Chapter Forty-One

Recrudesce

9/9/07

Boyd had spent months too tired or depressed to get out of his bed to do little more than wander around the house or eat whatever small amount of food he could bother with at the time. Earlier his dreams and nightmares had been so vivid that they'd spread into the days; he still didn't know which parts he had and had not hallucinated, which parts were only dreams and which reality. But that could not have sustained itself forever; with enough time, even his imagination had lost all sense of color or intensity during the day and instead he'd fallen into an all-encompassing state of apathy. After long enough, it had seemed like he would have nothing else to look forward to; that the days spent in a half-slumbering state were just carbon copied and repeated indefinitely. So when Sin had suddenly appeared one night alive and relatively well, it was with a sense of confused shock that Boyd had responded, and even long after he'd disappeared, he had found himself glancing quickly at the door as if wondering if that had really happened or thinking maybe, somehow, Sin was coming back sooner than either had expected.

He'd wished, a few days after Sin had left, that he'd thought to ask him to leave something behind. As it was, paranoia and doubt started to creep in. It was too impossible to believe that Sin was still alive and doing well, that he was relatively healthy, that he displayed no signs of brain damage, although he had looked as though he hadn't been feeling entirely well when he'd stopped in. And even more than that, to actually hope for Sin to not blame him for everything, to still want him around. It was almost too much to accept. In Boyd's experience, life did not often work quite so well in his favor, and he was dumbfounded as to why it should this time.

It was spring and there were no footsteps in the snow to leave lasting impressions to prove whether or not that had been a particularly vivid ghost. And even if he operated on the mindset that Sin was alive then there was still the possibility that something had happened when he had returned to the compound. Perhaps the fact that he had broken out of the medical wing resulted in punishment that incapacitated him? But why would they bother to fix him only to break him again the moment he was well? Then again, could he really expect anything at this point to follow logic? If Sin was correct, then his own punishment and termination may or may not have been all that particularly logical. But with Connors calling the shots, anything was possible, especially if it was not something that worked in Sin or Boyd's favor.

Even so, some sense of him couldn't quite give up on the idea that it had happened. He could remember too vividly Sin turning the gun on himself; he could recall too clearly the feel of those tense, broad shoulders beneath his hands, the smell that wasn't quite right surrounding him as he'd buried his face in Sin's hoody. But thinking so much about that started to bring back other thoughts, too. When he'd first returned from the Agency he'd found himself snapping awake from the midst of nightmares and the images would follow into reality. When his hands got caught under the sheets or he buried them under the pillow, his heart would jolt and he'd throw himself awake, terrified that he was still being held down, that he was still in that room with those pictures and those words surrounding him, the image of Lou being slaughtered pasted on the ceiling above him and his screams mixing with the screams of himself when he was younger, when he'd lost everything; even, temporarily, his sanity and sense of self. When he'd first been released from fourth, he'd had terrible dreams of Sin; of his death, of his dying, of watching the results of the torture bloom across his body and the echoing crack of bones dislocating and breaking under the onslaught of Janus' disregard for his life. And the entire time Sin would watch him, unforgiving and unrelenting, demanding without words why Boyd had let them do that to him.

Previously, he'd just let it happen; he'd believed every condemning word he could hear whispered in the dark, in his mind, and he'd turned it upon himself. But with the possibility of Sin still being alive, still being interested in being around him, and, most of all, not blaming him for what had happened even if Boyd still couldn't understand why, he was trying to change that mindset. Now, he tried to turn the thoughts in other directions. When he started thinking about JKS and everything that had gone wrong there, he tried instead to think about the times before that; the way Sin looked when he smirked and the sound of that first startled laugh when Boyd had been overwhelmed by the kitchen. When he dreamed in slow motion of finding Sin in the basement, of the flickering lights and the blood like paint splashed around the room, when he jerked awake and the shadows were like heavy poison around him, he'd breathe as steadily as he could and try to think instead of Sin's words that he hadn't blamed Boyd for any of that. There were other thoughts in his mind; snippets of memories and feelings of self-doubt, and for all that he had told Sin he didn't want him to go and that he wouldn't push him away again, it was true that he still couldn't help feeling responsible for it all. Whatever Sin said or believed, and for all that Sin had been the one to suffer the most for the mistakes in the mission, Boyd had spent the last several months blaming himself and that feeling wasn't about to go away within a couple of weeks. It was the same for other thoughts that had plagued him during that time, other decisions he'd made; none of it was about to go away whether or not he wanted it to.

He knew that a lot of the paranoia and doubt would leave if he could just see Sin again, if he could just prove to himself that it had been real and somehow, impossibly, everything he remembered being said was true; but he hadn't heard or seen a thing since Sin had disappeared into the black van. Boyd didn't have a very accurate grasp of time but he knew that had to have been at least a few weeks ago, and even if he knew Sin probably had to go back to the medical wing, even if he knew he was probably being debriefed, even if he knew there was no reason for Sin to contact him, some part of him still feared that the silence was indicative of something far worse than simply a delay. He tried not to think about such things, tried instead to start moving around more, to read more, to even start drawing again, just to do something other than lie in the darkness, letting the feelings press him down and slowly, inexorably, make it more difficult to believe in anything good. He repeatedly went over the memory of Sin shoving him lightly, and every time he remembered the words, Do you really think I'll let them keep me away? , he felt somehow anxious at the same time as he felt relieved.

Even so, the days stretched endlessly before him; he still felt somehow confined to his house despite the fact that he could technically leave if he so chose. But he had nowhere to go. He wasn't about to try to visit Johnson's Pharmaceuticals for several reasons, the main of which was that he no longer worked there and, if the possibly-imagined Sin was correct, then it was an anomaly that he was still alive so pushing it would probably result in his death.

A few times he tried to conquer the idea of the future; what he would do with his life now that he possibly had some reason not to just let it disappear into the confines of the shadows of his house. After Lou had died, he'd never really thought much about his future outside of such an existence, and even though the Agency was home to some beliefs and people he disagreed with or disliked, he'd still been fine with being there. He had time to think about everything he had done there, how he had killed people in cold blood, how he had watched buildings explode behind him and all the hours spent pouring over blueprints, planning missions down to the minutest details, all the people he had met along the way. Even if it wasn't a perfect existence, it had somehow been an existence that had fit him. He never would have thought to volunteer for it but, since his mother had initially sent the invitation, he felt as though he had started to learn some things about himself; some of which were good, and others of which were distasteful.

He didn't know what that meant, but he did know that somehow it left him at a loss as to what he would do with himself now that he was barred from that lifestyle. Whenever he tried to think of something normal, a regular job or a regular life, it made him feel somehow restricted, as if he wasn't going to ever be able to work his mind as well as he had at the Agency, and that he wouldn't be able to affect the city or lives around him as much as he had then. It wasn't that he thought he'd been doing particularly wonderful things as an agent, but he'd been doing something. He'd been affecting someone. He could never be an Anderson McCall, the type of selfless person who spent his life looking out for others, even strangers he'd never met and had no reason to care for. But when he thought about how Sin had looked on that table in the basement, when he remembered the alarming, high-pitched noise he'd made and the lifeless way he'd fallen limply to the floor, Boyd knew he could no longer feel as apathetic about the rebel groups as he had. Previously, he had just been doing his job because it was his job. He'd been angry with the Agency for the way they'd treated Sin, but he'd never seen even the Agency do to him what Janus had.

It was probably true that the Agency would have done something comparable to a Janus representative they'd discovered, but all that proved to Boyd was that both sides were fucked up, both sides had assholes and both sides probably had people who were decent, like Pat had seemed. In short, both sides were filled with humans who were as likely to be cruel and hateful as they were to be neutral or kind. And in that sort of setting, the only thing that really decided an allegiance was the connections and beliefs of the people involved. Those in Janus felt that the government had destroyed everything, that they couldn't be trusted to lead the country properly. But Boyd didn't see how Janus was any better; how their proselytizing to large groups while comrades behind closed doors tortured enemies was any different than a politician giving a campaign speech while interrogations under his directions occurred elsewhere on the facility. The only difference for him was that the Agency still housed those he cared about and Janus had been the ones to torture and kill his partner. For all that the Agency had fucked with Sin, they had never, to Boyd's knowledge, specifically caused his death or tried to. Sin could die on a mission any time he was sent on one, but that was different than strapping someone to a table and ripping them open with instruments that left blood like a second layer of skin on his body.

It was while he was in a similar state of thought while blankly staring at his comforter that he heard a knock at his front door. Boyd stilled, his heart rate automatically increasing, and he turned his attention solely to listen for the sound again, thinking for a moment he had imagined it. A few seconds passed and then, once more, the steady and deep rapping of someone calmly knocking on the door. Boyd walked to the front door feeling a mixture of paranoia, caution, and hope. When he paused in front of it, he hesitated before looking out the peephole just as he started to hear the knocking again, more insistent this time.

Some part of him must have wished it was Sin, returning as he'd said he would, because he felt an inexplicable sense of disappointment when he saw the blank-faced man standing on the other side. Not that it made sense (he couldn't imagine Sin would stand there knocking at the door politely waiting to be let inside) but hope and desire rarely followed a logical path, as he felt was a definite case-in-point for him whenever Sin was involved.

Just as the fourth knock was resounding across the wood, Boyd opened the door and warily looked outside, brown eyes squinting against the light. The man was nondescript; dark hair, dark eyes, a forgettable face, nothing particularly noticeable about his clothing, and it was for those reasons alone Boyd knew this was one of the agents that had been tailing him. He didn't say anything, just watched the man silently with an automatic sense of foreboding.

The agent nodded curtly at him then stood to attention, his hands held behind his back smartly. Despite the pose, Boyd knew fully well that he was not compromised; he would easily be able to react to any attack Boyd may have planned. "You've been summoned," he stated calmly.

Surprise and fear mixed as Boyd said, "What?"

A part of him was paranoid that they wanted to bring him back to Fourth, or that Sin visiting his house had reminded them of his existence, somehow, and now they were bringing him in to kill him after all. He didn't know what he felt about that except that he no longer wanted to die the way he had before. If they'd killed him several months ago when they'd first returned from Monterrey, he wasn't certain how much he would have struggled except to learn how Sin was doing first and to make sure he was okay. After he'd been sent home, after he'd found the termination letter and he'd had time to think about everything he'd done wrong and realize that it was his fault that Sin had been tortured so horribly, the only thing that had stopped him from committing suicide was the feeling of being watched and the paranoia and terror that they would stop him and, somehow, it would result in being sent back to Fourth. But after he'd seen Sin almost kill himself, after he'd watched his former partner start to leave with the gun still clasped in his hand, part of him had whispered urgently that if he let Sin walk out that front door he'd never, ever see him again; and now Boyd didn't wish for that abrupt ending of his own life any longer.

When the agent didn't bother replying, obviously knowing it had been an automatic and meaningless question, Boyd looked around them quickly, searching for any other agents. He didn't see anyone else except the SUV, which had moved so it was directly across the street, its sides shining deep black and windows glinting in a manner that made it impossible to see inside.

"Why?" Boyd tried again, returning his attention to the agent.

"Orders," the agent said simply and Boyd shook his head once in a vague sense of annoyance.

"No. Why am I being summoned?"

The agent raised his eyebrows and said, "I just get the orders and carry them out. It's best if you come with me now."

