A/N: Hur hur hur my phone contract runs out today so I get a new cell phone. Maybe if y'all are good, I'll post my number somewhere so you can randomly pester me.

---

Jackson received his Masters in Management Science after eighteen months of assignment-less being. He was a favourite of the professors, who were impressed with his management abilities despite their supposition that he'd never been the manager of anything before. He liked to laugh at them behind their backs—he probably had managed more difficult things than any of them could even imagine. His finely tuned acting abilities were the only things that kept him going. Even if he wasn't paying attention at all during class, he could at least pretend to be.

The next big assignment was vaguely exciting for him. It came as a birthday present for the now twenty-four-year-old Jackson and the day it was to be carried out was the first of June, less than three months away. There would need to be ten dead by massacre, but the thing that was so special for him was the fact that it needed to be carried out by one of the ten rather than an assigned assassin. He'd become what he believe to be a master of manipulation whether it was talking some woman at a bar into coming home with him or convincing Mr Poulain that he didn't need Lyna's help on a certain assignment—he was more than excited to be able to use his skills on someone other than a bitchy Indian prostitute.

Shortly after his graduation ceremony from the University of Miami, Jackson was on a plane to Paris. After a covert conversation with a couple of other society operatives, he boarded a plane to Bahrain where he was met by three assistants, two women and a man, all whom he had never met before. Two days after he'd left Miami, he finally arrived in Nepal, and the group of them checked into the Regal Suite at the Soaltee Crowne Plaza Hotel in the capital city of Kathmandu.

That night, they all sat around the table in the huge living and dining area of the suite with their room service dinners cooling in the centre as they all presented the information for their respective areas of expertise. It was only then when Jackson learned the real names and occupations of his travel companions—prior to that point, Jackson was just Christian Poulain to them.

It turned out that his 'wife' for this assignment wasn't named Sylvie, but rather was a twenty-nine-year-old medical research assistant from Nice named Hélène.

'I've all of his medical files, and it's a relatively well-known fact that Dipendra is very hedonistic, participating in cocaine and alcohol usage to an extreme. I recommend we use this to our advantage, and on the night of the massacre, we can arrange for him to become very inebriated. The inebriation combined with the manipulation that…?'

'Jackson,' he responded when she looked blankly at him.

'Yes, that Jackson does over the next few days, it should be easy to convince him to kill the people in his family.'

The other two people looked at each other. The man, a muscular, middle-aged Norwegian named Nils, glanced at Jackson questionably. 'And you're sure you can get this done in the time you have?'

'Positive,' Jackson replied, a bit cocky.

'All right, then Nils will be on the inside with the palace guard to assure that everything goes as planned,' Nils' wife Solveig said, shuffling papers around in front of her. 'Our customer's son will also be on the inside to pass off anything that needs to be delivered. I will be taking care of the Crown Prince's girlfriend so that she will give us any aid that we need.'

Jackson nodded shortly before clearing the area in front of him and rolling out an architectural blueprint of the massive Narayan Hity Royal Palace. 'Dipendra's bedroom in over here, and the royal family typically gathers here in the billiard room. Paras, our contact on the inside, will be staying in the billiard room until Dipendra arrives for the eventual massacre. It will be Nils' job to warn Paras of his cousin's impending arrival; the customer has been very specific that if Paras is injured, the assignment will be considered an utter failure and there will be consequences.'

'There is a good chance that Dipendra will be asking his valet for one of his hashish and cocaine cigarettes, so I will intercept the delivery of the cigarette and lace it with an anticholinergic… it will be delivered to Paras to then deliver to Dipendra.'

'Should we worry that the drug will be detected in the hospital?' asked Nils.

'If all goes to plan, there will be too much going on for anyone to worry about testing him,' said Solveig, leaning back and crossing her arms. 'If it doesn't go to plan, we'll be far gone anyway, and besides, he's been having these cigarettes made by an outside producer for years, so it's easy to pin it on them.'

'How are you meeting up with Dipendra, Jackson?' asked Hélène, looking over at him curiously.

'Paras is arranging a meeting between us.'

'Sounds good then,' Nils said, clapping his hands together. 'Well, it's been a long day of flights for all of us, so why don't we all go ahead and get some sleep. The next few days will be very busy, and it will be good to stay well rested.'

'Agreed,' replied Solveig, already moving to stand.

