."

He moved towards the door, still staring at Boyd intently. "Do not leave this room until I come back. I don't need you killing someone in defense of Sin next time." Although he said the words, there was a glimmer of something in Carhart's eyes that showed that the fact that such a scenario was even possible pleased him immensely. "Call Ryan if you want, he has clearance to access my office."

Although Boyd had intended to leave immediately to find Connors, he followed Carhart's instructions instead. Nodding, he walked over and took a seat just to show Carhart he was not going anywhere. However, it was a good idea to call Ryan. Especially if there ended up being bands of roaming marauders who were loyal to Harry and wanted to get at anyone even partially sympathetic to Sin. Ryan was definitely in that category.

It was at that point he realized he must have left his cell phone at his house and he glanced over at Carhart just before he could leave the room. "Could I use your phone to call Ryan, sir? I don't have my cell."

"That's fine. And you can call me Zach, you know," He said the last part almost absently. "I'm not positive how long I will be gone, it is not easy to get an interview with Marshal Connors, even for me. While I'm gone, I also plan to get the surveillance video myself. Try not to speculate too much on the treatment Sin is receiving at the moment. Just keep in mind that he has dealt with a lot and it is very difficult to break him." With those words, Carhart disappeared out the door and a lock clicked into place a few seconds later.

Boyd stared at the door blankly for a good five seconds after Carhart disappeared. Zach...? That seemed incredibly informal. How did he skip from 'sir' to a nickname in the space of a few minutes? He wasn't certain he could bring himself to referring to Carhart as anything but his last name or by title; he still felt enough respect for the man that he could not see him as an equal.

He couldn't reach the phone from the chair so he stood, but even that much movement made his muscles stretch painfully. It felt like Harry had tenderized his whole torso and even with the painkillers his face was swollen and hurt. Glass had shattered mostly across his forehead but it made it down to his cheeks too; the medics said it was lucky he didn't lacerate an eye. Although they had cleaned the blood from his skin, it still caked his hair in chunks along the side, and it hurt more than he was willing to deal with just to move the injured arm he was yanked around by. He really needed to learn how to deal with people throwing him around by his arms; he always seemed to get shoulder injuries from it, there surely had to be a way to move with the assailant rather than against.

Standing put pressure on his thigh, which stung every time he tried to shift his leg. He had a bruise along his lower back from the table and his scalp was achingly tender from where Harry had held him by his hair. Overall, he felt like Harry managed to compact two missions' worth of injuries into an hour and if the man wasn't already dead he would have been very annoyed with him. But at least he didn't have other injuries, he supposed. Sin had stopped it before it would have become painful to sit, too. Although, if Sin hadn't arrived, Boyd would have hoped he'd have been killed by then so it wouldn't have mattered.

The pain made him a little dizzy so he braced his hands on Carhart's desk and let his head hang down, his hair falling forward as he closed his eyes and just concentrated on breathing. He knew he had to eat. He had thought that several times already but the idea of ingesting anything was nauseating. Maybe he was just too stressed and tired, or maybe the emotional trauma from the past twenty-four hours had become psychosomatic. He didn't know and it truthfully didn't matter.

He took another deep breath then opened his eyes, feeling a little calmer. Grabbing Carhart's phone, he immediately dialed Ryan's extension and waited for him to answer. He wasn't looking forward to what Ryan would say when he saw Boyd looking like crap, but he wouldn't mind his presence.

The phone rang three times before Ryan answered and when he did, his voice was weary sounding. "No, I haven't finished yet, Sir."

Boyd blinked. Although he didn't quite know what he intended to say to Ryan, that comment sidetracked him enough that it didn't matter. "What does Carhart have you working on?" he asked, a little curious.

There was a brief, confused silence followed by an excited exclamation. "Boyd! Did Hsin find you?"

"Ah. Yes, but that is the problem." He tilted his head unconsciously, even though Ryan was not there to see it. "Are you available to come to General Carhart's office? There is an... issue that has arisen."

"What?" His tone switched from excited to worried in a single breath. "Of course, I'll be right there. Give me ten minutes."

Boyd stared at the phone after Ryan hung up, wondering belatedly if he should have warned him that he looked a little worse for the wear. As he was setting the receiver down it suddenly occurred to him that he didn't tell Ryan anything about Sin, and how did Sin know to look for him anyway? He blinked slowly and moved over to the door but he didn't want to unlock it until Ryan appeared, just in case.

It took approximately seven minutes for Ryan to arrive and when Boyd unlocked the door, he burst in looking more unruly than usual, his thin face scrunched up in concern. "Boyd, what the he--" Ryan's face froze and then paled. "Did fucking Hsin do that to you?!"

"No," Boyd said evenly, automatically tilting his head down so his hair could hide his face a little. Even so, he watched Ryan sidelong with eyes that were more alert than they had been in months. His expression was blank, but while before that seemed to be because he was dead inside, now it seemed more that he had too much happening in his mind to want to commit to one emotion on his face. There was something very intent in his body language too; a mission-mode mentality that gave him a sense of purpose.

"It was Harry. I will explain, but first, why did he even find me at all?"

Ryan frowned and reached out to touch one of the large bruises on Boyd's face but he stopped and shook his head. "I-- I went to him and I, I kind of yelled at him and he went to go look for you."

"Oh." Boyd considered that for a moment, not looking upset at all at the concept of Ryan touching his face. "I suppose in a way that is good." He did not sound entirely convinced. Even though he now had the goal to get Sin out of fourth, if Ryan had not talked to him then Sin would not have gone looking for Boyd at all. There were several scenarios that could have occurred if that had been the case. If Ryan had not spoken to Sin, then it was very possible Boyd would be dead or incapacitated right now and none of this would matter. On the other hand, if Ryan had spoken to Sin but Sin had gotten there just too late, it was equally possible that Sin would have done something drastic that could have made matters far worse for him than the current situation and Boyd hadn't exactly been looking forward to Harry penetrating him. So, in the end, it was probably best that it all happened as it did... But on the other hand, even if after all this, miraculously Sin seemed to accept Boyd, and in that way validated his existence, Boyd would still have all the baggage from this month to deal with. While it all did rest on Sin's opinion, he was highly aware that after everything, even Sin's approval could potentially not be enough. If that happened, he didn't know what he would do. So, part of him could still not help wishing Ryan had just said nothing at all, so he didn't have to be dealing with all this. But that was not the case, and with the way the incident occurred, it was important on several levels that he save Sin.

"I told him about everything that happened while he was gone and he got upset and went to find you. I'm sorry if I um, if you didn't want me to but I couldn't help it." Ryan bit his lip and this time he really did touch Boyd's face, rubbing his almost child sized thumb across the bruise with a grimace. "Please tell me what happened. Where's Hsin and Harry?"

"It's alright," Boyd said softly, leaning just a little into Ryan's gentle touch. He meant it was alright that Ryan told Sin but it came out sounding as though he was saying it was alright to touch him as well. He let his eyes fall shut and had to take a moment to think.

He didn't even know what he was thinking anymore. He was confused, as if the stasis he had lapsed into was ripped away too quickly and he was disoriented by the thought of living again. Everything that happened had a contradictory thought in his mind; he was glad that Sin stopped Harry from raping him but part of him still wished he had just died so he didn't have to think anymore. He was so incredibly grateful that Sin had seemed to acknowledge his existence in that one single look, but Boyd wouldn't know what exactly any of that meant until he could get Sin out of the box and safe again. He had the goal to save Sin, but what happened after that? Would he just fall into nothingness again, or would this renewed sense of purpose linger?

For the last several months he had slowly been losing everything he was clutching to that reminded him he was alive and that his existence meant something. The missions and Agency were a purpose for months, but then after the Thierry fiasco and the fallout that followed, he had begun to lose his confidence that he was capable of completing them. With so many at the Agency harassing him, he no longer felt he belonged in the one place he visited outside his home. Sin had been retreating further and further as well and it wasn't until they were back to sarcasm and cold looks that he realized how much he was relying on Sin to be there as someone to ground him, or at least connect him to reality.

With Sin so utterly disgusted with him and that same disgust mirrored in so many people surrounding him, Boyd had found it difficult to see anything good in himself worth keeping. Then his mother spoke to him and the last bit of self-worth he was clinging to just vanished. He knew Ryan was there, but Ryan wasn't enough because Boyd could not bring himself to rely on him as much as he would have to for it to be the case. It was easier to just think in terms of death than it was in terms of life and he was angry enough earlier that death truly seemed the answer.

So, was it alright that Sin came? Was what he had now any better than the future he'd planned earlier?