Although he didn't say anything further, Boyd wouldn't have been surprised if the second half of those orders were to bring him in by force if he didn't comply. So, with one last quick glance around, Boyd said, "Just one moment, then," and grabbed the keys to the house so he could lock the door on his way out as he followed the agent to the SUV. There was only one other agent in the vehicle, a man with similar looks; dark hair, dark eyes. Looking at them both in the same space caused an intense flash of memory from several months earlier. There had been only one time when Boyd had attempted to visit the Agency after they'd terminated him. He hadn't thought they'd let him near Sin but he'd hoped to at least find Ryan; he'd desperately wanted someone to talk to about what was going through his mind, and he'd also hoped Ryan would know more about Sin's status. It had been winter and the entire memory was still confusing and disorienting to him. His car hadn't worked so he'd had to walk. He remembered heading toward the Agency but he'd kept getting turned around and had felt eyes watching him but every time he'd looked he hadn't seen anyone fully. At the time, he had still been unbalanced enough that he'd thought he was going crazy, that maybe there really weren't agents watching him, that maybe everything was just in his mind.

As he'd walked further, he'd kept seeing what appeared to be the same man appearing at differing places; first he would be on one side of the street, then he would appear in another area, then another-- moving too quickly for a human and never leaving footprints in the snow between the destinations to show how he'd traveled between. He'd been so disoriented and, he could now understand, hallucinatory, that he hadn't even been able to think of it being two men who looked almost alike; to him, it had been a single man, and the glimpses spread across the area had only heightened his anxiety and fear, causing him to become incapable of reaching the destination he'd sought. The closer he'd headed in the direction of the Agency, the more frequently they had appeared until everything had gotten so turned around and confusing, and his disorientation had become so intense, that he'd started to doubt everything; that the agents existed, that he was out there at all, that any of it was real. Everything had been flipping back and forth confusingly; footprints weren't in the snow where they should have been and when he thought he'd found someone to ask if he saw the agents as well, the person hadn't looked over until the agent disappeared so he'd never known if the man had been there in first place. When he kept moving, he'd somehow blacked out and had reawakened in his room, with half the evidence pointing toward the fact it had all been real, and half of it implying it hadn't. At that point, he'd been so unnerved by the entire experience that he hadn't tried again.

It was somehow strange to be in the same vehicle as them; there had been a time when the paranoia had started to eat away at him and he'd honestly believed they could somehow see through the walls, maybe they were using infrared goggles or were somehow watching his every move even when he tried to hide deep in the house. Seeing them now, in the day time while he felt a lot more stable, he could see that they were simply men. There was nothing particularly frightening or alarming about them and even if that didn't mean he was about to let his guard down, the realization still brought them down to a level he could handle, that didn't cause any extra anxiety to build within him.

The ride to the Agency was uneventful and silent; Boyd spent the time staring out the window and felt a sense of déjà vu from when he'd been passing through Monterrey in a similar van. When they reached Johnson's Pharmaceuticals, Boyd stared at the massive skyscraper with an increased sense of foreboding; the building rose into the air in a manner that was far more intimidating to him in that moment than it ever had before. He didn't know exactly why he felt that way, but it was there and the feeling clawed at him from deep in his stomach. Although he kept the anxiety from showing in his expression, it didn't make it any less real for him.

After a moment the van stopped and when neither agent moved, Boyd glanced at them and stepped out of the vehicle, shutting the door behind him and peering at the compound through the gates. He expected the other two to get out as well but they stayed inside. The first agent rolled down his window and said, "General Carhart is waiting in briefing room 7-D. You are to see him immediately."

Boyd stared at the man in a sense of confusion and disbelief. "What-- Briefing?" But he wasn't an agent anymore; what the hell did they want him in the briefing room for? And General Carhart? What could he possibly want after so many months?

The agent didn't bother to respond; he simply gave him a look that stated he had best follow the orders as well, and the two drove off. Boyd stared after the van as it turned around the corner and, after a moment, he looked distractedly back at the guards who stood stone-faced, one watching him while the other scanned the surroundings. Boyd walked up to the gate, not knowing exactly how this was supposed to work because they had confiscated his agency cards and cell phone after releasing him but the guards just nodded at him and let him in. They probably had been alerted to his visit beforehand and were given authorization to let him through.

Walking through the compound was bizarre and rather unnerving; he felt more vulnerable at that moment than he had even during the previous winter when rumors had run rampant. The paranoia he'd been feeling at home would not quite go away and heightened his senses in a manner that made the situation worse. He felt like everyone was watching him but when he glanced around, very few actually were. He kept his posture and expression calm and intent in order to hide any sense of insecurity he was feeling, but there was still a part of him that was afraid. It was possible that this was as much a "briefing" as the second stage of the "debriefing" had been what he'd expected the last time he'd been on the compound. Maybe they wanted to get more information out of him for some reason, maybe Connors had decided Boyd was dead weight and he wanted to do away with him once and for all. Maybe they told him General Carhart had summoned him because they knew he was one of the few people Boyd would willingly walk onto the compound for and it was the easiest way to get him to acquiesce without further incident. He couldn't help feeling uneasy and distrustful about the situation as well as the overwhelming sense of confusion. The only other thing he could possibly reason was that this had something to do with Sin; why else would they wait so long to contact him until after Sin had, as far as he could tell, come back and told him he wouldn't let them keep him away?

He was rather relieved that he didn't run into anyone he knew as he automatically walked down the usual path toward the briefing room. It was strange; he hadn't been on the compound, really been there in a normal routine, for over a year. He would have expected that he would forget things; the shortcuts to bypass the annoyingly busy hallways, the room and floor he needed to head to, but Boyd had always been the type who found it hard to forget anything. It was why Lou and Sin's suffering had tortured him so-- he couldn't just ignore it, couldn't just forget it, couldn't just let it go; in some instances, he could remember exact wording, tones, the way they looked in certain incidences. Although he didn't have photographic memory, he still had the ability to retain far more than he necessarily preferred to for a healthy mindset. In this case, however, it worked quite to his advantage.

Even though he remembered his way around and knew how to get into certain areas, it was odd that he was allowed to do so. That fact he'd been just simply dropped off at the gates, was allowed to pass through the building without an escort, as well as the fact that his identification number, which worked as an access code on certain levels, still seemed to work, all pointed rather resoundingly to the fact that he either had never been officially terminated as an agent or that they had reinstated him. But... That didn't make any sense to him. Even if it was somehow related to Sin, he couldn't imagine that alone was enough to cause such a change.

It didn't take him long to make it up to the briefing room and for a moment he paused down the hallway and listened closely for any signs of movement or sound. He felt nervous; he was still paranoid that this was going to be another trap. But waiting around was going to do nothing and, if he was honest with himself, he really wanted to know what in the world this was about, what could have necessitated bringing him out of the existence he'd been forced into in his house and what could possibly have made them choose to give him access as an agent again.

When he started walking again, he didn't let any doubt or confusion show in his expression or posture, but he did open the door slower than usual and he did look around the room with more wariness than had been there before.

The conference table was there as always, with the same projector resting near Carhart and the same seats around the table. Carhart looked exactly as he always had, as if no time at all had passed and when he looked over at Boyd, it was with the same expression he'd always given him. Sin was sitting there, his expression bored, but his posture somehow led Boyd to believe that he was impatient although he looked over at Boyd when he entered. His hair was cut short the way Boyd last remembered and he was wearing his usual clothing; an old t-shirt and over-sized black cargo pants. Boyd's gaze was intent on him for a portion of a second; here was proof that it hadn't been a dream, proof that it hadn't been a lie, and with that realization he felt a wave of relief at the same time that his wariness raised simply due to the situation.

Jeffrey sat in his usual spot, pouring over a stack of papers with his briefcase at his side with his hair and clothing as immaculate as always. He flicked a glance Boyd's way and something about it seemed less dismissive; more aware than it had been in the past. Owen was there looking awake for once with a large, steaming cup of coffee resting near his hand, though his clothing was as disheveled as always. But to Boyd's disappointment Ryan was missing; he'd really been hoping to see him.

Not saying anything, Boyd simply walked around the table and took his usual seat at Sin's side, feeling that this entire situation was very strange, almost as if he had to be dreaming it even if he knew he wasn't.

The silence stretched uncomfortably and finally Sin's gaze dragged from Boyd's face and focused on Carhart as his fingers tapped against the table impatiently. "Are we going to sit here and jerk off or are you going to get to the point of this little gathering?"

Carhart's eyebrows rose and his hazel eyes observed Sin for a moment before he folded his hands in front of him neatly. "The point is an assignment, of course."

Boyd gave Carhart a confused look. "Wait... I was terminated, so if this is really a briefing, I don't understand why I was summoned here."

The General's calm gaze moved to him and although there was nothing terribly telling in his expression, the slight tilt of his head and the almost too casual way he shrugged his broad shoulders, gave away the fact that he was obviously pleased with what he was about to say. "Termination at Johnson's Pharmaceuticals is only official when an employee is officially terminated." The comment was both vague and telling at once and he continued. "Thus the reason why you were never removed from the system."

Boyd stared at him. "But I received a termination letter that also stated my codes had been wiped from the system. What was that then, if not termination? Unofficial extended leave without pay? Why wouldn't they just say so if that was the case?"

"I imagine that their decisions about what they choose and refuse to disclose are for very specific, intentional reasons." Carhart held eye contact for a brief moment before repeating meaningfully. "And like I said, termination is only official when employees are officially terminated."

"I understand what you mean," Boyd said, shaking his head. "I just meant," he started to say, then stopped. Specific, intentional reasons. It was Connors' idea to 'terminate' him, he had little doubt of that judging by his mother's reactions. If she had been the one in charge, she would have been upfront about it and would have informed him that he was suspended which was in essence what had occurred. He suspected that leading him to believe he'd been fired was also Connors' idea and perhaps the reason was simply to mess with his mind for an extended period of time. If he'd known he was just suspended it would have been different; he would not have had the feeling that his access to everyone he knew or cared about was unequivocally severed. He would not have lost all hope so completely, possibly. It made him wonder about Connors' wording, that being a field agent went along with being Sin's partner. If Sin had died, would they have brought him back or would they have killed him at that point? He leaned back in his chair. "Never mind. So... Now I'm just being brought back to start in missions again?"

Sin's eyes went from Boyd to Carhart and then back again. His eyebrows were drawn together slightly but other than that, his face was unreadable. He didn't say anything and it was Carhart who spoke again. "Correct."

"I've been gone for an extended period of time, though," Boyd pointed out. "What if I'm not agent material any more? Or if I don't want to return?" He knew what the answer was going to be but he needed to ask anyway.

This time Sin sat up straight and he sent Boyd a glare so dark that everyone else in the room picked up on it, looking at him before their gazes returned to Boyd. But once again, he didn't say anything, even as his green eyes narrowed dangerously.

"The first question was stupid and the second was ignorant, so I am going to ignore both," Carhart replied flatly.

Boyd looked at Sin with a slight shake of his head, then turned to Carhart. "I didn't say that was the case, I was just curious. I suppose I wondered how obvious and quick the termination would be." More than anything, it was simply that they were such obvious questions to him that he felt they needed to be asked aloud, even if he wasn't serious about them. He noticed Jeffrey giving him a half irritated, half incredulous look but he ignored him. "I apologize for the interruption. You were talking about this mission?"

Appearing mollified by the explanation, Carhart nodded briefly before typing something on the keyboard in front of him. After a brief moment an image was projected before them of what appeared to be a neatly typed memo. It was brief and written in what appeared to be a foreign language of some kind, which was doubtful, or a code, which was more likely. It was on stationary although the header was not in view and was signed in what appeared to be ink, with the initials TB. "Immediately following the aftermath of the Monterrey debacle, a search was put out for Thierry to be brought in for interrogation," Carhart said it calmly but something in his tone implied that the interrogation would hardly be a pleasant affair. "It was he who provided the faulty information and with little to go on other than that, he is suspected of either having done so unwittingly or because he finally chose a side and deliberately lured us into a trap."

