Chapter Thirty

Confessions

Uploaded on 5/15/07

Monterrey was slowly becoming less of a mystery to Boyd as he spent most of his days wandering the streets with the sketch pad, getting a feel for the public transportation to better understand what systems would make learning the city most efficient. He learned that the taxi cabs were by far the best way to tour the city, but there were certain areas that the bus-lines or train were better for. He also learned that it was incredibly easy to find every type of transportation available in many areas of the city but there were a few places where it was nearly impossible. The availability of public transportation seemed to correlate to the wealthiness of the neighborhoods he found himself in. It helped him get an overview of Monterrey and which areas he should study the most as the months passed. More than once he found himself mentally marking a block or building to return to at a later date for further study as a possible future hiding place.

At one point in one of the trendier parts of the city, he thought he felt someone tailing him. He gave no visible indication of noticing but he could feel it in the way his senses were on alert. Rather than looking around obviously, he just meandered, casually checking reflections or stopping at shops and watching in his peripheral vision for anyone out of the ordinary. If someone was truly watching him they were doing a very good job of staying hidden because Boyd never once saw anyone acting suspicious. And, unfortunately, Monterrey was such a diverse city that he couldn't even look for someone who seemed out of place. There was everyone from the short to tall, thin to heavy, with every range of ethnicity imaginable, and every style of dress. After awhile he decided he had either been mistaken or the moment was past so he gave up searching for the origin of the feeling and instead focused on his task. Even so, while he always made a point to act like Reed, he was especially careful that day; every speech pattern, seemingly unconscious gesture, and expression was to the best of his ability a perfect mimicry of the man he was impersonating.

He hadn't returned to Julieta's; it seemed too early to him and the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself. Instead, he excused his apparent interest in the city at large as a longer-ranged shopping trip. Even with the sturdier door, there were still some issues with the security of their studio. He didn't see the need to fortify the entrances any further but he did think the inside could use some help and it gave him a good cover for so extensively traveling the city.

The main issue was Sin's weapons; they were really the only thing of import they had in the studio and they were not properly protected. Awkwardly hiding them in the bathroom cupboards was hardly the best choice, so Boyd decided to go a different route of concealing them. He bought a wardrobe cabinet to hold some clothes in but more importantly, to install a fake back to hide the weapons. He figured that anyone searching for rifles and explosives would not think to check behind sarcastic t-shirts hung in a particularly visible cabinet when there were so many other 'natural' places to put them, like prying up a floor board or keeping them beneath the bed. And even if the cabinet was searched, the fake back would be very difficult to notice if a person didn't know it was there. It didn't give them the best access but the purpose was mostly for the explosives and rifle; smaller weapons were hidden in more accessible places through out the studio.

Due to his varying schedule, Boyd did not see Sin quite as often as he had before. With Sin working night shifts and Boyd traveling around primarily during the day, there were a few times when Sin returned home to find Boyd already asleep or just on his way. But most of the time, Boyd was still awake when Sin returned or Sin woke up early enough to see Boyd during the day; whether it was before he left or when he returned for breaks. Now that their mutual attraction had finally been acted upon, it was not uncommon for them to touch each other even though they were still quite reserved in their own ways. Nothing sexual had progressed much since the first time but that didn't take any of the heat from their fevered kisses or quick, frantic handjobs before one of the two left the studio to go about their day. Other than the introduction of mutual masturbation and oral sex, nothing else had changed about their relationship except for the fact that Sin had become far more stoic than he'd previously been. He was far from cold and was as sarcastic as ever but now it seemed almost like he'd reverted to the attitude he'd had when they first became partners. It was a subtle difference that probably wouldn't even be recognized by anyone else but over the days Boyd had noticed that their conversations had focused on the assignment, work, or superficial banter that seemed almost forced, stilted. No personal information was exchanged, no questions were asked. In fact, Sin seemed to be refraining from even sharing his thoughts or opinions on trivial incidents at work; instead, he'd taken to relating them in an almost impersonal way.

Despite the fact that Boyd was more than pleased by the fact that they had gotten closer sexually, he was more than a little displeased by the fact that Sin had obviously distanced himself in other ways. Unless it was a strange reaction to sexual interaction, the only explanation Boyd could come up with was that Sin's behavior was directly connected to his own refusal to answer his partner's questions or more accurately, the idea that he didn't trust Sin enough to do so.

Many of the hours Boyd spent walking around the city eventually became a time for Boyd to think more clearly about his recent revelations. He started contemplating what he was doing, why he was doing it and trying to decide how to change. It was a difficult thing for Boyd to consider; he was an introvert by nature and that had only been emphasized as he grew, as events in his life changed him irrevocably. But from the moment Sin brought up the tattoos and Boyd found he couldn't -- didn't want to -- fully answer, he knew that something needed to change. But every time he tried to bring the subject up he somehow always changed his mind at the last second or just couldn't seem to get the words out correctly. It was starting to irritate him but that only added to his determination. He couldn't -- shouldn't -- let fear of the past determine the course of his future. It was a lesson he needed to learn in general but he would start by applying now.

By the time Sin returned from work, Boyd was standing in the kitchen reheating some food he'd bought a few hours earlier when returning from the city. It had worked out nicely; he'd needed to check out a few places after dark and at that point he decided he may as well eat late with Sin. He turned at the noise of the door opening and smiled slightly. "Hey," he greeted casually. "Are you hungry?"

Sin locked the door and flipped the dead bolt before turning in Boyd's direction with a grunt that passed as an answer. He looked tired and a little annoyed although he didn't complain about either and walked over to the kitchen. "What did you make now?" He stared down at the pot of reheating noodles.

"I didn't make it, but it's chicken alfredo." Boyd paused then added mildly, "I'll take the credit, though."

"Oh." Sin grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and turned towards the main room to start stripping off his work clothes.

Boyd watched him sidelong before speaking again. "Were there any exciting brawls at work today?"

"I broke some college kid's nose," Sin said mildly. "Slow night. But somehow that annoying group of women who follow me has grown larger."

"Really." Boyd deemed that the chicken alfredo would be warm enough in a few minutes. He set a small hand-held timer he bought for the kitchen and turned around, leaning against the counter with his hands resting on the edge. "What's it up to now, twenty?"

Sin shrugged and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the couch. "Seventeen. Johnny's suggestion was that I fuck one and be done with it."

"Hmm." Watching Sin's bare torso, Boyd shook his head slightly. "I don't think that would work. They would all want you more, then. And," he added casually, "I would be jealous."

"I doubt it," Sin replied.

Boyd quirked one eyebrow but something in his tone showed that he was not being entirely serious. "You doubt what? I assure you, once one of them has you near her she will tell all the others and you'll never be left alone. It would set a precedent and then where would we be? You'd be all over the place and I would have to cope. I'm not sure I can accept that."

Sin snorted and began unbuckling his belt. "I don't see why you should care about what I do."

Boyd smirked and made a soft contemplative noise. "As they say, 'You don't have to see it to believe it.'"

Sin shook his head and declined to comment.

Boyd watched him, his smirk falling away as his gaze automatically moved across Sin's body. The old scars were a familiar pattern against Sin's skin; he'd certainly seen him without his shirt often enough to know where each of them was, what they looked like. They told stories, some of which he hadn't heard, and several of which he wanted to know. The one that looked as though it had been most painful, and certainly most life-threatening, was a thick scar that angled partially across his throat before it jerked down toward his collarbone. Before Monterrey, the collar had always been there, partially obscuring the scar. Seeing it out in the open made him think about how things had changed in Monterrey; how Sin had seemed, for awhile, to be opening up even more. It made him think about how much he'd liked learning more about Sin and how annoying it would have been if every time Boyd had asked anything personal, Sin would have just avoided the question entirely or not fully answered. This was the best chance he would have to get to know Sin more and, honestly, it worked vice versa. There were a lot of thoughts Boyd had that he never fully voiced, opinions he never truly gave. And there were things Boyd had been saying since the beginning that Sin may not believe he felt anymore.

Gaze lingering on Sin's bare throat, Boyd found himself thinking about the collar, the unnecessary control it gave over Sin, the excuse it gave for those in power to think of him as an animal. He'd spent days attacking the problem of their slightly stilted interaction as he would a mission, wondering how to approach a more serious conversation, what to say to lead into it, what he would say when they were actually talking and contingency plans in case one of the topics fell through. But the plans hadn't been working, perhaps because he'd been going about it wrong. He'd worried about how to bring up his own past, his own issues, but that wasn't the only thing that he needed to get better at relaying. Without giving himself a chance to internalize the thought rather than speaking it aloud, he said more seriously, "Sin, I... always hated the collar."

Sin gave him an odd look as if wondering why this was being brought up all of a sudden. "Are you more fond of the implant?"

"Yes," Boyd said, meeting Sin's gaze. He paused, his fingers automatically tightening on the counter top, and even if some part of him wanted to stop talking, it was a little easier to continue than he had expected. It was probably because he was so determined to return some of the trust that Sin had shown him. "The collar... From the moment I saw it, even when I didn't care about much of anything, I disliked it. It was dehumanizing, I thought it was a terrible creation. I'm not fond of the fact that you need the implant at all, but at least it's not a device created just to control you by people who erroneously think they are morally superior. At least... At least it doesn't hurt you."

Sin shrugged, his face completely neutral. "It doesn't matter. They will put the collar back on as soon as this assignment is through. Nothing changes."

"It does, though, even if a little. Carhart..." Boyd hesitated only briefly, wondering how to word this the best, before deciding not to worry about it; that had always been his problem, thinking too much. He needed to just get his thoughts out, even if disorganized, without censoring them. Boyd watched him, looking rather intent. "I... already had an aversion to the collar, but over time it grew. It angered me that anyone used it on you. I could never understand how they thought they could treat you like that and then expect you to be anything but unstable. In my mind... I never wanted to be them. I thought, you're a perfectly reasonable human being, if anything goes wrong I'll just treat you as I would anyone else. I don't have remotes to put anyone else in line, so it's ridiculous to have one for you."

Boyd's eyes narrowed slightly in thought, his expression open and serious. "So... The first time... When you had your nightmare, I just." He shrugged with one shoulder. "I guess I thought that at some point I would die anyway, I wasn't strong enough to push you away, and I wasn't certain words would work. It seemed to me that a better use of my energy was to show you that I didn't think you were an animal, because you're not. I thought... Well, even if you killed me, as long as I destroyed the remote, at least there would be a period of time when no one could hurt you with the collar."

Sin stopped undressing, leaving his jeans undone and partially sliding off, to stare at Boyd. For a moment he looked skeptical but then it faded a bit and he looked confused. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because..." Boyd stared at him, a little frustrated with himself for this being difficult at all. "Because I... never tell you anything. And you should know this." He hesitated briefly but didn't stop himself. "But... Listen. The remote has a microchip in it that's monitored if it becomes dysfunctional or goes off-line. I didn't know that, maybe you did. But Carhart didn't hold me accountable for not having a functioning remote until you spoke to him before we went to France. Then he brought me into his office and gave me a rather roundabout lecture and explanation."

