electricalgwen

Masterpost

Part Four

Julie’s class gets out fifteen minutes early. Jensen’s been sitting on a window ledge in the hallway since half-past five, waiting. He steps in behind her as she’s leaving the classroom, and slings his arm around her. “Hey, Anna.”

He’s done with subtle. Jeff’s been taking it slow and careful, and look what happened. She hurt Jared, and Jensen is seeing red. He presses his gun into her side; it’s shielded by his body and the fall of his jacket.

“Did you watch the news? Did it make you happy? All those people?”

Her spine stiffens in surprise. He can see the muscle at her temple twitch as she clenches her teeth, then relaxes.

“Jensen,” she says. “Damn. I thought we checked you out properly.”

He’d been sure it was her, but the confirmation still makes his gut twist.

“My guy’s good.” He nudges her forward with the gun barrel below her ribs, leading her toward the stairwell. “Broke your ID. Julie.”

“Military, and brand new in town.” She bites her lip. “I should have caught on. Guess I spent too much time in the virtual world.”

“You had bigger things to worry about,” Jensen says tightly. “Like killing Jared’s family.”

Her step falters at that. He jams the gun harder against her side, catching her arm with his free hand and pinning it against her. She isn’t trying to run, though; her weight sags against him.

“Oh,” she whispers.

“Not gonna say you’re sorry?” He keeps a tight hold on her arm, pushes her out the fire door at the base of the stairs. They both blink as they emerge into late afternoon sunlight.

She half shrugs. “Would you believe me? I’m sorry enough anyway. Jared… I like him. I regret that, but it doesn’t change anything.”

He tamps down the rage. They’re in public.

“This way,” he grits out, jerking his head to the right.

She turns as he directs.

A shiver runs through her as they leave the boundaries of campus, and she wraps her arms around herself.

“Uh-uh,” he says. He lets go of her arm, switches his grip on the gun, and reaches around to grip her other wrist. She gives a little cry as he presses on the nerve point; her hand falls loosely open and her phone drops to the ground. “None of that.”

He bends and retrieves it, keeping his gaze and the gun trained on her the whole time. It’s tricky to pop it open and remove the card and GPS chip one-handed, but he manages by stabilizing it against his gun hand. He pockets the phone and pushes her forward again; the chip he drops in the first garbage bin they pass.

“Where are we going?”

“Headquarters.”

“Which one?”

“Mine.”

“And who are you?” She balks momentarily as he directs her down a deserted side street, but another press of the gun gets her moving again. “Police? Military? Men in Black?”

“None of the above. And none of your business.”

“Freelance?” She keeps walking, but turns her head to glance at him. “I thought you were the type to value personal freedom.”

“Not your version.”

“You don’t even know what you’re fighting for.”

“We know what you and your friends are up to. Not gonna happen.”

“The government you’re trying to salvage? Let me tell you what they’re doing.”

“Save your breath,” Jensen says. “Left.”

She talks anyway.

At first, he tries not to listen, tries to block her out. That’s a mistake, though, one he’s too good to be making. He can hear Jeff’s voice in his head: there’s always something useful there. People lie, sure, but the lies can tell you almost as much as the truth.

He can’t let his anger run this show. He needs to pay attention, look for the bits of truth among the lies and the hints she won’t be able to help but let slip.

“See, what you don’t get is that I don’t care all that much about the specifics.” Her eyes burn with fervor, and Jensen suppresses a grimace. Fanatics are hard to reason with. Whatever’s driving this woman is akin to religion, something she obviously believes and will fight for to the end. “This country’s too damn big. Centralized government means there’s so many layers between people and the decisions that affect them – it’s completely unfair! We want to break it down. Bring it back to local, grassroots. There’s this huge disconnect between government and the people they’re supposed to serve.”

She stops abruptly. They’re crossing a deserted parking lot; they’re right out in the open. He nudges her with the gun again but she ignores it, spinning to face him and backing up a few steps.

“How is someone in Florida supposed to understand the needs of a farmer in North Dakota? Is it fair that the north-east makes decisions for Texas? We’re not anti-American, we’re pro-states! Cascadia, the Republic of Texas – they’ve had separation movements for years! They want to govern themselves – let them! They know what’s best for them!”

His gun hand is tucked tight against his side, keeping his profile innocuous to any casual passer-by. He stares straight at her face and clicks the safety off. Her eyes widen but she only talks faster, spitting out words, hands waving.

The thought strikes him that if she’d brought this level of passion to the debate, her team would have won hands down. That night seems distant now, a different life.

“All Washington’s talk of cybersecurity and counter-terrorism…they’re using it to sneak in a massive breach of personal freedoms. They’re doing what Internet engineers spent years making sure didn’t happen – they’re installing a spy camera on every single citizen, and they’re undermining the rights of everyone in this country.”