Boyd looked at the memo, recognizing the handwriting as the same that had been on the note Thierry had left him with the disc.

"For months his trail was cold and unsurprisingly, it appears that Thierry used his resources and contacts to go deep into hiding. It was assumed that this was an admission of his guilt and that he was indeed hiding from us but several weeks ago it came to our attention that we weren't the only organization searching for him. Details as usual were difficult to obtain, we are dealing with a man who has perfected the art of hiding his tracks and who has managed to maintain relationships with many of the most dangerous organizations in the world for years, so it wasn't entirely clear who exactly the other organization was or why they wanted him. Investigations haven't turned up much on that matter; however, a week ago a contact of Thierry's who has also proved to be a source to Owen in the past, sent out a major distress signal and sent Owen an electronic copy of this memorandum. A note which, according to the contact, was left with strict orders from Thierry only to be opened if there was radio silence between he and his men for more than seven days. It was locked away, hidden, heavily coded and the second set of orders stated that it was only to be sent to us." Carhart nodded briefly at Jeff.

"In essence, the note gives three regions where he believes he would be held in the event he goes missing," Jeff explained. "The basic regions were listed as New Zealand, Northeast Mexico, and Ireland. Given that Thierry has ties to Janus, two out of those three regions are in Janus territory, and the Monterrey mission was so recent which includes ties to northeast Mexico, it seems that Janus may have been the other organization that was after him."

"I checked into New Zealand," Owen offered, surprisingly alert to the topic of conversation. He paused to take a large drink of his coffee, then grimaced and set it down. When he looked back up, the red in his eyes was obvious, as if he hadn't been getting much sleep lately. Then again, given Owen's typical state, even a normal amount may not seem enough for him. "There hasn't been anything suspicious going down recently in New Zealand, which doesn't really mean much since they could just be hiding it secret agent style. But, since Mexico seems to be the place where all the big kids hang out, we figured that was a good starting place. Also, Ryan was checking around and between us we heard that there are places in both New Zealand and northeast Mexico that have facilities where it's theorized they may perform interrogations or hold prisoners. But neither of us know exact locations."

Boyd's eyebrows drew down and he leaned forward, thinking that through. "Wait, northeast Mexico? You can't mean Monterrey? It's true that Janus may have a connection to the Mexican authorities, and I don't know what has happened since I was there, but I can't think of many places outside of the areas in the city that Kassian's group and I already checked that would work for keeping Thierry. The type of facility they would need that would be used on a regular basis for interrogations and wouldn't be as... haphazardly adapted as the ones we saw, simply doesn't exist to my knowledge in Monterrey. And the black market groups were still growing in strength by the time I left so I would imagine they have an even stronger presence and further control of any such areas by now."

Sin seemed largely unimpressed with the entire conversation; he had relaxed into his seat again and he was waiting with something approaching impatience, although he looked at Boyd more than was necessary. Boyd could feel his gaze on him, but he only glanced over a few times; his mind was working with the information they were giving him and his usual need to solve the puzzle was making it so he didn't want to distract himself with staring at his partner who, for the longest time, he never thought he'd see again.

"Yeah, pretty much what we thought, except, you know, without the details that make yours make more sense," Owen said. "I was kind of going by gut instinct and just the way Janus works. They're like lightning; don't hit the same place twice. Except when they do, which I think is only because it would be too obvious for the culture they're in or they get confused. Which is bad when you have a big terror organization like them, losing... Where was I going with this?" Owen looked at the others in confusion.

Jeff scoffed. "Why don't you try including a shot of intelligence in that coffee?"

"No, they only had espresso," Owen said, looking at him strangely. Jeff gave him a look that stated he thought he was an idiot, but somehow that seemed to jog Owen's memory. "Oh, outside of Monterrey, right? I mean it's not like it has to be specifically in that city. But we don't have any addresses at all, not in New Zealand even less in northeast Mexico. It's all pretty vague right now." He wiggled his fingers in a mysterious way.

"But most of northeast Mexico is desert," Boyd pointed out. "Well, there are plenty of towns in the surrounding areas and some large cities, but Monterrey..." He trailed off, thinking. When he had been in Monterrey, he had studied the city intently but he'd also done some research on the surrounding area. During some of the particularly intense days, when the heat had been too strong to wander around outside and Sin had been at work so he hadn't had anyone to distract him, he'd stopped by the libraries to research bits of Mexico's history, the culture, the language, and especially the current state of affairs. It had been helpful to gain a better understanding of where Monterrey fit in with the country, and it had also provided him with random information he otherwise would not have received. Even so, he couldn't think offhand of any place in particular that would make more sense than any other place would, and without knowing what specifically Janus would look for in the sort of place to house an interrogation center, it was nearly impossible to narrow down the choices. So he tried to think of other things; not that which he had read, but what he'd been told, what he had heard. For a moment that led him nowhere, but then something caught his attention.

"Wait," he said suddenly, sitting up straight. "Laguna de Sánchez. That's southeast of Monterrey, somewhere between Santiago and Allende, but I don't know much else about it. Lo más chingón warned me about that place specifically, though. He said," his eyebrows drew down as he tried to remember the wording, "that the people there would not be fond of the company I kept."

Carhart sat up and looked at Boyd with interest but didn't immediately say anything even though he leaned forward slightly as his eyes narrowed.

Sin, on the other hand, looked mildly confused by the information and raised an eyebrow at Boyd inquisitively. "I'm assuming this happened while I was down for the count," He drawled, mouthing twisting slightly in disappointment that he'd missed yet another opportunity to confront the smuggler.

Boyd met Sin's gaze and nodded slightly, still marveling at the fact that Sin was really there sitting next to him, speaking to him and that his green eyes were as clear and alert as ever; that there were no signs of any lasting damage despite how dire the situation had been. Thinking of that conversation with Chingón automatically put him in mind of what Sin's state had been at the time. "He stopped us on our way out of the city," he said simply.

"Who is this person? Why would we even care what he said?" Jeff asked before anyone else could speak.

Boyd turned his attention to Jeff. "He's the leader of the most dangerous and successful smuggling group that I know of in Monterrey. There are very few people who are on his level or would dare challenge him." He looked at Sin again; for some reason, because Sin knew of the man, he felt the need to explain to him further. "I was trying to avoid any of his territory but in the month since I'd had good intel, he'd taken over jurisdiction of the tunnel we escaped through."

"Why would he warn you about a possible Janus base?" Carhart demanded suddenly but despite the intensity of his tone, he didn't seem skeptical of the information, just intrigued. "What exactly happened when you encountered him during the escape?"

"Well," Boyd said, gaze lingering briefly on Sin before returning his attention to Carhart. "We were all extremely distracted when we were stopped by Lo más chingón and his men. I'd met him earlier in the assignment so when I recognized his mark, I attempted to negotiate. He called his men off, spoke to me for a bit about nothing in particular, looked in the van and spoke to several of the team members. He seemed... relatively amused by the entire situation until I attempted to stop him from looking into the van. He wasn't really being serious about anything but it was clear he knew we weren't simple civilians due to the riot gear everyone was wearing, and Sin's condition. I'm not certain why he warned me; any number of reasons are possible but it could have been related to the fact that I didn't seem particularly intimidated by him, that he'd seen me before and wanted to see what I'd do with the information, or maybe I just amused him. I have no idea when it comes to him."

Carhart's eyes didn't leave his face for several moments but when his gaze finally dropped, he switched back to the previous topic abruptly. "Laguna de Sánchez," He muttered thoughtfully, with a perfect Spanish accent. "Even if this information seems shady at the moment it's still a lead and the only one we have. I know Mexico is Ryan's forte but do we know anything about this area? It doesn't have to be specifically regarding Janus or suspicious activity."

Sin cleared his throat and looked at Boyd out of the corner of his eye before focusing on Carhart. "My former employer mentioned it in passing at some point. I wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying but she claimed it was a tourist spot because of its location near a national park and apparently she has family with property out there."

"Family?" Boyd echoed, looking at Sin a little more intently than he had before. "Close family?"

One shoulder rose in a shrug. "I guess. I have no idea. She seemed to have a huge family and apparently she kept in close contact with all of them so I don't know who's considered close and who's not, even if they're just extended or not really related by blood."

"Like Hale Clemons, right? Janus extraordinaire and her 'uncle'?" Owen asked, taking another drink of his coffee and grimacing again. He pushed it away too abruptly and it was only with Boyd snapping a hand out to stop it that it didn't spill onto all of Jeff's papers.

Jeff gave Owen a disgusted look. "Stop drinking that if you have such issues acting like an adult. Although you have a point. Hale Clemons was her extended family which is why she never appeared on his initial background checks."

Owen nodded, giving Boyd a grateful look for the coffee, then he turned to Carhart with his eyebrows raised. "But family property plus uncle plus Janus plus Laguna adds up to 100% suspicious. I think we should look into it. That's more coincidence in one area than I have in New Zealand."

"What I don't understand is why they are moving like this now," Boyd said, thinking aloud. "If the entire mission was a set up, then who were they trying to catch? I'd assumed it was the Agency since they caught Sin. But even after that was all over, they captured Thierry as well. And even if Hale Clemons was the Janus contact in the area, he can't be the only one. Why would he bother involving himself further in the matter?"

"He's probably taking it personally that information Thierry gave out led to Jessica dying," Jeff said offhandedly.

Boyd's gaze snapped to Jeff in surprise. "What?" He looked over at Sin, though he didn't seem to be asking him specifically when he asked, "Jessica died?"

Sin said nothing, expression unchanging and it was Carhart who wound up answering. "She was caught in the crossfire of gunfire before Sin was captured."

Boyd looked between the two of them, feeling slighted. Sin hadn't thought to tell him that Jessica had died, yet everyone else already knew? No one else seemed surprised by the information, and Carhart even knew specifically how it happened. It made it seem like Sin trusted the others with that information but not him, despite the fact that of any of them, he had actually met and spoken with her. He looked away, sitting back in his chair. But that did follow with what Connors had suggested as to how Sin had been overwhelmed. Maybe Sin saw her get shot and it distracted him enough that he'd been overpowered. That would make sense; Sin obviously cared enough about keeping her alive that he'd rescued her and then she died in a gun battle anyway. He could imagine how much that would have upset Sin, and that thought made him sigh quietly, running a hand over his eyes. He wasn't very happy with the situation; for all that he'd hated her before, much of the animosity had fallen away in the ensuing months as guilt and regret had replaced the jealousy. Even so, it bothered him that Sin didn't trust him with that bit of information; although, could he blame him? Even if Sin said he didn't blame Boyd for what happened, that didn't mean he had to trust him again. "I see."

"So we have a new theory to explore," Carhart said finally. "One that hadn't even been on the table before this briefing. We now have to take the possibility that Thierry provided the faulty information to us unwittingly more seriously, an idea that could possibly save his life in the end if it can be proven. If it turns out that he really is being held by Janus on Clemons' property, things will go more in his favor if he can be recovered alive. However before I even think to put any of this information in front of the Marshal, we need to do extensive research on the region. Owen, you can collaborate with Ryan as much as you can to find out what he already knows so that you can find out the things we need to know. Finding out whether or not Clemons owns property in that area will be the easiest part and that won't be enough to prove anything. Dig up any information you can find, anything suspicious about the property or movements in that area by Janus."

