YEAR 10

James frowned down at his brother; "What are you doing?"

David just kept scowling and shoving things into his suitcase as he answered, "Packing."

"I know that," James said with an exaggerated eye-roll, flopping down on the motel bed nearby, "Why? Mom said we're gonna be here a couple more days."

"Mom's not back yet," David snapped, turning and glaring at James, "She always comes back before midnight. When she's not back before midnight, she ends up coming in here saying that we're in trouble and we gotta go now. I'm getting ready."

James fell backwards with another groan; "Come on Dave, chill out! Maybe she's just late!"

"She calls when she's late," David replied, "She hasn't called."

James just stared at the ceiling for a moment, then simply muttered, "Still think you're being a drama queen."

"Won't be thinkin' that when I'm all packed when we gotta leave and you're shovin' stuff in your suitcase," the dark-haired twin muttered back with a grin. James kept staring at the ceiling, absently kicking his legs, while David rearranged his things so that the suitcase would actually close.

Then, there was a knock on the door.

Both boys' eyes leapt to the door and didn't leave it until they heard their mother's voice, just too loud; "Dave, James! Could you open the door?"

James shot up, sitting ramrod straight as he locked eyes with David. Mom had told them since they were old enough to understand that when she asked them to open the door, it meant one thing. She wasn't alone.

James and David scrambled to slide under the motel's bed, James pulling David under as they heard their mother call, "Come on boys, I lost my key! This isn't funny!"

That meant she wasn't just not alone, but there were two people with her. And one of them had a gun.

David and James huddled close together under the bed, James' eyes squeezed shut and David clutching his brother's hand tight– they'd since ruled when they turned ten that holding hands was "totally lame", but they still did it whenever they were scared. It was an unwritten rule.

They could faintly hear a man growl, "Stop playing games, lady. Open the damn door."

Mom's voice was at that measured pitch she took whenever one of them was being difficult; "It's like I said, I lost my key. I don't know why the boys aren't–"

The sound of a hammer cocking; "Fuck it. Stand back, I'm shooting the lock."

David squeezed his eyes shut and gripped James' hand tighter. He'd ignore James' whimper– any other time he'd make fun of his brother for crying. Not right now. All he had was sound.

David heard a whack, something clattering to the ground that got drowned out halfway through by a shout of FUCK! and a loud, wet crunch. Something hit the ground with a loud thud, a couple thumps, the sound of a man gasping and choking while Mom grunted from some sort of effort. Then, a long wheeze, and another loud thud.

A key unlocking the motel door, and Mom saying in a quiet voice, "David? James? It's over. I promise."

Before David could pull him back, James peeked out from under the bed. David followed him and let out a sigh of relief– Mom was standing in the doorway, blonde hair mussed and makeup smudged but no one was holding a gun to her head. He could only see the legs of the two men and a gun just barely on the edge of the motel balcony.

The two crawled all the way out and Mom met them halfway, pulling them into a hug as she murmured, "I'm sorry about this, Boys, but we're gonna have to leave tonight."

"Told you so," David muttered to James across Mom's shoulders. James just rolled his bloodshot, tear-rimmed eyes.

Mom and James had to pack their things in a hurry, but David was ready. Mom ruffled his hair with a light smile when he told her he'd started packing at eleven when she hadn't gotten home yet, but her eyes were sad.

It always took David hours to fall asleep in the motel and safe house beds. In the car, falling asleep on James' shoulder was as natural as breathing, the rhythm of the car on the road and the passing streetlights in the dark better than any bedtime story Mom could ever tell them.

Eva was losing count of the times David had come back with a split lip or black eye, and that was troubling her more than anything else in this chaotic life she'd chosen. James stumbled in behind him looking frazzled, eyes wildly darting around as he tried to explain all at once how he tried to stop David and how the fight started and how David really wasn't all that hurt just bleeding a little bit okay a lot please don't freak out Mom.

Eva just shook her head and brought her Stern Mom Voice up as she said, "David, come with me. James, stay here and try to calm down." James kept babbling to himself, hands raking through his blond hair, but stayed put. David nodded and followed her to the bathroom with his same slight frown he'd had since he came inside.

She lead him to the safe house's bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet to take out their first-aid kit, and set about cleaning up his split lip in silence. David just stared past her, silently and stoically letting her clean, disinfect, and put a bandage on the wound. She frowned– where James let every emotion he felt fly clear as day and just as bright, when David felt things too deeply, he shut down.

Eva sighed, "So, what started it this time?"

It took David a bit to answer, and he did so through clenched teeth; "Some boys who live on the street were talking bad about you."

Eva tried very hard not to smile, forcing herself to sigh again; "David, I'm an adult. My reputation is my business, and it's in no danger from the word of some boys."

David scowled and exclaimed, "You don't get it! Because you don't work during the day and disappear at night they were saying– They called you–!" David couldn't finish, the anger bubbling up again and making him tremble as she tried to steady him with her hands on his shoulders.