It was good, it was bad, he didn't even know what he thought. Was he happy he was alive, or was he just content that he didn't have to deal with potential memories of Harry being inside of him? While Sin's eyes had said so much to him at the time and even though that was only hours ago, now it felt like he could not be certain it existed. He knew it did; he knew Sin had looked at him in what seemed a silent apology and let himself be dragged away without resisting and that was what fueled Boyd to get him out immediately. At the same time, he couldn't quite reconcile the Sin from yesterday basically telling him to kill himself and the Sin from today looking sane and sorry as he killed Boyd's would-be rapist. Even if Ryan told Sin what had happened that month, why would Sin care? He hated Boyd. He hated him, but he still came to him, and he still helped him, and was it as Carhart said, that he was Boyd's partner so he was just doing his job protecting him? But it seemed like there was more in Sin's eyes...

Boyd didn't know anything, his thoughts and feelings least of all. He was confused, and feeling contradictory, and still emotionally raw from everything that had happened. He needed sleep, and food, and time for the physical and emotional wounds to heal, but he couldn't afford it. He needed to get Sin out more than any of that. Only when Sin was free and Boyd felt like he repaid Sin's favor, only when he was able to look at him again and see if the emotions he thought he saw in his eyes truly existed, only then would Boyd feel like he had some stability in what he felt now.

Even so, Ryan's hand gentle against his skin was almost wrenchingly sad and bittersweet; someone so kind who still believed in his existence, who still cared about him even though Boyd had stopped caring about himself long ago. Someone who was always there for him, even if Boyd was such a selfish person as to feel like Ryan was not enough on his own. But Sin would have been, Boyd felt. Why was it he could feel like Sin's approval and support was alright to have even if he had nothing else, but while Ryan was incredibly comforting and supportive, he was not enough on his own? Why was that disconnect there, especially since of the two of them, Ryan had never really hurt Boyd and Sin had managed to do so in varying ways quite a few times since they met?

He didn't know and it was making him a little dizzy trying to think too hard. He realized he had fallen silent for a few seconds, lost in thought, and opened his eyes to stare directly into Ryan's eyes.

"Sin's on fourth and Harry's dead," he said quietly, belatedly. There was little emotion in his voice, but it was only because he didn't know what emotions he was feeling and not because he was trying to distance himself from Ryan. "Harry was..." He paused, trying to decide how to word this so Ryan would not get too upset, but then he just gave up and decided to be blunt. "He was harassing me and I was antagonizing him. So he decided to attack and rape me instead but Sin stopped him before he could do much. He killed him, but the guards took him to fourth, and General Carhart doesn't think he can get him out."

There was something in his eyes that showed the confused guilt Boyd felt about that, because he knew it was his fault that Sin was in fourth. If only he had been faster about getting Harry to kill him, or if Sin did not think to look for him then he wouldn't have known what was happening. It wasn't that Boyd wanted Harry to rape him, but at the same time, he still didn't know if he felt that was preferable to Sin being punished for something that Boyd deserved the punishment for instead.

Ryan looked predictably horrified, his mouth falling open although no sound came out. His fingers stiffened, entire body growing tense as he seemed to take in what Boyd had just told him. The anger that flashed in his eyes was the most surprising thing, Boyd had never seen that expression on Ryan's face before. "That bastard." His voice came out low, angry.

Ryan's eyes looked wet for a moment but he blinked, looked away slightly and clenched his jaw. When he looked at Boyd again, the anger was gone and a tender, caring look was on his face instead. "I'm sorry, Boyd." He resumed stroking Boyd's face, touch still hesitant. "I'm glad he was there. I'm glad Hsin killed him. I wish it would have been me who did it though."

Boyd didn't know how to react to that; it was obvious that Ryan cared about him as a friend, but did he mean anything more by that? He was so confused by everything that it was just too much to try to understand what anyone else was thinking. He decided to just take it at face value as Ryan being kind as he always was. "It's alright," he said again softly, dropping his eyes to look a little distantly into space. "I don't... know what I think right now, but... It's alright that Harry...." He trailed off, unable to find the proper words to finish that sentence.

Ryan was silent for another moment as he continued to caress Boyd's face but after awhile he withdrew his hand and seemed to finally absorb the implications of everything Boyd had said. "Okay, we have to get him out of there." The slightly alarmed look returned to Ryan's face suddenly. "All of those people on the fourth, the guards, they were Harry's friends."

"I know," Boyd said, and he seemed to wake up a little, one hand almost unconsciously brushing his face where Ryan had just been touching him. It was nice to feel something gentle for once. He dropped his hand and his poker face slid back into place as he thought about fourth. "General Carhart is attempting to get the surveillance footage of the incident to prove that Sin was protecting me, but I doubt he will be able to. Did you know that those same guards monitor the cameras? Harry told me that they control what they send an alert to and what they ignore."

"I'm not surprised," Ryan said with another angry scowl. "God, this place is so fucked sometimes!" He ran both hands through his hair and heaved a big sigh. "Okay, two things. First of all, whatever the guards did with him, if they put him in the box-- they'd need clearance from Connors to do it. Second, if Connors agreed to it or whatever, we can't really count on him for help."

Ryan began gnawing on his fingernails as he thought, beginning to pace the room. "If we think like Connors, Harry wasn't valuable enough to the Agency to cause an Agent as valuable as Hsin to be locked away for good, however this act gives him the reason he needs to get back at you guys for the way the assignment turned out last night. Nothing can really happen unless Connors decides to do it-- or your mom since her word has a lot of leverage with him." He stopped pacing and looked at Boyd a little helplessly. "Other than begging Connors to suddenly turn into a reasonable human being, I doubt we can do anything other than wait until a mission comes along that needs Hsin."

"I can't do that," Boyd said with a single shake of his head. "Sin's in there because of me; regardless of the difficulty of the task, I will make sure he gets out." He narrowed his eyes a little contemplatively. He dismissed the idea of approaching his mother immediately; there was no way she would help. He would be lucky if she didn't come berate him for the latest fiasco as well. "More than likely, General Carhart will return unsuccessful. How do I get an appointment with Connors? Will he be more likely to let me in if I just appear on the floor, or would he prefer I go through the red tape and call his assistant with the request? "

"Yeah, that'd be the best thing to do honestly. I mean, you could try just going up there but a lot of times he won't even see Ann or me without us warning him days in advance..."

Boyd looked to the side, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in thought. It would be best to be proper and polite about this just to impress Connors more. If he was angry about how terribly the last mission went then Boyd needed to prove that he was a respectable person whose opinion mattered, especially given his recent reputation. It would be easier to represent himself properly in person, though, and a little more difficult for him to be turned away. So he would go in person to ask Connors' assistant directly; that was the best compromise.

Aloud, though, all he said was, "Alright."

Before Ryan could say anything else, the door opened again and Carhart reappeared. His face gave very little away, but the tension in his shoulders and the stiff way he carried himself made his aggravation quite obvious. "No go," He said shortly. "He already has the video and he claims that he will view it when he has the time. Sin is to stay where he is until he decides otherwise or until an assignment comes up that is imperative enough for his release."

"Fucking bullshit!" Ryan yelled in annoyance. "Man, your boss is a dickhead."

Carhart glanced over at Ryan. "Hello, Ryan." He narrowed his eyes. "Did you finish what I asked for?"

"NO. GOD. FOCUS," Ryan snapped uncharacteristically.

Carhart seemed neither impressed nor angry by the display and walked over to his desk. "There's not much more I can do, Boyd."

Inclining his head, Boyd said calmly, in total contrast to Ryan, "I understand. Thank you for trying. Marshal Connors definitely has the video in his custody though?"

"That's what he said. However he didn't appear to be in any rush to view it." Carhart sat down at his desk and steepled his fingers together as he looked at the two young men in the room. "At this time, there isn't much more I can do. I appreciate your concern for Sin, but at the moment the best course of action is to wait or the situation could be further exacerbated. Despite that, I already sent out a notice about the pending investigation of both Harry and Hsin in addition to this information about the monitoring of surveillance, so I doubt you will receive any harassment for the time being."

Carhart looked at Boyd and then at Ryan. "Boyd, I suggest you return home and rest. Ryan, I suggest you finish your assignment."

Ryan made a face but didn't disagree. "Is there really going to be an investigation about the cameras?"

"Tabitha and Henry are already looking into it and they are instructed to report directly to me or Harold."

"Well, I am willing to testify if they need anything for the investigation," Boyd said, tilting his head slightly, "though I doubt they would need it with video surveillance." He looked over at Carhart. "If there's nothing more..." He trailed off almost questioningly; he wanted to leave so he could start his next attempt to get Sin out.

Carhart nodded. "Of course. Just remember to take your own needs, the needs of your body which has been abused and shot in the past two days, into consideration. You are no good to anybody in the medical unit." He stared at Boyd intently for a moment before looking at his computer, an obvious dismissal.

Ryan made another face and went out into the hall, waiting for Boyd outside. "What are you going to do?" He asked knowingly.

Boyd was taking Carhart's words into consideration but he also knew that the only thing that was keeping him wandering around at the moment was adrenaline and sheer determination. If he tried to stop for too long, like even the brief period when he sat down in Carhart's office, he would probably just shut down. He needed to delay that until he was home.