"I can do that," Owen said with a nod. He reached for his coffee again but Jeff gave him an irritated look and pulled it away before he could touch it. Owen made a mildly disgruntled face before he turned to Carhart blankly. "Uh... What was...? Oh. Right, I'll work on that right after we scramble."

"Good." Carhart glanced around the table. "If no one has any further questions and comments, we will reconvene as soon as we have more information on the topic. Boyd, see Ms. Green in HR to get your access card back and Jeff, meet me in my office in twenty minutes."

Jeff nodded and began gathering his papers, placing them very neatly and in a specific order in his briefcase. Owen was the first one to get up and leave, although he was far less fastidious about it; the coffee cup almost fell as he manhandled the door open and he could be heard quietly mumbling to himself as he headed down the hallway. Jeff made a face and snapped his briefcase closed a little more firmly than was necessary, only a few seconds behind him.

Boyd glanced at Sin, then moved to leave but before he could even fully stand, Carhart said, "Wait a second." Boyd looked at him curiously but settled back into the chair and waited for him to continue. "Do you have any questions?"

"Yes, actually," Boyd said after a moment. He'd been wondering about this through the meeting but there hadn't been a good place to ask. "Where is Ryan? It's not like him to miss a briefing."

The General observed him for a brief moment before responding. "He's indisposed at the moment, much to his displeasure, but hopefully he will join us next time."

Boyd considered that. It did sound like he must be doing a lot of research elsewhere, judging by the way they were referring to Owen working with him. Owen had disappeared for awhile as well at one point; perhaps it was just part of their job. It had been rather strange and a little alarming to not see Ryan there, but the explanation made sense. He could just imagine Ryan in his apartment, figurines and comic books piled high around him as he ate junk food, listened to loud music, and researched for hours on his computer. He'd have to stop by to let him know he was back, but that would have to wait until later. "I see," he said, inclining his head.

Carhart didn't seem concerned that Sin appeared to be waiting for Boyd and when he seemed certain that Boyd had no further questions, he finally spoke. "I was wondering if you have any more information on this Chingón character that you can share with me. As I told Sin when I first debriefed him, I'm interested in gathering more information on he and his group just in case Janus does try to utilize him in the future, especially if he's stationed near what could be a base of their operations." He paused and sat back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Was there anything of note that you remember? Anything that stood out or can be looked into more?"

"If you are referring to anything out of the ordinary, everything about him stands out," Boyd said honestly. "He seems difficult to predict as well." He thought about it a moment. "He is adept at hiding and trailing; there were several times I felt someone watching me in Monterrey, yet I could never specify who or where it was originating from until he told me that it was him. He speaks Spanish fluently but his accent sounded different than the natives'. When he speaks English, his accent is American though I can't place from where except to say he doesn't have a Southern accent. He's also quite strong and fast. He is feared by many of the natives. He also managed to take over that tunnel apparently effortlessly when it was implausible that it would occur without bloodshed among los perdidos, the people guarding the area. Ah... There are any number of things I could think of. I'm not certain what you'd like to know?"

The General thought for a moment and reached up to rub his jaw. "Were you able to see any distinguishing marks on his person?"

"He always covered himself; I could never see his features. It's a well-known part of his persona and no one has ever seen what he really looks like so I can't even give you details from rumors." Boyd leaned back in the chair, thinking. "Although I can tell you he is about my height but more muscular and stronger than me. He has a tattoo entirely covering his right forearm, but between the fact that he was silhouetted by the headlights at the time and it was otherwise very dark in the tunnel, I couldn't see any details. I just recall thinking that it was strange. Ah... He wore something silver around his neck when I saw him the first time; it may have been a necklace of some sort. The first time I met him he was wearing all black but the second time he was in a flashier outfit; rings, tall boots, a hat and a scarf. He also walks with a swagger."

Carhart stared at Boyd blankly for a long moment before asking his next question. "And this seal you mentioned earlier? The one which you recognized?"

"All his crates and vehicles have '4FF' painted in yellow," Boyd explained. "Though I have no idea what that means. It may just be the name of his group; no one ever gave it a name except to refer to them as Chingón people."

The statement was met with a long stretch of silence as Carhart continued to stare at him with the same strange expression on his face. It was only when Sin shifted impatiently and threw him an irritable glare that the General finally pushed his chair back and stood up. "I see. If anything, perhaps I will be able to dig up information about that phrase or anyone who has been known for using it." He collected his files, looking distracted, and nodded at the two of them. "Thank you for the information, Boyd. Without the things you told us today, we would still be without a lead and without any indication as to where to begin our search. I look forward to working with the both of you again after such a long absence and I will speak to you in a few days." Although he didn't seem insincere about the things he said, the words were spoken in an almost automatic manner, as if he was too preoccupied to give them his full attention.

He nodded at them shortly and exited the room, leaving Sin and Boyd to stare after him. After a moment, Sin finally looked at Boyd again and shoved his hands into his pockets with a glare. "What was all of that not wanting to come back bullshit about?"

"I didn't mean that I didn't want to; I was just curious what the answer would be." Boyd said, looking at him thoughtfully as he stood. "It occurred to me that Connors probably intentionally made me believe I was fired rather than on leave so I had even less reason to retain any sense of hope. It also made me wonder what they would have done to me had you died; would they have officially terminated me at that point as my position was no longer valid or would they have made me into a typical field agent? So I suppose I was simply curious how immediate or severe the response would be in other terms, such as had I walked out or refused to return. Since I had no intentions of actually doing so, I decided to ask about it instead."

Sin stared at him suspiciously for a long moment before his shoulders relaxed slightly, although he didn't look away. "Well. Good."

Boyd smiled at him slightly, something almost ironic in his expression. "After all that work I went through trying to convince you not to leave, did you really think I'd just walk away?"

Sin's mouth quirked up into a slight smirk and he shook his head, heading towards the door. "No, I guess not." His posture seemed far more relaxed than it had during the entire briefing and he seemed in no rush to discuss anything to do with it. "Seems weird being here now."

"It does," Boyd agreed, walking with him as they went down the hall. He noticed the collar was on Sin's neck once again and his eyes narrowed slightly; although he wasn't surprised that they'd taken the opportunity to replace it, he still didn't like seeing it again. It made him wonder if, along with his access card and phone, he would find a new remote waiting for him as part of what they termed to be the necessities for his position. He wanted to ask how Sin was, what had happened during those few weeks when they hadn't seen each other, but he was very aware of the fact that there were cameras across the facility that were probably being monitored by the guards who would be able to overhear any conversation they had. The conference rooms didn't have surveillance or else they would never be able to have confidential briefings but it was different in public areas. So instead he said, "For awhile, I honestly didn't believe I would ever step foot in here again."

Sin glanced down at him, his gaze lingering for a long moment and he started to say something but shook his head and dragged his eyes away again. "Heh. Hard to say if being back is really a good thing or not when you take certain things into consideration," He muttered as they went to the elevator to go downstairs. There was silence as they did so, both of them fully aware of the stationary camera that hovered in the corner of the elevator, and Sin shifted, looking irritated as he ran a hand over his short hair impatiently. When they reached the ground floor and stepped out of the elevator, he ignored the crowd of people who stood there waiting at the elevator bank and the looks they graced him with. A few people immediately backed away as he passed them and he continued to walk next to Boyd calmly. In the past two weeks he'd become re-accustomed to life at the Agency, or at least, he'd tried to. Once again being in what was essentially a prison for him after having had freedom for nearly a year was just as bad as he'd imagined it would be but at least... at least Boyd would be here again. That made it a little easier to accept, to readjust to, even if he felt restricted and awkward in what he could say and do around his partner now that they were constantly under surveillance. "Are you going to administration?"

"At some point," Boyd said unconcernedly, briefly distracted by a woman who was very obviously alarmed by Sin; she nearly dropped all her papers and turned immediately to walk back the way she had come. He didn't recognize her but judging by her civilian clothing and the hallway she was headed toward, he guessed her to be clerical staff. She had a temporary ID, which meant she was probably newly hired. That possibly accounted for why she reacted so extremely when the people who had been around longer tended to be a little more discreet, but it irritated him that people who didn't even know Sin were still being regaled with stories of how dangerous and psychotic he was. It reminded him of Michael and Harriet's conversation and the way Archer had nodded at the idea of restraining Sin like an animal even when he was severely injured.

He'd known it would be this way when they returned but for so long he was certain that either Sin would be dead or he would never be back on the compound, that somehow he hadn't thought about it fully. At that moment, it especially struck him how nothing had changed in the past year in the Agency despite how much he felt he and Sin had. He didn't like that fact at all; he wanted the atmosphere in the compound to be the way it had been in Monterrey. He wanted people to look at Sin as a normal human being; he wanted to be able to have even mild, brief senses of intimacy with Sin in public, even if it was just being able to talk freely about what they thought, without having to worry about repercussions. He wanted the collar to be gone from Sin's neck and he wanted the whispers of 'monster' to never be heard again. But it didn't matter what he wanted and regardless of how it bothered him, it had to be that much worse for Sin, who had been forced back into this lifestyle for several weeks already. He looked over, studying him a moment before asking casually, "Why? Where are you headed?"

Another lingering look and Sin shrugged casually. "Nowhere in particular. Back to the apartment, I suppose."

That made sense that Sin still had the apartment, although he hadn't thought about it. He considered that a moment, wondering if the cameras had been replaced. "Did anything change while we were gone?"

"Not that I'm aware, which is surprising." They exited the main lobby and stepped out into the courtyard. The spring air was cool, slightly moist and once again Sin stood there in the chill totally under-dressed although as usual he didn't appear fazed.

"Nevertheless, good to hear," Boyd said, pausing when he noticed Sin had stopped walking and was watching him. He just stared back for a moment, studying his expression and the way the muted sunlight made his eyes seem especially green, before it occurred to him that he had just intended to follow Sin to his apartment and hadn't even thought to ask if that would be alright. Now that he had the chance to see Sin again he didn't want to just rush home to his empty house. Even so, just because Sin was happy to see him around didn't necessarily mean he wanted him trailing along everywhere. He slipped his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, feeling a little awkward as he asked, "Ah... I don't exactly have a reason to go home, so would it be alright if I accompanied you?"

That earned him another long stare before Sin nodded and shoved his hands back in his pockets as he began to walk. "That's fine."

Boyd nodded and fell into step beside him; it wasn't that he'd expected Sin to say no but he was still pleased that he hadn't told him not to come over. The wind gusted, ruffling Sin's clothing and pushing Boyd's hair into his eyes. He looked around the courtyard, feeling like this was his first chance in over a year to actually see the place. The last several times he'd passed through the compound, he'd had been so pensive about other topics that he'd barely noticed his surroundings.

Now, he saw the pale blue shades of the clouds stretched thin high over their heads with the sun peeking through in pale shafts of light. The windows in the buildings around them glinted, rendering the rooms beyond them impossible to see. As he took in the people around them in the courtyard, he realized that everyone seemed to be in a rush or at least, that they wanted to appear like they were. Everyone had a sense of urgency in their stride and an intensity in their expressions that almost seemed forced. At first he'd assumed that it was only a handful of people possibly concerned about something work related, but as he looked around he realized that everyone was giving off the same vibe, everyone seemed equally stressed.

