"You're quite serious about this standing-guard-thing, aren't you?" Skye leaned back onto her pillow, as casually as possible while handcuffed to the bed.
The lieutenant looked at her, then back ahead. His eyes were the only thing that moved.
The agent scrutinised him. His skin was the colour of coffee with a dash of milk. He looked tall, quite handsome in his black shirt and green camo-trousers. His hair was cropped short, and he stood stock-still. She knew he had a key to her cuffs, and she hadn't heard Walton and Grey lock the door behind them. If she could get this guy to come over to her she was practically out of here.
"If I say 'at ease', will you relax?"
"I have my orders," he finally replied.
"You were on the radio," Skye realised when she heard his voice.
He looked mildly surprised, but quickly covered it up. "Yes."
She didn't give in to the urge to tell him what it had felt like when someone told you to stand by during a crash. "What's your name?" she asked instead. When he didn't answer she added, "I just thought, as we seem to be stuck here for a bit. I'm Skye. As in 'crashing out of the'." The agent looked at him directly.
He shifted. It was a subtle movement that could have easily been missed.
"Fine," she said nonchalantly, as if she didn't really care after all.
"Lieutenant Reeves."
She looked back at him. Her eyes were the only thing that moved.
"Adrian Reeves."
Skye smiled.
Then his radio crackled.
"Sir?" Reeves straightened as if his superior was actually in the room with them.
"Clockwork is recovered."
"Copy," Reeves answered.
"What does it mean?" she asked.
He hesitated, then he answered, "They found your blackbox."
/\/\/\/\
The man parading into Walton's office like he owned the place was in full dress uniform. "I understand there was a plane crash here. Washington sent me, I need to know if there are any survivors."
Not even a question. Just a statement. The general didn't like it. "I don't know who you think you are, but I do know I'm not authorised to tell you anything that's going on on this base."
Walton had just been informed that the Cessna's blackbox had been recovered. He had just heard the recording for the first time and wanted to go over it again. Also he needed to reach Grey, fast.
"Please. I had the satellite images on my desk before you did."
Walton looked up from the phone he already had in his hand. For a second, the general faltered. "Satellite - that's impossible."
Connor grinned uninhibited, took out his mobile and opened the image that showed the plane's interior in high definition. He showed it to Walton and enjoyed his disbelieving expression. The agent pocketed the phone again. "What, because we don't have the same haircut, is that it? You think because you're sitting on a stack of folders labelled Top Secret you're something special? Because your little party here operates on a black budget?" Connor stepped forward and leaned onto the desk, effectively being on eye level. "You have no idea what secret even means. There was a wanted fugitive on that plane and I need to know if he's on this base."
Walton put his phone back on his desk. "There were two survivors, both of whom are currently in the care of my medical staff."
"You're gonna let me talk to them."
"And what makes you think so, son?"
"We're on the same side, General. And we both want to keep this confidential. Because if it comes out that you stood in the way of a covert operation of bringing a known traitor to justice, it's not me who's in trouble."
Walton had about enough. "Who the hell are you people?"
"I can vouch for Agents Laurie, Holt, and Casey. You will let them go. If Asher is in your custody, I need you to hand him over to me. Now."
"And I need you to cut down on that tone of yours, son. I don't have anything to prove to you."
Connor straightened up again. "Does the Cephalus Mission mean anything to you?" he asked nonchalantly.
The general swallowed, and with it all the colour seemed to be drained from his face. "Don't you think that's a bit above your pay grade, son?"
Connor smirked at the general's attempt to retain his attitude from a minute ago, which was, of course, doomed to fail. "That was me. Look me up. Captain Connor Mathison, eight years of military service, Silver Star, Army Distinguished Service Cross, I could go on, left the Armed Forces honourably when a better offer came around after Cephalus," he recounted. "So let me put it this way. Everything that's happening right now is way above your pay grade. So why don't we just cut the money talk, or else I'll have the White House on the phone like this." Connor snapped his fingers. "And if I may, sir, if you plan on causing any more difficulties I'm gonna have you removed, because I think we all have better things to do than wasting our time here. Now," he turned to the door, "where did you say they were?"