She takes a tiny step forward. Jensen cocks an eyebrow and twitches the gun very slightly.

“You must have heard about that, a few months back. They proposed a bill that would enable them to conduct deep Internet surveillance, real-time monitoring of every electronic communication….”

“Yeah,” Jensen says, “but there was so much uproar they backed down.”

She shakes her head, hair flying in a red cloud around her shoulders. “They lied!”

“How the fuck would you know?”

“They’ve installed the code. I found it.”

“Bullshit!”

“No, it’s true!”

She steps forward again. He growls and raises the gun. She takes a deep breath, and three more quick steps.

She stands there, hands hanging loosely at her sides, muzzle of the gun jammed against her breastbone.

“I’ve seen it,” she says again, eyes boring into his with calmly insane sincerity. “And I’m going to destroy it. I’m the only one who can do it. I won’t do it if you take me in. And I can’t do it if you kill me.”

“I’m not letting you go.”

“Please,” she says for the first time. “I’m sorry about Jared. I really am. But this is bigger than revenge. Let me show you.”

Her hands are trembling; she balls them into fists and wills them to stop. Her heart is racing, her lips are numb and tingly. She’ll be lucky if the amount of adrenaline pouring through her doesn’t give her a heart attack on the spot.

It might be her life on the line. She doesn’t think he’d actually shoot her, but she wouldn’t want to bet on it. That’s not her biggest fear, though.

She’s been willing to die for the cause. But if she dies now, her discovery dies with her.

The dissolution of the US will continue with or without her efforts. Her colleagues don’t know that yet; that’s why they’re still messing with plots and plans. But they don’t need to. The file project would have helped, but already the pieces are folding and sliding and tumbling inevitably into place, one after another, interlocking events programming the future. The government has to subdue the rebellions; they can’t let them slide. They’ve gone too far already, though: they’ve been too harsh here, too abrupt there, and the dissent grows and spreads daily. It will be civil war.

But the internet, free exchange of information, net neutrality…that’s worth fighting for. And she hadn’t even known, before today, that it was under threat.

Ironically, Washington may have installed something that’ll disable the country more effectively than anything she and her colleagues could ever do. They created the killswitch to protect against outside enemies, but there are two fatal flaws in their plan. Faulty premises will get you every time. It’s the oldest rule in the computing world: garbage in, garbage out. In this case, they failed to see that on the Internet, nobody is ‘outside’; physical boundaries have far less meaning. And that inside enemies have an even better shot at fucking you up. Especially when you’re dumb enough to install a ‘Disable Us Here!’ button.

One of the break-away groups will get hold of it – if some hacker in China or Spain or Australia doesn’t do it first – and they’ll end up disabling the whole damn continent. The Internet’s the most complex machine humanity’s ever built. How the hell they think they can get away with shutting down a piece of it, without major spillover effects… well, obviously the point is that they don’t think. They haven’t got a clue.

She keeps walking. He’s got his other arm slung around her shoulders once again, boyfriend-style. With every step, the muzzle of the gun nudges against her ribs.

Of course he doesn’t trust what she’s telling him. She wouldn’t either, if the situation was reversed. Inviting him to her apartment was not an obvious move. But her stuff’s there, her best security, all her notes – if she’s got a hope in hell of convincing him, it’s there. And if he’s going to kill her, well. That can happen anywhere.

Plus, with the way he’s draped over her, he’s almost certainly going to leave traces. DNA, fibers. She watches a lot of CSI.

“The key’s in my left front pocket,” she says, as they approach her building.

He nods approvingly. “Thanks for the warning.”

“You’re not going to get it?” She tries to sound arch and taunting, rather than surprised.

He laughs. “What, you thought I was just waiting for any chance I could get to stick a hand in your pants?”

She ‘accidentally’ elbows him while shifting to wiggle the keys out of her jeans.

“You’ve got an alarm,” he says, as the elevator rises towards her floor. “Disable it, then disconnect it. I want to see wires.”

“Yes sir.”

He lets go of her the moment her apartment door closes behind them, a move which surprises and, oddly, faintly annoys her. He’s not supposed to be chivalrous about this.

“Through there,” she says, gesturing.

He whistles at her set-up, and she can’t help the smug little grin that crosses her face. “Yeah.”

He throws himself into the papasan. Every evening she curls up in that with a cup of tea and the shawl her grandmother knitted her when she first left for college. Now there’s a man with a gun and a grim expression occupying it, and the endgame’s upon her. “Show me.”

She tucks her hair behind her ears and gets to work.