Looking down the hall with an intent expression, Boyd shifted his gaze back to Ryan. "I'll head to Connors' office before I leave today and ask for an appointment in person. If miracles existed, I will leave today having spoken to him, but I doubt that will happen. Even so, I have to try."

Ryan nodded, face pinched with worry. "Please go home afterwards. Or you can come to my place and stay there..."

Boyd blinked; Ryan was always thinking of him, always caring. It was comforting and endearing. A sudden disarming smile pulled at his lips and softened his eyes. "I will go home, I promise," he said a little more warmly. "I appreciate your offer, but honestly I really need to be alone and sleep for awhile, I think."

Ryan smiled shyly and looked down at his feet, although he peeked up at Boyd through his long bangs. "Okay. Just call me, okay?" He began backing down the corridor, towards his office. "Good luck."

Boyd nodded, raised a hand in a silent farewell, and headed immediately for the nearest elevators with access to seventeenth. There was no way he was going to attempt to climb seventeen flights when even walking down the hallway involved a limp that was getting worse by the hour. He did not think about his wounds, though, because it would be more difficult to ignore them if he did. Instead, he focused entirely on what he needed to say to get Sin out and how he could go about requesting an audience with Connors. He barely noticed the other people in the elevator despite the long, strange looks they gave his battered face. By the time the elevator reached the seventeenth floor, he was alone again. That was unsurprising, as very few people had access to that level. Boyd had to swipe his keycard to get the elevator to let him even press the button.

He knew the layout of the floor well enough to know the direction Connors' office was, even if he never had to visit it before. It took him a little bit to find and there were quite a few doors he had to swipe his keycard through just to get clearance, but he finally found the main office area dedicated to Marshal Jacob Connors. He walked directly to the assistant's desk, but made sure he stopped at the correct distance away and waited patiently to be acknowledged. If there was anything that having Vivienne Beaulieu as a mother had taught him, it was proper protocol and how to act respectfully. Even if he didn't always follow her advice.

Connor's assistant sat behind a large glass receptionist desk. The entire area was the picture of elegant minimalism and the man behind the desk was no different. He wore a perfectly cut designer suit that was fitted precisely for his slender build and silver glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Despite the fact that the man, Samuel Andrews according to his nametag, had a polite smile plastered across his face, the look in his eyes was one of absolute disinterest. "Good afternoon, Mr. Beaulieu. How may I be of help to you?"

The fact that a man Boyd had never met already knew his name confirmed that Connors was well aware of his presence; not that Boyd doubted it before. Whether he just knew his name because he had to swipe his keycard so many times or if it was for another reason, Boyd did not know nor particularly care. He kept his expression and body language as professional as possible, but he knew he would have limited ability with his face looking so terrible.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Andrews," Boyd replied politely. "I would like to request an audience with Marshal Connors. Could you tell me when he is next available?"

Samuel peered at him through his glasses, disinterest mingling with smug amusement. "In reference to what?"

Boyd's expression did not change, nor did his voice slip even a little from the polite professionalism. "The incarceration of Hsin Liu Vega earlier today."

The man raised thin, dark eyebrows and a slightly knowing looking appeared on his pale features. "Ah, him." Samuel smiled at Boyd but once again it did not reach his eyes. He glanced down at his computer and typed something briefly, after a moment he spoke into the headset he wore.

"A Mr. Beaulieu is here to see you, Sir. In regards to Agent Vega." Azure eyes flicked up to Boyd again and the vapid smile remained intact. "Very good, Sir." It was obvious that the connection had been severed without Boyd having to hear the other end of the conversation. "Would you like an appointment? I'm afraid he is unable to see you at the present time."

Inclining his head slightly, Boyd did not break eye contact. "Yes, I would like to schedule one. When is he next available?"

"Mmm, let's see," Samuel hummed to himself. He glanced down at the computer again, nodding to himself. "April 15th, 2020. Does 0700 hours sound good to you?"

Boyd's eyes narrowed very briefly before he returned to his calm expression. It was mid February; that was two months away. "Interesting," Boyd said calmly. "That is a longer wait than my mother even though she is in charge of all PR. Is he going on vacation?" Although he asked the question politely enough, there was something about his body language that said he knew they were bullshitting him and he wasn't going to be so easily intimidated.

Samuel blinked at him innocently, tilting his head to the side. "I don't see how that could possibly be any of your business, Mr. Beaulieu. Marshal Connors is the head of this organization; he is a busy man. It is foolish to expect him to cancel dire meetings to discuss the incarceration of a known killer."

The smile widened a bit and then the man went back to looking at his laptop. "If you would like to see him in April now is the time. The spot will close soon."

"Ah," Boyd said smoothly, "but if he left, having such an important man gone from the Agency could jeopardize the stability of the entire organization. I should think it would be the business of anyone working for the Agency."

Boyd paused then raised his eyebrows innocently, his tone mirroring Samuel's fake politeness. "Oh, my apologies. I misunderstood. What you are truly saying here is Marshal Connors will not in fact be detained at all; he is simply not interested in the people who work for him. Or perhaps simply not those who do the missions he should be most ashamed of? I wonder if he realizes that those are the people he should please most of all, for they could easily be his undoing." Although there was nothing threatening whatsoever in his idle tone, there was a slight edge to the fake smile he gave Samuel.

Samuel gave him a haughty look, not seeming moved by his words. "And the fact still remains that there isn't an opening until April. Imagine that. Would you like to see for yourself?" Cool, detached amusement was quickly turning into irritation and Samuel spun the LCD screen around so that for a brief moment, Connors schedule for the next three months was visible to Boyd. "Now if there's nothing else..."

Boyd looked at the screen, memorizing the schedule as best he could at the glance he had; it was true that it looked booked. "Surely those are not all day events," he said with his eyebrow raised minutely. "I can't imagine he couldn't afford a few minutes to meet with me between meetings. He is only moving from floor to floor, is he not?"

Samuel gave him a completely withering look. "As a matter of fact, no. You are a fool if you believe all of his business is carried on in this building. Later in the week he will be gone from the compound for three consecutive days for meetings."

"Then I can have a phone conversation," Boyd insisted as he felt the world start to twist a little around him. He was losing the adrenaline; this was not good, as that was one of the few things keeping him going. "Or I can catch him before he leaves; when will he be gone?"

Samuel glared at Boyd, his polite facade evaporating into cold impatience. "Unacceptable. Take the appointment in April or take none at all. Unless Marshal Connors specifically asks me to make such exceptions it is impossible for me to make them."

"Why not?" Boyd asked, not letting up. "He can't even be contact between meetings or before he leaves?"

"Marshal Connors turns his phone off during meetings so he is completely unavailable during that time. Now if you don't mind, I would appreciate it if you would stop pestering me."

Boyd stared at him for a long moment; he felt shaky and knew that soon all the abuse his body had went through was going to crash into him at once. He had to get back home before that happened, which meant he was running short on time. He also couldn't afford to stand around twiddling his thumbs while Sin was probably ripping himself apart mentally in the stupid box used to keep him in line. Enough of the red tape bullshit; Boyd would just go straight to the source.

"Very well, Samuel, I'll just take my business elsewhere," he said with the edge growing in his smile. He strode around the desk without giving Samuel a chance to stop him and banged loudly on Connors' door, looking directly at the camera that was mounted above it.

"Treating me like an idiot won't make it reality," he yelled so his voice could be heard through the door, an edge making it into his tone and expression. "I know you're in there, I know you're ignoring me, and I know you just think you're being cute. You can play your games all you want, but punishing Sin like that will only make it worse for you in the end. With all due respect, you're being a petty little idiot right now and the more you fuck with Sin, the harder it'll be for you to use him! Isn't that what your whole world is about, using all your little peons for the shit you're too cowardly to do yourself?"

Samuel stared at Boyd's back with slightly widened eyes and cupped his headset with one hand as though he were trying to shield it. "Mr. Beaulieu that is quite enough," He snapped, sounding highly annoyed and scandalized. "The Marshal will not see you, save yourself and me the trouble and please go."

Boyd spoke to Samuel but stared pointedly into the camera while he did so, his voice cool and loud enough for Connors to hear through the door. "Oh? So I am to be a convenience to Marshal Connors but he can't lower himself to be at any convenience to me? How very hypocritical."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Beaulieu," Samuel said condescendingly. "You are not important enough to warrant anyone going out of their way, especially Marshal Connors, to make things convenient for you. Don't assume what you say or do holds weight just because of who your mother is. Now, please leave before I have to call security. I hear you're already unpopular enough with the guards; do you really want your injuries worsened due to those thugs?"

Boyd finally looked at Samuel, his eyebrow raised slightly. "Do you truly think I care what those idiots do to me if I came straight here after that? Security doesn't scare me." He looked coolly at the camera again, his expression incredibly like his mother's when she was coldly disappointed in something. "Incompetent leaders, however, do."