Boyd realized he was getting a little off topic and shook his head just slightly to himself, as if to shake out the excess facts. "The point is, he told me that he'd noticed earlier that the chip was off-line but it wasn't a factor until you seemed... to revert to the way you used to be. At that point, he gave me a new remote and told me to take it even if he wasn't forcing me to use it." Boyd looked at Sin with a very earnest expression. "I just... I promise you, I had no intention to use it. I felt terrible when you found it in my pocket in France. I only had it there because that's where I slipped it when Carhart gave it to me. I forgot about it because I wasn't going to..."

For a moment, Sin remained silent and kicked his boots off as he absorbed what Boyd was telling him. It didn't surprise him at all that they had a way of monitoring whether or not the remote was active even though he hadn't been aware of it. In a way he was glad that Boyd had told him the details; despite the fact that he'd gotten over the incidents in France, the remote had been something that continued to nag at him even recently. On the other hand, he thought that this was a rather lame way of Boyd trying to make up for the fact that he never spoke about anything of value concerning his own life and past. "I believe you," He said calmly.

The buzzer went off behind Boyd and he turned toward it automatically to shut it off. He filled one plate for himself but left Sin to fill his own since he didn't know how hungry he was. He moved over to the couch and sat down as Sin piled the noodles onto his plate and sat down as well. They were quiet for a bit but it wasn't particularly uncomfortable. Boyd stared at his food thoughtfully as he ate, realizing that at that point he could just fall silent, he could take the easy way out, he could feel like at least he accomplished some small part of his goal and be done with it until another time. But that would be stupid; he hadn't really said anything important yet and Sin still deserved to know at least an equal amount about Boyd that Boyd now knew about Sin.

He looked over at Sin, studying him. "I'm not very good at this," he said honestly. After the few moments of silence, the words seemed a little abrupt. "I don't know what to say to you. Even so... I want to tell you whatever you want to know about."

Sin studied his food intently as he twirled his fork around, expression not giving anything away. "What makes you think I want to know anything?" He was tired of being met with brick walls every time he made an inquiry; he honestly wasn't even sure if he wanted to bother anymore. However despite that, he couldn't help but be intrigued by how determined Boyd seemed to begin some kind of discussion. He wasn't entirely sure what the younger man wanted to talk about but he suspected the purpose was to smooth things over between them after the last failed attempt. It frustrated him that Boyd wanted to stir this up again after he'd already come to a decision to forget about it and not mention it again but at the same time... At the same time he couldn't help but feel mildly pleased that Boyd was even making the effort.

"I think it's impossible to spend this much time in someone's presence and not be curious. And you wouldn't have asked me any questions earlier if you hadn't wondered." Boyd paused, considering him; this would probably make him sound like a stalker but at the moment he didn't care about protecting his own feelings. "But it's the same for me; I was curious about you long before I felt I could actually ask you questions. So... I did some research on you. I saw some videos and, for awhile, I watched you."

Sin stopped chewing and stared at Boyd for a long, tense moment. His face was completely still and guarded, body stiffening as his eyes narrowed. "Watched me," He repeated in a flat voice.

"Yes," Boyd said, watching him with an unbudging expression. "Those cameras in your apartment had a live feed that I was able to connect to." His eyes narrowed slightly in remembrance. "Even if I felt bad watching you without your knowledge, I couldn't help it. But it bothered me that you had no privacy. To me, it seemed like one more example of them treating you without any respect, of trying to make you seem less human, as if you were an animal in a zoo. That disgusted me and is the reason I destroyed them immediately after the box." He paused. "I apologize for being a voyeur, for not telling you, but I'm not sorry that I broke them. I would do it again if they were still around."

Sin slowly began chewing again and swallowed his food, dropping his gaze to his plate thoughtfully. His first response had been irritation, annoyance that Boyd had been able to spy on him; annoyed that apparently anyone remotely computer intelligent could access this feed to the surveillance cameras. But the part of him that he typically considered to be weak and hopeful was pleased that his partner had felt disgusted by the cameras at the same time as he was flattered that he'd wanted to watch them at all. "Why did you watch?" He asked casually.

Boyd looked at him for a bit before turning to his own food, considering the question seriously so that he could give the best answer. "I don't entirely know," he said finally, honestly. He looked over, searching Sin's expression thoughtfully. "I suppose... I'd spent the last few years feeling nothing at all, caring about nothing. Even when I was alerted to this position, I came not particularly because I wanted to, but because my mother thought of me and I was doing nothing else."

Boyd pushed his plate of food onto the coffee table more firmly so it wouldn't fall, then leaned back on one hand, shrugging with one shoulder. "I knew from early on that I would be working with you; I saw footage, interviews, they told me what they thought was pertinent for me to know. I knew what to expect from you and even if those around me seemed intimidated by you, I wasn't. Part of it is likely because I simply didn't care what happened to me, but I also thought that what they were doing was taking your actions out of context, making you a frightening myth they did not want to go against. The Agency showed me what to expect of you by emphasizing different parts of your interaction, but it seemed it must be skewed to me. I thought there was probably more to the person I would be working with than the ability to execute missions like that, but I... didn't really think about it too much, I suppose. Even if I knew there was more to you than that, I still didn't anticipate anything changing in me. I fully expected to die nearly immediately in the earlier missions and even when I considered the chance that I wouldn't, I didn't believe it would ultimately matter. I had felt nothing for years and the idea of ever feeling any emotions again..." Boyd shook his head. "It was an impossible thought, yet somehow..."

He looked perplexed. "Slowly, the impossibility was not the idea of feeling anything, but rather the idea of feeling nothing around you. You... exasperated me sometimes. At first it was just the fact that you didn't help with missions. Then it was your sarcasm. Later, I started to notice your humor. The more time I spent with you, the harder it was to ignore what you were doing and saying. It became more difficult to just... not care about anything anymore. Even if it was irritation, confusion, uncertainty... when you were in my presence, they existed. That would have been strange enough, but then I started feeling amusement too, and for the first time in a long while I realized I could still be in a good mood."

Eyebrows drawing down, Boyd's expression became bemused although his tone was as matter-of-fact as ever. "And you were so contradictory that it intrigued me. On the first night that I researched you, I couldn't sleep. I clicked the link not knowing what it was and when I realized it was a live feed I almost closed it down just to preserve your privacy. I didn't, though... I think I just wanted to see you. In your apartment you were not always who you were with me, but that also meant that if you were angry with me, I could still see you being calm. It was... gratifying, somehow; as if you were inadvertently proving that I was right, that you were human, that even if you acted impervious sometimes in public you were not always the same at home. I suppose I felt that you were like me, somehow. Or maybe it made me feel that I wasn't alone?" Boyd watched him, seeming a little confused by what he was saying; he wasn't letting himself stop to filter anything so he felt that it was coming out in an incredibly disorganized manner and he wasn't certain any of it made sense. But he wasn't going to stop. He studied Sin's features, remembering how he had looked cast in moonlight and shadows, sitting in his apartment unaware of anyone watching. "And I suppose you were sometimes just too beautiful to look away from," Boyd added a little absently. "That first night, I stared at you until you laid down and somehow it calmed me enough to sleep as well."

"I'm not beautiful," Sin mumbled automatically, still not looking up from his quickly disappearing plate of food. He ignored the urge to ask more, to say more, and remained silent for several moments as he finished his dinner, giving Boyd the chance to eat his own. He hated the effect Boyd's words had on him, hated that Boyd could so easily get past the walls he'd tried to put up again. It was hard to not let him get under his skin and it seemed that now that it had already happened, it would be impossible to ignore.

For the entire week he'd tried to cultivate his father's attitude towards sex and had not stopped touching Boyd, had not been able to stop himself from kissing Boyd whenever he got the urge; the taste of him was almost addictive. But he'd decided to leave it at that, had avoided talking about anything deeper than their previous superficial conversations, hadn't shown his feelings or described his thoughts as openly as he'd begun to in the past few weeks. But Boyd's words, the idea of him watching the cameras late at night, of him making Boyd open up and feel again... it made him rethink his decision or at least temporarily put it on hold. He glanced up after finishing his food and put the plate on the table. "What other videos did you see?"

"Mostly the ones from the time you were in jail," Boyd said calmly. "There was a surveillance video of the reason you were arrested, when you protected that girl. And of your interrogation by the two detectives."

Sin had just started to reach for his water when he froze. He didn't look away from Boyd and for an instant his eyes narrowed, brows drawing down as his mouth tightened in a thin line. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he stared at him for a long moment before he finally grabbed his bottle. "You saw that." It was more of a statement of fact than a question.

"Yes."

"And you still..." Sin shook his head, trailing off as he drank a long gulp of water. "Nevermind."

"What?" Boyd asked, watching him closely.

Sin shrugged and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Those two incidents are what led to mostly everyone to believe that I am a psychopathic murderer. Which, I suppose, is not unwarranted. And you've seen them and yet--" He stopped again. "When did you see them?"

Boyd thought about that aloud. "It was after the mission when I was captured... So that must have been around October?" He did not seem particularly concerned that the content of the videos were what led to Sin's reputation.

Sin stared at him somewhat incredulously and shook his head. "You saw them that early on and you still treated me like... how you treated me. You still believed that everyone else's opinion of me was wrong." He was silent for another moment before finally clearing his throat and raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "What was your opinion of them?"

Boyd shrugged. "You may think you are a psychopathic murderer but I don't. First of all, I saw nothing psychotic in them, and secondly, murder implies it was a premeditated act and for me gives the connotation of it not being warranted. In both cases, you were provoked," he said simply. "Even if most people would not react the way you did, they also do not have your background. And in the case of the woman, you were helping someone. Although..." He hesitated only briefly. "I am curious why exactly the idea of you being a serial killer came about. Was that due to the fake confession they were trying to get?"

"I didn't confess to anything," Sin said blandly. "After they found the two detectives dead it seemed they didn't require a confession anymore. The police department had been particularly inept during that time and there were many killers going around murdering at will partially because of the strange Wild West mentality that people had before any order was brought back to society and mostly because of the post traumatic stress that many people suffered from after the bombs. There were many serial killers but they couldn't solve any of those crimes so they decided to pin them on me and I suppose my rather... extreme reaction proved my guilt." He shrugged. "It was widely reported that I was the person behind all of those unsolved crimes and when the Agency reacquired me, they put me away for a long time before deciding that Kassian was not an adequate replacement. They attempted to get my name out of the media and succeeded to a point but people still remembered what they'd already seen and Connors made no attempts to tell anyone at the Agency that I did not actually murder or rape women, old people and children."