---

Out in the woods a couple of days later, Jackson stood camouflaged and armed to the teeth next to the Prince Dipendra. Originally, Dipendra was to go hunting with his cousin Paras, but at the last minute, Paras introduced his cousin to his 'friend' who had just flown in from France, Christian Poulain. Dipendra was a bit hesitant until Paras added that Christian was the only son of the leader of the famous World Society and had attended Eton a few years after Dipendra himself. Jackson and Dipendra chatted about Eton professors and secret societies for a half-hour before Paras excused himself and the two got into a Jeep and headed up into the mountains outside of the capital city.

After almost an hour of driving, the two arrived in a very rural area that was several thousand feet above sea level. Dipendra parked the Jeep near some brush and went around to the back to get out their bulletproof vests. He threw one at Jackson and the younger man slipped it on, velcroing the front as the Crown Prince looked through his selection of guns. Shoving his hands in his camouflage pants pockets, he came around to look into the boot, admiring the sheer amount of firepower the prince had at his disposal despite the fact that Nepal happened to be one of the most peaceful countries on earth.

'Impressive,' said Jackson, nodding his head towards the guns.

The Crown Prince smiled. 'I'm a collector.'

'That's an interesting thing to collect.'

Dipendra shrugged, shoving a cartridge into one of the rifles and handing it to Jackson (Jackson had failed to mention that he couldn't even shoot himself in the chest from an arm's distance and very honestly hoped that there would be no need to actually shoot any animal—he'd let Dipendra shoot it and then maybe participate in the field dressing or... something). After the Crown Prince chose his weapons, he closed the boot and they walked off towards some thick brush where they crouched down and looked out onto the expanse in front of them.

'Paras told me you were married recently,' said Dipendra, looking at Jackson in his peripheral vision.

'Yes, to my Sylvie. Her parents were very much against it, but they don't have too much to say about it now,' Jackson replied, adjusting his hold on the gun in his hands.

'They changed their minds about you?' asked Dipendra, turning to look at his hunting partner.

'Not really,' Jackson said, tipping his head a bit. 'Sylvie is in pharmacology.'

There was an unspoken understanding between the two.

'I hear you also have problems with your parents and your girlfriend,' Jackson prodded.

'You're worldly, being the son of the leader of the World Society. I'm sure you know the reasons behind the succession problems here in Nepal specifically in regards to my family and Devyani's.'

'Indeed,' said Jackson softly, looking out at the field before them. 'It's a Nepalese Romeo and Juliet, really.'

Dipendra nodded and silence followed.

'So, is that the normal gun you use for hunting?'

Dipendra looked down at the gun before bouncing it in his hands a little as he laughed. 'No, this is just for fun. I don't think many people would use an assault rifle for hunting, do you?'

'I suppose not,' Jackson replied. 'Tell me, Dipendra--you're the Crown Prince, the next in line for the throne... your father has already had two heart attacks. Don't you think it may be an idea to just push him over the edge and take the throne?'

At first, Dipendra gave him a dangerous look, but it softened quickly. 'It's something I've considered. As the king, I could marry whomever I wanted.'

Oh, this was going to make Jackson's job a lot easier; he nearly smiled. They were silent once more, and then with a swift movement, Dipendra shot a single round out of his rifle, and across the field, a bear fell to the ground.

---

Jackson spent the most of the next two days in Dipendra's company, whether they were drinking at Kathmandu bars, hunting in the mountains or flying a helicopter around the region. It was easy for Jackson to suck up to him because he admittedly had the same interests as the Crown Prince (with the exception of the hunting, of course). Luckily, Jackson had only shot once, and as he did so, made sure to trip over a rock so he had something to blame his terrible aim on. On Thursday afternoon, they played squash before Jackson invited the Prince to dinner with himself and his 'wife.'

At 18:30 on the dot, Hélène entered the restaurant Jackson had chosen and gave her name to the maître d'hôtel, who led her to a private room at the other end of the restaurant. Before entering, she straightened her dress and checked her makeup in her powder compact, and after assuring that she looked the part of the wife of the suave Christian Poulain, she made her way to the table where the two men sat. She smiled broadly as Jackson stood and pulled the chair out for her, kissing her on the cheek before she sat and he pushed in her chair. Brushing a few strands of platinum blonde hair out of her face, she nodded lightly to the Prince.

'Your Highness, it is a pleasure to meet you. Christian has spoken so highly of his new friend.'

