Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership of F.R. I. E. N. D. S – this story is a non-profit work of fanfiction, and a farfetched one at that.
Note: That's right, this story features Ross as a secret agent. While people who are not fans of Ross may be turned off by this, I can only hope that this will be a good read for the rest. Besides, some aspects of the character may be altered for the plot - but I'll try to keep them as in character as possible! Please read and review! Now, onwards and upwards!
The One With Ross' Secret
Slight clicking sounds echoed around the hall as he inserted his key into the lock, fiddling for a bit before he turned it smoothly. His door opened smoothly, and his eyes roamed over his empty apartment. The light from the alley outside washed over the living room, making strange shadows dance along his walls.
His eyes darted to one corner, his heartbeat picking up in an instant. His eyes narrowed when he saw nothing there; his instincts – even though they'd been dulled after a couple of years of inactivity – were screaming at him that someone had invaded his private sanctuary.
Almost unbidden, his hand travelled to the secret holster he kept in his coat. He cursed when he realized he hadn't carried it for the past couple of weeks, having made a conscious effort to wean himself of his old habits.
"Looking for this?" He jumped, his pulse spiking and his brain going into overdrive for a second, before he recognized the voice.
"Wilson," he acknowledged curtly, walking into the room and switching the light on. As the golden light swept over the room, he noticed that the curtains had been drawn and the phone unplugged.
His eyes turned to the man on the couch, lounging on it like he had no cares in the world. He was entirely nondescript – the sort of man whom you wouldn't remember moments after passing him in the crowd...but he was also one of the most dangerous men in the world.
"Jones," the man replied genially, a smile on his face. "Or is it just Ross Geller now?"
Ross Geller, for that was indeed his real name, frowned. He made his way over to the other end of the room, his back to his visitor so he could hide his countenance. For a while, there was silence in the apartment as Ross poured himself a glass of water.
He took his time turning around, making a show of taking sips of water. Wilson looked as calm as ever, a pleasant expression on his face as he looked at Ross.
"I haven't gone by the name Jones for quite some time, Wilson," Ross stated, even though his brain was racing a mile a minute.
"It's actually Leiter now," the man said, a touch of smugness entering his smile.
"Oh?" Ross cocked an eyebrow, "a promotion? Congratulations."
The newly christened Leiter winked, the grin never leaving his face.
"So, why the sudden visit?" Ross finally asked. While they'd worked together on some missions, Leiter had never really been one of his closer friends. Their departments had different protocols and employees, even though their ultimate aim was the same.
"I think you know," Leiter said, finally sitting forward and taking on a serious expression.
"It wasn't just a car backfiring tonight, was it?" Ross asked, his brow furrowed. "That was gunfire –"
He trailed off, looking questioningly at Leiter.
"It was," Leiter confirmed his suspicions, and his heart sunk. Ross collapsed heavily onto the sofa, his eyes boring into the man sitting next to him.
"What does this mean?" he asked, "who was this attack aimed at?"
"Well, the man who was shadowing you was the one who was attacked –"
"And I'm being followed by the agency, why?" Ross asked sarcastically. "I'm 31 – I've been done with the agency for almost two years."
"Ah," Leiter sighed, but Ross wasn't fooled by the act. "It seems, my friend, that the agency isn't done with you yet –"
"What?!" Ross shot up from his seat, an expression of disbelief etched on his face. "What d'you mean? I had a contract, a clear deal – and it ended as soon as I hit thirty! We had an understanding!"
"Hey – hey, calm down –" Leiter began, but Ross wasn't listening.
"I stuck around long enough, Leiter! I paid my dues, did everything they asked of me and more – I refuse to be dragged back into that life again!"
"I know, man," Leiter replied soothingly. Very slowly, he took his hand off the distress button on the device in his pocket, which would alert the half-dozen men situated strategically around the area. "It sucks. But I need you to calm down –"
Ross took deep breaths, reining in his anger as best he could. The agency's job often required him to put up an act, but his anger was a very real problem for him – he still shuddered when he thought about the job in China in '95 and how his temper had almost made him blow the mission.
"Alright," he said finally, when his pulse settled and his breathing evened out, "I'm calm. Now, what's going on?"
"It's Naveed," Leiter explained, and Ross remembered the excitable agent with the mind of a genius, whom he had worked with several times. "He was killed during a retrieval mission."
"Oh," Ross didn't know what else to say. He had liked the man, but death was an inescapable part of their job. "What was the mission?"
"To retrieve leaked agent information," Ross nearly choked on his own spit at Leiter's words. A security leak was the worst possible scenario imaginable for the agency.
"He managed to destroy most of the information before his target escaped," Leiter explained, "but he couldn't destroy it all."
"Let me guess," Ross said bitterly, "I'm on the list of people whose identity was leaked?"
"You got it," Leiter said, his voice somber. Ross cursed, loudly. Just when he'd thought that he'd have a chance at a normal life, he was being pulled back into the world he'd come to resent, even despise.