She doesn’t take the most direct route into the system. Mostly because it’s always a good idea to lay down a convoluted trail, different each time, but partly because she wants to show off. Show him who he’s messing with.

It doesn’t work perfectly as an intimidation tactic, because he doesn’t understand all of it, she can tell. He doesn’t always make the right noises, doesn’t appreciate some of the pathways she’s found, doors unlocked. But he recognizes some of the systems, and once there’s a startled gasp that gives her a small flush of completely justifiable pride.

She pulls up the code in one window, and opens some of the ultra-classified memos and instructions in another, because it’s not like he’ll be able to interpret the source code.

“There,” she says, pushing back from the desk and folding her arms. “And there.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on the screens. The gun is hanging loosely between his knees. Her foot twitches.

“Don’t,” he says, eyes still scanning the computer.

“I won’t,” she says, and means it. Because she recognizes the expression slowly darkening his face, tightening the lines around his eyes. She’s seen it in the mirror enough times.

It’s the recognition that you are, in fact, that kind of person. That you have it in you to betray. If the stakes are high enough.

“Goddamnit.” He bites his lip. “I should be bringing you in right now. You’ve caused a lot of damage. I can’t let that slide.” He narrows his eyes, and she shivers; she’s never had this level of hate directed at her before. “And you hurt a friend of mine. I never let that slide.”

“I won’t cause any more,” she says, meaning it. “I was specifically told to leave this alone. If I disable the system, I won’t be trusted with anything more. I might not even be able to go back. I’d be expendable.” You don’t want to be the weakest link.

He tips his head back and stares at the spider plant hanging above him. “You and me both. I would get so much shit for this.”

“I dropped it off a balcony once,” she tells him. “Fifth floor.”

“What?”

“My plant.” She gestures. “It’s been through a lot. One time, I had it in the kitchen for watering. It was a tiny apartment and there wasn’t any counter space, so I sat it on the stove. When I came back in to make lunch, I turned on the wrong element and only noticed when the plastic pot started to smoke. It got all melted into the roots. I had to cut a chunk off.”

He blinks, clearly not sure what to do with this information, but doesn’t interrupt her.

“It was looking a little peaked after that – not surprising – so I put it out on the balcony where it would get some sun. Then a really bad wind came up one night, and it blew it off. Five floors down, and it smashed in the parking lot.”

She shrugs. “I picked it up the next morning, peeled off all the broken bits, stuck it in another pot, and figured for sure it would die.”

“But it didn’t.”

“Nope.”

“You gonna give me some bullshit about adversity?”

“I don’t think I need to.” She tangles her fingers, staring down at the absence of rings. “You’re smart. Connect the dots. The point is, you’ll help me. You’ve already made your decision, you just don’t want to admit it. And you’ll survive.”

The classroom’s dark when Chris gets there. He checks out the library and the campus café, then calls Jeff.

“What’s her address?”

“She won’t be there,” Jeff says. “Katie’s brought her guy back and he’s feeling talkative. He says Julie was to do the fake file plant tonight. After class, she was heading to pick up a flashdrive with the files on it, from a dropsite they use near campus.”

“I’ll stake it out,” Chris says. “Give me the directions.”

He follows standard protocol. He checks the area thoroughly: it’s clear, and so he empties the dropbox before the target arrives.

Except it’s already empty.

He calls Jeff again. “She’s been and gone. The drive’s not here.”

Aldis is apparently on the line too. “She can’t be far,” he says. “I got access to her phone and I’m tracking the GPS. You’re standing almost right on top of it.”

“I’m telling you,” Chris growls, “I’ve checked the area. She’s not here.”

“Seriously,” Aldis says. “It’s maybe fifteen feet to the north.”

Chris scans down the street, and sees the garbage can.

“She ditched it.”

“Maybe Zach warned her,” Jeff says. “Okay. Let’s get Jensen back in. We’ve got the IDs we need, and he’ll be more use here.”

“I tried calling earlier to warn him about Zach and Julie,” Chris says. “He’s still not answering his phone.”

“Call Jared’s place,” Aldis says.

“And blow his cover?” Chris says. “That’s not exactly subtle.”

“You don’t have to tell him you’re a secret agent. Just say you’re a friend looking for Jensen. Besides, fuck subtlety. Things are moving too fast now. We need Jensen.”

Jensen’s still holding the gun and looking indecisive. Julie looks away from him, and back at the screen.

Something’s changed.

Oh. Shit.

She turns more fully toward the computer and starts looking, moving.

Shit shit fucking hell.

“Stop it,” Jensen tells her, warning note in his voice.

“No, god, you don’t understand,” she says. “It’s different, something’s changed.”

The system has noticed her incursion.

