A/N: I needed a fix-it fic after 3x06, and this is what came out. It picks up about a week after 3x06 and goes from there. First two chapters are light on the Jaspenor so I'll post them together. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. If I did, 3x06 would have gone a LOT differently.
Jasper and Liam surveyed each other, silently. The bodyguard knew he had no right to ask for time off after acting so haughty, but it's not like he hadn't warned Liam he was being an idiot for challenging Robert to a fight. He'd seen the bloke in the "family gym," after all.
And Liam, bloodied and battered, tried to look murderous — he'd seen the look on Eleanor's face earlier and had suspected for the past week that something had happened with the two of them, which made him even less tolerant of Jasper's "I told you so" — but instead came off as rather grumpy.
"You need to 'go away for a few days?'" the prince asked. "What about my sister?"
"She'll be fine without me," Jasper replied, trying with all his might to sound steady.
"I don't know what's going on between the two of you, but you'd better fix it."
"Are you telling me that as my boss or as my friend?"
"I'm telling you that as the brother of the girl whose heart you seem to have broken," Liam snapped, but then relented when he saw Jasper's face fall. "I'm sorry. I'm in a foul mood over the fight."
"You don't say," Jasper muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets and hoping for an immediate end to the conversation.
"I'm saying this to you as your friend AND as the brother of the girl whose heart you've hurt," Liam amended.
"Going away will fix it," Jasper said.
"You'll be back, yes?" Liam said, locking eyes with his bodyguard.
"Yes."
When Jasper stepped off the plane and into the dry Vegas heat, he still wasn't sure if he was planning on keeping his promise to Liam. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he was planning on keeping his promise to himself.
He made his way to his rental car, jammed the key into the ignition and sped off. His brain was still in a fog — as it had been since that godforsaken meeting with that godforsaken journalist — but muscle memory took over. Pretty soon, the desert dust had given way to, well, more desert dust, but in the middle of this particular patch of dust was a trailer park.
He spotted the Frost family trailer almost immediately. He put the car — a black Porsche; all the better for driving home his point — into park and grabbed the messenger bag he had thrown onto the passenger side seat. He checked to make sure the papers and the gun were securely in place, then exited the car with a decisive slam of the door.
The trailer park looked just as he remembered it: a decrepit mess littered with broken dreams. For so long, it had been a source of such shame. Jasper had been bracing himself for the shame to take over when he saw his onetime home, but now, with a plan in hand and ire in his heart, he felt ready to be done with Vegas, and his family. For good.
He took long, purposeful strides towards the Frost trailer. He knew they'd hear him. It's not often the hum of a Porsche made its way to this part of town, and even less often its occupant dared to leave the confines of the car.
Jasper smirked when he saw his dad exit the dwelling before he got within 10 feet of the place. Predictable, nosy asshole.
"Well well well, look what the cat dragged in," the elder Frost drawled.
"I'd say the same to you. You look awful, pops," Jasper replied. He wasn't wrong. In the years since he'd seen his dad, the man had grown a potbelly; his hair had dulled and lost some of its volume; his skin had become even more weathered — from the elements or the drugs, Jasper didn't know nor care to find out. "The price of selling out doesn't even cover a day at the spa?"
"What you call selling out, I call another day's work," papa Frost shot back. "And it was so easy, I'd do it again."
"No, you won't," Jasper said, pulling out his gun and leveling it as his father's chest.
"Woah woah woah, no need to escalate this," his dad replied, looking startled. "We're both Frosts; we can settle this like gentlemen."
"Gentlemen?" Jasper laughed mirthlessly. "Gentlemen? Gentlemen don't trade secrets for money. Gentlemen don't presume to speak for offspring they've long since given up on."
"Well if the ungrateful offspring weren't ungrateful and didn't give up on jobs, maybe I wouldn't give up on them," his dad said. "You've been in that place for over a year and what have you gotten for me? What have you sent home? Not a damn thing!"
"In case you've forgotten," Jasper said, coldly, "my deal was with the Cooks, and we've long settled that score. I don't owe you a damn thing. And you certainly don't deserve a damn thing. But, to ensure that once I leave you stay out of my life for good, I do have something for you today."
Jasper wished he could have recorded the way his dad's eyes lit up when he said "something for you." The greedy bastard. Always looking for the next hit, the next payload. He reached into his messenger bags and pulled out the papers.
"This right here," Jasper said, pulling out the first sheet, "is a cease-and-desist order from the palace, telling you to leave me and the royal family alone or else be extradited to the U.K. under a charge of sedition."
"Sedition?" his father asked, but Jasper wan't in an explaining mood.
"This paper," Jasper continued, pulling out the second sheet from the bag, "is a letter of refutation that you will sign right now. It says that you lied to the press in order to make a quick buck; the latest in a long line of money laundering schemes."
"You really have lost your mind," the elder Frost said. "You can't make me sign that."
"Oh yes, I can," Jasper replied. "Because for my grand finale, I have this," he said, reaching into his bag and brandishing the third part of his paper pack — which was the rest of the stack.
"This right here," Jasper explained, "is your criminal history. It's every joint you've robbed, every person you've ripped off and every con you've run. And I happen to know the Las Vegas PD would LOVE some new reading material."
"You can't prove that's real," his father retorted. "And I can just say it's the rantings of my brainwashed, Brit-loving son."
"Actually, I've had it verified and signed by MI6, the British CIA, so you'd be wise not to test me," Jasper said, smirking as his dad's complexion paled.
Jasper waited a beat, and slung a pen and the second paper to his dad. "Sign it," he ordered.
"Whatever, it's not like I want anything to do with you anyway," d muttered as he scribbled his signature on the letter that refuted everything he'd told the hussy of a reporter. When he was done, he pressed the paper back into Jasper's chest without making eye contact with his son.
"Good. Now here's your cease and desist order," Jasper said, handing his father the first paper he'd brought out. "Lest you destroy it, do remember that we keep copies at the palace. And that all members of royal security and MI5 and MI6 have been informed of who you are and what you may try. So don't try."
"This little act of yours is almost convincing. I heard that voicemail you left me on Christmas. Whatever damage you're trying to undo is already done," his father sneered. "Your life is ruined, and so is hers, I'd imagine. Which is good enough for me."
Jasper's veins, which were already coursing with anger, pulsed with fresh fury. His left hand gripped his Glock, which he willed himself not to use.
"And your life has never been anything BUT ruin," Jasper spat. "Enjoy hell."
With that, Jasper spun on his heels and stalked back to the car. Once securely in the Porsche — which had darkened windows — he took a deep breath and picked up his phone.
"It's done.'
"Good," came James Hill's voice on the other end. "I can send in phase 2?"
"Yes. Don't forget to have them take photos."
"Of course. You're on your way back?"
Jasper paused. The next part was the hard part. Facing her. The far easier thing would be to send his dad's statement back by mail, or scanner, and stay in the U.S. He'd forget her and she'd forget him, and it'd be like nothing ever happened.
The thought made his stomach turn.
"Of course."