Turning, he strode for the main door to the reception area. "Write me in for April," he told Samuel, "but don't think this is over yet." Without bothering to wait for a response, he left seventeenth and headed immediately for his car. Driving was difficult with a body that was slowly losing its motivation to cooperate, but he made it home with no incidents.

He locked the front door and dropped his bag at the entry, then trailed his hand along the wall to make to the back of the house. The nausea had turned to vertigo, and sound and light was buzzing around him. Head wounds always seemed to bleed especially profusely, and as he stumbled into his room he wondered vaguely how much blood he lost. Probably more than that it was just all the abuse he had put his body through without giving it any of the nutrients or rest it needed. Collapsing onto the bed, he fell into a deep sleep that lasted well into the next morning.

---

Consciousness came to him slowly, fueled by a quiet, insistent beeping. Boyd lay there for awhile, his eyelids feeling far too heavy to open, his body still so asleep that he could barely feel it. The room spun around him and he felt buzzing in his limbs, like his blood was vibrating and circulating the feeling throughout him. The longer the beeping continued, the more it dragged him fully awake. Opening his eyes, he flopped his head to the side and searched what he could see in sleepy confusion for the source of the noise. It took him awhile to realize it was a distant echo from outside his room, which meant he definitely had to get up.

He stared at the ceiling for a bit before he finally convinced himself to move. His whole body hurt and for a moment he felt nauseated again. His stomach wrenched painfully, partially from the beating Harry gave it the day before and partially from really needing to eat. Thinking of Harry made him think about the feel of his breath puffing against his back and his erection rubbing Boyd's bare skin, and for a moment Boyd had to close his eyes and hold his hand to his stomach just to ground himself. With his eyes closed, he saw Sin's reflection and the long look they shared, but even that quickly became watching Sin spasm on the ground, and somehow that shifted to the rookie Boyd shot at the last mission, and the way his brains sprayed across the ground.

If there was anything left in Boyd's body he would have thrown it up; as it was, he dry-heaved before he could draw a shaky breath and try to turn his mind to something far more constructive.

He felt sick on so many levels, but at least the sleep seemed to have helped his disorientation. And even if his body was one giant ache, he knew most of it was bruises that would feel worse before they got better. He wavered and almost fell when he stood, but he managed to clumsily make his way to the kitchen where he gratefully made himself a cup of jasmine tea. It had been long enough since he last ate that he felt like his stomach was just a knot and he never wanted to eat again. However, he knew it was important he get himself healthy again as soon as possible if he was going to continue to lobby for Sin's release.

The tea was warm and calming after he got over the initial distaste of having to ingest anything at all, and he decided he would wait on actual food until he was a little more awake. Moving around was slow and painful, but the more he worked his muscles, the smoother his motions became. He made himself stretch despite the discomfort, eventually forced himself to eat a slice of bread, a protein bar, and drink several glasses of water that he almost felt like throwing up.

Feeling a little more awake, he finally followed the beeping to the living room where his cell phone lay abandoned on the table. When he flipped it open, he discovered a text message from the day before from Ryan that stated, "Happy Valentines Day Boyd sorry it sucked so much." Boyd blinked for a second, confused, before he realized it was February 15th. He sent a quick message back wishing Ryan the same and apologizing that his wasn't any better either.

A long shower followed to wake him up and then he tried to make himself eat again. He was still rather on autopilot, but as the silence of the home slid around him, he found himself thinking more and more. There were too many things in his head to truly consider at once. He still kept thinking about the people he killed on the mission, but now it was getting mixed with confusing thoughts of Sin, and what he must be going through now, and what Boyd was going to do about it.

Then he thought about his mother and everything got derailed. His insides felt so cold they almost burned when he thought about what she said, and the fact that she truly meant it. He submersed himself in the memory of her words for awhile, felt the stinging pain of her cruelty.

He'd always retained a sense of loyalty to her regardless of everything that had, or perhaps more importantly had not, happened over the years. He was young when his father died, so some of the memories were blurred or indistinct, but he remembered enough to know that he loved him. He remembered his grin and his laugh, and large, caring hands that wrapped around his sides and lifted him into a hug. The clacking of keys behind a closed door and a balloon he gave him on his sixth birthday that Boyd carried around for days until the helium completely dwindled and more than anything it resembled a wilted prune that tumbled along the floor. Sand beneath his toes and water in his lungs and a large hand that warmed his back, a voice that whispered in his ear that everything would be alright.

He had a family then, even if it wasn't normal, even if maybe parts of it were dysfunctional. His mother was kinder, at least he thought she was, and maybe if it had continued indefinitely then everything would be different. But it didn't, and the memories he had of his father were limited.

He remembered his father's funeral clearly, though, or what they had of it.

In the aftermath of the wave of bombs, it was more a memorial for all the lives lost than it was anything specifically for his father. Boyd remembered his mother standing in the hallway, her back turned toward him and her body incredibly still except for the shaking of her shoulders. She would not look at him, she just clutched the phone in her hand with a white-knuckled grip, and Boyd stood in the shadows of the hallway staring at her blankly. He knew what death meant; Lou lost both his parents to the same wave of bombs, and Boyd was there when it was explained to him. He knew when his mother got the phone call that it meant his father was never coming home. When she turned finally, there was something almost resentful in the way she looked at him; something that turned her blue eyes cold.

They didn't have to wait for funeral arrangements like they did in times of relative peace. When the bombs hit, there was a memorial service that night and the following day. His mother walked around the house with her head held high, but she seemed brittle; like a thin layer of ice over the currents of a river, and only time would tell if it would shatter or grow impenetrable. He remembered her walking through his room, throwing his clothes around and asking in an increasingly accusatory tone why he had nothing suitable to wear. He stood to the side and watched, didn't want to bother her, was afraid to interrupt. When she finally found a single black shirt and pair of black pants she pulled him closer and helped him dress. That was the last time he remembered her acting like the mothers he had heard about, who dressed their children and smoothed their hair and took their hand to lead them across the street.

He remembered the candles wavering in the dark of the night, and the dust and debris that still littered the air and clogged his lungs. He remembered standing next to his mother and looking up at her a few times, but she only looked down at him once, then ignored him the rest of the night. Lou stood next to him and they huddled together; Lou became an orphan that night, and Boyd may as well have for all that his mother remembered he existed afterwards.

Though he was still too young at the time to live on his own, she did not seem to mind. Lou was taken in with the state but ran away within a few days; he said he wanted to make sure Boyd was alive, but he didn't seem too happy with the increasingly reserved friend he found. Vivienne left the house and returned only to drop off food and beverages. It was as if she was telling the two that she didn't care what they did as long as she didn't have to be responsible for it.

Slowly, Boyd started collecting black clothing until his wardrobe had nothing of color in it. Lou tried to tease him about it a few times, but Boyd did not rise to the bait. He didn't think about it clearly at the time, but now Boyd wondered if it was some strange combination of mourning for his father and even the limited family life he had before his death, and an expression of the darkness he felt inside, and remembering that the last time his mother calmly touched him was that night when she was so intent on finding black clothing. Did he think she would approve of him, love him more, if he wore the color she searched so hard for? Did he think it would remind her of the last night she seemed to see him in any way as her son she cared enough about to help, rather than an unnecessary child that just leeched her money and wandered her empty home?

He didn't know. He had never really cared to think about it, but it was true that there was always a lingering sense of loyalty he felt to her. Regardless of the coldness with which she generally treated him, regardless of everything she had said and done and how much Lou disliked her, she was still his mother and she was the only family he had. Some part of him probably always craved her approval, needed to know that she knew he was alive and thought he was worth knowing. The terrible part about her visiting the house was that she did drop off food and drinks so he would live; that he did have quite a bit of money once in awhile that she deposited into his account, and that she did let him stay in the house. Yet when she visited, she walked past him like the ghost Lou called her, and so often it was as if she looked straight through him.

He felt like an uninhabited house; like the food and water were just the utility bills she paid to keep it in good enough shape and around so she could use it when she needed, but for the most part he was just another piece of land to forget about entirely. It made it worse that she did give him food, water, and occasionally money, because then when she looked right through him or walked past him as if he did not exist, it hurt even more. She clearly knew he was there, or she wouldn't leave him the things he needed to stay alive. Yet he did not warrant her actually expending any energy on interacting. Sometimes he wished she would just forget about him entirely, because it would have been so much easier to forget about her.

But he couldn't.

She was his mother, she was all he had for blood relations, and he could not give up his loyalty even after everything.

At least, that's what he always felt. But now...

Boyd always knew she didn't always care for him, but to tell him he was unwanted? That he was worthless and only existed because of, what, a temporary weakness to his father? Her infatuation? If the love he knew she felt for his father was labeled as 'infatuation' then what did she feel for her idiot, insignificant son?

To tell him so many things, to think so utterly little of him... That she could say all this, actually say all this, to her child, to his face...