There was a layer of monitoring and security she didn’t break. It noticed her the last time, and her re-entry has triggered an automatic response. Her location’s being targeted. By…

“They wouldn’t,” she says. It’s hard to form the words, her mouth is so dry. She can feel all the blood draining from her face; she’s sick and light-headed.

“What?” he says harshly.

“I screwed up,” she whispers. “I didn’t get all the way in after all. We’ve been noticed. If proper security codes aren’t provided, there’ll be a retaliatory strike within the hour. And…” she squeezes her eyes shut, “it’s nuclear.”

Jensen doesn’t believe it at first.

“They’re not actually going to nuke their own territory. It’s just a threat.”

It’s not. The countdown is running. “Look for yourself. I’m not lying.”

“For a computer hack? It’s ridiculous. It’s massive overkill.”

She flinches at his choice of words.

“Maybe. Or…maybe it wasn’t originally meant to be that harsh a retaliation. But this is Homeland Security. And as of this afternoon, we’re in a state of emergency and Texas has basically declared civil war.”

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply for a few seconds. “Can you stop it?”

“I think so.”

She’s pretty sure she can. She learned how to spoof the system when she was in the last time. She’ll definitely have to destroy her access, but she was going to anyway.

Ironically, the threat has strengthened her position. Jensen’s not going to let the city be hit. He’s in a dangerous field of work, but he’s got to value his own life – and even if he didn’t, he’s already shown he’s not the type to accept collateral civilian damage.

“Or I could just shoot you,” Jensen says, “and get my IT guy to do it instead.”

“Are you kidding?” she splutters. “You don’t have time for that.”

He squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Fuck,” he mutters.

She watches a minute tick by. Another.

“We really don’t have time,” she whispers.

Julie can see it, the moment he gives in. She sympathizes. It’s painful, betraying one of your principles for the greater good.

She can help with that.

“Okay,” he says. “Do it.”

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Give me a minute, though? We have at least half an hour, and I need to use the bathroom.”

He does her the courtesy of allowing her to shut the door, although he stands in the hall outside. She flushes, runs the water in the sink, and very quietly opens and closes the medicine cabinet.

He turns away, back toward the living room, as she exits the bathroom, and she makes her move.

His hand comes up before she’s even consciously aware of the flicker in the corner of her vision. By the time she processes what’s happening he’s locked his grip around her wrist, keeping the syringe she’s holding inches away from his body.

“Thought we had a deal,” he growls.

“We do.”

“That why you’re trying to knock me out the minute my back’s turned?”

“It won’t.” She twitches her fingers. His gaze is drawn there: half a cc of clear liquid. It could be water. It’s not.

“It’ll make you forget.”

Jensen tightens his grip. She grits her teeth. “Forget what?”

“What you’re about to do,” she says. “Plus the last hour or so. Maybe more. We still haven’t worked out all the kinks, but you’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“So you can make your escape?” Jensen snorts. “Don’t trust me after all, huh? Guess it’s mutual.”

She shakes her head ever so slightly. “That’s not it. I know you’ll honor your deal.”

“Then why?” He squeezes even harder; she winces. She can almost hear as well as feel the bones grate.

“You love him,” she says quietly. “Do you really want to remember?”

He stares at her, grip loosening. She doesn’t pull away; that would be the wrong way to handle this man.

“It’s an awful choice.” She wills him to understand what he’s offering. “You’ll do the right thing. But you won’t have to live with it.”

Various emotions flicker across his face. She sees him come to a realization, and he settles on anger.

“You’re the one who drugged Jared! You little bitch.”

She lifts one shoulder delicately. “We knew someone was sniffing around after us. I was pretty sure it was someone local, from the computer trail. Jared was running that group, he organized that damn debate… we thought it might be him.”

Jensen snorts. “We thought he was one of yours.”

She smiles a little at the irony, but drops the expression quickly when he snarls again and twists her wrist. “So you gave him…this?” He jerks his chin at the syringe still in her hand.

“More or less. It wasn’t me. And it was an earlier version. My friends tweaked it a little since.”

“What is it?”

“Amnesty.”

“That’s its name?” He grimaces. “What is it?”

“Its name, and what it is.” She twitches her fingers again. They’re starting to tingle; she’ll drop the syringe soon if he doesn’t let go. “It’s amnesty in its purest form. You don’t remember your actions. You don’t remember taking it – if you time it right, you don’t even remember the decision to take it. Retrograde amnesia.”

He stares at her, then at the syringe.

“It’s got a lot of potential,” she says. “Still a little crude. But it doesn’t permanently burn out the hippocampus.” She leaves out the any more. “Jared’s fine, isn’t he?”