Boyd thought about that as he pulled his plate closer to finish his food."I'd wondered if it was something like that." He shifted so he was more comfortable and watched Sin curiously. "Why is Kassian such a poor replacement? I don't understand that; he is also a Level Ten."

Sin shrugged. "Level Ten is just a rank. Yes, you have to be extremely talented to achieve that rank but it does not mean that having it would automatically make an agent on par with me." He was not bragging or being arrogant, it was a simple statement of facts. "If I was so easily replaced they would have done away with me long ago; but in Connors' eyes, I am one of a kind. I can be ruthless, I can complete difficult assignments alone that other men need an entire team to finish and most importantly, I do not question the politics of the Agency, or at least I don't as far as they know. Since I have been trained since I was a child, it is unlikely that they will ever find as good a killer who does not have prejudices about the goings on in the world. I'm sure one day they will find one though, probably when I am older and their brainwashed rookies grow up, but that hasn't happened yet."

He ate more of his chicken alfredo and shrugged. "Kassian is a good agent but nowhere near on par with my abilities. He is competitive because of it and constantly tries to beat training records that I made when I was fifteen or sixteen. In addition to that, the fact that they use me as a model during Level Ten training adds to his resentment of me. I suppose he was adequate for a time, but Connors did not trust him with certain solo assignments, certain assassinations and he's made several mistakes over the years that have compromised the mission."

Boyd frowned slightly; although he didn't like Sin talking about himself in terms that made him sound like just a convenient tool for the Agency, it was true that it would be difficult to find another quite like him. "Compromised the missions?"

"Yes. He's refused assignments that have gone against his moral code and he has taken assignments only to botch them when put into circumstances that he could not or would not deal with. Other than fighting ability, that is the major deciding factor between he and myself. There have been times when I was given an assignment that had circumstances I did not enjoy, however I still did them and did not complain. It's that code of his that makes him a poor assassin for the Agency. He is too questioning."

Boyd watched him, thinking about that. "Have you ever wanted to question your assignments? Just tell them no?"

Sin didn't answer for a moment and continued to eat his second plate of food quietly. "Yes. Twice. The last time was on my most recent solo assignment. It was one of the reasons why I was so angry when we saw each other again."

Boyd blinked. He set his finished plate aside and leaned back on the couch. "Really... Why, what happened?"

Sin didn't answer for a moment and he cursed himself for bringing it up. He wasn't supposed to be confiding in Boyd-- he wasn't supposed to be talking about his past, about his thoughts or feelings but yet here he was, doing it once again. It irritated him but at the same time, it was strangely pleasant to sit there having a rare, serious conversation with his partner. He could count on one hand the amount of times that they'd had any and honestly, this was one of the things he'd always wanted to discuss with Boyd, always wanted his opinion on. "Have you ever heard of Anderson McCall?"

Looking at Sin sharply, Boyd just stared for a moment. "Yes," he said slowly, "probably the best philanthropist of our time. Whose scandal just before suicide seemed a little strange to me." Boyd didn't want this to be leading in the direction it pretty much had to be.

"The scandal was manufactured by the Agency; the line of shady businessmen that McCall supposedly had murdered were killed by me and his suicide was not a suicide at all. I poisoned him and watched him die." Sin's flat, dead voice made Boyd look at him closer, searching his expression. When their eyes met, he could see that Sin looked angry and he stared at him for a long moment, staying very still.

For years, Boyd did not particularly pay attention to the world around him, but he still had minimal knowledge of what was happening. Anderson McCall was one of the few decent men left after the wars; loved enough that even Boyd had heard about him. As far as Boyd had seen, McCall had seemed concerned only with enhancing the lives of the community around him, giving something back to the poor who'd had everything taken away. Lou was exactly the sort of person McCall would have helped; not that he was poor when his parents were alive, but when he became an orphan he had nothing. Boyd himself could have been the type helped by McCall too if only his mother had not kept the house, if only the bombs had fallen in a different area. If only McCall had lived near them.

It made him think of Jezebel in that rickety old wheelchair and the crumbling shelter she used for her ice cream hut, or Evan with his hole-in-the-wall restaurant he'd spent years trying to construct. With someone like Anderson McCall there, things could have been different. So many lives were lost in the bombs but it was more than just people dying; many of those who survived had lost everything, had no reason to keep going and had just given up, had in effect lost their lives as well even if their hearts kept beating. Then there were the survivors who later succumbed to other deaths. Many had died from diseases, malnutrition, from being poisoned by bad water, even from lack of clean facilities and the bad hygiene that followed. There was a time when Boyd and Lou had walked around and it seemed all they were doing was crawling over rubble and bodies. There was a time, a desperate, helpless time, when it seemed there was no humanity left in the world.

At least Boyd and Lou had each other, at least they had Boyd's family home to huddle in, even if they hadn't always had the funds to get enough food or drinks. But there were many others who'd not had that luxury; there were probably hundreds of Jezebels and Evans who never made it, hundreds of Lous and Boyds who never had the other to keep them going. It was for those hopeless people that someone like Anderson McCall had been a savior; he'd cared when no one else had, he'd worked for complete strangers when even acquaintances were backstabbing each other for food, water, shelter. He'd been there for people who hadn't been capable of being there for themselves, who were not willing to make an effort for a better life in what, at the time, had seemed a hopeless, dismal future. He'd devoted his life to bringing lives back to those who lost everything.

"What..." Boyd said, his default neutral tone turning a little darker in anger, his eyes narrowing. "What the fuck is their problem? What could he possibly have done that warranted such a defamation of character, let alone being poisoned?"

"He donated millions of dollars to Janus, which they in turn used to buy the majority of their arms." Sin replied calmly, not looking at Boyd.

"So?" Boyd demanded. "The US government used to donate money to terrorists and the Agency itself is not that particularly pure. Regardless of the fact that Janus is currently our enemy, McCall donating money to them does not warrant such a death. If they just wanted to stop it, they could have used scare tactics or a straight assassination. Ah," his voice turned wry and darker as a thought occurred to him, "but no doubt they did not want him to become a martyr? Because we all know that the murder of decent people is not well-loved by the public."

Boyd shook his head to himself, disgusted. "And, of course, Connors makes you do his dirty work regardless of what you may think about the situation. He's such a fucking hypocritical coward." His tone turned cold and he was almost glaring. "If only I could meet with him again to tell him what I think."

Sin didn't offer his opinions on the Agency or Janus even though he had many. He'd started to warn Boyd that making such inflammatory statements around the wrong people in the Agency could get him permanently silenced like so many others in the past, but something about Boyd's last comment caught his attention. "Again?"

"Yes," Boyd said edgily, irritated. "I saw him before."

Sin made a face. "Okay. When?"

"When you were.. in the box. I went to his office."

"I see." There was a brief silence as he considered this. Connor's was a difficult man to arrange a meeting with unless one was actually summoned; he couldn't imagine Boyd having been very well received. "Why would you do a thing like that?"

"I didn't think you should be in there in the first place, so it angered me when he seemed to be ignoring all evidence that pointed to the fact that you should not have been sent there." Boyd raised his eyebrow, his tone almost offhanded. "He was ignoring Carhart so I figured I would go straight to the source and tell him directly to release you."

Sin stared at his partner in mild disbelief. "I'm assuming that didn't go over too well."

"Not particularly," Boyd said mildly. "He ignored me the first time and when I went back a few days later, he only let me in because I was making a scene. He didn't seem particularly interested in my argument, either, but by then I'd already assumed I'd have to get you out myself anyway so I was able to set up a contingency plan."

The look of disbelief didn't leave Sin's expression. "What was your plan anyway? You never told me the details."

Boyd shrugged casually. When he spoke, it was much in the same manner he typically explained missions. "The first time I was there, Connors' assistant Samuel showed me his schedule to emphasize how little time Connors had for me. I memorized it and knew there was a period of days he would be gone. When he didn't contact me in the next few days I realized it would probably be up to me so I started creating a few plans. Then when I was in his office and I knew for certain he intended to wait, I stole his official seal. I had Ryan get me his official paper to forge a release form and I also had him give me clearance on my card to make it to Fourth. Luke told me when most of the instigators and Harry's friends were off Fourth, which we were lucky enough coincided with Connors' absence. I told the few guards who stopped me that I wouldn't have clearance for that level if I weren't authorized to be there, and if they challenged that I just impressed upon them how little Connors would appreciate being disrupted in his meetings because someone didn't think his official release form was official enough. Then Luke and I just acted as though we didn't know each other and I had him help me bring you to the medics and, after that, your apartment."

Sin blinked once, twice and then shook his head. "Wait a minute." He rubbed his jaw as he stared at Boyd, eyebrows furrowed. "Why the hel-" Why the hell had Ryan and Luke of all people risked themselves to help him? Why did they even care? He looked away for a minute, expression still confused and mildly troubled. He wasn't even anything near nice to Luke and yet the man continued to almost act like his ally. And Boyd... Sin looked over at his partner again and just stared. Boyd must have been out of his mind to come up with something like that. He didn't know why they'd let him get away with it but he could have wound up in very big trouble. "What did you say to get him to let you in, anyway? What kind of scene were you making?"

"I made a lot of noise by pounding on his door and yelling at him," Boyd replied. "I suspect his attention was drawn more to the fact that I was insulting him, though. I called him any number of names, including hypocritical, a petty idiot, and a coward who has others do the jobs he's too afraid to do himself. The second time I returned, I did much the same but then told him I wouldn't leave until he saw me. And he was welcome to send in the guards to detain me but then he would be out both of his Agents." Boyd paused. "I was furious with him, though. He refused to let you out of the box despite the fact he had surveillance from the incident and I was insisting that I should have been punished instead. If he wouldn't let me go the official route by getting an appointment then I saw no reason to show him any respect. He's just a child with too much power." Eyes narrowing, Boyd shrugged. "Despite my attempts to be decent to him in the actual office, though, he basically told me that he was going to keep you in there anyway just because he could."

Sin said nothing and appeared generally unsurprised by Connor's actions. His eyebrows rose, however, at the things Boyd had done and why he'd apparently done them, especially the fact that he'd been willing to take the punishment himself. The idea of anyone defending him, being protective of him, was extremely hard to believe. Despite the fact that he'd never been one to bow down and accept the treatment he always received, he still did not think he was someone who deserved or needed anyone else's defense and he was extremely skeptical of the idea of anyone trying to protect him. It was part of the reason why Carhart's behavior always irked him; he didn't understand why the man always seemed so concerned with his best interest and he'd always attributed it to Carhart's preoccupation with his father which soured the sentiment considerably. But Boyd... somehow it was different if it was Boyd. Somehow the idea of Boyd getting that angry on his behalf flattered him, pleased him, almost made his lips want to twitch up into a brief smile. But they didn't and he remained quiet, observing his partner thoughtfully. "They must think you are insane for going through that trouble for someone like me."