The general's face displayed no emotion any more. He addressed Currie, who, to his dismay, had witnessed Mathison's speech. "Take him to the woman. I have to make a phone call."
"Yes, sir," the underling said dutifully.
Connor smiled and turned to the door. "One more thing," he then added without turning around again. "Call me son one more time and see what happens. Sir."
/\/\/\/\
There was a sound outside the door. Skye, lying on the bed, raised her head. Then, she heard a mechanical click, and the door swung open. Reeves straightened even more than the agent had thought possible.
A man entered, not bothering with closing the door behind him. She almost hadn't recognised him at first. He was wearing the dark, decorated jacket and blue trousers of a US army dress uniform, which suited him but clashed with his relaxed posture. The corresponding cap was tucked under his arm, which revealed the most off-putting factor: His hair was in order. It lay as flat against his head as its volume would allow, which she had never seen before. It made him look weirdly grown up.
He barely cast a glance on her and focused on Reeves, giving him a quick once-over. "Lieutenant."
"Yes, sir," he said loudly, only just this side of shouting. Behind his back, Skye rolled her eyes.
"You got a name?"
"Reeves, sir. Lieutenant-" Reeves was about to say more, but he was cut off.
"You're dismissed," the newcomer said calmly, almost bored.
Not missing a beat, a "Yes, sir!" followed and they were alone.
The door fell shut. The man turned to Skye, now a huge smile on his face.
"Did someone call for a Connor?"
Skye tried hard not too tell him that she had never been so glad to see him. Instead she smiled, sat up and waved her cuffed hand. "Yeah, I called like an hour ago. You should really rethink your customer service."
Connor smirked. "I gotta say, this is by far the coolest thing you've ever got us into, Skye T."
"This is the only thing I'm responsible for getting us into."
Connor reached into his inside jacket pocket and unearthed a needle-like tool. While opening the handcuffs, he kept talking. "Fucking Area 51, this is awesome! We should have done this sooner! We could open literally any door and find an alien!" He caught her slightly exasperated glance. "Don't worry, I got Yusuf in my ear and a scrambler in my pocket, we're safe from Big Brother as it is. What's that?" Connor tapped his ear in an unnecessary gesture. "Oh, he wants to know if you're all right."
"I'm fine, thanks, Yusuf. Do you have a plan to get out, too?"
He smirked. "Way ahead of you. I got a sweet Land Rover parked outside. Don't I look sharp? Uniform still fits."
It could not be ignored any longer. "What's happened to your hair?"
He scowled slightly. "He made me do that. Apparently I can't be taken seriously without a tube of gel on my head."
Skye rubbed her newly freed wrist. "I don't know how anybody can ever take you seriously. How did you find me?"
"You're my mission. Megan pressed the panic button and activated the beacon, and I was in the area."
She suddenly got serious. "Meg and Casey are dead."
"I know. What the hell happened up there?"
"I..." Out of nowhere, Skye felt the breakdown coming. For a second she felt like she was back on the plane and crashing again, only then there was Connor's hand on her shoulder to break her mental fall.
"You okay?"
She nodded. "It was Asher. He killed them."
"HQ got the transmission from your blackbox. I think I can imagine what went down there." He let go of her shoulder, scrutinised her. "You need a hug?"
Skye did need a hug, but if she got sentimental now there would be no turning back. Energetically, she shook her head. "How did you get in?"
Connor made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "You just gotta know how to talk to these people. I threw the White House job in their faces and they started drooling. I'll tell you later. For now let's get this bastard Asher and hit the road."
The door flew open and Reeves burst back into the room. He flinched under Connor's stern glance, but spoke up nevertheless. "General Walton wants you to come with me. The other one – he's gone."