As if on cue, a sudden burst of feminine laughter rang out ahead of them and Boyd looked over to see a woman laughing delightedly, throwing her head back and putting her hand on her friend's shoulder to guide her as they kept walking. Her friend grinned at her but as soon as the two of them passed a group of patrolling guards, their smiles faded and they instantly clammed up, yanking their ID cards out in what seemed to be paranoia more than necessity. It struck Boyd as incredibly odd; for all that the Agency was unpleasant for Sin and had been uncomfortable and stressful for himself, he'd never known for it to be that way for others. For the majority of the employees, the Agency compound was their home and the homes of their friends or significant others. For most, like it seemed to be for Ryan, the compound was a place where they felt safe, secure and for the most part he'd never noticed very many people seeming particularly unhappy there.

But now it seemed that something had changed. Now it seemed no one wanted to look up, no one wanted to catch anyone else's attention and for the most part it seemed that everyone wanted to hurry to get where they were going before anyone could accuse them of doing nothing at all. Boyd wondered why but at the same time he didn't spend much time thinking about it; at that moment, he was just thankful that he wasn't isolated anymore, kept in the dark or in his home, and that he was able to be around Sin. He could worry later about the way people were acting.

The fresh air felt wonderful to Boyd; even if it was a little cool, he still felt more awake than he had been in a long time. That made him wonder exactly what month it was. He didn't have a cell phone to tell him, he hadn't had the energy or inclination to touch his father's computer, and any calendars that had been in his house were quite out-dated. He knew he had been gone for months, but that was something he could tell by the weather alone; it had been winter when they'd returned from Monterrey and now it was obviously spring. He still didn't know exactly how long it had been since he'd lost touch with the rest of the world. "What month is it?" He asked it almost absently, looking up at the trees as the leaves rustled pleasantly in another gust of wind.

Sin raised an eyebrow at him as they walked in the direction of his building. "You sound like me when I emerged from the coma. It's early May."

"Hmm." Boyd studied the trees, the leaves colored in healthy shades of green and the sky seen beyond through the spaces in the foliage. He may not have been in a literal coma like Sin but in a way it did feel as though he'd been comatose. At that moment, Sin probably knew more about what had happened in the last several months than he did, which was strange to think about. He didn't care to dwell on the thought; not while he was walking next to Sin with the wind cool but pleasant as it shifted his trench coat against his legs. "It felt like longer."

Sin grunted noncommittally and glanced at Boyd again before they continued the rest of the walk in relative silence. They gained their fair share of long, curious looks from quite a few people as they went but that wasn't really a surprise. Despite the secrecy that the Agency was shrouded in, things had a tendency to get around and even if most people didn't know the truth of what had actually gone on during the year and a half that they'd been gone, most had probably assumed that they'd died on assignment or something similar.

However as they got closer to the building, the guards that were usually stationed in that area seemed less shocked by the sight of Sin than the general populace seemed to be, although they did raise a few eyebrows at the sudden appearance of Boyd. When they reached the front of the building, two guards were stationed at the door as usual and Officer Daniels, the guard usually stationed at Sin's apartment door, was standing on the steps apparently taking a smoke break. He glanced at the two of them, blinking at Boyd in surprise, while Sin tilted his head in silent greeting and asked, "Mind if I bum one?"

The two guards at the door stared down at him oddly but Daniels didn't seem put off by the question; in fact it seemed that this was probably a typical exchange between the two. He held the pack out to Sin and said, "Keep it. I get them easier than you can, dude."

Sin smirked humorlessly and pocketed the pack, Lucky Strikes according to the logo, and leaned close to Daniels for a light. Once again, Daniels didn't seem disturbed by the movement and he continued to lounge against the railing, looking at Sin idly as he lit one cigarette off the other and effectively invaded all of the guards' personal space. After a moment, Sin leaned back and inhaled deeply, seeming for all the world like a nicotine addict in the truest sense of the words. "Good looking out."

"Anytime." Daniels gave him a half grin and glanced over at Boyd. "Long time no see."

It was a little surprising to see Sin acting in a manner that Boyd had previously thought of as more indicative of Jason than Sin. The fact that he was still smoking, the casual way he interacted, even to an extent the way he spoke, were all different from the way he remembered him interacting with anyone in the Agency. He also hadn't expected Daniels to speak to him; even though Daniels had always been the most agreeable of Sin's guards and Boyd liked him more than the others, they hadn't ever been particularly conversational. It put Boyd at a loss as to how to respond immediately, but he ultimately inclined his head toward Daniels. "I see you're still assigned here," he said, and that made him wonder what had occurred while they were away on assignment and before his own return. They wouldn't have bothered guarding an empty apartment, would they have? "Were you transferred back when Sin started living in the apartment again?"

"Yup," the guard drawled with a half grin. "I was one of the few who didn't mind the job so they had no problems assigning it to me again. Which is fine; it's pretty easy work considering all he does is steal my smokes these days."

"That could be expensive, though," Boyd said mildly. "You shouldn't spoil him or you'll never make any money."

A casual shrug and a slightly wider grin. "It's okay. I get them cheap anyhow."

Sin raised an eyebrow. "How's that?" Cigarettes were expensive as all hell in the States, especially with the higher tax on them nationwide.

Daniels shrugged again and winked at them. "That's for me to know and you to wonder about."

"Okay, enough of you," Sin said with a dismissive wave and shook his head as he turned to head up the steps and into the building.

Boyd watched Sin as he walked away, feeling rather mystified by his behavior, then glanced at Daniels. He nodded at him in farewell and Daniels returned the gesture. It didn't take long for Boyd to catch up to Sin; he followed him as they walked up the stairs, neither saying anything although it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Boyd couldn't help watching Sin for a few seconds in the enclosed staircase; the scent of cigarette smoke trailed behind him the way he remembered from Monterrey, the casual grace with which he moved. He didn't want to look away; he wanted to study every aspect of his body and expression, to memorize the breadth of his shoulders and the way he could see his muscles moving beneath his shirt, but he knew that there were cameras even in the stairwell so he was careful to look away and act natural.

It didn't take them long to reach Sin's floor; a single guard was standing outside the apartment looking bored. He straightened his back when he saw the two of them, and while he did give Boyd a strange look, he didn't bother to say anything as they approached. Boyd didn't recognize the guard and guessed that he must have been someone new that had to be transferred over to replace the guards who, unlike Daniels, had opted not to return to their previous positions. Even so, he'd obviously been briefed on Boyd's existence or it was alright for Sin to have guests because he didn't challenge them or even ask who he was.

Sin unlocked the door and walked inside with Boyd not far behind him, stepping to the side to look around the apartment as Sin shut the door behind them. It was almost surreal; the apartment looked exactly the way Boyd remembered it from over a year prior. Once more, it made it seem as though no time had passed and nothing had changed even though so much actually had. He didn't notice any cameras in his cursory glance around the apartment and looked over at Sin as he said, "It's just as I remember it."

Sin didn't respond at first; he took a long drag of his cigarette, green eyes never leaving Boyd's face, before he abruptly stubbed it out on the wall and pushed Boyd further into the apartment. "There are some changes."

"Is that so?" The apartment was warm compared to outside and between the coat and the long-sleeved shirt, Boyd felt uncomfortable. He intended to stay for awhile so he pulled his trench coat off and tossed it on the nearest piece of furniture. He looked at Sin and waited to be led in whatever direction he planned to take him. "You'll have to show me."

That was answered with a casual shrug before he strode across the apartment and into the hallway that housed the door to the bedroom and bathroom. He looked over his shoulder at Boyd and tilted his head in the direction of the bathroom.

Boyd quirked an eyebrow but walked into the bathroom without saying anything. He glanced around the room but nothing seemed different; the mirror was even in the same position it had been when he had ripped the camera out. He could see the shower beyond the open curtain but nothing stood out to him. He turned around, giving Sin a strange look. "I don't see anything different."

Sin stepped in and shut the door behind him, closing the space between them in one stride before he pinned Boyd's back against the sink, hands wrapping around the edges of the counter as he did so. "The difference," He said slowly, voice low as his eyes narrowed. "Is that now the privacy in this room is good for something." His eyebrows rose slightly and he leaned forward, not giving Boyd the opportunity to speak, before he crushed their lips together in a kiss that was almost rough in its intensity.

That surprised Boyd enough that he took a second to respond, but when he did he automatically deepened the kiss, one hand moving to the base of Sin's neck to pull him closer and the other falling to his back. The familiarity of the taste and feel of Sin was strange after so long without him, but it was something he'd missed immensely and didn't want to let go of now that it was here again. He hadn't known what to expect after their last meeting; they'd both said they wanted it to be the way it had been before, but he hadn't been certain if that meant the way it had been in Monterrey or before when they'd been on friendly terms but hadn't been intimate. Even though Sin had been angry with him when he'd tensed at his touch in the hallway of his house, it was still the only thing Boyd had to judge their new interaction by since the only other time Boyd had touched him was when Sin had been asleep. He hadn't wanted to make assumptions that would disappoint himself so he'd planned to operate as they had before Monterrey, but he was very pleased to see he'd been wrong. He slid his hand along Sin's back, reveling in the feel of his hard muscles beneath his fingers, and stopped even attempting to think.

One strong hand released the edge of the counter and slid down, cupping Boyd's ass and gripping it hard as Sin pinned their lower bodies together. He grunted softly against Boyd's mouth and rocked his hips forward, lips moving feverishly as if he couldn't get enough of Boyd, as if he wanted to taste and feel as much of him as he could before someone, somehow, made him stop. All thoughts fled both of their minds and neither of them spoke; for several long moments the only sounds in the room were low panting, wet lips and tongues colliding and fabric brushing against fabric as they began to grind against each other faster, harder, until their hips were practically pounding together in an effort to get more friction.

The sounds they made occasionally grew louder, mostly on Boyd's part when he briefly forgot to be quiet. After awhile he pulled away, breathing heavily and giving Sin an intense look with half-closed eyes before he jerked him even closer by the waistband of his pants. He leaned in to suck on Sin's earlobe in the place that he'd always been most sensitive and unbuttoned Sin's pants. He started to unzip them with one hand while his other slid beneath, then smirked against Sin's skin when he realized he wasn't wearing any underwear. Long pale fingers slid over Sin's bare ass and Boyd's breathing picked up when his own black jeans were abruptly yanked down. The brass button popped off and went skittering across the tiled floor as Sin shoved him back against the counter so that he was sitting on it. He leaned back on the heels of his hands and kicked off his jeans impatiently as Sin ripped open a drawer in the counter and fumbled around with the first aid supplies inside until he found a small jar of Vaseline.

Lust, excitement, and impatience overwhelmed Boyd; he hadn't felt such emotions or really thought about sex in so long that it should have been strange or awkward but instead every touch, every gasp or exhalation of pleasure was completely natural, like no time had passed between the present and the last time they'd been together. When impossibly strong hands gripped him roughly or held him tight, he didn't freeze or panic, he had no flashbacks of the fourth or Shane or his phobia... He trusted Sin not to hurt him, leaving him free to feel desire rather than fear. He wanted Sin; he wanted to be able to touch him whichever way he wanted and without having to fear repercussion, he wanted to feel this kind of hot, intense passion, the type that made his thoughts hazy and body sensitized so that every doubt was temporarily blocked out. After half a year of obsessing and regretting, the freedom to stop caring was almost like a tangible weight lifted from his mind and body, giving him the chance to fully feel again.

"Oh fuck," Sin groaned quietly, green eyes rolling back in his head and Boyd's mind centered on that husky, sexy voice. His fingers wrapped around Sin's erection, smoothing Vaseline over it generously, hurriedly, and he continued stroking it for longer than was necessary, ignoring his own throbbing dick as he focused intently on the look on Sin's face. He was momentarily caught by the fact that he was once again causing Sin to show those emotions, that lust; that after everything, he could still have such an effect on the man. But the fascination didn't last long; his need for more led to impatience and he lifted one leg up on the counter, pinning his knee against his chest as he spread his other leg and leaned back further, his upper back resting against the broken cabinet. It was uncomfortable but he didn't particularly care at that moment, not when he could see Sin watching him hungrily as he positioned himself.