Watching Sin sidelong, Boyd hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Actually," he said casually, "Carhart, Connors, and my mother to an extent all told me to keep my distance from you. They seemed... concerned that there was a change occurring. Connors ended up threatening to terminate my partnership with you because he decided that the changes he'd noticed were increasing your instability. Carhart, on the other hand, was fine with it until just before France when everything seemed to fall apart. "

"Fuck Carhart." All of this was news to Sin. Was his change in behavior so obvious to everyone? It was kind of aggravating in a way-- he hadn't been aware of the fact that he was so transparent. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, eyeing his partner for a moment. He was impressed that Boyd had stood up to Connors, even more so because it'd been on his behalf.

Boyd raised an eyebrow. "I've been meaning to ask about that... You do realize he's your greatest proponent? He seems determined to give you every chance he can and often waits until the last second to give any sort of punishment in what I believe to be the hope that someone will give him a reason not to. Yet you never seem very pleased with his existence..."

"Because I'm not," Sin replied flatly and took another drag.

"Why not?" Boyd asked, mildly perplexed. "I would have thought you would welcome someone in some form of power on your side since no one else seems to be except Ryan."

Sin didn't answer for a moment and he took another long drag, watching Boyd through the smoke that drifted in the air between them. "He's obsessed with my father. He constantly tries to get me to talk about him, to figure out what happened before he died, and he took it upon himself to try to be my parental figure when I came to the Agency. I did not and do not need him to play that role for me. I do not need him interrogating me about my father or his death. I just don't... want to deal with him. He aggravates me."

"Ah." Boyd watched him and shook his head. "I think he just misses Emilio; it sounds as though they were good friends. Wouldn't you be curious and sad if someone you cared about for years suddenly disappeared? Or want to protect the single person alive in any way connected to him?" They were clearly rhetorical questions from his tone.

"I'm aware of the extent of their friendship." Sin made a face. "But that in no way involves me. Ever since I showed up at the Agency he's hounded me for information about my father and no matter how badly I react to his questions and implications, he doesn't stop."

Boyd could see how that would be frustrating. He inclined his head as a silent acknowledgment of the fact, but Sin's comments about Emilio and Connors jarred his memory that he'd always been meaning to ask about. He paused and tilted his head, studying Sin. "It seems as though Emilio had quite the effect on many people, made them care about him or wish to get close. Weren't Connors' daughters like that too? I'd heard especially Lydia was..."

Sin looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes and said nothing for a long moment. "Lydia Connors," He said slowly, voice soft but with a distinct edge, "was obsessed with my father and he allowed her to believe he had feelings for her although he did not. She was apparently very distraught when she found out about his death. As I grew older I began to resemble my father and she turned her ridiculous infatuation on to me even though my father and I are nothing alike aside from physical appearance."

"What..." Boyd paused, not quite knowing how to phrase the question. "Do you... remember what happened to her? You said sometimes you black out, so I wondered... Not that I even entirely know what occurred."

Sin glared at Boyd for a long moment and finished his cigarette before even bothering to reply. He almost didn't answer, he was already going against his decision not to discuss himself with Boyd, but in a way he wanted Boyd to know what happened. A part of him had always wanted to explain... wanted Boyd to know everything that had occurred so that he would maybe understand. He cleared his throat and put his cigarette out. "They always try to understand me. They want to understand my mental instability, most likely so that they can further bring me under their control. So from time to time they force me to see psychiatrists and she was one of them, although I believe she requested to be my doctor."

He paused for a moment and stared into space. "She was actually extremely competent when it came to getting information out of me. I wound up telling her more than I'd told anyone else, but I believe that had more to do with the fact that she'd give me scopolamine before certain sessions so that I wasn't in control of myself. That, however, was not standard procedure when dealing with me and was something she came up with on her own. She didn't take into account what effects the combination of hallucinogens and mental instability would have though. Well, or she didn't care."

Sin pulled out another cigarette but he didn't light it immediately, instead flipping it between his fingers absently. "She... made me talk about things. About my mother. And then for some reason, she began to touch me. I don't know why she did this and yes, I did in fact black out for awhile. But I didn't--" He broke off and glanced at Boyd quickly before looking away again. "I'd never meant for that to happen. I don't respect what she did but I would not have harmed her had I been in my right mind. I considered her an enemy, yes, but she was also far weaker than me and what happened was just... It was another part of me completely taking over; the part of me that doesn't care what the enemy looks like, how weak they are, how much of a realistic threat they could possibly be."

Boyd was silent a moment. He did not look away from Sin and there was nothing judgmental in his body language. The idea of Sin being forcefully drugged and then forced to talk about something that clearly upset him seemed incredibly irresponsible to him. "I think she was an idiot for doing that," he said finally, frankly. "I think they all are every time they treat you stupidly and then seem surprised when something happens, but especially in that case."

Although he thought about stopping, the irritation and the fact he was trying to share his opinion made Boyd continue. "Why do they think it's alright to do whatever they feel when you can't fight back? That is ridiculous to me. This control everyone seems obsessed with having over you is hurtful and counter-productive; if they just gave you a fucking chance they'd see that you're perfectly fine on your own and it's really just all the shit they're doing that's making it difficult for you to enhance your stability." Feeling frustrated on Sin's behalf, Boyd shifted and studied Sin as he finally lit his cigarette. "Why did you even come in for that summons when you were fourteen? Do you ever wonder... If you'd just stayed away, you wouldn't have all this bullshit to deal with."

The reaction was without warning and more than a little alarming. Boyd's question triggered something in Sin, made it impossible to ignore; anxiety and adrenaline flooded him, causing his heart to pound the same way it had during that conversation with McCall. He didn't know why certain comments and questions did this, why the strangest things could trigger memories. But when they did they overwhelmed him so strongly that it seemed almost as if some of his senses were back at that time; some smells, sights, the feelings that were there, he was assaulted by them at an unrelenting speed and he didn't know how to make it stop.

"--o it!" A thin laugh followed by a choking cough. "Don't let me down, boy."

The phantom voice of his father echoed in his head and he swallowed convulsively for a moment, face shuttering as he clenched his hands into fists and accidentally snapped the cigarette in half. Images flashed through his brain; a huge full moon shining bright in the sky, a field with tall grass and ragweed that smelled strongly of marshlands and blood... so much blood. The rest of it was too confusing, just a sound he heard like a voice that wouldn't leave, he couldn't even fully see anything else but he knew it was there, a memory he couldn't erase from his mind even if he couldn't entirely remember.

He let the broken cigarette drop to the floor, trying to calm his pounding heart, the breath that suddenly came too fast. He wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans and slowly regained his composure. "It would have been worse for me if I was left alone," Sin said flatly, finally.

Boyd noticed Sin's reaction, the edginess that seemed to appear, the way he was obviously upset by something. It surprised Boyd, enough that he didn't move at first, not wanting to make it worse by doing the wrong thing. Despite the fact that Sin was obviously trying to seem calm, the sudden paleness of his skin told another story. Boyd could almost see his pulse beating wildly in his neck and when he caught a glimpse of Sin's eyes, there was darkness and chaos within that he could tell Sin was struggling to contain.

That made Boyd feel angry with himself. Despite what he'd intended, he was once again just grilling Sin for more information about himself without giving anything back. To make it worse, he found himself asking about very personal matters, or bringing up topics that must be difficult or painful for Sin to discuss. Here he was, pushing his own points to Sin without considering his feelings. If Sin was so frustrated with Carhart for constantly bringing up things he didn't want to talk about, wouldn't he feel the same way with Boyd doing the same?

"Hey," Boyd said softly. He leaned forward and hesitantly placed a gentle hand on Sin's thigh. "I... I'm sorry. I get so indignant on your behalf that sometimes I don't think about what I'm saying." He drew in a deep breath and let it out. "It's good then, I guess, that you came in... If that helped you, then it's good."

The silence that stretched was so long that at first it didn't seem like Sin would answer. He stared down at the glowing cherry of his cigarette where it burned on the floor and he absently stamped it out with his foot. All traces of his previous disturbance slowly bled out of his posture and features. He was done with the topic and felt no more need to say anything else about it. "You know what? I don't want to talk anymore." He stood up abruptly and grabbed Boyd, lifting him effortlessly and carrying him across the room. "How about you do something else with your mouth instead."

Boyd almost tried to keep talking but he stopped himself. He needed to learn to respect boundaries with Sin and he'd already been told enough. He smiled after a beat, though he was still distracted. "Like what?"

Sin flung Boyd onto the bed and crawled up next to him, pulling him close and pressing an almost frantic kiss to his mouth. His tongue slipped between Boyd's lips and one of his hands slid down Boyd's shirt, towards his crotch. He touched Boyd with an almost desperate quality, as if he were trying to burn the memories and the thoughts out of his mind with the heat from Boyd's body and kisses. After a moment he pulled away, sucking on Boyd's lower lip for a bit after it ended. "Like wrapping it around my cock," He muttered softly.

Boyd watched him through half-closed eyes and tried to ignore the fact that sex was the last thing on his mind. Instead, he tried to concentrate on the feel of Sin's body against his. "I think I can handle that," he murmured.

They'd only been together a few times but it was very obvious that this time Sin was rougher and more demanding than he'd ever been before. His hands were like steel on Boyd and as their tongues twined and their bodies ground together, several times Sin yanked him around bodily to get him in the position that he wanted. His movements were almost impatient as though he wanted to do this as fast as possible; as though he were in a rush to get to a certain point because maybe then he could forget the things that had just been brought up.

They were more desperate than passionate and it was obvious to Boyd that Sin wasn't really thinking about him or the acts that were being performed on his body; he just wanted an easy outlet for his frustration. Even as Boyd's lips slid up and down his erection, Sin remained almost silent other than his harsh, heavy breathing. His fingers clenched in Boyd's hair almost painfully, slamming his hips up almost violently as if he just wanted to get off as quickly as possible. His eyes remained squeezed shut, eyebrows drawn together as he bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

It was also obvious that Boyd wasn't as into it; that he was distracted throughout the duration even though he went through the motions automatically. He kept his eyes closed and concentrated on not gagging as Sin thrust into his mouth as his mind continued to replay the conversation they'd just had; as he continued to feel troubled and anything but sexually excited. When Sin finally came it was more out of the natural reaction of his body than pleasure and when Boyd sat up on the bed and stared down at him, his stiff posture made it quite clear that he wasn't aroused and didn't really want anything more to happen sexually at the moment.

Sin stared up at Boyd with a blank expression on his face as he tried to catch his breath but the tension in his shoulders and the slight narrowing of his eyes gave away what seemed to be annoyance, displeasure. It wasn't clear why exactly he was angry but Boyd had the feeling it had something to do with his own lack of response to the feel of Sin's hands on his body or maybe even the fact that it hadn't taken his mind off of whatever Boyd had brought up.

