Cape Town

It was the summer after he had turned twenty-three. Most people his age were finishing up their last semesters of undergraduate work, starting in on upper education, or beginning a new job. He was just trying to salvage one.

The explosion threw him from his feet and he hit the pavement hard, rolling and trying to find balance as his ears rung terribly. The sounds of shouting in the streets, of yells for help, and of the general chaotic movements of people that knew nothing more than a building that had been standing just moments before was now engulfed in flames, all swirled around as if he were listening to them from the far end of a tunnel. Jacob swallowed hard, but found it didn't do a damn thing.

Originally he had only come to Cape Town with the Major to act as quiet security. The people that Bud was meeting with, while they paid well, were dangerous to work with and the young operative had asked to go with him. Bud had given him hell and told him not to go soft on him, but he had accepted the offer in the end. Jacob was between assignments, after all, and a little extra security never hurt.

Something had been off when they had met with their potential clients earlier that afternoon when they had tried to change the terms of the agreement. The money wasn't an issue, but they wanted Jacob to be added to the deal. They had heard rumours about the Major's top operative, and that alone had been enough to make both mentor and protégé uncomfortable. Jacob was a ghost, trained to blend into whatever situation he needed to blend into for the job. No one asked for him because they didn't know that he existed. Not until these men. Bud had said no and they had backed down.

Until everything went to hell.

The first bomb had gone off in the hotel lobby, shaking the whole building. Jacob had jumped into action and he and Bud had made it as far as the alley behind when the second thrown them both off their feet. He had no question who set it, just how to get around them and out of the country.

"Bud, we have to go," Jacob said firmly as he bent to where the older man was still dazed on the ground. "We have to go now."

"Son of a bitch," the Major cursed as he was all but hauled up off the street. He pitched forward almost immediately and Jacob caught him.

"We have to move," the operative repeated. He didn't like the way that Bud didn't get it. His mentor was sharp, clever, and the fact that he wasn't reacting wasn't a good sign. He started forward and did his best to ignore the hiss of pain from him. He didn't have time to look at the way his leg was torn open by flying debris or the fact that he was leaning so heavily on the younger man that he was all but dragging him. Jacob had promised to keep him safe, and at least he was mostly whole. It had to give them a chance.

His cell phone rang and it took him a moment to dig it out of his pocket. "Yeah."

"Thought you might be dead," a familiar voice chirped in his ear, but he could hear the underlying relief.

"Might be better to turn down the job on whole, Gina."

"You and Bill get out?"

"We're out," Jacob answered roughly. "Meet us at the runway. Bud's-"

The bullet ricocheted off the brick of the building next to them and Jacob turned, dropping the phone as he did to go for his own weapon. He heard Gina call his name on the other end, but her voice was lost to the gunfire as he pulled Bud around the corner.

"Good thing you came along, kid," the older man chuckled, and Jacob was secretly peased to see he was a little more aware than he had been.

"Don't thank me until we're on the plane and heading back Stateside."

"Never said I was thanking you," Bud answered gruffly. "You're doing the job you came here to do. It's what I pay you for."

That pulled a small smirk from him. "Good. If you were, I was starting to think we might not get you to the plane at all." The Major snorted and Jacob leaned around the corner to get a clear shot at their attackers. They returned fire and he flattened himself against the wall. "Gina's going to be waiting with the plane. It's not far. When I say move, we move as fast as we can down the street there. It's going to hurt like hell, but it's better than getting shot down in the street."

He received the barest of nods for the explanation and he repositioned the older man so that they could get moving. No one was paying attention to them with their hotel up in flames. No one except the people trying to kill them, anyway.

"Move," he hissed lowly and hauled him forward. Bud didn't move as quickly as he had hoped and it threw Jacob off. He bent down, taking on more of his mentor's weight as he did, and darted across the opening. Gunshots flew all around them and he felt one snag him, nearly sending them both tumbling to the street. He pulled in a difficult breath and they made it half a block further before he rounded the corner, learnly slamming the Major against the wall of the shop. "Your phone still work?"

Bud looked at him like he'd lost his mind, but pulled it out, nodding.

"Call Gina. Have her pick you up."

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" the older man demanded, blue eyes narrowed at the blood already soaking through Jacob's shirt.

The operative had no way to tell how deep the wound was at that point, just that it stung like hell and that he had to find a way to push it back if he was going to finish the job he'd started. "To buy you time," he said firmly, setting his jaw. Bud wouldn't like it, but he wouldn't argue either, and he didn't as Jacob turned to retrace his steps. Three steps in he looked back out of the corner of his eye. "If I'm still alive after this, I fully expect an extraction."

Bud snorted and Jacob grinned. It was a longshot and they both knew it, but Bud had saved him once. It was time he returned the favour.