Boyd threw his head back, eyes squeezed closed temporarily and teeth gritting at the sharp pain that accompanied penetration. But the pain became pleasure as Sin shoved into him over and over, the cabinet rattling behind him occasionally as particularly hard thrusts shook the contents within. Boyd braced himself with one hand against the counter and slid the other along Sin's skin, finding places to clutch painfully as the pleasure increased until he was slamming himself against Sin violently, desperately, forgetting to be silent as his mouth hung open and loud moans and half gasps escaped into the air. The acoustics of the bathroom made his moans seem louder, to the point that Sin covered Boyd's mouth with one of his hands to smother the sounds. Boyd's eyes narrowed at being quieted like that, his mind mostly lost in the intensity of the moment, and he sunk his teeth into his hand, not letting go. Sin didn't even flinch, too lost in the feel of the tight, hot muscles encasing his cock. Their movements were hurried, frenzied and Boyd dropped his away from Sin to begin clumsily jerking his own erection just as Sin felt his orgasm building.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh fuck yes," Sin hissed quietly, urgently, and by the time he came and slumped forward, Boyd was practically screaming against his hand as he orgasmed as well. They collapsed against each other, panting harshly, remaining that way for a bit. Sin didn't bother to immediately move his hand and when Boyd had enough presence of mind, he ran his tongue along the skin, tasting Sin's sweat. After a moment, Sin put his hand on the counter beside Boyd but he didn't pull away yet while Boyd drank in the sight of his darkened green eyes and swollen lips. He felt another emotion swell within him, something that accompanied the lust and desire but was not quite the same thing, and didn't resist the urge to pull him in for another few quick, heated kisses. Sin was like an addiction he couldn't give up and for another few moments, they lazily reacquainted themselves with the taste of each other's mouth. Eventually, Boyd broke the kiss by dropping his head back against the mirror and nearly closed his eyes, ignoring the discomfort of his position for a moment as he just slumped and tried to catch his breath. Finally, Sin stood up straight and pulled up his pants as he gazed down at Boyd blearily.

Boyd could hardly pay attention to anything other than the satiated feel of his body, but he felt the stare centered on him and he smirked slowly, one hand resting idly on his bare stomach where his shirt had moved up at some point. He opened his eyes halfway and studied Sin with dark eyes, looking tousled, well-fucked and relaxed. He didn't want to forget any of this, just in case things changed again or something happened to take away his ability to get this close to Sin. He committed Sin's expression to memory, along with the feeling of Sin pounding into him and even feel of the strong hand muffling his voice before he'd bit him. "You covered my mouth," he murmured, his tone nearly a reproach although he didn't seem angry; more than anything, he seemed surprised and amused.

One corner of Sin's mouth twitched up as he absently went about his usual routine, or what had been a usual routine in Monterrey, of searching for a cigarette after sex. It was amusing because it was such a cliché thing to do but considering the fact that he'd become so hooked on the vice, it was somewhat understandable. His half smile turned into an annoyed frown when he realized he had the pack of Lucky Strikes but no match to strike them and he finally shook his head at Boyd. "I almost didn't," He said with a raised eyebrow. "Almost decided to give these fucks what they've been wanting and put on a show." He leaned against the bathroom door and dropped his hand to his crotch in an almost protective gesture. "But everything seems to be in working order so I don't want to push my luck."

"Hmm. I didn't realize our sex life was in such high demand," Boyd said lazily, trying to get himself to bother to move. As uncomfortable as the position was, he was still feeling relaxed enough that he didn't feel like exerting any extra effort at the moment. The rest of what Sin said filtered through his mind belatedly and he finally gathered the energy to slide off the counter. He pulled on his clothing, quirking an eyebrow. "Are you implying that I was your test ride?"

Sin finally opened the door. "I could have tested it out in another way if that was the case," he said with a snort, making a crude hand gesture near his crotch with a smirk. "But I wasn't really thinking about it too much until today."

"I must just have that effect on you," Boyd said with a smug smile, leaning against the counter. "Although in the interest of avoiding awkward conversations with your guards, it may be best to go to my house more often. Assuming I will no longer be monitored, it's quite a bit more private there. Otherwise, despite my best intentions, I make no promises regarding noise levels. Which, incidentally, is your fault."

Sin shrugged in mock innocence and finally exited the small room, heading across the apartment to the kitchen so that he could light a cigarette from one of the stove burners. He waited until Boyd wandered closer to him before speaking as he inhaled deeply and eyed the blond man for a moment. "That'd be great except I'm still not allowed to go wandering off all by my lonesome," He drawled but despite the calm tone, there was a definite undercurrent of bitterness in his voice. "That's why I couldn't see you for the past three weeks. That and I was being monitored in the medical facility for most of the time."

"Unfortunately, I assumed that would be the case," Boyd said quietly, so his voice wouldn't possibly carry to the other side of the front door. "You were allowed to leave with me before, though. I would suspect it's the same now unless they no longer trust me enough to vouch for you."

"I'm not sure what's going to happen now. Seems like things have changed since we've been gone. Someone's putting a lot of pressure on Connors and his way of dealing with it is running this place like Hitler. He's gotten rid of a lot of people for making mistakes. It's come to the point where I'm surprised everyone in our department is still breathing after his attempt at blaming that situation on us but I supposed we are difficult to replace and he's decided to focus his wrath on Thierry." Sin leaned against the counter and watched Boyd, his previous easy going attitude turning into a far more serious one. One long finger tapped against the collar on his neck absently. "But he did make it pretty clear that if I ever 'let myself fall into such a state' again, he'll personally remove me from life support."

Boyd's gaze lingered in displeasure on the collar. "I see he hasn't lost any of his charm since I last interacted with him," he said, leaning against the counter as he thought about that more in depth. He had no idea what he would do if it came to that, if Sin's life support was honestly in jeopardy of being pulled. He knew he would do everything he could to stop it but he also realized that there were certain circumstances in which he could become powerless. He may have defied Connors before, and despite the consequences he would do it again if Sin's life were in danger, but that wouldn't necessarily be enough.

Beyond that, if Connors was even less agreeable or logical than he had been before, he didn't even know what that meant for himself. His own punishment had been extensive and, for him, torturous; Connors now knew what it took to make a person like him, who had entered the Agency emotionless and unresponsive, react in terror. Not to mention, Connors had already threatened his position previously. Obviously they did not have a suitable replacement as Sin's partner yet or they would not have told him to return, but that did not necessarily mean that they weren't in the process of finding or training someone else. If Connors' personality was escalating then there was no judging what could happen. He could be kicked off Carhart's team or no longer allowed to interact with Sin due to any number of reasons Connors could conceivably give, such as that he was aware of their sexual activity and he didn't feel it was appropriate, or even simply that he no longer felt Boyd was best for the job. And who would be there to tell him no?

That was the part that seemed strange to Boyd, though. His eyes narrowed slightly in thought as he said, "I was always under the impression that the Agency was its own separate entity and that Connors was in control. Who could be pressuring him like that, and why would they? Do you think it's related to our mission? I suppose if the Agency is designed to deal with operations such as debilitating the rebels, I could see that between the mission falling through and the unwanted scrutiny from other countries, they could consider the Agency to be failing. On the other hand, the organization is far larger than the parts we deal with so I don't see how our actions would necessarily result in Connors being pressured enough to result in him becoming especially harsh toward everyone."

Sin shrugged. "I know that above everyone is a higher power and that he definitely answers to someone, just like Vivienne ultimately does. The way I took this information was that it isn't our unit or our failure that led him to become that way; it was something that was building before we even set foot in the convention center, the entire time we were gone. Although if you want to be technical about it, Janus is after the American government in general and of all the groups and things the Agency deals with, they are the ones everyone most wants gone. They're this generation of politician's focus, the terrorist organization that must be stopped at all cost, even if they're not necessarily terrorists so much as insurgents although the government uses their earlier actions to give them the label."

He brought the cigarette to his lips and took another drag before going on. "They're very well known by the people and even the most liberal of the left wing are against them, or at least they are publicly. Defeating them has become propaganda for every politician hoping to get into office. The Janus attack on D.C. a few years ago, as much of a failure as it ultimately was, has become something people identify them with even if they're not just after the USA. We're not even the only unit that deals with them. There's an undercover unit with people trying to get in on the inside, there's a unit specifically for intelligence gathering... we're involved in something that's a big deal to a lot of people. So when Connors told whoever that we had a chance to decapitate their organization and then that fell through, I imagine he heard some shit about it; although now I suppose he knows that it wasn't our fault, and he still essentially needs us at least until he replaces us if he wants to get shit done, that's probably why he's so frantic to find Thierry. Not only is Thierry too much of a wild card to have on the loose if he is working with Janus, but we can get a lot of information out of him regarding not only Janus, but every other rebel organization he's involved with which would be useful to many other units in this agency." Another brief pause. "I kind of feel sorry for the bastard if we do find him."

"I don't know what I think of Thierry," Boyd said, thinking about the brief time he'd been in contact with the man. "I barely know him and certainly did not spend enough time around him to truly understand how he works. He seemed sincere, yet his very life depended on the ability to appear so to everyone regardless of his true nature. It does make me wonder what really happened and what he will say if we find him, though if Connors thinks finding Thierry will solve many of his problems, I doubt that's the case. He's just one aspect of the larger issue and if Janus got him first, I'm not certain how much there will be left for him to tell us. They seem to be rather ruthless so it makes me wonder if they may just completely incapacitate him in order to avoid that exact scenario."

Boyd paused, not knowing what he felt about that. If Thierry had betrayed them, he would have less sympathy for him than if he hadn't. On the other hand, he had seen what Janus did to those it was displeased with and he couldn't tell if he would ever wish that on Thierry regardless of what choice he had made. The only reason he wasn't certain where his sympathies lay was the fact that if Thierry had purposefully given them bad information, then in a way he also shared responsibility for what had happened to Sin. If Boyd had either done a better job receiving the information or if Thierry had not chosen to mess with them and give such false information, then they would never have been in Monterrey and Sin would never have been in the position he was. While initially Boyd had been angry with the idea of Thierry betraying them, now that they were considering the possibility that it could have not been Thierry's fault either, he decided to reserve judgment until he could learn more about it. Beyond that, if they had never gone to Monterrey, would he and Sin ever have grown closer? Boyd didn't know, and that was one of the reasons he was trying not to create an opinion until he knew more.

Even so, speaking of Janus made him think of what he had seen on the mission, the people he had spoken to and their ideals contrasted to what had been said at the Agency all along, which made him realize that he had never paid much heed to what the media was saying despite the fact that his mother was one of the people directly in charge of what was sent out in public announcements. He gave Sin a curious look. "D.C.? I suppose I heard something about that awhile back but I don't recall exactly what happened. I've never cared enough to pay much attention to the media, to be honest."

Sin made 'tsk, tsk' noises at him, most likely because of his lack of knowledge concerning current affairs. "It was one of the first major attacks Janus made on US soil and pretty much the reason the government began taking them seriously as a threat and something to be reckoned with. It was in the beginning when they were still primarily based in North America and continuing to grow; I think they were mostly trying to make a point, trying to show that someone somewhere opposes the government and isn't afraid to show it, so they set off a well planned but poorly executed attack on the National Mall right after it was mostly rebuilt. That's when Janus as a opposition group became well known by normal civilians, or at least those who keep up with current events, and that act is what the politicians use as an example as to why they must be stopped."

