To Jameson Cross work was everything. He could be described as a workaholic by his grandparents but, to his colleagues; it was just part of the job.

The confident 21 year-old, strode through the doors of the U.S. federal building and to the front desk.

The blond, perky woman behind the receptionist desk looked up from her tabloid into piercing blue-eyes. She stopped and stared until he spoke up.

"Hi,I have a 4:00 appointment with Director Hagel. He told me that you could show me where to go."

She cleared her throat.

"Yea, um, no, um. Can I take your name, please?" She asked, batting her eyelashes.

"James Cross."

She typed in her computer.

"Agent Jameson Cross. Yea, you're right here. Ok. So go through the doors and down the hall and on the left there will be elevators. Go up to floor 17 and tell the woman up there who you are and she'll show you the rest."

"Thanks, Gretchen." Looking at her name tag and nodding.

"Have a great day." She tried to get out before he disappeared through the doors.

He has always been a lady's man. His good looks and charming wit mixed with a bit of smart-ass was not helping either. He promised himself that he wouldn't fall in love while on the job because he didn't want them to know his demons and he didn't want to hurt someone that could potentially mean a lot to him. But maybe, it was because he didn't want to get hurt either.

He rode the elevators up to the seventeenth floor and the woman pointed to the large conference room containing secret service agents and the Director of the C.I.A., Chuck Hagel.

"Cross." Hagel greeted as he shook the young man's hand.

"Sir."

Both men sat down opposite of each other.

"Do you know why I wanted to have this meeting with you?"

"No, sir."

"On the last mission, you went rouge…"

"I got the job done, sir. Just like you wanted it to be." Cross interrupted.

"You might have had a successful mission…"

"Might? I did. I have a terrorist in the morgue as proof."

"Ok. You did have a successful mission, yet you broke every policy in the book."

"As your number one agent, for the past eight years, may I add. I got the job done. I went rogue because I didn't trust my partner."

"Agent Morgan?"

"Yes, sir."

"He's been on the force for over twenty years. Why on earth would you not trust him?"

"Ok. Maybe, that's not true. The truth is… is that I work better alone. And, the agency keeps putting me with these incompetent, old, senile agents, while I can get the job done on my own." Cross explains, standing up, rage pulsing through his veins.

"Well whatever the circumstances, I am suspending you until further notice." Hagel said taking out paperwork from his briefcase.

Cross stood there shocked,"You can't do this. I am the best you have, will have. You can't get rid of me." He shouted angrily, while still keeping the same volume of voice he had while speaking. He slammed his fists on the desk on the table cracking the mahogany.

The secret service agents stepped forward.

He held up his hands in a surrender.

"At least give me a transfer." He stated.

The Director thought for a moment. "That can be arranged."

"Thank you."

"Gretchen, at the front desk will have the information for you."

Cross nodded and met Hagel for a firm handshake. Hagel, surprisingly, brought him in for a hug and whispered, "I'm sorry." Cross nodded and patted his back.

He then walked out the office with the same confidence level as before, yet his body language spoke sadness.