“No thanks to you,” he says harshly. “Does it…”

“What?” she prompts, when he doesn’t continue.

“Does it, uh. Make you do things you wouldn’t normally?”

She huffs at that. “Stupid. You don’t strike me as the type to be insecure.”

His eyes narrow. “Answer the question.”

“No.”

“No it doesn’t, or no you won’t answer?”

She rolls her eyes. “God. No, it doesn’t. Can you let go? My hand’s going numb.”

“Should I believe you?”

She gives him an annoyed look. “Believe or not, I don’t care. It’s derived from a benzo. It makes you dopey, maybe a little disinhibited, especially with alcohol on board. But it’s not gonna make you do things…,” she pauses, arches an eyebrow at him, “want things you didn’t otherwise.”

He doesn’t say anything, but a muscle twitches in his jaw. She gets the feeling they’ll be standing there a long time if she waits for him to finish processing.

“Jared was already into you,” she spells out. “Amnesty just made him act on it – then forget about it, and I’m sorry about that, because I imagine it was a teeny bit awkward. But his feelings are real.”

She takes a deep, steadying breath.

“And so are yours.” She ignores the warning noise he makes. “You should take it. It’ll make it easier to live with yourself. You won’t know you chose to let me go. More to the point, you won’t have to tell Jared you let me go.”

It takes him a while to answer.

“It would be a lie.”

“He needs you,” she says. “He will need you.”

He curses her, then, at some length.

“So?” she says, when he falls silent.

“Not now,” he says hoarsely. “When it’s over.”

He lets go of her.

She heads back to her desk, lays the syringe down, and begins working. Neither of them say a word for the next ten minutes.

Finally, she drops her chin to her chest, closes her eyes and lets out a small sigh. Her fingers still rest on the keys.

“Thank you,” she says.

He scrubs a hand across his face. “It’s done?”

“Yes. Both.” She bites her lip. “It's a messy job. Basically, I just took out the targeting system as well as the surveillance code. It's leaving a gaping hole in the system, they'll notice immediately. We have to get out of here.”

“You’ve got an escape route.”

“Yes.”

He nods. “Okay.”

“You should take it now.” She tilts her head toward the syringe.

“Will you do it?”

She raises her eyebrows. “I can.”

He looks away.

“If it makes you feel better,” she says. “Less of a betrayal?”

“Just fucking do it,” he growls. “Somewhere inconspicuous.”

“No problem,” she says, moving around behind him. “See you again some day, maybe.”

“Not if I see you first, bitch,” he grumbles.

“You’re a good man,” she says. “You deserve peace.”

“Shut the fuck up and do it before I change my mind and shoot you.”

She stabs him a little harder than she needs to.

Jared had taken a long nap after his phone call to Jeff. It’s past nine when he wakes up, the sun has set, but he doesn’t feel rested. The dull weariness of grief tugs at him.

He should probably eat something. He isn’t hungry, but it’s been hours.

He’s picking at a bowl of Fruit Loops when his phone rings.

“Jared? I was coming back from bingo and I met a young man in the lobby who says he’s looking for you. I think he might be on drugs.”

Mrs. Redgrave lives in 410 with two cats and a great many pictures of grandchildren. Jared often helps her with her groceries.

“I was going to call the police, but then I thought perhaps I should call you first. He keeps insisting that he needs to see you but he couldn’t remember your apartment number. He’s acting rather oddly.”

“Did he say his name?” Jared’s bewildered. Jeff couldn’t have gotten here this fast from New York. “What’s he look like?”

“Tall, light brown hair, green eyes. He’s quite handsome, really.” Mrs. Redgrave coughs. “He’s wearing a leather jacket. He wouldn’t give his name.”

Jared stares at the phone in confusion. It has to be Jensen. Since when does Jensen do drugs?

“I’ll take care of it,” he says. “Thank you for not calling the police. He’s a friend.”

Mrs. Redgrave sighs. “You’re such a nice boy, Jared. I hope you aren’t getting mixed up in anything bad.”

“Don’t worry,” he reassures her, hoping the same thing. “I’m sure it’s some mix-up. You have a good day.”

He hangs up the phone and stares across the room at the couch. The one on which he’d gone temporarily insane and taken advantage of Jensen earlier that day, before kicking him out of the apartment. He’s probably screwed that friendship up beyond repair, and that hurts – which is surprising; he didn’t think he had any residual capacity for hurt, after this morning.

He’d accepted, weeks ago, that if Jensen were interested, something would probably have happened by now. He values Jensen as a friend, and he hadn’t wanted to lose that by letting Jensen know how he really felt. So much for that plan.

Could he have upset Jensen badly enough that he’d go get fucked up? Jensen’s more stable than that.