He took a deep breath as he gripped his gun, doing his best to ignore the burning pain the bullet had left in its wake. The first attacker came around the corner and never knew what hit him as Jacob swung his gun upward as if he were going to catch him in the chin with it. He never felt the bullet that lodged itself in his face and the young operative darted forward, staying low and rolling to dodge the onslaught of bullets coming his way.

When his clip ran out he used the gun as a weapon as they came closer, but there were too many of them and they were crawling out of the woodwork like ants. One man caught him from behind, wrenching his arms behind him and he slammed his head back, catching his attacker in the nose. He would have released him, too, if his buddy hadn't landed a hard blow to Jacob's middle, knocking the breath from him and pulling him around, slamming him into the bricks of the shop. He felt his vision swim as he was slammed back a second time, his head colliding painfully.

"Where's the Major?" a thickly accented voice demanded and blue eyes blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision.

"Not going to talk. Might as will kill me now."

"You're not so lucky today," he was informed coldly and the third strike dragged him down into darkness. At least he'd taken a bunch of them down with him, he thought as he felt the world fade around him.

Jacob had lost count of how long he'd been in the cell they'd shoved him in. There were no windows, no way to tell the passing of time. They didn't even come to beat on him in regular intervals, as far as he could tell. No one had seen to the long gash that the stray bullet had left along the backside of his ribcage and his t-shirt had long since dried to his skin, leaving it uncomfortable as it pulled with the barest of movements. They had thick chains around his ankles and wrists that didn't allow for a great deal of mobility, but they never entered the cell with less than three men. Apparently they really did know who he was, and that within itself was a terrifying realization.

He wasn't sure what had woken him, but the dank little room came slowly into focus. His jaw ached from a particularly hard blow they had landed, snapping his head around and he'd thought he had heard something crack. His left eye was nearly swollen shut and blood was dried down the same side of his face. There wasn't a part of his body that didn't hurt on some level, but he hadn't said a word. They wanted to know about the Major's organization, his movements, and those that he kept in his employ, both close and within other organizations. By now, Jacob was fairly certain that they had never wanted to deal with them, but had only wanted the details of Bud's organization. He'd be damned if he'd give them even the smallest of details. He'd rather rot in this hell than give them the satisfaction.

Bud likely assumed that he was dead, and he couldn't really blame him for it. He would be as soon as one of his jailors became just a little too agitated with his sharp and sarcastic retorts and hurt him in just the wrong way. They'd gotten close a couple of times, but had managed to keep the blows from landing too hard in ways that could do serious, life threatening damage. His ankle hurt like hell though, and as he flexed his toes he felt the pain shoot up nearly to his knee. If he was going to get out of there, he'd have to do it himself and call for an extraction once he was out.

The door creaked open and his gaze shifted over, his expression purposefully blank. He recognized one of his abusers and let a small, cocky smirk tilt his lips. He'd given him a little space last time and had a bloodied nose for his effort. Jacob was prouder than he should have been over it, but hey, he took what he could in these situations. "Come back for round two?"

The man didn't say anything as he followed his partner around and grabbed hold of Jacob's shoulders, taking a firm grip on the back of his neck, fingers tight enough to pull a small sound of pain from him as they hauled him up to his feet. "You're not getting anything out of me, so you might as well stop trying."

Their leader - a darker skinned man that Jacob had heard called Younes - tilted his head, watching the younger man hold very still. Up until this point he had only stood in the shadows and watched. He hadn't spoken a word, but now the voice left his throat was gravely and heavily accented from somewhere much further north than they were currently at. "I am well aware of your reputation, Mr Phelps."

"Obviously not. I don't have a reputation," Jacob bit out and one of his captors slammed their fist into his back hard, leaving him struggling to keep his expression even.

"You do in certain circles. One of Bill McCready's best. He turns them out, but not quite like you."

"What the hell do you want from me?"

"Exactly what my associates have been asking for. Information. We'll make it well worth-"

"You couldn't pay me enough to betray him. So you can stop there."

"Everyone has a price."

Jacob tilted his head, a smile that unnerved most people spread across his lips. "Not me."

Younes motioned without a word and he was moving faster than his beaten body could react. Jacob hit the wall hard, shoulder first, and he actually heard the snap. It took a moment for his brain to catch up with him and he barely choked back the cry of pain as it spread through his shoulder and down his arm. He couldn't breathe against it and it wasn't helping that they jerked him back down to his knees, one of their hands still clutching his injured shoulder.

"Now, I'll ask you again."

"And I'll tell you… again," he managed, his voice barely making it through the deep gulps of breath that he was having to take, "you won't get a damn thing from me. Beating the hell out of me won't help."

Younes frowned, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Jacob's hair, twisting his head painfully around so that he cried out again. "I can see that."