Stretching her hand over to him, she waited for him to kiss the top of her knuckles before continuing.

'Christian tells me that you are interested in my skills,' she cooed.

Jackson leaned on his elbows and looked between the blonde Frenchwoman and the Prince. 'The Prince is interested in what you think would be the best to take care of his father peacefully. Something that isn't traceable.'

'By when?'

'Tomorrow evening,' replied Dipendra, picking up a bell and ringing it. A waiter came in and took his empty glass before he continued. 'I need it to happen when I can put it in my father's dinner.'

'That's very close,' said Hélène, looking at Jackson with a raised eyebrow. 'How much?'

'This is a favour for a friend,' replied Jackson with a smile, reaching out to put his hand tenderly on Hélène's arm. 'Surely you can come up with something on such short notice, ma chère.'

Hélène reached up to lace her fingers through his, giving him a smouldering look. 'I'm sure I can.'

'When can you get it to me?' asked Dipendra, watching the waiter set down another glass of scotch in front of him.

'We leave early tomorrow morning to go back to Paris,' Jackson replied. 'But Paras is seeing us off. Sylvie can pass it off to him then.'

'And he'll have it for me at dinner?'

'Yes,' said Hélène confidently. 'We'll wrap it like a present and give it to him to give to you.'

'Wonderful,' the Crown Prince said before sipping the scotch.

---

As darkness fell over Kathmandu the next evening, Nils Jensson walked along the Kanti Path-bordering wall of the Narayan Hity Royal Palace. On the other side of the wall, he could hear chatting voices and before long, there was a rhythmic tapping on the concrete. Quickly but as quietly as possible, he threw a hook up to the top of the wall and climbed it, dropping into the gardens on the inside and pulling the rope with him. After meeting eyes with the Nepalese prince Paras for a brief instant, he threw the rope behind a bush and ran towards the main palace, glancing at his watch as he neared the building. The changing of the guard was soon and he had to make sure to time everything perfectly so that he could get a guard uniform from one of the guards who was going off the clock.

He got inside, slipping into a niche along the hallway and listening to the voices coming his direction. There were three, one woman and two men, and as they passed, he hid himself in the darkness more. One of the men seemed comparable to his size, so he waited to watch which direction they were going before running after them quietly. In his ear, there was the soft, familiar sound of Solveig's voice over the comlink asking if he'd got the uniform yet because the Crown Prince was arriving at the palace with the Queen Mother. Solveig took the silence to understand he hadn't yet got the uniform, so she stopped talking just as he got to the door the group of guards had come through. There were sounds on the other side and he ducked into the shadows as the door opened and the newly uniformed guards came marching out. Reaching out, Nils grabbed the one closest to him and pulled him back with a cloth over his mouth. The other guards kept going on as Nils swiftly snapped the man's neck and took him to the next hallway, quickly changing into the uniform and marching after the other guards with his assault rifle held across his chest.

By the time the guards reached the billiard room, the family was all gathered around and chatting animatedly. In the corner, Paras was very slowly drinking a martini and he looked at Nils again, raising his glass to the brawny man. The clock in the room clicked over to eight o'clock and Nils straightened, knowing that the plan was really about to go into affect as the Crown Prince walked by him followed by the Queen Mother. The Queen Mother was escorted to the Sano Baithak next to the billiard room by one of the princesses, and the Crown Prince immediately went to the bar where he was given another peg of Famous Grouse whiskey. By this point, he was already swaying on his feet and other members of the family had begun to notice his odd behaviour.

He drank the whiskey as he pulled out his mobile phone and dialled. 'Gajendra.'

'Yes sir,' said the Prince's assistant, looking worriedly at the gun Hélène held to his head as he spoke.

'Get one of my cigarettes to Ram,' said Dipendra as he emptied the glass and slammed it down on the bar loudly, his voice slurring more. 'Paras'll be by the east door of the billiard hall.'

'Right away sir,' Gajendra replied, closing his phone and looking at the Frenchwoman standing next to him. 'Wh-what are you doing?'

'What our employer has requested,' she said, handing off the gun to Jackson as she took the cigarette from Gajendra's hand, carefully opening it and dispensing a black, tarry substance into the centre of the hashish and cocaine mix that made up the cigarette. 'You will speak nothing of this or revenge will be carried to your entire family.'