Boyd thought of all those missed moments in life when he tried to do something to gain her attention, to make her look at him for once instead of through, to make him feel like he did not die when his father did. That was the truth, in a way; his father's death was the beginning of his own inevitable loss of humanity, and only Lou was there to slow it down. With Lou suddenly missing from the picture, Boyd had snapped. There was nothing to hold him still, nothing to ground him, to give substance to his transparent existence.

He was being eaten by the shadows and the darkness inside, and the soulless, icy gaze of his mother staring straight through him. Although Lou used to joke that his mother was a ghost, Boyd always felt he was the one who didn't exist instead. He needed the acknowledgment of people he trusted and respected to remind him he was not a ghost, to tell him it was okay for him to exist there, that it was okay for him to be seen. That his voice was heard and he was alive, and goddamn, maybe he was an actual human being after all instead of the construct of a haunted, abandoned house.

That was why it hurt so incredibly much when Sin stopped caring about him, when everyone started hating him at the Agency, when his mother could not stand to see him and Carhart was angry and the only person he could cling to in any manner was Ryan, a person he cared for a lot but not enough.

Maybe it was just that Ryan was too kind, so although he appreciated more than words could say that he was willing to befriend Boyd and listen to him, it also did not give as much meaning to his belief in Boyd. Ryan was so kind that maybe he just believed in everyone regardless. Hell, he was Sin's biggest fan, a person who had so few people on his side that it could be counted without using all the fingers even on one hand. So, maybe it was cruel to think, but what value could Boyd place in his own existence when someone so kind cared for him just as he probably cared for everyone else? Boyd was not special, he did not merit extra attention; he was included in the all-encompassing love that someone so altruistic could have for humanity.

But with Sin, with his mother, he had to work for it. He knew if they looked at him, if they actually saw him, it was because there was something unique about him, or something that existed just enough above the norm that it was acknowledging that he was there. That he existed. Because neither would notice or care about anything or anyone less than special. It was that, probably, which made it so hard to take it when they were disappointed in him. Truly, though it was perhaps pathetic, Boyd could not have lived if Sin had not looked at him like that even after he saved him from Harry. If he had not given him the hope that there was something in him still -- even the tiniest speck of dust -- that warranted acknowledgment, and, even more stunning, a sense of guilt.

The fact that Sin came to save him at all was one thing, but it became enough to turn Boyd's life around if Sin also thought he was something. Even just something. Boyd didn't even need to be someone, just a thing that existed that was good enough, God let him be good enough, for Sin to recognize he existed let alone warranted an unusual display of feelings.

Maybe Boyd was just an affection-craved mutt that hung around alleys begging for food and hoping to avoid being kicked. Maybe he was just an utterly pathetic waste of oxygen and space - God, his mother even said that to him, a waste of fucking oxygen, and didn't she understand how much that could still hurt him?

Didn't she care?

He knew she didn't, but he hoped... He knew logically so much and yet he still felt that maybe, maybe, somewhere within her was the woman who held his hand at the memorial and who ran her fingers through his hair. The woman who crouched in front of him and with a beautiful, removed expression straightened his clothing and calmly tied his shoes. The woman who looked him in the eyes and saw him, actually saw him, for the last time in his life... because now the only reason she ever looked at him again was in disappointment and disgust.

His loyalty was so shaken to her that he didn't even know what he felt. He... after that conversation with her, he truly felt disowned. Orphaned almost. The tenuous bit of love he felt for her, if it could even be called that, was now stretched so thin in uncertainty and pain that he didn't want to think of it.

He truly, so very truly, would have welcomed anything Harry did to him because he felt he deserved it. He was such an utterly rotten waste of space - no, he was not even that, that's what was so pathetic about him. He was useless, but it was as if he didn't exist... Like trash. Something there, inevitable, but easily ignored and which should be expected to be thrown away in disgust. He'd wanted Harry to kill him, just punish him and destroy him and let Boyd rest, dear God let him just rest finally.

But Sin...

It always came back to Sin. Every fucking time, ever since he'd appeared in Boyd's life, it came back to Sin, Sin, always fucking Sin. Why was he so special? Why did he take up so much of Boyd's energy, time, thoughts? Why could his disgust utterly ruin every thought of self-worth Boyd had, yet even a silent display of emotions could make his heart nearly stop and his very existence feel renewed?

Boyd was pathetic. Truly, he was pathetic.

But he couldn't forget Sin, and he couldn't let him go through self-appointed torture just because Boyd was too pathetic to get himself killed immediately by a person who wanted to do it. And certainly, Boyd couldn't let him do that because Sin seemed to think Boyd was worth looking at, worth acknowledging. At the same time, perhaps more alarmingly, the conflicted loyalty Boyd had felt between his mother and Sin and the Agency now snapped over to Sin. The Agency abandoned him, his mother hated him, but Sin was there, and Sin...

Sin could and would kill Boyd when he became so useless to existence that he truly was the waste of oxygen his mother said he would be. Maybe that was some strange sort of comfort to Boyd. He knew he couldn't fuck up so terribly that he would never have consequences. It was almost nice to know that the person he walked next to could rip him apart, make him bleed out all the blood he couldn't live up to anyway.

He'd never thought about it that way before but now Boyd wanted that. He wanted to be judged by Sin's eyes, and what Sin felt of him was his answer to himself. He was only alive right now because Sin stopped the inevitability of hateful misunderstandings from beating Boyd to death. Just like his mother had been casually corroding his soul over the years while he struggled to live up to expectations he could not reach and she simultaneously debased every achievement he managed, he'd felt like his body was just a body that was rotting since the moment it was created.

The misunderstandings of who and what Boyd truly were became mired in his own mind, until even he didn't know for sure that he was a person, that he existed. But what his mother thought of him, what others thought of him, somewhere inside it had mattered and when even the last tiniest shred of their respect had fallen away, he'd realized there was nothing left for him to stand on. Giving in to a death brought about by disregard for his existence as a human being was... alluring, in a dark, self-destructive way.

He'd wanted to die. He'd wanted to die, but Sin took that away.

Sin was one of the people who was also responsible for taking away his want to live. More than anyone, really, Sin did it. If it weren't for Sin, Boyd would not have been invited to the Agency, nor met Ryan or David or even Carhart. Because of Sin, Boyd's social network expanded alarmingly fast, yet he also became the object of more attention than he wanted. Because of Sin, Boyd had actually laughed again, because of Sin, Boyd remembered things from what seemed like a past life... Handwritten manuscripts that survived time, and shopping trips for clothing and food. Because of Sin, Boyd had remembered he was alive, had started to notice his heart beating and realized he was not just a dead body that was somehow animated, was not a questionable soul barely attached to the sack of meat that he masqueraded as.

Because of Sin, Boyd became human again.

But also because of Sin, Boyd lost that humanity so quickly.

Rumors became harassment became the reason to kill in cold blood, became cold words from his mother that sliced through every last defense he'd created over time, became angry words meant to encourage a quicker, more brutal death.

Everything spiraled around Sin like a fucking whirlpool, and Boyd was helplessly dragged with. He didn't want to be so attached to someone who could so easily rip him apart mentally even if he had yet to do so physically, yet the connection was already there and settled deep into Boyd's bones. The person who reanimated him was the person who could deactivate him too. Boyd was just a wind-up doll whose key had been turned, a little tin soldier that stumbled around in the approximation of life, maybe even thought it was alive until someone forgot to wind him again, or someone stopped the motion of his automated limbs, and he realized how quickly metal could lose all heat, how quickly his body could cool as if even blood did not flow through it anymore.

So he needed to know. He needed to save Sin because it was necessary and incredibly important, because it was the goal Boyd had right now because he still didn't believe enough in his own existence to live just for himself. He needed to be judged by Sin, so he knew what his future would be.

It was not that he lived for Sin or was so obsessed that he could not imagine doing anything to displease him; instead, it was that Boyd needed to know that the person he'd become was something that was worth being. His mother did not think so, but his loyalty to her was confused and hurt right now. But if Sin felt the same, then Boyd would know. He would retreat inside himself again, remove everything resembling any sort of life, and let his existence fall away like rocks crumbling into the ocean. He would be an Agent until it killed him, and that would be it.

But if Sin thought he was okay, then he would have a choice. Listen to his mother, or listen to Sin? Who could he believe to tell him who he was, because Boyd certainly didn't know who the hell he was anymore. Ryan believed in Boyd, though, so he needed one more opinion. His mother hated him, Ryan cared; Sin was the tiebreaker that would determine it all.

Boyd realized abruptly that he was standing in the kitchen, staring blankly at the table and that he never actually did finish the second protein bar he tried to eat; it was held loosely by a hand that had paused on the way to his mouth, but he couldn't even say how long that he'd been standing there like that. He felt nauseated still, and he was a little worried he would throw it up if he forced himself, so he set it on the table and made another few cups of tea in a row to try to coax his body back into nourishment.