“Did you do something stupid?” he mutters, and heads down to the building entrance.

It’s Jensen, all right, slouched against the wall of mailboxes, face screwed up in concentration and tongue between his teeth. He’s trying to pick the lock on 322 with a bent paperclip.

“Jen?” Jared says in bewilderment. “What’s going on?”

Jensen spins around, hands coming up in a defensive stance. He relaxes instantly when he sees it’s Jared, and falls back against the wall. “Dude! I couldn’t find you.”

His eyes are wide and glazed, pupils massive. He definitely looks like he’s on drugs.

“Hey,” Jared breathes, moving forward slowly. It’s probably not a good idea to spook Jensen. “I’m here now. What happened to you?”

Jensen opens his mouth, then pauses. A look of puzzlement slowly forms on his face. “I dunno. I can’t remember.”

Jared feels growing unease. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I…” Jensen’s face falls. “I was on campus. I wanted to call you.” He looks mournfully at Jared. “You were so sad. I wanted to make it better. But you wanted to be alone.”

Just his luck that Jensen would remember that.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says. “I’m sorry I took advantage of you.”

“What?” Jared’s mouth drops open. “If anything, I was the one taking advantage. I was all over you, man.” He pushes back his hair. “I thought, after…I figured I’d let you off easy.”

“Wasn’t easy,” Jensen says sadly.

“No,” Jared agrees. “Jen, did you…what did you do when you left? Because no offence, but you kind of look, uh. Stoned.”

“Can’t be.” Jensen frowns. “I don’t do drugs.”

“Neither do I,” Jared says. “I still got whammied that one time. Maybe someone gave you something?”

Jensen shrugs. He doesn’t appear to care.

“Can I come in?” he says. “You can take advantage of me all you like.”

Jared swallows hard.

“You can come in,” he says. “Only I won’t…”

He’s interrupted by two things: Jensen pushing off the wall and falling against his chest, and a crash as the glass door behind them shatters.

Jensen moves unbelievably fast for someone who’s on drugs. Jared hardly feels him hook a foot behind his knee before they’re falling to the floor. He lands mostly on Jensen, who rolls them over so he’s lying on top of Jared.

Jared looks over Jensen’s shoulder and freezes, question sticking in his throat. There’s a man stepping through the broken door, and he’s holding a gun. It’s aimed directly at the back of Jensen’s head.

He doesn’t even think, just flips them over again, shielding Jensen. He hears a shot.

Nothing hurts. There’s a grunt and a collapsing noise behind him.

He rolls off Jensen and sits up. The man is lying in a slowly expanding puddle of blood on the tiled floor. Another man and a woman step through the door.

“Hi,” the blonde says. “You must be Jared.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Katie. This is Chris.”

“Nice to meet you. Who the hell are you?”

“Friends of Jensen’s,” Chris says. “From…work.”

Jared laughs a little crazily and looks at the body on the floor. “Work. Right.”

“I’m calling 911,” Katie says to Chris. “I need to prove to Jeff that I’m capable of bringing one back alive.”

Jared drops his head in his hands and starts to shake. Today has been a hell of a lot to handle.

“It’s all right, son,” Chris says. “We’re gonna get you to a safe place.” He looks at Jensen, who appears to have fallen asleep. “What’s up with him?”

“Drugged, I think,” Jared says. “He showed up here like that, says he can’t remember anything since the afternoon.”

“Jesus.” Chris frowns. “Well, now we know why he wasn’t answering his phone.”

“I think I lost it,” Jensen says, eyes still closed. “I tried to call Jared, but I couldn’t.”

Chris swears. “She must have taken it. You idiot, you should have waited for me like Jeff ordered! Now they’ve got our numbers, and you almost got yourself killed.”

“Who’s she? Who are they?” Jared is floundering. “Is Jensen still in the military? Are you guys on some kind of secret mission?”

“Anna Milton. Terrorists. No. Yes.” Chris reaches out a hand; Jared takes it, stunned. “She’s behind the bombing, Jensen went to pick her up, and she must have drugged him to escape.”

It’s too much. As Chris hauls him to his feet, the world goes black.

Jensen’s disoriented when he wakes up. He’s not in his current apartment, nor in the one he shares with Chris. He sits up and realizes he’s on an air mattress, on the floor of one of the small offices at headquarters.

There’s blood spatter on his shirt, although he’s unhurt. He has no idea how he got here. His shoes are by the door and his jacket’s thrown over a chair, but his phone and his gun are gone.

It’s disconcerting, but that’s nothing compared to the shock he gets when he encounters Jared by the coffeemaker in the lounge.