They sat in complete silence for several long moments, the only sound was Sin's breathing as he slowly got it under control. His eyes closed briefly as he took a long deep breath. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He didn't know why he was reacting so badly to everything that was happening. He didn't want to be so annoyed by their lack of communication, or rather the fact that it was so one-sided. The Sin from six months ago wouldn't have given a shit because he wouldn't have been throwing all of this random information out there anyway. Talking about his father with Boyd just intensified that feeling. His parents were something that brought up some of the darkest memories he had, things he'd repressed because of what they did to him, what they'd turned him into, and he hated how visibly weak he became when certain things came up. He felt stupid for talking about it at all, especially when he'd told himself he wouldn't anymore. The lack of control he had over himself, the fact that he didn't stick to any decisions he made, drove him crazy and a big part of him blamed Boyd for it. If it wasn't for Boyd he wouldn't be this way, he wouldn't have changed.

His thoughts were a confusing jumble of aggravation and looming behind it all was the memory of that moonlit field covered in blood. His teeth grit and he sat up abruptly, raking a hand through his hair as he finally opened his eyes. "I'm going out," He said curtly and got to his feet, fixing his pants.

Boyd watched him, not saying anything as Sin pulled on a shirt. Within a minute Sin had left the apartment and the room seemed especially quiet after he was gone; for a few moments Boyd just stared at the door. He ran one hand down his arm where Sin had pulled him at one point, then he dropped back onto the bed, covering his closed eyes with his hands. "Shit," he muttered.

The very last thing he'd intended was to upset Sin or to make their interaction any more distant, yet that seemed to be what he'd ended up doing. He'd disturbed Sin enough that he felt the need to cut off their conversation with something Boyd hadn't really felt like doing. He kept seeing Sin's open expression that first time in the kitchen, that beautiful look that had captivated Boyd, and he compared it to the guarded, almost angry expression Sin just had. Boyd didn't particularly enjoy being moved around like a doll but he wasn't angry with Sin, he just felt that the entire situation was getting more awkward and complicated as it went and something needed to change it. He didn't want it to be like this from now on; conversations that ended up upsetting one or both of them and sex that wasn't fulfilling on either side. He obviously failed in his first attempt to remedy the situation but there was no way in hell he was stopping there, no way he would just let the matter lie like this.

Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out with an abrupt sigh, Boyd rolled off the bed and quickly looked around for a change of clothing. Sin hadn't been gone very long by the time Boyd left the studio and jogged out to the dark streets after him. The streets were not nearly as full as they were during the day, but they weren't empty. Between the groups of people and the darkness, it took Boyd a moment to tell that Sin wasn't within view, which meant he was probably angry enough that he was walking quickly or jogging away the frustration. Boyd glanced around the streets, took a moment to think of every habit he'd ever noticed of Sin's and which area of Monterrey would probably appeal to him, as well as any comment Sin may have made about places in Monterrey he liked most. Then he took an educated guess as to which direction Sin probably went and headed that way. He weaved through the intermittent crowds expertly, gone before most of them had even noticed he'd been there. Even though he didn't see Sin immediately he didn't let himself doubt his intuition; something told him Sin had headed this way so that was what he was going to believe.

After a few minutes of striding through the streets, gaze jerking around to every shadow and down every alley and street he passed, he finally saw Sin's familiar form a few streets away; he was taller than most of the people around him, which also made him easier to spot. Boyd walked quicker until he caught up to him, at which point he strode along at his side with his hands slid in his pockets. He looked over at Sin sidelong and greeted him simply, "Hey."

The greeting earned him an irritated glance and a scowl. "What would possibly possess you to follow me?"

Boyd shrugged with one shoulder, looking forward to idly scan the streets as they walked. "I wanted to talk," he said casually.

"If I wanted to talk I would have stayed at the studio," Sin replied blandly.

"Did I say you wanted to talk?" Boyd asked mildly. "I said I did."

That earned him another annoyed glance and Sin shook his head without bothering to respond.

Boyd studied him for a moment before looking away again. "Will you come with me? I want to show you something."

Sin shrugged. "If you want."

Boyd gave him a slight, one-sided smile. "I do," he said and turned down an alley, leading Sin toward a larger street. He hailed a taxi and climbed inside, motioning for Sin to follow. He noticed the look Sin gave him but since he didn't ask anything, Boyd didn't bother explaining. He leaned forward and told the taxi driver where to take them; it was a name Sin didn't recognize.

They sat in silence in the backseat and Boyd watched Sin, who looked out the window without making eye contact. The ride was just over ten minutes and ended on a street that looked no different than the ones they had passed. Boyd thanked and paid the taxi driver then waited until he drove away before he gestured for Sin to follow him. Sin raised an eyebrow but didn't bother saying anything. They walked for a few minutes, arriving on a small back road that seemed to lead into a forest. Boyd casually hopped a fence that warned against trespassing and Sin did as well after watching Boyd for a moment. He had no idea where they were going and Boyd obviously wasn't bothering to explain anything.

They walked another few minutes straight into the woods while Boyd glanced over a few times, gauging Sin's mood. He waited until they'd passed a small stream winding through the trees before he said, as if answering an unspoken question, "There are actually a few reasons I'm bringing you here."

"Oh?"

Inclining his head in assent, Boyd glanced around then led them to the right. "This used to be a nature reserve but the city has crowded around it and they drastically cut down the area in which animals are actually protected. Now it's a lot of forest with only one small section to the Northwest that actually has decent fences, perimeter checks, and guards." They wound further into the woods, the light growing dimmer as the canopy strengthened over them. It was already dark enough in the early morning hours but at least in the middle of Monterrey there had been streetlights; out in the park, all they had to light their way was the ambient light of the moon that made it through the thin clouds.

When Boyd wasn't glancing around to make sure they were going in the correct direction and that he wasn't about to trip on anything, he studied Sin. "This would make a good place to hide if you ever need it; there are any number of areas a person can disappear into and easily not be seen for days. As it's in a forest, there is also food, theoretically. I doubt I'd be able to find much to eat in here but I imagine you have more experience. I've also already checked the forest for any sign of surveillance; there are no cameras and I don't believe there are any bugs here other than the natural kind. All you have to know to get here is that Calle Santa is the closest street and it's a popular enough destination to the west that even if someone were tailing you, they would not necessarily think you were headed for the forest."

Sin nodded, looking around and taking in his environment as he absorbed the information. "That is good to know."

Boyd raised one shoulder in a shrug. "In case we get separated, I thought you should know." He took them down a small trail that led deeper into the woods. "I also think the scenery is nice." They walked up a slight incline that ended in a small clearing where the canopy was just thin enough that the moonlight made it through. Through some of the tree trunks, a creek could just be seen several yards away, creating a background whisper of water moving. Boyd stopped in the middle of the clearing, turning back to Sin with his hands slid into his pockets. "And it's secluded." He shifted so he was in a stream of light and sat down on a rock, motioning for Sin to come by him.

Sin stared at him for a moment before following although he didn't sit down. He stood over Boyd with his arms crossed loosely over his chest and sucked his lip ring into his mouth. "What are your other reasons?"

Boyd watched Sin, craning his neck so he could see him, and didn't answer at first. After a few moments of studying his expression, he turned toward the bit of the creek he could see and stared at it thoughtfully. Leaning back on his hands, he was quiet at first.

"I used to read about forests," Boyd said finally, shifting so he was more comfortable. "But I'd never been to one until I was on missions with you. Not real forests. There were a few grouping of trees in the parks, but it's not the same." He looked down at his hand, running his fingers along the fallen leaves, sticks and rocks littering the ground. "There aren't the same animals, it isn't as deep. The first time I was in one I found it rather alarming even if at the time I was too unaware of my own emotions to realize it. Landmarks aren't as easily visible as they are in the city and at first I thought I'd get lost if I had to be there on my own. It felt... overwhelming; every way you look, it's the same. But I'm generally good with the cardinal directions so I just went according to that."

He fell silent for a breath, turning a stone around in his hand, something about him seeming a little more somber. "I was supposed to go when I was ten, though. It was going to be a camping trip." His lips pulled to one side in a slight smile. "We had it planned out for years ahead of time, isn't that stupid? But it was going to be with Lou's family and they were very busy. There was far too much politically going on by the time the idea of a camping trip came up so they said when we were older, when they had more time, they would take us. They started buying equipment slowly, looking for the best deals because even though they were wealthy, Lou's mother liked bargains." Boyd flipped the stone to the ground and sighed quietly. "We were so excited."

Sin didn't respond for a moment as if he were waiting for Boyd to continue. When he didn't begin again automatically, Sin raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"The war happened first," Boyd said simply, looking over at Sin again. "His parents were killed when my father was. Lou's nanny came to my house to explain to us both what death meant and... I suppose Lou and I lost our desire to go camping. It didn't seem to matter anymore after he became an orphan, and even if I'd never been related to them it also hurt me. He lost both his parents but for me, it was like losing my biological father at the same time as my surrogate parents. If we'd attempted a trip after all, it probably would have been too..." He trailed off briefly, trying to think of the right word, then said a little quieter, "Well. We would have been thinking of them too much."

Sin didn't quite know how to respond and in truth, he wasn't entirely sure why Boyd was telling him this. Finally he nodded slowly. "Understandable."

Boyd pushed some hair out of his eyes and looked distantly at the creek. "I didn't bring you hear to talk about camping trips, I just got sidetracked." He was trying to figure out how to bring up the actual conversation he wanted to start; he looked up at Sin again to judge his expression and body language but it was difficult to tell at that angle. He raised an eyebrow, leaning back so he could see him better. "Would you sit down? It's uncomfortable having to look up any time I want to see you. We won't be here long if that's what is bothering you. Or are you just that uninterested in being anywhere near me?" The question was rhetorical, his tone making it more wry than anything.

"I'm more interested in you getting to the point," Sin said bluntly. He frowned and looked away for a moment, glaring at nothing in particular. "I'm not angry with you, if that is what you are concerned about. You don't have to do this in some effort to appease me." His gaze slid over to Boyd again. "I'm aggravated by many things at the moment. Not you in particular."

Raising his eyebrows, Boyd looked over, studying him. "I've barely told you anything about myself since we met, and I've had plenty of chances, including times when I've honestly thought you were angry with me. Why would I suddenly try to placate you with random trivia from my life when I never did before?" There was nothing mean in his tone; if anything, he sounded as though he couldn't believe Sin would think that. "I don't know what this seems like to you, but I'm being serious. I want to talk to you. I wouldn't have chased you after you seemed annoyed and brought you all the way out here to suddenly start talking about my life if that weren't the case."