Boyd nodded thoughtfully. "That's right, it was regarding the national monuments, I recall that much now. Still, that seems odd; the Lincoln Memorial and other monuments are there. I wouldn't have expected them to attack American history; they seem most interested in the corruption of the modern government."

"True, but the war that helped spawn those negative feelings towards the government was also the inspiration for a major monument and exhibit in the Mall after it was renovated and rebuilt following the attacks," Sin replied as he finished his cigarette. "From my understanding their aim was to destroy that particular area to make their ire towards the government and that war be known to all but due to lack of experience, the plan went bad at the last minute and thirteen civlians were killed, two dozen injured."

"Ahh," Boyd said, inclining his head in understanding. "I see. That would certainly be enough for the media to work with. No doubt they said it was Janus' plan all along and proved how they were against all Americans, even civilians. How long ago was this?"

"Probably a little more than ten years ago, a couple of years after they were formed." Sin pulled himself up onto the counter and stared down at his partner as he spoke. His features looked particularly striking under the fluorescent lights, his short haircut not hiding his piercing eyes and his cheekbones standing out in sharp contrast from his weight loss. "I forget how young you are sometimes. What were you when all of this happened? Nine? Ten?"

"I'm not that young," Boyd said, but it was an aside because it was true that especially ten years ago their age difference would have especially affected their experiences. "I was probably ten at the time, though, depending on the exact date. You had to have been around eighteen, then? I suppose at that time you were far more involved in the situation than I was."

"That's one way of putting it," Sin said with a snort.

"Was every form of media saying the same thing?" Boyd asked. He'd been young enough when the war hit that he hadn't been aware of any propaganda at the time. Following that, Lou and he had never been particularly interested in what the media was saying about the situation because they were living through the aftermath and didn't need to know what the papers were telling people who were unaffected. Boyd had always been more interested in books and studying than he was the news; primarily because he was so preoccupied with his everyday life that it hadn't really mattered what else was going on. It wasn't as though he'd never ever read papers or watched the news, but it hadn't been something he did frequently or regularly, and so he was in the dark on most of this. And after Lou had died, he hadn't had much of a mind to think about anything at all, so it was unsurprising that he hadn't been running around collecting newspapers and watching the television religiously to monitor the state of the world around him when the only part of the world that had ever mattered to him, his best friend and lover, was irrevocably gone. As a result, he didn't know many specifics about any of this. "The newspapers at least could have had some other editorials. If my father was anything to go by, journalists can be quite intent and I would expect at least one would be looking for another angle in order to get ahead."

"The newspaper industry, just like television and radio stations, are and always have been owned by a very small number of large corporations and it just got worse after the war. There's hundreds of newspapers in different cities nationwide and they're all pretty much owned by the same people and they all pretty much report the same things even if they say it in different ways," Sin replied. "Even if certain papers give the implication that they're more liberal than the others, it's usually just for demographic's sake, to sell papers, but they're all generally ultimately funded by right wing companies and will never print anything that goes against the opinions of their benefactors. The only paper I can think of that is, or appears to be, completely unbiased is the free periodical distributed by the Journalist Guild which gives a brutally honest view of the world and our government."

That sounded a little familiar to Boyd and it took him a moment of considering the name to realize why. Some of the places he used to frequent had some free periodicals located at the front of the store. Most of them included information about the city; events that may be coming up or places to visit, so he hadn't paid much heed. He remembered this particular periodical because one day when he'd visited the antique store where he'd bought the Paradise Lost manuscript, the owner hadn't returned from lunch yet so the store was still locked. It had been cold and windy outside so he hadn't wanted to walk home yet. He'd stood in the vestibule between the outside door of the building and the locked door to the store itself, and had in boredom looked at the reading materials available. One of them seemed to be a home printed magazine which he thought was strange to see in such a place so he'd picked it up. He remembered seeing 'Journalist Guild' written across the top and wondering who they were in relation to others such as the Associated Press. He didn't recall much about the periodical itself because Hannah had returned within seconds of him picking it up and he'd dropped it back to the pile, but the strangeness of the situation stuck with him even if he'd since forgotten it.

"I've seen one of those before," Boyd said thoughtfully. "It appeared to be home made, or at least a small publication. I didn't get the chance to read anything but their name on it, though. Who are they? And if they choose to go against the mainstream, what do they have to say about Janus?"

"I don't know much about them except that different agencies keep tabs on them or try to because of their radical statements and ideas. Anything overly critical of the government is seen as anti-American and anything anti-American of course is seen as something that can be a threat. But as far as Janus goes, from what I've seen and heard, they're not pro Janus but they're not as quick to form judgements against their every move either. They seem more neutral, more inclined to report without taking a side. They pretty much just lay the facts out there when it comes to them."

"Hmm. I recall seeing that periodical years ago, though. They must have been around for awhile, yet even with the agencies watching them they don't know much? And what other agencies do you mean?" Boyd asked curiously.

"The other organizations that are connected to the government. FBI, CIA, the other secret agencies like the one we're in. I'm not sure which ones actually watch them but I know we're not the only ones and I'm not even sure if we're particularly actively investigating them much," Sin replied. "It's not something I know much about."

"They must be as secretive and organized as Janus, then, or perhaps more if they haven't been taken out yet. I would suspect if that's the case they must also use protective measures such as pseudonyms and go-betweens that they never meet in person but pay off to distribute their work? Is there a team here at the Agency that is devoted to them like we are to Janus?"

Once again Sin shrugged. "As far as I know tabs are kept on them but I don't know specifically how much is done to stop them entirely. A move like that would only make people pay more attention, probably. But I'd think you're right, that they definitely hide their true identities or else it'd be a lot easier to get them to stop making waves. I don't really know much about it all though. Probably Ryan does. I only pay attention to the people I'm supposed to kill and so far I haven't been sent to kill any of them."

"I see," Boyd said. Although he found the idea of the Journalist Guild interesting, it was primarily because they seemed to have such a contradictory viewpoint compared to what was more mainstream. Then mention of Ryan reminded him of his earlier question. "Have you seen Ryan? I was surprised he wasn't at the meeting."

"No but I've had no reason to yet."

"Is he working on something special?" Boyd pressed, wondering what exactly had indisposed him. "Owen was missing from a few meetings at one point as well; is that a typical cycle of their position?"

"I have no idea." Sin flipped open his pack of cigarettes and took out another. "Why don't you just go see for yourself."

"I will, I just thought you may know," Boyd said with a shrug. "I'll probably ask him after I stop by HR." Sin didn't say anything and Boyd fell silent, watching him for a moment before he thought to check his watch. It was still several hours until the administrative levels with Human Resources closed but he had no idea how long it would take to get his ID card and phone. Theoretically, it was something that should just take a few minutes where he'd just have to pick them up, verify he was clear in the system, and leave, but it was exactly because of that simplicity that it would probably turn out to take hours; bureaucracy tended to complicate matters unnecessarily.

Boyd pushed himself away from the counter. "I should go. I'll be around the compound, though, and if they've changed my cell number I'll give you the new one if you need to contact me for some reason."

Sin nodded and lit his cigarette, watching Boyd with a long, lingering gaze as he got ready to leave. He didn't say anything and neither did Boyd but once again as they drew closer to the door, that same uncomfortable feeling of paranoia and hesitation overcame them, that they may be monitored or overheard. So instead of speaking, they just looked at each other in a manner that didn't need words to pass between them. After a pause, Boyd exited the apartment without needing to say anything more.

It didn't take him long to make it to HR but it turned out to be good that he'd allowed so much time; in the end, he had to wait around for half an hour and even when he could speak to Susan Green, it was another hour and a half before everything was settled and he was able to leave. It turned out he had the same cell number as before, which was convenient.

He headed toward Complex C, using his newly returned ID card to get inside the building. He didn't recognize the guard at the entrance but he hadn't been to Ryan's in awhile so that was nothing strange. As he headed toward Ryan's apartment, he wondered what he could possibly be working on that would have caused him to miss the meeting. Although Boyd assumed he was probably researching Thierry's whereabouts, it must have been very difficult information to procure if Ryan was missing meetings for it. As far as that went, what had Owen been working on previously that had caused him to disappear as well? Then again, each of them was in charge of researching and keeping tabs on the rebel groups in half the world, which was a formidable job for anyone. It wouldn't be surprising if they temporarily got sidetracked by other things, even if Janus was now their main focus while the unit was active.

Boyd stopped in front of the door labeled 15H and hesitated. He very much wanted to see Ryan but he wondered if he would be disturbing him in the middle of something important. On the other hand, if Ryan knew he'd returned to the complex after over a year and hadn't bothered to stop by, he'd probably think that Boyd didn't care about him and that would hurt his feelings more than being interrupted in the middle of research. That made the decision for him and he knocked loudly on the door, making sure he was standing in view of the eye hole so Ryan could see who it was.

More than a full minute passed without an answer and after a moment of debating leaving and trying another day, Boyd knocked again. This time there was a muffled call through the door followed by a brief fit of coughing and after awhile the door swung open. Boyd was greeted to the sight of a very disheveled looking Ryan who appeared to have just rolled out of bed. His clothing was rumpled and his unruly black hair stuck out all over the place but the most shocking thing was his actual pallor and emaciated form. Normally Ryan looked like the stereotypical pale computer nerd but now his paleness was so stark in contrast to his black hair and wide blue eyes that it was alarming; it looked like he hadn't been outside in weeks, months maybe, and the pastiness of his skin screamed illness; even his lips looked pale. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and his sweater hung off him alarmingly; he'd always been thin but now he looked barely more than skin and bones. But despite this, his mouth widened into a huge smile and his eyes lit up as he focused on Boyd. It didn't take him long to launch himself at the other man and when he wrapped his thin arms around Boyd, he was shocked at how fragile Ryan felt in his arms.

"You're really back!"

The shock of Ryan's appearance briefly made Boyd forget anything he'd meant to say, so he just reacted physically rather than speaking. He automatically hugged him back but didn't dare tighten his arms too strong around him for fear of hurting him. Of course he knew Ryan had an illness, but he hadn't been prepared for the sight or feel of his friend. Concern and worry settled in an uncomfortable knot in his stomach and he wondered how he had grown so much more ill during the time he'd been away. The illness had seemed at least relatively stable before Monterrey and Ryan had that inhaler... Was that not working any longer? Or had the stress of working so hard finally gotten to him? Ryan didn't pull away from him immediately and Boyd couldn't help holding him a little closer despite himself; Ryan still had the ability to comfort him simply by his presence and he realized at that moment exactly how much he had missed him. He wanted to ask him if he was alright, why he looked especially sick, but he didn't think it would be appropriate to bring up in the doorway where anyone could hear down the hall, so instead he said, "I'm sorry if I woke you; I wanted to see you and let you know that I'm here and I'll be around again."

"Don't apologize," Ryan said quickly, finally pulling away. He grinned up at Boyd before backing up and waving him into the apartment. "I've missed you so much. I know that sounds gay but seriously, I did."

As Boyd stepped into the apartment he saw that it was as unorganized as ever but now the presence of a very large and very hi-tech humidifier and air filter were hooked up in the living room. The entire apartment, at least what he could see of it, seemed to be sealed airtight. He looked around the apartment briefly before refocusing on Ryan. "I missed you too," he said honestly. As happy as he was to see Ryan, the pallor of his skin seemed starker inside the apartment, to the point that he couldn't wait any longer to ask. "Ryan... Are you alright?" He studied him in concern.