“Um,” Jared says. “Hi. So, I hear you’re a secret agent.”

“Apparently not so secret,” Jensen says. “I didn’t tell you, did I?”

“No,” says Jeff; Jensen hadn’t even noticed him sitting in the corner. “You disobeyed my direct order, got yourself drugged, found your way to Jared’s apartment building, and let someone trace you there. Jared nearly got shot trying to save your damn fool life.”

Jensen gapes. He reaches out and runs a hand up and down Jared’s arm. Jared doesn’t look hurt. He doesn’t look mad either, thank god.

“Julie got away,” Jeff says. “I’ve put her description out to the network, though. If she shows anywhere on the radar, they’ve agreed to apprehend and let us know.”

He stands up. “You two probably need to talk. Get out of here. Jensen, I’ll see you Monday morning.”

“I’m not fired?”

Jeff smiles. “I only told you half the story. You were a reckless idiot, but you appear to have stopped the file plant and you’ve put Julie on the run. We have a suspect to interrogate, and nobody on our team got hurt. I’m calling it a win.”

The sun is blinding when they step outside.

“Let’s get a cab,” Jensen says. “I don’t feel like walking, and I have no idea where my car is.”

“I think Chris has it,” Jared says. “Jeff sent him to retrieve it.”

“Really?” Jensen stops and reverses direction. “In that case, it’s probably in the parking garage.”

It is. The keys are in the usual hiding spot.

“You drive,” Jensen says, tossing them to Jared. “I don’t think I should operate heavy machinery today.”

Jared catches them and hesitates, fidgeting. “Where are we going?”

“My place,” Jensen says. “Yours isn’t safe anymore. We’ll get your stuff.”

Jared turns the wrong way at the end of the street. Oh, right.

“Not that place,” Jensen says. “My real apartment.”

He gives Jared directions, and sends Chris a text suggesting most strongly that Chris find someone else to room with for the weekend.

He must have fallen asleep again, because he wakes up when Jared’s parallel parking across from his place.

“Thanks,” he says, and leads Jared into the building.

“Breakfast?” he says, closing the apartment door behind them. “I have no idea what’s in the fridge, but I think I left some frozen waffles.”

“I’m good,” Jared says. “I ate before you woke up.”

Jensen nods in acknowledgment.

There’s an awkward silence.

“Do we need to talk?” he asks.

“I guess.” Jared doesn’t sound enthused.

“In that case,” Jensen says, heading for the kitchen, “I need more coffee.”

He might not have lived here in months, but there will be coffee in the top cupboard. Chris knows better than to mess with his stash.

“I’m sorry,” Jared says to the back of his head, as he’s measuring grounds into the machine. “You probably don’t remember our conversation from last night, but you told me that you do remember yesterday afternoon.”

“I do,” Jensen says, turning to face him. “And I’m not sorry for that. You didn’t take advantage. That wasn’t…I wasn’t just being nice to you, man. I wanted that.”

“I wanted it for a long time,” Jared says, ducking his chin and blushing. “Yesterday, I was kind of out of my head, and I quit rationalizing to myself why it was a bad idea.”

“It was definitely not a bad idea,” Jensen says. “And stop worrying that you took advantage of me. If anything, it was the other way around.”

“What? God, no. I started it all.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Jensen bites his lip. “Yesterday at your place... it wasn’t the first time.”

Jared squints in confusion. “What?”

“You remember the night at the club, when we all went out?”

“Not really.” Jared frowns. “You know that.”

“We hooked up.”

Jared gapes. “What?”

Various expressions chase across his face. The one that settles is mostly incredulous, maybe slightly pissed off. “No way. I don’t… why wouldn’t you say anything?” His jaw clenches. “God, did I do something stupid? Were you relieved I didn’t remember?”

Jensen shakes his head vigorously. “No! Hell, no. It was great. But I figured you didn’t mean it. You didn’t remember a thing.” He bites his lip. “I didn’t realize until afterwards that you were drugged.”

Jared folds his arms across his chest and looks at Jensen consideringly. He doesn’t say anything for half a minute. The drip of the coffeemaker is loud in the silence.

“You’ve been recently drugged yourself,” he points out finally. “Are you still under the influence?”

Jensen blinks. “Maybe? It’s not too bad. I can still remember our conversation with Jeff.”

“Good.” Jared’s gaze ignites with heat. “Because I really want to have sex with you now, and I don’t want anyone accusing me of taking advantage. You have scary friends.”

“I’m scarier,” Jensen says, opening his arms. “Get your ass over here.”

Monday’s meeting starts at eight a.m.

“We operate outside the law,” Jensen says grumpily, settling into his chair. “Unconstrained by the rules of society. Why the hell do we have to work to their clock?”