"Sweetheart, you can't go starting fights with everyone who tries to talk trash about us," Eva said gently, bringing up one hand to smooth down his brown hair, "If you do that, you'll never stop fighting. All I care about is that you two are safe. That's all that matters– that we're all safe."

David was still shaking, muttering under his breath, "I hate it. I hate hearing it. It makes me feel sick. I hate it."

She brought him into a hug; "I know you do, baby. I know."

Eva stroked David's hair as he clung to her, shaking slowly going down to a simple shiver. He wasn't as open, but his heart was just as soft as his brother's. He cared too much. He was destined to get hurt, and there was nothing she could do about it.

That hurt her the most.

David and James had agreed when they'd turned ten that holding hands was "totally lame", but they always did it when they were scared.

And now they were holding hands with a grip tight enough to turn their knuckles white as they sat silently across from the man with the revolver.

Mom had prepared for just about everything when setting them up at the safe house, and had drilled them on just about every scenario for someone breaking in to take them or finding them in the open to take them. She, apparently, hadn't accounted for him. James and David both didn't remember when it had happened– they just knew Mom had come back at midnight, put them to bed, locked down the house and left. They'd gone to sleep, just like normal. When the two of them woke up again, they were in the back of a van with no windows being taken who knows where.

And the man with the revolver had been there, gun spinning and spinning and spinning until the second James inched even slightly towards the door, at which point it had stopped and aimed dead center with his forehead.

The man had raised a nearly-white eyebrow and said in a harsh, gravelly voice, "If I know anything about your mom, she's taught you that this gun isn't an empty threat. You'd better get right back next to your brother if you'd like to live through this car ride." James instantly scooted back into place, taking hold of David's hand. He hadn't let go yet.

David gulped and in a shivering voice asked, "H-how did you find us?"

The kidnapper smiled, but it was a cold, masklike expression that didn't reach his eyes; "You see, your mom's been so good at keeping the two of you safe because she had training. She was drilled seven days a week for years on how to run away and cover your tracks if something went south, and keep running for as long as you needed– even if that was forever."

He locked eyes with the dark-haired twin; "I was trained the exact same way."

David's eyes sunk to the floor; James could tell, his twin wanted to know more. But he was scared to ask. Scared to know how their mother and this strange, dangerous man could possibly be connected. James wanted to know, too. And he wasn't nearly as thoughtful as David.

So he asked, "Are you who's been chasing us?"

The gunman let out a cold, flat chuckle; "In a manner of speaking, yes. My my, your mom didn't tell you anything did she? I wonder…"

His fake smile fell and he looked James right in the eye; "What do you know about your father?"

Both twins' eyes went wide and they looked to each other; David furiously shook his head, squeezing James' hand so tight he could feel it going numb. James frowned hard, looking back and forth between his brother and their kidnapper.

He squared his shoulders, met the gunman's gaze head on and said, "He's out there fighting the people chasing us. He's going to beat them, and he's going to beat you."

For a moment, the gunman just stared right back at James, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. Then, he let out a small chuckle. Then a louder one. Then he leaned back and let out a long, almost manic cackle. James' confidence withered away as their kidnapper laughed and laughed, the blond twin shrinking back and huddling even closer to his brother's side. David just frowned at him– he told him so.

The gunman's laughter tapered out into a sigh, and when he looked at James again he was shocked to see that his smile reached his eyes; "Oh, I certainly hope he does."

The van briefly stopped, then went slowly down an incline. James and David exchanged puzzled looks as the van gradually slowed to a stop. The gunman got up from his seat and opened the back doors of the van– the twins winced, flinching and squinting at the sudden light before their eyes could adjust. When they could see, the both of them got a good look at the area; the first things they noticed were the high ceilings, fluorescent lights, and concrete walls. There were very few other people running about, but there were plenty of aircrafts in the massive building, ranging anywhere from helicopters to small passenger planes.

The gunman hopped out and turned to the twins, extending an arm out toward the hanger; "We're here. Come on out."

James and David hesitated, looking from the gunman to each other and back, but David finally nudged James forward and the two of them crept carefully out of the van. They never let go of the other's hand. James kept close to David's side, eyes darting around the hangar, but David kept a steady eye on the gunman.

David's voice broke the relative silence; "Do you know where Dad is?"

The twins had grown observant over the years, so in that moment they caught something no one else could have. In that moment the gunman's eyes went just that bit wider, his mouth opened very slightly, his grip on his revolver went a tiny bit slack. Coming from a man as guarded as him, a man constantly in control of how he presented himself, that was the same as eyes wide as saucers and a jaw on the floor.

His mask was back on in an instant, but not a mask of a smile. A cold, emotionless mask stared back at David.

"I do," he said in an even, measured tone, "And trust me, kids– You don't want to see him. You're better off never–"

An earsplitting scream drew every eye and ear in the place to the West end of the hangar.

James and David drew close to the other's side as the scream was followed up by several gunshots in a row. The gunman stepped in front of them, blocking their vision more than the multitude of aircraft already did. The three of them didn't move as the footsteps, gunshots, screams, and the wet thuds of bodies hitting the ground. Another sound got louder and louder as it got closer– someone's voice, grunting and panting with effort.