The door scraped open again and Jacob heard Younes give a snort of irritation, growling something in a language that he wasn't sure of. The man that poked his head in didn't look any happier as he spoke lowly. "Keep him here," Younes instructed and turned, leaving them with the young operative on his knees in the holding cell.

His gaze drifted back and up, but he didn't dare move an inch. Even looking back seemed to hurt like hell and he thought maybe it just hadn't stopped. "You know what that means right?" he asked, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. It was almost cheerful, and he had Bud's training to thank for it. "It means they're coming for me and you're each going to get a bullet to the head. See, here's the thing: you don't know us. You don't know what we're capable of. Whatever your boss thinks he's heard is only the bare minimum. We don't leave our our fellow operatives behind."

"Shut up," one of his captors growled and tightened his grip on his shoulder, causing him to choke on his breath. "They're not coming for you."

"Your funeral," he managed with a smirk that only grew as gunfire could be heard outside the door. He didn't have to look back to know the men behind him were uneasy.

"Put a bullet in his head," one of them said in French and Jacob tried not to squirm. He just had to keep them preoccupied until she got there. He'd known she would come, even if Bud thought he was dead. That's just the way they were.

There was a pressure against the back of his skull and he heard the hammer being pulled back. He took a deep breath and steadied himself for the possibility that she wouldn't make it in time.

In the span of a few seconds the door opened again, two shots were fired, and his tormentors fell dead to the ground. He could see her silhouette against the bright light of the hallway, and as his eyes adjusted he could see the dirty blonde hair pulled back tightly so it wouldn't get in her way, gun still poised, and the look of a woman determined not to fail on her features. "Hello, handsome," she greeted. "You look like hell."

"Hey, Gina. Took you long enough."

She shrugged and stepped forward. He hadn't moved and the closer she got, the deeper her frown pulled. He hadn't thought he was that bad off, but maybe he was wrong. "Can you stand?" she asked as she worked on picking the locks on his cuffs.

"Yeah," he said automatically and started to as the last one snapped off, but the pain hit hard and his vision pulsed dangerously. He wasn't sure when Gina moved, but her arms were around his middle, pulling a second hiss of pain from him as she accidently pressed against the wound that had been left by their enemies' bullet before he'd been taken. He sagged against her and she pulled him unrelentingly to his feet.

"I need you conscious, Jacob," she told him firmly and he clung to her.

"I'm here," he promised, but even he could hear that his speech was slurred. Everything hurt, but his shoulder most of all. His ankle wouldn't take his weight and if he focused on it at all he could feel the pain that was spreading up his entire leg. He just wanted to get out of this forsaken place.

"Good. Stay that way," she said firmly and pulled him along. He followed as best as he could, limping on his bad leg and she carefully changed sides before they made it to the door. He had expected backup, but all he saw was a hallway full of bodies.

"You alone?"

"Bud thought two of us would be enough," she answered, but he could read between the lines, no matter how much pain he was in. Bud had thought he was dead and Gina wouldn't drop it. She had gone in without backup and without help. She was the only one that had thoroughly believed in him. Bud would be pleased enough to see him alive, it was true, but in the end it was Gina that he would owe, even if neither of them would admit it. She was the one that chose to come for him. She was the one that was hauling him out of it.

"Bud okay then?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"His leg's a mess," Gina answered distractedly. "He'll make it though."

Interesting. "Did he even give you permission to come at all?"

"Shuttup, Phelps," she growled, her accent thicker in her irritation.

"Simple question," he chuckled as he leaned in on her, feeling things sway dangerously.

She tightened her grip on him and pulled him forward. He followed as best as he could, noting the bloodied bodies that they passed. Gina had been a woman on a mission, and paid or not, if she chose a mission there was no stopping her. He'd have to remember to thank her when this was all over. It was the least he could do.

Gina had cleared out the hall and there was no opposition left. If Jacob had wanted to ask her how she had managed to do it alone, he didn't think he had the focus left in him to do so. Instead all he could do was put one foot in front of the other, hoping that they made their way to the end where there was an escape route. For a woman skilled in manipulating CEO's and the hierarchy of the culture, she could kill with the best of them. If he ever needed someone to watch his back, he would choose Gina. Hands down.

Somehow they made it out without Jacob having to have a gun in his hand as well. Gina was a dead shot and he'd trust her with his life, but there was something about feeling the gun in his own hand that gave him confidence in a tricky escape.

It wasn't tricky, though. That was what was a kick to the pride. Gina had come in and made mincemeat out of his captors. Granted, he had been beaten down before coming into this place, but he still felt a slight sting from it.

"You with me, handsome?"

"Yeah," he managed, but with the way that her grip tightened around him he could tell she wasn't convinced.

"I need you to stay with me or we're not getting out of here," she told him, her voice firmer than he was used to, and he was sure that she was here alone. She needed him if they were going to get out.