Ryan stiffened visibly, shoulders tensing but he continued to smile and waved the question off. "Yeah, you know how it is. I'm always crappy after the winter months. It sucks that you have to see me like this though. Embarrassing."

"I'm happy to see you regardless of how healthy you seem, and I'm not trying to be rude, it's just..." Boyd brought a hand up without thinking and touched Ryan's cheek, noting that his temperature felt relatively normal. His eyebrows drew down in thought. "I don't recall it being quite like this after last winter. Does it go in cycles across the years as well or have you just been too stressed with work?"

"Who knows," The smaller man responded vaguely. "It comes, it goes, it's bad, it's good. I'll never really known what causes it to behave so erratically unless there's suddenly some ground breaking discovery in the study of the disease. It's not too bad, really. It means I get to do my work in my pajamas and e-mail the heads instead of going in for meetings." He plopped down on one of the sofas in the living room and shoved a stack of comic books and magazine off the neighboring cushion. "How are you? How's everything. Tell me everything."

"I'm alright." Boyd sat down next to him, still studying him despite Ryan's words. It made sense if the illness was affecting him more at the time of the year, but that didn't mean the explanation immediately put his worries at ease. He was pleased to see Ryan regardless of his health, though, and tried to think about his question rather than annoy him by watching him too closely. He looked briefly around the apartment again, trying to reacquaint himself with the idea of just being around someone he could easily talk to again. Having the ability to be around Sin and Ryan helped to relieve some sense of tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. He'd primarily intended to stop by to check on Ryan and hadn't thought about how Ryan would probably have many questions for him as well. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts. Even though he wasn't certain how much he particularly felt like talking about everything at that moment, his relief at seeing Ryan again outweighed any hesitation he may otherwise have displayed. And besides, it wasn't like he had anywhere else to be. Staying at Ryan's for awhile would be better than going straight home.

Finally, he looked back at him and said, "I suppose everything is fine right now although to be honest, I'm still a little off-balance being back at the Agency after so long. It seemed surreal when I first walked in and now the routine is returning to me." He paused, running a hand through his hair to get the choppy brown and blond out of his eyes. "As for anything else... I don't know where to start."

Ryan rested his chin against his palm and gazed at Boyd silently for a moment. His lips parted briefly before he sealed them again, seeming to be unsure of what to ask or what to say. Boyd wasn't sure exactly what Ryan knew about what had happened when he'd returned but when Ryan finally spoke, he was relieved that his punishment or meeting with Connors didn't come up. Instead Ryan's wide eyes grew rounder as if he'd suddenly remembered something and he leaned forward. "How was nearly a year of living with Hsin?"

"Ah." That was a logical question, but in a way, an awkward one to answer honestly. He could just gloss it over, but he wouldn't; if he would tell anyone everything about the situation, it would be Ryan. But he knew that Ryan had liked Sin for a long time so he felt a little awkward discussing what had happened between them in Monterrey. On the other hand, there were some things he needed to talk to someone about eventually and without the background of his and Sin's sexual relationship, it probably wouldn't make sense. Beyond that, if the information eventually somehow got out that they were intimate with each other, which he hoped would not be the case, then he wanted Ryan to have heard it from him first rather than from rumors. Given the fact that Ryan had been telling him that something was happening between them long before Boyd accepted that it was, he felt that more than anyone Ryan had the right to hear about it first. "That was... interesting at first, but overall it was good," he said, trying to determine the best wording, his tone relaxed and calm. "Neither of us was accustomed to the heat and, at least for me, being attracted to him but in such close quarters made it difficult at first." He leaned back, having forgotten how comfortable Ryan's sofa was. "Eventually, it got better. I probably should have listened to you earlier, though; you were right that the attraction was on both sides."

Ryan's dark eyebrows shot up and for a moment he seemed stunned into silence but then his lips stretched into a wide grin. "I knew something would happen! Well I was pretty sure anyway. I should have bet someone but I had no one to bet. Ha! I knew it! ..Wait. Something did happen, didn't it? It wasn't just some mutual confession that was quickly ignored? Man, he did actually say it didn't he? You didn't just figure it out on your own and then never mention it?"

"It was initially more action than confession but, no, it wasn't ignored," Boyd said, thinking about the first time Sin and he had fooled around. "I think if the same catalysts had occurred here it may not have turned out as it did, but we were far away from anyone watching us and it made it easier to just do what we wanted. We've slept together several times since then so the physical attraction became pretty obvious. Although it's not exactly information we plan to advertise so it's best if no one else knows."

"Wow. I'm impressed. Seriously." Ryan stared at him in amazement. "Wow." A brief moment passed and he shook his head slowly. "Some day I'll be able to think of something more clever than that to say but at the moment I'm freakin' floored. I mean-- so are you two... I don't know. Wow."

Boyd raised an eyebrow, amused by the reaction. "Is it really that impressive? I suppose it's been awhile since I've seen you so it seems more normal to me."

Ryan shrugged and scratched the back of his head. "Well I mean... he's just so... I don't know. I always had the feeling he was interested in you but now that I think of it, I can't really picture him... not being all... Sin-like. I dunno." He shook his head and smiled again. "Wow that's a hot mental image now that I've conjured it up."

That made Boyd laugh briefly; that was another reason he'd missed Ryan, just by being himself he somehow managed to relax him enough that natural reactions of laughter or amusement were more likely to surface. "Well, I won't lie and say the mental image is probably wrong. His personality became far more relaxed after the time spent there, though, and remnants of that change remain. You may experience some of it when you next see him."

Ryan nodded but his expression grew slightly more serious. "So does that mean he's really okay? I mean they made it sound like he'd never wake up, I was really unsure when suddenly I was told that he was around again."

Boyd's expression darkened and he dropped his gaze to his hands. "I know. I didn't believe it either, even when I saw and spoke to him. I couldn't understand how he was fine, but somehow he seems to be." He paused a moment then looked back up at Ryan. "It's beyond me," he admitted. "I honestly believed he was dead or would be brain damaged. I doubt there's anyone else who would have somehow managed to make it through that and even have a full recovery. I can't imagine I would have."

The other man snorted. "I can't even survive a cool breeze. I'm sure if anyone ever tries to torture me for interrogation my body would give up as soon as the idea was brought to attention."

Boyd shrugged, falling silent as he studied the couch. He didn't particularly want to discuss at length the subject of torture, not after what he'd seen of Sin or even, as much as he tried not to think about it, what he himself had been through; so he didn't know what to say to that. Instead, he looked around the apartment, noting that there seemed to be more piles of paper and perfectly posed figurines than he recalled. It made it seem as though Ryan had been staying in his apartment more often than usual, which made Boyd wonder exactly how long he'd been as ill as he was. He looked back at Ryan and asked, "So what have you been doing lately? Anything interesting?"

"Eh, nothing much," Ryan said, once again in the same vague manner. "Work as usual, there were a couple of big assignments that sucked up months of my life. Oh, and I had a brief romance but it's not much to talk about."

"A romance?" Boyd asked with a raised eyebrow. "Now I'm curious. Is it the same person you were talking about before?"

"Who?" Ryan's eyebrows drew together and he frowned slightly before he seemed to remember. "Oh no, not that guy. Someone else. He's a field op; cute, athletic, friendly, closeted gay. I don't think you know him."

Boyd nodded. "Why was it brief, if you don't mind my asking?"

Ryan shrugged and stood up suddenly, looking around the room before trailing over to his desk as though he were searching for something. "I don't know. I just told him I didn't want to see him anymore. I guess I didn't feel like getting involved," He replied after a moment, not looking at Boyd as he shoved aside a stack of folders and pulled his glasses from beneath. "It was no big deal. It was just something to do I guess. It's probably better for him anyway, I'm kind of a drag."

Boyd watched him but didn't say anything. It seemed like there was something Ryan wasn't telling him, but on the other hand how could he blame him? It wasn't as though Boyd felt like detailing every experience that had occurred to him since they'd last seen each other, so he couldn't expect Ryan to do the same. Even so, he felt that there were some parts of the relationship Ryan wouldn't mind talking about, given the fact that he'd brought the subject up. "Ryan, you are the last person I would characterize as 'a drag,' but you have to do what you feel is best for you. Did those assignments have anything to do with meeting him. Or were you briefly suspended like Carhart and Jeffrey were?"

"Nope, me and Owen didn't really get any of the backlash to be honest so we carried on business as usual, even while Carhart and Jeff were out. I mean no matter what's going on with Janus I always have the other groups to keep tabs on; they put me in a couple of other units for two assignments which happens from time to time. Before this unit was created I was moved around pretty frequently. It was pretty busy for awhile; I had one assignment that was totally unrelated to rebel factions entirely so that was kind of new and exciting. I had a lot of fun stuff to research; barely slept for a week because I was so into it." Ryan pushed his glasses up his nose and sat on the edge of his desk. "That's actually why I met that guy. I went on a late night coffee run and he was in the cafeteria just getting back from an assignment."

He could imagine how Ryan would have seemed during that time, cheerful and bright-eyed, and he would have preferred that the reason he'd been missing from the missions recently was due to a similar state of excitation and obsessive researching rather than illness. It wasn't that he thought Ryan was depressing at the moment, but there was something about him that was more... reserved than Boyd remembered. Something quieter, something that kept his smiles from all being as wide or genuine; something that was preoccupying him. Was it the failed romance as well as the illness? Had it been a difficult break-up that still ran through Ryan's mind when he didn't want it to?

"What's his name?" Boyd asked in interest, trying to get a grasp on who this man was that had caught Ryan's attention. "What unit is he in?"

"His name is Andrew. He works with Willis a lot, I'm not sure who else. We didn't really talk too much about work stuff because he isn't supposed to talk about most of his assignments even though I probably know more about it than he does generally."

"Damian Willis? I've heard of him in passing; his unit deals with terrorists, doesn't it?" Boyd considered what Ryan had said about him being athletic. "Andrew must be on one of the apprehension teams, then?"

Ryan nodded and a small, amused grin crept up onto his face. "Yeah. He gets all like, I don't know, noble about his job. Like he's saving the world by taking down these bad people and that makes him a superhero or something. It's cute in a way but after awhile I wanted to gag."

Boyd smirked in amusement. That made sense if he couldn't speak about his job; in truth, none of the units really discussed what they were doing with the others, as far as he could tell. It was a general matter of secrecy that encompassed the very nature of being in the Agency. He wouldn't be surprised if even the administrative assistants and clerical workers didn't discuss amongst themselves the information they dealt with on the computers or filing systems. "How much does he know about what you do, then?"

"I just told him I was a geek," Ryan replied, as proud as ever of his self-proclaimed title. "That I'm research and development for the Insurgency units. He seemed to think like, it dealt with kind of the same stuff as he does and I tried to tell him without telling him that mostly we just smack down the people who don't like our government and not the people who just like to destroy stuff because they're crazy."

That response was not one Boyd would have expected from before; Ryan had always seemed very positive toward the Agency and with that viewpoint he never really spoke of the rebels like Janus that way before. Boyd nodded. "Yes, his position could be considered a little more glamorized. Did you go off the compound with him?"

The grin melted off Ryan's pale face again and he looked away, tugging at the frayed end up his sweater. "No, that's why I said I'm a drag. He's all... I don't know. Outgoing and stuff."

Boyd raised an eyebrow. "Ryan, stop calling yourself a drag. You're not. Whether or not you leave the compound doesn't really matter, since I'm sure you were more interested in seeing him and you could do that anywhere. I was simply curious if you two had been anywhere I knew of but it doesn't matter."

"I guess," He replied quietly with a shrug and for a moment they fell into sil