"I don't know what it seems like to me. I don't even know if I give a damn about knowing anything anymore," Sin replied in a tone that seemed almost weary. "Just do whatever you want." He continued to stand over Boyd for a long moment before shaking his head and finally sitting down on the ground.

A slight smile crossed Boyd's face when Sin sat down and he inclined his head. "Thank you," he said quietly. He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his arms across them, falling silent for a moment as he studied Sin's expression almost thoughtfully. "This is probably going to seem like I'm rambling, but... I'm not very good at this. I haven't talked about myself much before and I don't really know how to do it. So just... stop me with questions whenever you want."

He paused just long enough for Sin to know he was serious about that before he continued. Looking away, he absently pulled some hair behind his ear and stared at the creek through the trees. "I met Lou when I was very young," he said, his expression a little distant. "Technically, the first time we met was when we were about four. I don't know if you know anything about my father, but he was a journalist. He was interviewing Lou's parents, who were both liberal politicians, and somehow they really got along. Apparently he decided to have a 'play date' with Lou and me because I was fairly antisocial. I've been told that we met in a park and that it was pretty awkward."

Sin raised an eyebrow at that but otherwise remained silent. He didn't particularly know what to say and he didn't know where Boyd was going with the story but Lou was someone he'd always wanted to know more about, him and his relationship with Boyd. As irritated as Sin was, he was still curious about Boyd and his past.

Boyd paused. "That's not my first memory of him, though; I mostly know we met in the park first because I was told the story. I don't remember meeting him until after I'd started school. My first year with the other children was... not particularly good." Boyd tilted his head toward Sin, watching him as he said simply, "They didn't like me. Not all of them, of course, but some. The rest mostly ignored me or didn't care either way. Aside from the time my father apparently tried to get Lou and me to get along, I had never really been exposed to other children. I didn't fit in and didn't know how to, which must have made me seem very strange to them." Boyd didn't look away from Sin though he started to play with the underbrush absently.

"My mother had been teaching me some things early on, probably because she was interested in having an intelligent child. I could already speak some French, I was fairly serious and spoke in complete sentences with large words, and I had good manners. For people like me, who were born around the time of the first bombs, there weren't as many luxuries as those even a few older than us seemed to have. There were a lot of children who had lost family members, parents, loved ones. A lot of them were very poor, too. I've read in stories where the poor kids were the ones who were picked on but in my class it seemed to be the opposite; the majority didn't have a lot in the first place so those who did stood out. Many of them dressed raggedly and hadn't had the chance for anything extra like being home tutored by a parent; most of them didn't even have one parent at all, let alone two. My parents were not wealthy but we had enough money and stability to live fairly comfortably even during those first few years of crisis. We could only do that because they were working constantly, because I was left alone sometimes, because I typically didn't ask for much."

Boyd paused, looking at a leaf he was flipping around on the ground. "But the other children didn't know about that or care. To them, I was pretentious, strange, and a know-it-all." He made a soft, wry sound. "It bothered me a little. It wasn't that I had a problem with being ignored or alone, but I suppose I just... wanted to be accepted. I would see them laughing and I wanted to do the same, but I couldn't. There was one group in particular who seemed to actively dislike me. When I tried to approach them they fell silent and gave me strange looks. Eventually, my attempts just made it worse for myself as some went from ignoring to bullying me."

He flipped the leaf over a few times idly. "At the time, my father was gone more days than he was there, so my mother was the one I explained the situation to, asking what I should do." He smiled a little mirthlessly to himself. "I think she thought I was exaggerating so she told me not to make a scene, which ended up equating to me making a very easy target because I didn't fight back; I just tried to move away from them until they grew bored. That worked for the most part but as the year progressed, they started to grow bolder."

Sin wondered idly how children would have reacted to him if he'd ever been sent to school. The idea almost amused him because he was pretty sure that whatever the case was, it would have ended with him killing the other children the first time they touched him the wrong way. He couldn't decide if that was worse than being bullied but refrained from asking mostly because he didn't want to interrupt Boyd.

Boyd didn't give himself the chance to stop talking; he just kept going, not even really looking at Sin because if his expression was anything that would distract him, it would be difficult to continue. "By the time I was going into first grade, that group of children had decided they enjoyed harassing me. Truthfully, it was probably mostly their ringleaders that disliked me but that didn't stop the others from following." Boyd dropped the leaf and leaned back on his hands, finally looking up at Sin again. "My first memory of Lou is actually from school. The details aren't very important of that day, and it's been long enough that I'm sure I've skewed them in my mind, but the part I remember most is that in the middle of that group bullying me, Lou suddenly appeared and made them back off. I remember being shocked that anyone stopped them, that anyone cared. I remember him yelling at them and hitting the one who had started it all. And I remember him turning to me and asking if I was alright."

Boyd fell silent briefly, something almost sad in his expression. "It..." he started, then looked away and sighed, pushing hair out of his eyes distractedly. He hadn't thought about any of this for years, hadn't had to recall what it was like when he just met Lou and what it was like before. And he'd certainly never told anyone any of this before. He shifted forward, studying the trees for a moment before making himself look over at Sin again. "It really... meant a lot to me. He was practically a stranger but he still protected me. He put himself in a position where those kids, for awhile, harassed both of us. But he didn't care. We were in the same class that year and after that he went out of his way to be around me, to look out for me, to... be my friend. At first, I didn't believe that he actually wanted that. I thought it was completely bizarre that a complete stranger would bother to help me. But at the same time, I was incredibly grateful. I'd started to dread school and I thought it would always be like that. But he was so forthright and he was always there to help me. It didn't take long for me to realize he was serious and to be his friend in return. At the time, I had no idea why he had initially helped me. Later, I realized it's because that's just how he was. He didn't like to see people bullied in front of him and I think he also remembered me from the park."

Boyd paused, watching Sin a little more seriously for a moment. "I'm telling you this because... I don't really remember life before Lou. Not very clearly. The parts I do remember were... very lonely. I was socially awkward, I didn't know how to relate to anyone my age, no one had really liked or understood me, and no one had any reason to. He changed a lot for me. Within a year, we were practically inseparable. I can't..." He shook his head to himself helplessly. "I don't know if I could ever properly explain to anyone how important he was. How much he meant to me. Even just the fact that he cared was enough. He was the only one who was around consistently, the only one who always wanted to know how I was, where I was. My father loved me but he couldn't help being away, and then he was suddenly gone. For the most part, for much of my life, it was only Lou who cared. Not my mother, not family because I had none other than her, not people at school because I didn't really have friends; not anyone in the world, really, except Lou. When I think about what would have happened if he'd never decided to help me that day, if he hadn't been determined to be my friend..." Boyd fell quieter. "I just don't know who I would have become."

There was another silence but this was one wasn't full of tension and Sin almost looked contemplative as he surveyed his partner, head tilted to the side and eyes shadowed by his bangs. "How did he react when he found out his parents were killed?"

Boyd was quiet at first, remembering that day and Lou's expression, the guilty looks Lou's nanny Mary kept sending them, the cold, unapproachable aura his mother had given off. "He was shocked at first," he said quietly. "I think he knew something was wrong because Mary brought him over to my house without explanation and his parents were supposed to have been home already. Even so, I don't think he understood. Even after Mary explained, we just couldn't really believe it. We had seen his parents recently; it didn't seem possible they could be gone forever."

He drew his eyebrows down slightly, his expression turning more distant as he thought about those first days. "He was like me; his parents were his only family. Even if I lost my father in that same bomb, I still had a mother, a house. He was brought back to his house with the nanny for a few days before social workers came and took him away, brought him to an orphanage. I'm fairly certain he lost his house as well." Something about Boyd's expression darkened slightly. "I didn't even know. I wanted to see him but he lived too far away to get there on my own. He could have disappeared forever and it would have taken me weeks to even realize what happened, if I ever got the truth at all."

Boyd seemed to come back to himself a little, refocusing on Sin's face, on the woods surrounding him. He fought the urge to look away distractedly and just shook his head once to himself. "Instead, he suddenly showed up at my house one day. He said he ran away and ended up staying with me for awhile at my house. My mother was almost never home so she didn't realize for a few months. He became... more reckless, I guess, as he grew older. Or maybe he was just bolder. It seemed like he thought he could handle anything. The more trouble he got in, the less he would admit it. We never really talked about his parents or my father; I don't think either of us really wanted to think about it. But I think he was afraid something would happen to me, maybe that I would die too. For awhile, he shadowed me a lot of the time, found reasons to touch me more, made sure he was there whenever I had to leave the house." Boyd lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "But, I... didn't mind. Honestly, it made me feel better. I think... I was afraid too."

Sin nodded and thought about that. He remembered the videos he'd seen of Louis and it wasn't hard to picture him behaving in the manner that Boyd described. He pursed his lips together as he thought of the intimate way they looked at each other, touched each other, the desperate way they'd reached for each other as Jared had done his best to fillet Lou. Sin narrowed his eyes slightly and asked mostly because he was curious, "How did the two of you become lovers?"

Studying Sin's expression, Boyd smiled slightly. "I was rather oblivious but he'd been realizing over time that he was interested in me as more than a friend. One day, when we were just joking around as usual, he suddenly kissed me." The smile grew and he seemed amused, his gaze a little distant as he thought about it. "It was very awkward at first, actually. He tried to apologize and I didn't know what the hell was going on. But once I knew what he wanted I started to think about what I wanted as well. I realized I felt the same way about him and... I suppose it went from there."

That made sense, Sin supposed. It didn't seem surprising that, what were essentially two orphaned children, found comfort in being together in every way and in becoming so close. "Did your mother know?"

Boyd shook his head. "Not at first, not for awhile. She wasn't around enough to know or care. And even before we'd become lovers, Lou had been around the house during most of the times she'd stopped home. So to her, nothing probably changed at first. Even so, I think she started to guess something had happened. I'm sure we acted differently around each other and Lou..." Looking mildly exasperated, Boyd shrugged. "He was... incorrigible. He didn't like my mother very much, he never had. The feeling was mutual, really. He thought she was a bitch and she thought he was inferior. We never talked about what Lou and I were to each other but I think she knew, somewhere along the line. Then one day Lou told her bluntly that he'd slept with me and that was probably all the confirmation she needed."

Ah, the video. "He seems to have been quite a character."

Boyd couldn't help a brief, sudden breath of a chuckle. "That's one way to put it, yes. He was very... alive. When he was in the room, it was impossible for me not to know. We got along very well for the most part, despite a few long-standing arguments. But his personality didn't work as well with others sometimes. His bravado got him in trouble many times."

"Is that how he got mixed up with Jared and his gang?" He couldn't help asking the question; the video had clearly implied it. It seemed very much like Lou had gotten himself mixed up in something, with someone, he had no business messing around with because he obviously couldn't handle the repercussions. Sin stared at Boyd unflinchingly and raised both eyebrows this time. "Or did it have something to do with his illegal activity to get money?"