He moved through the house slowly that day, still feeling exhausted despite the several hours he slept the night before. He didn't expect to hear from Connors any time soon, but he still carried his cell with him everywhere on the off-chance he would stop being a jackass and decide to help Boyd out.

But since he was considering this as a mission, Boyd knew that the best thing he could do right then was start creating contingency plans. If he could not negotiate with the leader, he or Sin generally just killed them. He obviously couldn't do that here, so he had to go at it a different way.

Rescue.

Boyd spent a few hours on the computer going over every file he had collected over time regarding the structure of the Agency; he logged onto the secure server with his password and flipped through every page that would not be suspicious for him to be viewing, and started compiling in his mind as complete a blueprint of the levels as he could. He stared thinking of ways he could get Sin out of there by approaching from the side as he usually liked to; that is, not doing what others expected, catching them off-guard and achieving his goals without having to work too hard for it.

But his mind was slow and his body kept locking up from all the pain, and though he took a few painkillers over the day, they just made the world start to buzz around him since he hadn't eaten enough to counteract the drugs rushing through his veins. He had to stop early and go collapse onto his bed again, watch the world twist and fizz around him and wait until it all made sense. When he fell asleep it was only the afternoon, and he slept well into the next morning once again.

The next few days were spent in a cycle of trying to rejuvenate himself, forcing more food and water into his body as he went, trying to slow his intake of painkillers, waiting for the bruises to fade enough that he dared look in the mirror. He caught a glimpse of himself at one point and he looked... disgusting. He was a mess. Bruises and swelling and slashes from the glass that still littered his face. The medics said he would probably find bits of glass under his skin for awhile, and he just had to pull it out like slivers. He had a black eye that was only exacerbated by the utter paleness of his skin around it and the shadows that developed around his eyes, even though he'd been getting more sleep than he had in a long time.

Slowly, he was able to think more clearly, and his body recuperated as it always did. His limp remained and he made a point to rotate his shoulder despite the pain every day just to make sure his muscles didn't lock in place. He started compiling notes and creating a few plans. He didn't concentrate on a single one yet because he didn't have all the data and needed to decide how drastic he would have to be. He wanted to get Sin out of the box immediately, but he recognized that he wasn't strong enough yet; he still got a little dizzy if he tried to move around too quickly and though he was graduating to full meals, it still made him feel a little nauseated.

It felt like recovery was taking a lot longer this time than it usually did, but maybe it was just that his mind was more alert than it had been in quite some time. It raced while his body stumbled, but that was fine. He primarily needed his mind for this mission anyway.

On the fifth day since Sin's incarceration, when Boyd was starting to feel on track to being back to normal, he was almost startled into dropping his mug of tea when his cell rang. He looked down at the display and didn't recognize the number. He didn't believe it would be Connors, but it wasn't Ryan and only so many people would bother calling him. So, a little curious, he flipped the cell open and asked calmly, "Hello?"

"Can you talk?" The voice was low and urgent, as if whomever was speaking was trying not to be heard by anyone in their vicinity.

"Freely," Boyd said mildly, though he thought he recognized the voice; he just couldn't quite place from where.

"It's Officer Gerant."

Boyd blinked. "Ah, Gerant. What's wrong?" Something had to be wrong for him to contact Boyd.

"It's about--" That was a brief pause as though Gerant was reconsidering at the last moment. "Listen, I shouldn't be telling you this. It's about... your partner."

Boyd's eyes narrowed briefly, his heartbeat increasing at the tone in Gerant's voice. Something had to be very wrong if he was so hesitant, and Boyd didn't want to consider what. If it was anything drastic, anything crazy, like... Well, it couldn't be the case, but if it were, if Sin was really hurt, maybe the guards even got stupid and killed him.... It couldn't be. Boyd would never know what Sin really thought, and was it selfish that that was the first thing he thought, and not that he didn't want Sin dead? He didn't. He didn't want Sin dead, but the first thing that scared him was the idea that the only person who could validate his existence might be killed by trying to save Boyd from his own fucking stupidity.

"What is it?" he asked, some of the alarm making it into his voice. "He's in the box, I know he hates it there, I want him out, but... Nothing drastic happened, he's not dead--?" He didn't believe it could be but... But he had to ask. Even though Gerant would say no. Had to say no.

There was a long pause and a rustling sound. When Gerant spoke again his voice was still low but it sounded a lot closer to the phone, as if his mouth was pressed against it. "Not exactly... He-- hold on."

'Not exactly'? What the hell kind of answer was that? Boyd remained silent though he gripped the phone, and he barely realized that his eyes had narrowed as he stared into space. He gave Gerant ten full seconds of silence before he said very softly so his voice would not potentially carry past Gerant's ear, "Gerant. I recognize that you must be in a difficult position, so I appreciate that you called me... But if you are trying to alarm me by the vagueness then you are doing a very good job."

"I'm sorry." His voice sounded genuinely apologetic. "I was trying to move to a secure spot so I can tell you in detail." There was another brief pause but this time when he spoke, it wasn't as muffled. "He's in bad shape right now and they aren't reporting his injuries, so he isn't receiving medical attention. I tried to put an order in for him but no one has showed up and I'm not sure what's going on." The frustration was evident in the man's voice, either because of the lack of response by the proper officials or because he was putting himself at risk for a man who had killed his boss.

The alarm turned to the sheltered frustration and anger that always arose when Boyd thought about Sin being abused. "Those fucking idiots," he hissed, not even realizing he voiced his thoughts until he heard himself say it. His mind raced through the scenarios he had created over the days, and he knew now that there was no more time to waste. He gave Connors a chance to redeem himself, he gave even the guards time to show a little humanity. Now Boyd was just pissed, and he wasn't going to let them get away with their bullshit any longer.

"If I need your help," Boyd said seriously in a relatively even voice, though it was clear he was angry, "in a manner that will not implicate you, would I have it? Something subtle that can help me get Sin out of there before those fucking jackasses do irreparable damage?"

"Well--" There was another pause. "I didn't mean to alarm you, honestly I think he's done most of the damage to himself."

Boyd was not getting any more pleased the longer this conversation went on. "What do you mean?" he asked, an edge in his voice, though it did not seem aimed at Gerant. "As I understand it, they drug him up so much he can't even defend himself when he's attacked. Unless," and his eyes narrowed, "did someone molest him and he attacked them back and hurt himself?"

"As far as I can tell when he was first brought up they roughed him up a bit but nothing over the top." There was another pause. "I'm not sure what's going on, if it was a direct order or not, but for some reason he was not drugged until yesterday night because he was apparently trying to kill himself, which is typically why they keep him sedated in the first place."

"What the fuck?" Boyd said suddenly, loudly and incensed. He was outright glaring now. "He's horribly claustrophobic-what sort of goddamn son of a bitch would do that to him? None of this is even his fault-!" Boyd stopped and forced himself to take a deep breath, the indignation buzzing through his limbs like blood. He gritted his teeth and slid his eyes closed, tilting his head to the ground and gripping the phone tightly. He couldn't even imagine what that must have been doing to Sin - he must have been terrified, he must have been -

"Luke," he said with some semblance of calm, using Gerant's first name for the first time. The amount of determination in his voice was almost quelling; he sounded angry still, but also like he was just not going to give up. "I will be frank. I am going to get him out of there soon, and I will do it by fucking force if I have to. First, I will make a second appeal to that idiot of a man Connors, but I doubt he will help. I already tried once and he couldn't even deem to lower himself to open his fucking door."

By the light twist in his voice, it was clear what he thought of Connors, as if his words did not already say it for him. "It was rude of me to ask you if you wanted to help so suddenly, and I apologize. I will try Connors, but if it doesn't work, I will get Sin out myself. I'd like you to think about it carefully, though I want to give you time. I will contact you again if I need help, and I will understand if you say no. I promise I will not implicate you at all in having told me this. That being said, you clearly already have more humanity and intelligence than it seems many of your peers do there. I'd like to think that I would have a friend up there when I get him out." His voice was very reasonable, even if he was still angry.

Gerant was silent for a moment, presumably thinking about what was being said.

Boyd paused just long enough to let his words sink in before he continued. It was only going to get worse when Gerant answered the question he was about to ask but he needed to know. "Now, when I confront Connors, I would like to know what I'm talking about. Could you please explain to me better what you mean by 'apparently trying to kill himself' and what his status is now?"

"Well..." Luke trailed off for a moment. "He was cooperative at first despite the fact that they were being rather abusive as they escorted him up. But they deviated from standard procedure and did not hook up the IV, which they use for feeding and to keep him sedated--" He broke off, his voice mildly disgusted as he explained.

"This time they just tossed him in there with nothing. After the second day they'd apparently just remembered that a human being needs water and food to survive, but by then he was hysterical and they were too frightened to open the box. They described loud banging, hysterical screaming in foreign languages and apparently by the third day they were severely alarmed because there was no sound at all for several hours. They know that if he died it's their ass, so they gathered the courage to open the box. He'd knocked himself out slamming his head against the side of the toilet, apparently trying to either commit suicide or make himself unconscious." Gerant sounded frustrated and he paused once again. "Finally they hooked him up to the IV but they pumped him full of an alarming dosage of drugs and I'm afraid that combined with his head injuries, it will be enough that he never wakes up. I'm sure that's not the case but..." He trailed off.