"I'm with you," he answered and forced himself to focus. He needed to. He had to. If he didn't, he would get the only person that he had truly considered his friend killed along with him. It hurt like hell, but he pulled his weight rather than leaning entirely on her, and he was even able to hold himself balanced when a rogue guard came out of the woodworks she dropped her hold on him to shoot the man.

Somehow they got out. By the time that they were, Jacob was nearly unconscious. He was struggling, barely awake, and holding onto Gina like his life depending on it. It really did.

By the time that he struggled back to consciousness he was in a bed, equipment hooked up to him to read his vital signs, and pain medication dulling his senses. He felt slightly ill with it coursing through his veins, but he was pretty sure that he didn't have enough left in him to actually throw up. He laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling of the room that he'd been put in, and trying to piece together what had happened.

"Hey, handsome."

Blue eyes shifted to look at the woman that had spoken. She was sitting in a chair by his bed, expression even and watching him like she might actually be worried. "Hey you," he greeted back with a slight smile and she snorted for his efforts. He tried for a charming smile. "How long have I been out?"

"A while. The doctors said you needed surgery for that shoulder."

He groaned, the statement pulling the pain forward and it took a moment for him to blink through it. Gina sat patiently and waited until he had his bearings back before she started in on his list of injuries. His ankle had been fractured and the gash the bullet had left had become infected in his nearly two week stay with the men that they were supposed to have done business with. His ribs were beaten and battered, some deeply bruised, but the doctor had said that one did have a hairline fracture running through it and that he'd have to be careful. Not that he was going anywhere any time soon with a broken collar bone.

"And a concussion, but it's not like you used that pretty head of yours anyway," Gina finished, grumbling something in Russian at the end that Jacob didn't quite catch. "What the hell were you thinking, anyway?"

"We weren't both getting out. The only way we were going to survive was if I was the distraction. Worked, didn't it?"

Gina rolled her eyes and leaned forward, pressing down against his injured shoulder without warning and pulled a yelp from him. "You're an idiot, Phelps."

"And you're a bitch," he wheezed out, eyes shut tight against the pain.

When he finally opened them again he found her smirking at him. "Good to have you back. Bill wanted to see you as soon as you were awake."

"Not going anywhere," Jacob mumbled, sinking a little deeper into his pillow. The morphine must have just kicked in again because he felt like he was floating. The pain wasn't gone by any stretch, but it was more distant, and he thought he might have drifted off before the door to the room opened and he cracked one blue eye open.

Bud was waving someone off irritably, leaning heavily on a cane and favouring the leg that had been torn to pieces by the blast. He shuffled to the middle of the room, his eyes fixed on the young operative, and a small frown tugged his lips. He didn't say anything for a long moment and Jacob swallowed hard before trying speak past the scratchy sensation that had taken over his throat. "If you're just going to stand there and glare at me, I'm going back to sleep."

The Major snorted, shaking his head. "You're a real pain in my ass sometimes, you know that, kid?"

Jacob felt the muscles in his face twitch a little in irritation that he couldn't quite cover in his state. "A simple thank you works just as well."

"You got yourself captured. That's bad enough, but then Gina had to go in to get you out. I nearly lost two of my best today."

They eyed each other for a long moment and Jacob was about ready to be thoroughly offended. He'd saved this man's life and now he was getting bitched out for it. He never thought the world was a particularly fair place, but Bud had always treated him fairly. This was crap and he had to have known it. "Then you should have just left me there if you had so little faith in both of us coming out."

"I did. Gina went against orders," Bud answered and Jacob could have done without what he had only thought was true being put out in the open. Finally, a small smirk played on the older man's lips. "Glad she did."

Jacob blinked hard and Bud chuckled at him. "Looks like I owe you, kid. I hate that."

That finally pulled a small smile from the injured man. "Yeah, I know you do."

"Get some rest. I've taken care of all the medical arrangements. We'll get you back up and to work in no time."

"Good."

And that was that. There wasn't a thank you, but Jacob had never really expected one. Bud didn't thank his operatives, but there was a kind of respect glinting in his eyes by the time that he left that set much better with him than the cold, calculating words had. Bud was a businessman, and Jacob, Gina, and all the rest were his employees, but there were a few - and Jacob liked to think he was among them - that were just a little more. They weren't family, because people like them didn't have families, but they were something. That was enough. It was the best he'd ever known, and he had proven that he was willing to die for it.

Notes: This was born out of a one-shot that I wrote for Truth in the Lies where Liz asks Tom about a scar she finds. He tells her a story about getting drunk during college and trying to ride a friend's bike down a set of stairs, when in reality it was the Cape Town incident that he mentions to Bud when the Major is about ready to put a bullet in his head.

Anyone remember the name Younes from S1?