Boyd looked at Sin alertly, the amusement fading from his expression. Even if he welcomed questions, it was uncanny how much Sin knew. "How the hell do you know all this anyway? I never even told you Lou's name, yet you know to ask those questions." His posture was a little tense but after a moment he just looked away, staring at the trees. "I don't... know what illegal activity you somehow are suspicious of. I don't..." His expression darkened and he looked back at Sin. "I don't know what... Jared's problem was. All I know is... Lou would come home sometimes with money despite not having a job. I asked him at first where he was getting it but every time he blew it off. He said he did an odd job or he did someone a favor, things like that. After awhile I just... stopped asking. I knew it was more than that but I trusted him not to do anything terrible. And he wasn't stupid; he really just wanted the money to live and so we could get our own place."

Sin shrugged casually. "It was in your file. They do a very thorough background check on everyone they consider hiring and everyone that person is or was connected with to ensure that they have no affiliations with other organizations."

"Ah." Boyd considered that, studying Sin. "And you read it? My file?"

"Yes. I wanted to know more about you."

That must have been before Sin appeared at Ryan's apartment and asked him to research information. Even so... "And... Jared? You knew about him because... there's a part in there about Lou, how he was killed?"

"Of course." Sin leaned back on the palms of his hands and stared at Boyd as he tried to figure out how to go about discussing this. He had no intentions of ever bringing up the video; if Boyd had reacted so poorly to simply seeing his friend's ring, Sin didn't want to think about what would happen if he ever saw the footage. "There was not much details but from the police report and the other information included, it seemed that Jared was suspected in a variety of murders in that area and others, including some of the ones the police attempted to pin me with." Sin made a face. "However, the police were very crooked during that time and some articles also implied that the police were in league with many gangs including Jared's, so coincidentally evidence was never found to pin him with anything solid."

The thought made Boyd fall silent. It was as they'd implied before... Jared had never received true justice so Sin did it for him. Boyd shifted so his hands rested in his lap and he stared at the wide dark bands covering his wrists, the paleness of his skin in the muted light of the moon. His fingers trailed along one band before he dropped the hand into his lap and looked up at Sin, his expression hard to read although he seemed more troubled than displeased. "What else did you see?"

"Not much." Sin thought about the file, the things he'd seen, the images that had been there. "There were many stills from surveillance cameras that showed the two of you together at different ages. That is actually how I picked up on the fact that you were possibly more than friends," Sin lied. "There was also information on your father."

The first time Lou kissed Boyd had actually been out in the open, even if it was dark at the time. Although Boyd was well aware that there were cameras that still functioned dotted across the city, for some reason it hadn't occurred to him that there would be a picture of that, but it had to be what Sin was referring to. Or at least one of the stills. It almost made him want to see his own file, to see those pictures, but before he thought about that too much he realized what else Sin said. "My father? Really? What did it say?"

"Mostly had information on his career and his affiliations," Sin replied. He tried to remember what else it had said but he'd mostly been interested in the home video, which he once again did not intend to bring up. "I was more interested in Louis."

A ghost of a smile crossed Boyd's face. "It's strange hearing you call him that. No one called him by his full name, not even his parents." At the time he joined the Agency, he honestly hadn't cared about anything so the idea of a background check did not even occur to him. After a few months, he'd realized they would check him but he hadn't thought about the Agency looking in depth into those around him, though it made sense. "If you read about Lou enough to know that..." He almost didn't finish the question but he couldn't help himself, he wanted to know. "Then what did you think?"

"About Louis?"

"Yes."

Another shrug. "I am not sure what I think of him. I thought he was interesting. Before I realized he was dead I didn't like the idea of this random kid hanging around you. However when I found out how he was killed, I grew very angry on your behalf and I suppose his."

Boyd didn't answer at first though he looked over at Sin, studying everything he could see of him; his expression, his posture, his body language. His muscles automatically tensed at the thought of what he intended to say but it was a reaction he could ignore. He'd already told Sin far more about himself than he ever expected to want to tell anyone. Part of him still wanted to stop there, wanted to just say that was all he had to say and it was time they got back. But then he remembered Sin's form in the shadows of his kitchen, the near-glowing intensity of his eyes as he watched Boyd, and later how he asked Boyd if he even knew what Sin had done for him. He'd thanked Sin for what he did to Jared, but... But, of anyone alive, he knew that Sin deserved more than just a few words as gratitude and explanation.

He dropped his gaze down to his lap and absently, maybe a little nervously, played with the edge of one of his wrist bands. He was quiet for long enough that it didn't seem he would say anything but then he spoke. "I don't... You probably know what happened, with Jared and Lou. You must, if you knew about the ring. But... It..." He stopped, mildly frustrated by his inability to say a complete sentence, and tried again. "I saw... everything Jared did to him, and it..." He trailed off again, this time trying to find the right words, trying to make himself say what he wanted.

Sin frowned slightly and leaned forward, staring at Boyd intently. This was obviously a hard thing for Boyd to talk about, his tone and body language gave that much away, and for some reason it only made Sin want to know more. Other than the brief hospital stays he knew Boyd had experienced after his friend's death, he had no idea of the details and he wanted to know why Boyd did the things he did, why he was the way he was. But at the same time he almost didn't want to push the subject, not after what had happened last time. "Are you sure you want to talk about this?" He asked slowly.

Boyd sighed and met Sin's gaze. "Yes," he said without hesitation, "I do. It's just..." He cut himself off and looked away, studying the trees. He seemed pensive, haunted, and was quiet for long enough that once again it seemed he wouldn't say anything. The sounds of the forest infiltrated around them; the whisper of the branches in the slight wind, the creaking of the trunks, the distant sound of night animals. But then a flash of a mirthless smile pulled at his lips and he tilted his head toward Sin. "When we were fifteen, Lou decided to get a tattoo." He said it with a little less difficulty than before, trying to treat it like a story rather than a memory. "He'd joked for years that if he lived to be sixteen, he would live forever. When we were younger, right after the bombs hit, we saw so many people dead and dying that even sixteen seemed forever away. So as that age approached, we decided to get complementary tattoos."

Boyd paused, smirking to himself. "We looked up Latin phrases as a joke at first, but then we realized we could get concepts across much easier that way and somehow the idea stayed." He tilted his head, his eyes seeming to focus a little more on the moment, become a little more intent on Sin. "On his lower stomach, Lou got 'Luctor et Emergo;' 'I struggle but I'll survive.' He was always getting into trouble, always the one who had the energy to fight back at the system, at life. But he always made it through. It seemed appropriate."

He dropped his hand to his lower left stomach, near his hip. "For myself, I had them write 'Ad Vitam Paramus;' 'We are preparing for life.' At the time, I thought we were finally getting control of our lives. I was doing well in school, Lou was settling down some. For years I'd just been taking each day as it came but I was finally starting to believe in a future. Lou told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me and so I had that tattooed on me; a reminder, maybe, of the fact there was more to life than that house and books." Boyd's fingers pressed against his shirt over his hip and smiled bitterly. "He got his wish, I suppose. We just didn’t know his life would only last four more months."

Sin's eyes followed the motion of Boyd's hand before straying slowly to what he could see of his partner's back. 'Through my greatest fault', he'd said, and 'Worthless body'. "And you got the others after that." It was more of a statement than a question but it confused him. Did Boyd think he had somehow been responsible for his friend's death? The footage had told an entirely different story and Sin couldn't possibly understand why Boyd would think something like that. His mouth turned down slightly and he studied the blond without commenting further as he replayed the murder in his mind. For the first time all thoughts of his father, of his own aggravation, were forgotten as he tried to understand.

Boyd made a soft, humorless sound. "Not immediately; I gave myself something else first." He watched Sin with a strange intensity. "I blamed myself for Lou's death; he wouldn't have even been out there if I hadn't wanted milk for my fucking tea. And when it happened, I just... let him die. I was right there and I couldn't even do anything. And somehow, losing Lou made me remember losing my father all over again." He fell silent briefly, the thought starting to snowball, bringing back memories and thoughts and the impression of that time. Something dark crept into his eyes and tone. "When they released me from the hospital, I went to that house with the memories that were too real. I think... I went a little crazy."

His eyes unfocused slightly, as if he was watching something other than Sin. He could remember that house so clearly, every square foot of it burned into his brain like the afterimage of staring at the sun. "I'd hear them, my father and Lou, speaking sometimes. Whispers. I'd walk down the hall and swear I saw movement, saw them standing there, but when I turned I was alone. I'd remember things so clearly it was like it was happening right then. Lou laughing in my room, my father's keys clacking in his room. Sometimes I felt a presence – not like a ghost, but like I knew someone was standing near me, the hair would rise on my skin – but they weren't there. They were never there. Every fucking time, I was alone."

Boyd's voice dropped quieter, the darkness growing in his expression. "And when I closed my eyes... I saw it. I felt it. Every time, that terrible gurgling, the blood spraying my face, I felt the ground under me and when I dreamed, I could never move. I was struggling against them, screaming so hard my voice would crack and I'd wake up and it wasn't a dream, I was actually screaming, but there was no blood on me; I was gone from there even if my mind couldn't cope. If I stared into the shadows, if I looked around, all I saw were memories imprinted on the walls. Things I couldn't forget. The people who were gone, the only ones who cared that I lived."

Sin said nothing at first and simply watched Boyd with an unreadable expression on his face. He took in the haunted expression, the dark chaos that seemed to drift behind Boyd's eyes and wondered if that was how he looked when he remembered things from his own past. He looked away after awhile and stared at the water, leaning forward so that his arms rested on his knees. "Is that what drove you to attempt suicide?"

Sliding his gaze down to his hands, Boyd nodded silently. He studied the dark wrist bands, the wrinkles on his button-down shirt. His voice was calm but a little distant when he spoke. "At first it was the tattoo. Those words mocked me; that life we'd prepared didn't exist. I just... hated it. I never wanted to see it again. So I went to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and tried to destroy it." He said it so casually that it seemed like he was talking about something far more inane than stabbing himself.

Sin nodded, face expressionless despite the way his eyes narrowed slightly.

Boyd drew his eyebrows down. "But then... I couldn't stop. Lou... died because of me. Any time he'd been in trouble before, he got out safely. If I hadn't been standing there, too weak to get away, fight back or at least fucking help him, then he wouldn't have hesitated. They wouldn't have used me against him, and he would have lived." His eyes narrowed. "It was my fault. I killed him. So when I found the knife... I had to do it. I wanted to feel what he felt, I wanted--"

He stopped himself, falling silent for half a breath with his eyes narrowing, then spoke again with a decidedly neutral tone. "That time, I wasn't... thinking clearly, I can't remember everything. But..." He turned his palms up, studying the way his fingers curled laxly. He slowly made a fist and let his fingers relax, watching the movement before he said quietly, "I remember wanting to die. I remember... screaming, I think, and it was hard to see through the tears. I remember... uncontrollably stabbing, all over." He slid his gaze up to meet Sin's eyes. The darkness of that memory shifting in his eyes, a slightly crazed look despite his otherwise calm expression. "But what I remember the most is the knife slipping in my hands. There was too much blood, I should have worn gloves. It got between my hands and the hilt, made it harder... to hold, to keep going. To make it count. I was... upset I hadn't thought of that."