"I did not have a shift on fourth until today, I'm sorry I could not do something sooner," he said apologetically, but his voice firmed. "I will help you in any way I can unless it will jeopardize my own security."

Boyd's stomach twisted sickeningly at Luke's description, and he couldn't bring himself to answer for a few seconds. He was too furious, disgusted, and upset. He kept thinking about Sin's vulnerable expression that time he was in his kitchen, or the wild fear in his eyes when he woke from the nightmare. There was absolutely no way Boyd was letting them get away with this. And there was absolutely no way he would let this last any longer.

"Thank you," he said finally, though his voice was very tense. "You told me, and you will help. That is enough." He paused, had to draw a deep breath to steady himself, and sounded a little calmer when he spoke again. "I don't know yet what I will need you to do, but I will make sure your role seems coincidental. Will you be able to call me again tomorrow at this same time, or is there a number I could contact you at?"

"Of course," Luke said and rattled off the number to his cell phone quickly and quietly. "Just let me know where I should be and what precisely I should do. Thankfully though, General Carhart has discreetly managed to ensure that none of Harry's friends are on the fourth right now. For the moment he has most of the guards suspected in the surveillance investigation on paid suspension."

"That's good, at least," Boyd said mostly to himself. Especially that it was paid suspension; he knew that if it was unpaid, they would just try to take it out on Boyd or Sin again and it would lead to another fiasco. He made sure he remembered the number Gerant gave him and inclined his head in a nod even though Luke could not see. "I will be in contact." He paused, then said again sincerely, "Thank you. I realize I said it before, but I truly do appreciate that you help us."

"It's no problem, really," Luke insisted. "We're not all bad guys up there; it's just that the bad overpower the few good ones left. There's a rookie up there now who thinks the whole situation is completely disturbing, but we'll see how long that lasts before the rumor mill gets to him. There's another guy, Travis, he's up there now and he isn't a complete asshole either. The three of us have shifts together today and tomorrow during the day. Whatever you're planning-- it might go better if it's while we are working." There was another long pause. "Call me," Luke said in a rushed tone and the line abruptly disconnected.

Tomorrow was also the day he remembered that Connors would be going on his three day business meeting out of the building. If he could not get to him today, then Boyd was breaking Sin out tomorrow. He was glad that Luke told him that so he knew.

He gave himself just enough time to clean up properly so Connors could not be snippy about his appearance. Striding through the compound, he swiped his card through every point necessary to make it up to seventeenth, and did not stop for anything when he appeared in Connors' reception area. Instead, he headed straight for Connors' door, not even acknowledging Samuel, and banged loudly. "Marshal Connors!" he yelled, looking at the camera. "I would like to request an audience!" It was a demand despite the wording.

Samuel stared at him with angry, narrowed eyes and hurried over to him. "Mr. Beaulieu, you are taking this too far. If you don't leave now I really will call security."

"Feel free," Boyd said with a belligerent edge as he looked over at Samuel, "because I will not leave until Marshal Connors sees me, or they drag me away." He turned back to the camera, speaking loud enough for his commanding tone to be heard through the door. "Can you hear me, sir? We can do this two ways: you can continue to ignore me and I will continue to return until I am so incapacitated I cannot, and you will lose the capability of both your available special agents in case a mission turns up. Or, you can listen to me for five minutes and I will not bother you again about this same instance. It's up to you; I have no qualms with slamming on your door every chance I get." He raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowed and expression very firm. He sounded and looked rather like his mother, but where she was ice cold he was growing heated with anger. Usually his anger turned cold too; somehow having Sin involved managed to flip it unnaturally the other way.

"You're being ridiculous," Samuel stormed at him, eyes flashing. "If you think for one second that Marshal Connors is going to fall for yo--" Before he could continue, there was a buzz and the light next to handle of the door turned green. Samuel went silent and stared at it in shock, his mouth slightly ajar.

Boyd looked at Samuel sidelong with a smug little smirk and pushed his way into the room. He shut the door behind him and looked completely calm, as if he had not just been making a scene. He tilted his head forward in respect then looked up toward Connors' desk.

Connors stared at him calmly, his eyes slightly narrowed although there was no real expression on his face. "Sit down."

Following the direction, Boyd walked to the seat and sat down without even a hint of the way his muscles stretched uncomfortably in the movement. He watched Connors calmly; he had never actually met the man before and what he was confronted with was somehow surprising. Connors' hair was black with liberal amounts of silver near his temples and his eyes were steel grey. Seeming older than Carhart by at least a decade, Connors also looked far less generous; the impression was in the tilt of his lips. Even so, he looked very distinguished and, to Boyd's mild surprise, was actually wearing a suit. For some reason Boyd had expected him to be fully encased in military paraphernalia with an ugly expression on his face the moment they met. Instead, they had a brief moment to simply observe each other.

Boyd could only imagine that he had thoroughly angered Connors by now to have been granted an audience. While everyone he could think of seemed to fear Connors or somehow be cowed by his presence, Boyd was not. It was probably due to the fact that he had grown up with a mother like Vivienne, who was far more intimidating to him than anyone else. How could he possibly be frightened of someone who he had never really seen? There was nothing that could manipulate Boyd like the idea of blood relations and not disappointing someone he respected, and as he had not seen anything so far to give Connors that respect, he didn't particularly care what Connors thought of him or did to him. Boyd had gone years in complete apathy for his own wellbeing and even with all the turbulence lately he still defaulted to that viewpoint.

Beyond that, it was not as though Connors could order much more be done to Sin without incapacitating him to the point that he would not function any time soon. Connors was certainly welcome to do what he wished to Boyd; even if Boyd were fired, or detained indefinitely, or any number of unpleasant circumstances, it wouldn't matter as long as he knew that he tried everything to get Sin out. Besides, he needed to get an idea of how the man worked and the best way to gauge that was by meeting in person. It was certainly a gamble; would Connors do anything to Boyd as punishment for being so belligerent? Or would he go overboard on the whipping boy thing with Sin to get back at Boyd for being so out of line?

Since Boyd already decided he would get Sin out tomorrow regardless of Connors' little games, he decided to just go as far as he could here, see what made the man tick and what set him off and if he was reasonable at all, and go from there. He remained silent, however, deciding that at this point it was best to show all the respect necessary and let Connors start speaking first or order Boyd to start instead, so he felt he could regain some of the power that Boyd had been disregarding lately. Men like Connors liked to be in control, and the worst way to negotiate with that sort of person was to continuously try to wrench it from him. Boyd did what he had to in order to get his attention and have an audience, but he also knew when to back off a little in order to further his cause. So he remained silent and respectful, his expression perfectly blank as he waited patiently for Connors to give him some cue as to what he wanted him to do other than sit.

"Your display of impertinence has certainly captured my attention," Connors said flatly, not much emotion in his voice although there was a distinct edge to it. "I'm sure Vivienne would not be pleased with your behavior."

"There is little my mother is ever pleased with," Boyd said calmly, "so I admit I did not bother taking it into account." Although his expression did not change, his tone shifted just enough that it was as if he verbally raised an eyebrow. "There are some things more important than what others will think."

Connors' expression did not change although there was the distinct impression that he was mildly satisfied with the response. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed Boyd clinically, taking in his injuries without commenting on them. "What is it that you wish to accomplish here?"

"I would like to strongly request that Sin be released from confinement, for several reasons." Boyd spoke in a tone that was calm and professional, as if delivering a report. "He is of little use to you if he is so crazed that he cannot even function. Beyond that, the mental instability he already suffers from only becomes more exacerbated each time he is confined; in other words, if he is treated like an animal, of course he becomes one. This is hardly the best practice for the Agency; he is then harassed by people who he occasionally lashes out at and debilitates or kills. That is a loss of staff, and the turnaround can hardly be cost-effective.

"Furthermore, the recent incidences were not his fault. Perhaps I was unclear in the report, but I was the one who made the decision to terminate the last leader, and I was the one having issues with Harry. In both cases, Sin was a bystander who became involved through me. As for the most recent occurrence, Sin was only protecting me, which, as I'm sure you recall, is an integral part of his job description. Having him confined in such poor conditions for doing his job hardly makes much sense, especially because it will only make it more difficult for him to properly do his job in the immediate future as he will still be affected by this punishment. Not to mention, psychologically, punishing him for doing something he is supposed to do is likely to create confusion on his part, which in the future could potentially discourage him to follow orders. It is a basic concept of developmental psychology that one should reward proper behavior rather than punish it; otherwise, how would that behavior ever be repeated?" He paused only briefly to get his point across then inclined his head slightly. "So," he ended in a concluding manner, "I would very much like to request that he be released, and if not, I would like to know why."