The gunman didn't tremble or flinch. When they were a couple feet away, the footsteps stopped.

The voice growled, "Give me back my sons, Adam."

The twins didn't have time to gasp before "Adam" stepped to the side with a lilt in his voice as he said, "My pleasure."

James and David could scarcely believe it, but there she was. Their mother was standing in the middle of the hangar, a gun in one hand and the other balled up in a white-knuckled fist at her side. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes and skin were spattered with blood, and her mouth was hanging open in confusion as she looked between her sons and their kidnapper.

"MOM!" the twins broke down, scrambling over to Eva who in that moment stopped being an agent trained for combat and started being their mother again, running to meet them halfway and falling to her knees to embrace them. She really was losing her edge, because it took her a full minute to push through the relief and look back up at Adam with furrowed eyebrows. Her sons just kept clinging to her, burying their faces in her blood-soaked shirt and wild hair.

Eva opened her mouth to speak, but Adam interrupted her; "Well, now that you're here that makes everyone. I can finally give you these."

He fished around in his long brown duster and pulled out three little blue booklets, holding them out for Eva to take. The twins pulled away so they could look at them with her. Three perfectly forged US passports looked back at them, with photos of the three of them and fake information inside.

"What…?" Eva couldn't even finish her sentence, opting to just stand up and stare at Adam with her mouth hanging open.

Adam's smirk never fell as he smoothly said, "There's a plane out on the runway, with more documentation," he looked Eva up and down with a small snicker, "and a change of clothes inside. You'll be going to England. The people that'll meet you there will get you set up in the country, but from there you'll be on your own."

Without waiting to hear from Eva, Adam started walking out of the hangar to the runway. Eva followed him closely with the boys beside her, the three of them staying close together just in case. The sun was just barely lighting the horizon when they stepped out onto the tarmac. A small white passenger plane sat alone on the runway, an even smaller crew prepping it for takeoff.

Adam turned back to Eva with a raised eyebrow; "Any particular reason you're still standing here and not getting on that plane?"

Eva narrowed her eyes; "Two questions."

"I might have two answers." Eva rolled her eyes and Adam let out another snicker. The twins exchanged baffled looks– he was still guarded, still carefully managed, but the minute their mother had showed up this Adam had turned into almost a completely different person.

Eva crossed her arms over her chest; "How do I know this isn't a Patriot trap?"

Adam put a hand on his hip as he explained, "If this was a Patriot trap, the three of you would already be dead and buried in shallow graves," the twins shrunk closer to Eva on instinct, "The government gave up on you as a lost cause, and that takes away a significant resource Zero can use to find you. And besides, he's losing more and more of his mind every day. He's more concerned with making sure no one can take the Patriots from him. And Para-Medic and Sigint gave up on all of this years ago."

Eva couldn't help a small, mirthless chuckle; "Bang-up job we all did of carrying out her will."

Adam just shrugged; "That's never why I was in this. But as I was saying, now's just about the perfect time to escape."

Eva frowned, staring at Adam for a long time before she asked, "Second question… Why are you helping us?"

Adam's face smoothed over into the expressionless mask, and for a few moments he was quiet, staring just past Eva at the horizon as it turned from deep dark blue to a soft lilac gray.

He locked eyes with Eva; "Because no children should go through what we did."

For a long, loaded moment the two of them just stood there, staring into each other's eyes and trying to unpack the layers of training and deception they would always carry with them.

Eva smiled and put her hands on James and David's heads; "Alright, come on boys. Let's get on the plane."

Hesitantly, the twins walked ahead of her towards the plane. Eva followed behind, but paused next to Adam; "If this is a trap, sleep with one eye open."

Adam just gave her a two-fingered salute as she passed; "I already do."

The inside of the plane was cushy first class accommodations, all the decor in white to match the outside of the plane. A manila folder and set of folded clothes sat on one of the seats, and Eva gratefully flopped down into the cushy leather next to it. She was already well into looking through the documentation Adam had provided when she realized David and James weren't darting around the cabin, drinking in likely the nicest environment they'd been in yet.

She looked up to see her sons just staring at her with their eyebrows furrowed, hovering close to each other and looking intently at the door to the plane as if Adam would come through and take them back any second.

Eva pulled out a tray table, set the documents and fresh clothes on it and turned to the boys with a tired smile; "I'm betting you're more than a little confused."

"He… he said he knew where Dad was…" James murmured.

"He said a lot of things about Dad," David muttered back, "And you… know him, Mom? Who was he?"

Eva sighed; "There is a lot I haven't told you. I thought it'd be for the best if you didn't know about everything until you were older. But after all this…" Eva patted the chair next to her, "We're in for a long flight, and this is a long story. Get cozy."

The boys ambled over, David hopping into the seat next to Eva and James crawling into her lap; "Alright. So. I guess to start I should tell you about someone we all called The Boss…"