There was a breath of silence as Sin studied Boyd calmly, his fingers absently rubbing against a tear in his jeans. "And so how did you survive?"

"My mother." He blinked, some of the darkness receding, and he looked away to study the trees. "I was unlucky. Any number of days she hadn't been home and she happened to come by then. She found me and took me to the hospital."

"How does that make you unlucky? You sound as though you wish you'd succeeded in this venture," Sin replied in an almost annoyed tone.

Boyd raised an eyebrow and gave Sin a look. "I did wish it at the time. And it's not like there's never been a time since that I haven't felt the same."

"Why should you feel the same? Your reasoning doesn't make sense to me considering nothing that occurred was your fault."

"How would you know what is and isn't my fault?" Boyd asked with more of an edge than he'd intended. This was something he'd been struggling with for years and the idea of Sin just trying to dismiss any of his responsibility for the situation without fully understanding made Boyd a little edgy. He wasn't angry but there was something tense in the way he held himself and the expression on his face. "You weren't there; you don’t know everything that happened. And even if somehow you do, it doesn't matter. I was there, I knew him, I knew how he worked. He shouldn't have died. It doesn't have to be about him, either. He's not the only reason I've ever given up hope."

He didn't see what Boyd being there and knowing Louis had to do with anything. The fact of the matter was that Louis had gotten himself mixed up with the people in the video while Boyd had not even known them and then Louis had failed to defend himself or get away which is why he died. Boyd hadn't been trained as a fighter at the time and as far as Sin understood, it seemed like he'd led a somewhat sheltered life. There was no reason why he should have been able to save Louis and so it made no sense to Sin that he blamed himself. It seemed like he was trying to protect this memory of Lou as some courageous figure who did no wrong when really he'd seemed like a kid with too big of a mouth and not much to back it up. Sin, however, wasn't going to be the one to point this out to Boyd. "Well if you're that determined to take the blame, that's fine but it still doesn't make sense," Sin replied.

Boyd sighed but he was slightly mollified by Sin's response and some of the tension left his shoulders as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. "It doesn't have to make sense to anyone," he said, sounding a little tired. "I'm not trying to convince you of anything, I'm just telling you what happened as I see it."

"I see." Long fingers continued to toy with the ragged edge of the tear. "And the second time?"

It was a little easier to talk that time so there wasn't much of a space before Boyd answered. "My mother thought the truth was unbecoming so she told the hospital I had been attacked. She managed to get me out of the hospital after I was physically stable." He watched the trees again, the way the leaves moved in the wind. His hair moved into his eyes but he ignored it this time, just let the dyed red cloud his vision as he shifted his gaze to stare at the water through the trees. "But she ignored the psychiatrists who felt I needed... intervention." His tone was fairly casual, though there was something else that was hard to place. "I went back to the house where, unsurprisingly, I had the same problems as before. She disappeared again and I thought I had a second chance. So one day I got the tattoos on my back then went home and slit my wrists."

The motion of Sin's fingers halted and he paused for a long moment before leaning forward slightly and wrapping them around one of Boyd's wrists. Although the cuffs were wide enough to hide whatever lay beneath he now understood why Boyd constantly wore them. He didn't undo the band although his thumb rubbed absently against it as he wondered if there were times when Boyd still thought he had reason to give up hope. "Was your mother in the house again?"

Boyd's gaze was drawn down to Sin's fingers, warm against his skin. "The same thing happened," he said after a moment. "She found me just in time to save me. I went to the hospital and they said I needed help. It was a lot harder for her to talk her way out of it this time." It was strange; he hadn't told anyone any of this, yet he trusted Sin enough to. Part of it was because, once again, Sin seemed to be hesitating just before he did anything to upset Boyd. Like when his hand had started to slide beneath his shirt and he'd stopped, Boyd watched where Sin's thumb rested and he thought he may want to see beneath the band. But Sin didn't ask to see and it was for that reason that Boyd felt like it would be okay to show him. He reached over and silently ran his fingers against Sin's so he knew his next move was not a rebuke. Then he pushed Sin's hand away just enough to take the band off and rested his wrist so the scar was in plain view and in Sin's reach. "It's alright," he said quietly.

The scar was thick, jagged and stood out in stark contrast to Boyd's otherwise flawless skin. The pad of Sin's callused thumb brushed against it idly as he studied the other man calmly. "Why is it so difficult for you to show your scars? It's nothing to be ashamed of." He shrugged, a roll of his shoulders, "It's just another part of who you are and what makes you, you. Just like how all of the scars on my body are from events that helped make me the way I am now."

Other than his clothing, the wrist bands, and, for awhile, a tracking device from the Agency, nothing had touched that scar since it had healed over. Sin's thumb brushing against it caught his attention and for a moment he didn't respond, he just stared at Sin's hand against his wrist. He was caught by Sin's skin tone, a few shades darker than his, and the casual gentleness with which he touched Boyd. For all that Sin thought he couldn't be anything but a killer, that his hands were most capable of hurting others, at that moment Boyd felt safer with him touching those scars than he would have even with his own hand. When he looked up, he searched Sin's expression for anything implying that he wasn't sincere, that he saw something unworthy or disgusting in the scars like Boyd had for so many years, but Sin seemed serious.

A slight smile crossed his face but it was almost sad; Boyd dropped his head, letting his hair partially cover his expression. "Thank you," he said quietly, "but I don't know if it's shame or fear. Maybe... I'm hiding them from myself more than anything. Like I want to... deny that they exist." He pulled some hair behind his ear and tilted his face toward Sin, his expression serious. "And the only ones who had ever... seen and said anything about the scars were my mother and myself. She's never had anything good to say about the entire incident and I've always... been too affected by it. So I've never had reason to do anything but hate and fear them. Avoid them, like I do anything that I think will be complicated or difficult."

"What does your mother say about it? What was her take on the entire situation?"

"She thinks it's a disgrace to my father's name and refers to it as my 'little drama,'" Boyd said almost offhandedly. "That's probably why she fought so hard to keep it off my record; it would look bad for her if it became known that she had a crazy, self-destructive son." He raised an eyebrow and added dryly, "People would talk."

"I'd love to say I'm surprised but I'm not." Sin pulled his hand away and sat up straight. "But not everyone thinks like her. Why would you think I would?"

The question surprised Boyd; he looked at Sin thoughtfully, considering that. His eyebrows furrowed slightly but he didn't look away. "I didn't really think about it," he said honestly. "It's... not a personal thing in that I thought you would think like her; it's just that I assumed everyone would. I've only ever had her and my opinion to judge that entire situation by and I never had reason to think anyone would disagree with her. I didn't... really know what you would think about any of this. It's just..." He met Sin's gaze openly and seriously. "I suppose I thought it was important enough to tell you this, even if you reacted the same way she did. You're the only one I'd do that for."

"Why?"

Boyd shrugged. "Because I trust you," he said simply. "Because you've explained parts of your life to me so I thought, of anyone, you deserved explanations of mine. And I guess... because we're partners."

Sin raised an eyebrow and studied Boyd for a long moment as if he were trying to gauge the sincerity of his words. After awhile he let his eyes drop and reached out again, running his hand lightly over the front of Boyd's shirt. "Do you trust me enough to let me see under your shirt?"

Boyd couldn't help tensing slightly at the question, at the idea of showing anyone, but he knew it didn't matter; he'd just explained the story to Sin, it wasn't like he had no idea what to expect. And Boyd had intended to show him anyway; he'd changed into a button down for that very purpose. More than anything, it was an automatic aversion, something ingrained in him after several years of hiding. But he was tired of acting that way. Drawing in a breath that he let out slowly, he nodded. "Yes," he said seriously.

Looking down, he started to unbutton his shirt with fingers that wanted to shake. He could feel Sin watching closely and his skin tingled when the shirt fell open bit by bit, as he could feel fresh air moving against him. By halfway through and before anything could really be seen, Boyd watched Sin rather than his own chest as it was revealed. Even if he'd decided to show Sin, it didn't mean he wanted to see it as well. As he undid the last button, he pulled his shirt completely open so Sin could see his entire chest and stomach. He swallowed, his muscles automatically tensing out of guardedness, but his expression remained resolute. Leaning back on his hands, he made no move to cover himself up, even if a part of him desperately wanted to do so.

The scars snaked across his torso with ragged slashes and thicker, noticeably deeper cuts. It was obvious that he'd been stabbing at himself wildly; most of the cuts were scattered in an almost haphazard way. Sin studied them calmly, his expression unreadable even as he traced the scars lightly with his hand. He didn't know what Boyd saw when he looked at himself but other than the fact that the wounds were a reminder of how badly Boyd had once wanted to die, he saw nothing unattractive about his partner's body. Beneath the web of scars, his skin was pale and flawless while his chest and stomach were as well toned as the rest of his body.

Sin's eyes rose and he raised an eyebrow at Boyd as a half smirk found its way onto his face. "Does that mean we can take a shower together next time?"

Boyd blinked, not expecting that response at all, and couldn't help a brief, helpless laugh. Sin had a tendency to catch him off-guard when he least expected it but somehow it made him feel better, as if nothing had really changed between them. Boyd had been so determined to tell Sin that he hadn't thought through what Sin's response would be but maybe some part of him really had wondered if Sin would look at him differently if he knew about the scars and the reason behind them. Whether he would look down on him as his mother had, or just think Boyd wasn't as strong as he was, or whether he'd see him as weak for having tried to kill himself and then failing at it twice. But he couldn't really think that way with Sin treating him like normal, and it was mainly for that reason that much of the tension left him. "Maybe," he said with a light smirk. "If you ask nicely."

Sin leaned forward again, but this time he closed his hand around Boyd's shirt and pulled him close. "This is me asking nicely."

Boyd felt his heartbeat increase and his gaze automatically dropped down to the glint off Sin's lip ring. "Is that so?" he asked a little softer. "Then I suppose this is me accepting."

"Good." When Sin's lips met his, it was with the same fiery intensity that had been there the first time they'd touched each other. It wasn't awkward and stilted as it'd been mere hours ago and when his tongue slid into Boyd's mouth, his hands slid down further beneath the open shirt and this time Boyd didn't cringe away from his touch.

Continue to Ch 31 ~ Deeper