Connors stared at him blankly for a moment before an almost irritated expression began to form on his otherwise stony face. "I'm fully aware of Sin's condition, mental and physical. According to his tracker, his vitals have not dropped yet so for the moment he is still alive." He paused before speaking and narrowed his eyes at Boyd. "Why do you feel it necessary to go through such lengths to defend this man? And do not give me some spiel about what is best for the Agency. Why do you personally, find it necessary to put yourself in danger for him?"

Boyd watched Connors long enough for it to be clear that he actually was thinking about the question. "Because no one else does," he said finally, honestly. "Everyone deserves someone who will speak up for them when they are unable to. You, me, Sin. Everyone."

"You'll have to excuse my lack of empathy for the man. He did after all, turn my daughter into a vegetable." The words were spoken coldly; it wasn't clear whether Connors was upset by this because he really felt something towards his daughter or if he just found it to be a personal affront that Sin had dared to injure a member of such an esteemed family. His expression gave nothing away about the matter and he only seemed mildly annoyed that he had to bring up the incident at all.

"A perfectly understandable response," Boyd said, inclining his head slightly. "However, my argument is that treating him the way you do now only increases the likelihood that there will be future incidences such as with Lydia." He tilted his head and considered Connors. "I am hardly asking you to love Sin like a son, but you'll excuse me if I am unconvinced that you fully care about your daughter so much as the offense to your name. Perhaps I am falsely biased by my mother, but you two seem similar in that respect; and I can promise you that if the same happened to me she would care more that she had to deal with an embarrassing vegetative son than she would the fact that I was harmed."

Connors stared at him, bushy eyebrows rising slightly. "I admire your tenacity, Boyd. I also admire your intelligence and lack of fear about cutting to the quick. However, I regret to inform you that I have no intentions of releasing him early and I would appreciate it if you would not waste my time with such matters simply because you feel the burning desire to root for the underdog. Although with his ability to snap a neck with considerable lack of effort, I would hesitate to even describe him as such."

Although the comment could have referred to anything, the way Connors said it led Boyd to believe that it was a reference to the video. Most of the clips Boyd remembered from the surveillance archives included him killing by means far messier than a simple snapped neck. It should have bothered him to think that Connors possibly viewed the embarrassing footage, but it was a necessary evil in order to protect Sin so he could not care too much.

"While I appreciate the compliment, I would interestingly have to counter that a man who knows fully well that Sin was merely protecting me against unwanted advances but still punishes him like a collared dog is hardly better. Or," he added innocently, his eyebrow rose slightly, "am I mistaken and that was not a veiled hint that you've already viewed the video but apparently do not care?"

"I viewed it the day it was given to me," Connors replied in an unconcerned tone. "I do not see why it should be deemed acceptable that he killed a man who was apparently responding to your goading. Was that your plan all along?" He continued to stare at Boyd with an unreadable expression on his face. "Were you waiting to see whether or not Agent Vega would save you? Or perhaps you wanted that idiot guard to penetrate you." His voice was not cruel and while the words were insulting, it did not seem as though he were deliberately trying to offend Boyd.

Boyd seemed entirely unaffected by the comment. He merely watched Connors calmly, his tone reasonable and not as if he were discussing something traumatic that happened to him. "That same man, you will recall, has a history of goading Sin first, and if you viewed the video you also know he followed me and started it all while I did attempt to get away to no avail. Regardless of my own motives, from Sin's viewpoint, there was someone attacking his partner and it is his job to neutralize such threats. Sin did not know anything that occurred before he arrived, and given Harry's background it was an incredibly logical assumption that his actions were unwanted. Especially because at the time I was incapable of getting away. In and of himself, Sin's response was completely understandable. I also highly doubt you care what happened to Harry."

Boyd lifted an eyebrow slightly. "That is why I say you should be looking at me rather than Sin in this ordeal. If you want to question what I was thinking or attempting, feel free. But Sin was a bystander who was just doing his job; therefore, if you feel the need to punish someone for the incident, I should be the one targeted instead."

Connors leaned back further in his chair and was silent for a moment as he seemed to digest this information. "I don't care about Harry in the least. The man was a sexual predator and I am not stupid enough to actually think that you had welcomed his or anybody else's advances." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Although, I question your relationship with Agent Vega more and more with each passing day and am beginning to wonder whether or not you should be replaced."

Boyd felt a bit of respect for Connors that he at least saw past the stupid rumors surrounding Boyd enough that he understood what happened with Harry. It was also interesting that he referred to Sin as 'Agent Vega' when no one else seemed to; Boyd would have expected him to call him 'monster' or 'creature' like so many others.

"I can hardly tell you to do your job," Boyd said in apparent unconcern, "but if you truly want to take the time to train someone new and sit through the waiting game to see if Sin plays nicely or not, be my guest. I will, however, admit that I don't know what you're referring to by my 'relationship' with Sin. We are partners functioning within the parameters of our job descriptions by watching each other's back."

"And yet the expression on Agent Vega's face during that video seems to imply so much more." The words were spoken calmly and held no traces of scorn or disgust, despite the fact that the steel gray eyes were still slightly narrowed.

Boyd raised an eyebrow, his tone pleasant but a little pointed. "Interestingly, in the months since I have become an agent I have yet to acquire the ability to read minds. So you'll have to excuse me if I can neither speak for Sin nor can I say why you even care. Are you perhaps threatened by the idea of him having some sense of humanity? Does it bother you to think that you could be treating someone like a monster when in fact he may not be perfectly stable, and certainly he has committed crimes in the past, but he also should be afforded certain respect and human dignity that seem curiously lacking when your orders become involved?"

Connors seemed unmoved. "Are you denying the fact that there is more between you and Agent Vega than a simple partnership?" He pointedly ignored the other comments and kept his penetrating stare trained on Boyd. "There is no need to lie. You will not be penalized for the truth."

Boyd watched him very calmly for a long moment then inclined his head. "You are correct. There is no need to lie, because I hardly see that it is your business."

"Your reaction makes it clear to me that the answer is either positive or you are unclear of it yourself, which still implies that there is something between the two of you which has no business being there." He leaned forward slightly. "I have known Agent Vega for a number of years; I can tell when there is a change in him. It is obvious to me that there is something between the two of you. It is also apparent to me that whatever is there can cause his instability to worsen if not handled delicately and I am not entirely sure that it is wise for such a variable to exist. Thus the questioning of the future of your partnership."

"I fail to follow your logic," Boyd said mildly. "If you believe there is something there, then removing the variable suddenly would only make it worse. The instability you perceive would actually increase, while his usability would decrease."

"So you think his feelings for you have progressed that far?"

"I said nothing of the sort," Boyd said with an unconcerned shrug of one shoulder. "I was merely trying to understand your logic. If you want the truth: no, I don't think he does feel what you believe he does for me, and there is nothing between us but mutual acceptance."

"Lies," Connors said dismissively with a wave of his hand. "I appreciate the time you are taking to plead your case, but unfortunately I will have to cut this meeting short. I will consider all of the things you have told me and make my final decision when I return."

He seemed incredibly sure of himself, and Boyd could only assume Connors was caught on the fact that Sin showed emotions at all in that video. He also found it a little ironic that Connors bothered to say he appreciated the time Boyd took to plead his own case, when Boyd was the one who took Connors' time to do it. What else would Boyd be doing but defending his view? The man was strange and Boyd was surprised to find that he did not entirely dislike him the way he thought he would. It was good, though, in that now he at least felt a little more comfortable knowing that Ryan was in his care, and that even if he was a sadistic bastard in his treatment of Sin, he seemed reasonable on some level.

"Very well, sir," Boyd said with perfect politeness, inclining his head slightly. He waited a moment, watching him while Connors stared back.

"I have a plane to catch," Connors said after a moment pointedly, "so I have to get ready. You are dismissed."

Nodding, Boyd dropped his eyes to the ground, his gaze passing so casually past Connors' desk that it was unnoticeable when it lingered for half a second. He leaned forward and used the desk as a brace to push himself up, though he acted as though he was trying to hide the pain his body was in. Connors did not seem to notice or care, and Boyd slipped his hands into the pockets of his trench coat as usual when he was upright. He tilted his head forward politely. "I will not bother you longer, then. Thank you for your time."

Connors nodded, watching him for a moment with a look that was both difficult to describe and interpret and turned back to his work.

When Boyd left the office he felt mildly smug at Samuel's indignant glare, but neither of them spoke. Calmly striding through the complex, Boyd waited until he was several floors down and out of the elevators before he flipped his phone open and dialed Ryan's number. He watched his surroundings almost idly as he waited for him to answer.

"Is everything okay?" Ryan asked as soon as he picked up.

"Yes," Boyd said calmly, eyes tracking a few of the people passing by. "But I need your help."

Continue to Ch 20 ~ Rescue