"How much do they know?" he asked, thinking furiously. He needed to leave, now. Tell the gang that he had a conference, maybe – the agency would take care of the rest.
There was a pause. And then –
"Everything."
Ross' heart stopped for a moment. "Wha- what d'you mean?" he stuttered, the words coming out in a jumble.
"They have your entire life, Geller," Leiter said, his grim face in stark contrast to his pleasant demeanour from minutes ago. "And we believe they've sold the information to Roberts."
"What?!" Edward Roberts, British socialite and underworld kingpin, had been one of the last people whom Ross had put away during his time with the agency. "Roberts is in jail!"
"Not anymore," Leiter shrugged. "M called a few days ago – he's on the loose again, and he's out for you."
Ross, who had been pacing the room furiously, stopped short at his words. The realization of what was really happening was beginning to sink in.
"I need to leave, then," he whispered, "get out of my family's way, away from my friends." Unbidden, the faces of the people he knew and loved flashed through his mind. Ben. Jack. Judy. Carol. Monica. Phoebe. Joey. Chandler. Rachel. Rachel.
Just when he thought that he'd finally be able to pursue what he wanted, to live as he pleased –
"I'm afraid that'll be impossible," Leiter replied grimly. "When I said everything, Ross, I meant it. Your friends and family, they're in danger too –"
Ross' head was spinning, his breath seemed to be frozen in his chest.
"You promised –" he choked on his voice, "the agency promised that my family would be safe –"
"I know," Leiter raised his hands to try and calm Ross down, having no desire to face the brunt of Jones' legendary temper.
"THEN WHY IS IT THAT THEY'RE IN DANGER?" Ross roared, his face a mask of fury.
Outside, six guns removed the safety on their guns in one smooth, synchronous move. Ross froze.
"I see you've brought backup," he commented smoothly. The adrenaline rushing through his body seemed to be bringing back the old instincts that had served him over the years.
"They're also watching your friends," Leiter commented, "We've got people working on evacuating your parents and ex-wife as well."
"What are you going to tell them?" Ross asked. Everybody knew him as the geeky, socially awkward palaeontologist. He didn't think either Carol or his parents would believe it if people turned up, claiming that he worked for the CIA. Hell, nobody would.
"Well, they've both one vouchers to exotic holiday vacations in Hawaii and Majorca, on condition that they leave within two days. The agency looks after their own, Geller – and you were one of the best."
"Good," Ross nodded his head, trying to make sense of how his life had been turned upside down again. "And my friends?"
"First, I need to ask you –" Leiter pulled something out of his pocket, and Ross recognized the worn leather immediately. It was his holster, which held his custom Glock 19, proven to be his best companion over years of use. "Are you in?"
Ross looked at the object in Leiter's hand, before he reached out and took it. Pulling his pistol it, he felt immediately comforted by the familiar weight in his hand. "It's not like I have a choice, do I?"
Leiter chose not to comment. "Welcome back, Jones," he stated instead, standing up to shake Ross' hand.
"Do I have to keep that ridiculous name?" Ross complained, disregarding the serious nature of their conversation for a second. Besides, humour was one of the favourite defense mechanisms of the agent, to take the edge of any dangerous – or even worse, emotional – situations.
"It's stuck," Leiter said drily, before his shoulders suddenly stiffened. He pressed a finger to his ear, and Ross immediately berated himself for not noticing the tiny microphone radio in it.
"Come in, team Alpha," Leiter commanded, his voice suddenly deep and efficient, "report in sequence! I repeat, come in!"
A thrill went down Ross' spine, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in anticipation. There was something very wrong going on –
Leiter was rapidly issuing commands, and from the look on his face, things weren't going well. Ross rushed for his cupboard and threw it open, his eyes flying to the black ensemble hidden away in one corner of it.
He was pulling on his boots when Leiter re-entered the room. The man looked at him for a second, before nodding in approval.
"We'll need you," he said tersely. "Edward has already struck. Three of my team are down, the other three are pulling a retreat – "
"Where is he?" Ross asked, his voice ice cold.
"Jones, I need you to be –"
"Where is he?" Ross asked again, harshly.
Leiter sighed.
"Apartment 20. We need to –"
Ross blew past him, not even bothering to listen to Leiter's raised voice. He had only one thought in his mind – his friends were in danger. He knew that the rest of the girls were having a night together and Joey and Chandler had probably gone over in search of food –
He cursed, even as he unchecked the safety on his pistol and ran over several checks almost subconsciously. He made sure the suppressor was on, and then checked for ammunition and swore again; he'd forgotten to take more cartridges in his haste.
The decision whether to double back for some more was made for him in that instant, though.
A scream rang through the night, shattering the silence of the night.
It was Phoebe's voice.
Author's Note: Well, that's the first chapter. I'm new to the fandom, even though I love the show. Please review if you read this and enjoyed/did not enjoy this.
Also, Leiter is a reference to Ian Fleming's work, while the other name is obvious, I think. As for pairings, I'm not really sure of anything other than the already established Monica and Chandler.
See you next time!