“We don’t,” Jeff replies. “Not all of us are night owls, you know. I wake up at six.” He grins. “My organization, my rules.”

“Do rules allow PDA in meetings?” Katie asks. “Because I’m not sure I can stand it if they’re going to be this disgustingly cute on a regular basis.”

Jared sticks his tongue out at her and snuggles Jensen more closely against his side.

Jared’s quite definitely a morning person. He’s already been out running, had a shower, and given Jensen a wake-up blowjob. And he made coffee.

The country might be falling to pieces but Jensen’s life is looking pretty damn sweet right now.

“Feel free to contribute PDA of your own,” he tells Katie.

Aldis perks up.

“In your dreams.”

Aldis deflates.

“Katie brings up a good point, though,” Jeff says. He’s not unkind, but he’s looking seriously at Jared. “Are you sure you want to be here, Jared?”

Jared nods. “Yes.”

“You’ve got a lot going for you,” Jeff says. “The school doesn’t expect you to defend this term, not with your family and all. You could go back in the fall. Finish up your degree. Get a legitimate job.” He clears his throat. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to have you on the team. But don’t throw your future away just because Jensen works here.”

“I’m not,” Jared says carefully. He unwraps his arm from Jensen’s shoulders, but his hand finds Jensen’s and grips it. “It’s not that. It’s…you guys are doing something.”

He looks from Chris to Aldis, Katie to Jeff. “We sat around talking, theorizing, writing papers. Twiddling our thumbs and staring at our navels, while the real shit was happening, right there. I can’t go back to academia and spend months writing some paper nobody except my PhD committee’s going to read, when the country’s falling apart and you guys are the only ones trying to do something. I want to be where the action is.”

He’s tense, muscles twitching, ready for a fight. If separatists walked through the door right now, Jensen would bet Jared would beat them to a pulp.

Jared’s lost his parents, his baby sister, and his comfortable outlook on life. He’s grieving, and not really thinking straight right now. But there’ll be time. They’ll weather what comes, see where the chips fall. Jeff may be right, it may be too late to stop it; maybe the country’s going to dissolve around them. But when the dust settles, he’ll make sure Jared gets back to school. The government – whatever government it turns out to be – is going to need good thinkers.

“Christ, I hope we’re not the only ones,” Chris says dryly. “God help the USA.”

“We don’t always do noble.” Katie takes her booted feet off the chair in front of her, and swings round to look seriously at Jared. “Mostly, I do stuff for money.”

“You’ll get action here,” Jeff says. “But I gotta tell you, I don’t think we can change the outcome on this. Things are pretty far gone already. This morning, the Republic of Cascadia declared itself independent.”

Jared and Jensen had missed that, what with the sleeping in and the blowjob and all.

“California won’t be far behind. From what I hear, the Greens are already planning a take-over. The Confederacy’s not going to stay under Yankee government when others are pulling away, so they’ll probably strike out on their own next. My prediction is that the religious right is probably gonna take Utah, New Mexico and Arizona, maybe expand up into the mid-west, while the blue states up in the north-east will clump together.”

“Sounds like you think it’s inevitable,” Katie says. “So what are we going to do?”

“Whatever we can,” Jeff says. “Damage control.”

“We should get a dog,” Jared says, as they walk out of headquarters.

Jensen makes a face. “What are we gonna do with a dog when we’re on assignment?”

“Bring him with us, of course.”

Jensen snorts. “Yeah, that’ll work out well.”

“No, hear me out.” Jared’s lighting up again, hands waving. “The shelter’s got an ex-police dog. His owner was killed in the line of duty. He wouldn’t take to another officer, and he was getting near retirement anyway – they retire them at five years no matter what – but he can’t go to just any home, so they’ve had trouble placing him.”

“You want a dog that a shelter’s having trouble placing.”

“He’s a good dog!” Jared says. “He’s just… he’s a working dog, not a family pet. He’s friendly enough, and he likes me. And he could be really useful! Just think, what if you needed someone tracked? Or, I bet he’s trained to detect explosives.” He frowns. “Not that… I mean, I hope there aren’t explosives. Shit. Do you deal with explosives?”

“I don’t like explosives,” Jensen says. “And don’t you go getting mixed up in them either. That’s Chris’s territory.”

Jared gapes for a moment, then recovers. “See? Harley’d fit right in!”

“Fine,” Jensen sighs. “You can get a dog.”

“No,” Jared corrects him. “We can get a dog.”

Jensen stops walking and looks at Jared for a long moment: altruistic, smart, gorgeous, with a smile to rival the sunshine.

And mad skills in bed.

How the hell did he get so lucky?

“Let’s go home,” he says.

fin