Jackson's eyes flittered between Gajendra and what Hélène was doing. She was working slowly, acting as if she were back in her research laboratory with hazardous chemicals—after biting at her tongue a bit, she put it back together and handed it back to Gajendra.

'Take this where it is to go,' she said to him. 'Now.'

The man shook his head nervously before walking away very professionally, leaving Hélène and Jackson behind in the back room. Without speaking, the two split; they went different directions to wait in different areas, her in the garden and Jackson within the palace.

Gajendra did exactly as he was told and gave the cigarette to an orderly who didn't seem to notice anything was amiss. As the orderly disappeared down the hallway, Gajendra laid back against the wall before his cell phone rang; he looked down and saw that the Crown Prince's girlfriend was calling him. He answered the phone as the orderly passed off the cigarette to Paras, who took it primly and delivered it to his cousin, even lighting it for the older man.

Only a couple of minutes passed before the Crown Prince's head fell to the bar and he pulled himself off of the bar stool, unable to stand once he did so. The cigarette lay half-smoked and smouldering on the countertop as the other princes rushed to him and immediately helped him to his bedroom away from the billiard room. They dropped the staggering prince in the room and Paras assured the Crown Prince's brother that he could handle the situation. Once he left, Paras glared at Dipendra as he lay back against the footboard of his bed.

'What's wrong with you?' hissed Paras.

'Didn't they give you something? Didn't they give you something to give to me?'

'What are you talking about?'

'The French,' Dipendra said, trying to pull himself to his feet. 'They were to give you something this morning to give to me tonight.'

'I haven't a clue what you're talking about,' said Paras, turning his back to his cousin and walking to the door. It opened and the Prince's assistant walked in. 'Gajendra, he is unwell.'

With a flourish, Paras left, and the three men who now stood at the door looked over at the Crown Prince, who was writhing on the ground, trying to take his shirt off. Gajendra walked to him and pulled the shirt off before all three helped him to his feet just in time to have him rip away from them and run to the bathroom. The men stood around uncomfortably as the Prince threw up loudly before coming to the doorframe, leaning against it heavily and breathing deeply.

'I'll be fine,' he said weakly. 'The three of you, go off to your chambers.'

He watched them with heavily lidded eyes as they left the room, making quick eye contact with a Caucasian guard standing outside his door. The door clicked shut and he staggered to the end of the bed, looking at the fatigues that he couldn't remember placing on the top of his bureau. As he made his way over to the clothing, he swore he could hear whispers in his head.

'Just because you didn't get the chemical doesn't mean you can't become king. There are other ways. But there are others who will want the throne: your mother... your brother... your uncles...'

Dipendra took a few hesitant steps closer, the edges of his toes poking under the bureau. He laid his hands atop the clothing.

'All you need is in here. Change into the clothes and choose your favourite guns...'

There was a momentary pause and then the Prince picked up the clothing on top of the bureau and began dressing in it. After a few minutes, the Prince was straightening the collar of the camouflage clothing, swaying on his feet a little as he did so. Bending down to his discarded clothing, he fished out his mobile and pressed a button, pressing it to his ear.

'Devyani,' he slurred into the phone. 'No, I'm all right. Yes, I'm about to go to sleep. Goodnight, we'll talk tomorrow.'

He listened for a moment more before dropping the phone onto the floor and walking to a display case of guns—Paras had checked that every single one of them was loaded earlier. In the end, Devyani grabbed up the gun he'd used the first time he went hunting with Jackson, another rifle, a shotgun, and two pistols. With the shotgun and one rifle strapped across his back and the two pistols in the pockets of his pants, the Prince cocked the rifle in his hands and walked to the door, swinging it open loudly. Before it closed, Jackson could hear a meek voice on the other side.

'Shall we bring the emergency bag, sir?'

'It's not necessary now,' was Dipendra's reply before the door closed.

With the killer set on the prowl, Jackson took a cathartic breath and then slipped from his hiding place within the hollowed-out bureau, moving quickly to the window under which Hélène was waiting. He opened it and crawled out, closing the window behind him before settling near her in the bushes.

In the hallway, Nils saw the Crown Prince coming and moved as calmly as possible in to the billiard room, making his way to Prince Paras. 'Sire, we have an urgent message from your father.'

Paras stopped his conversation with his cousins and nodded to Nils. 'Thank you. Excuse me.'

Paras and Nils walked out of the room and to the gardens around the Tribhuvan Sadan as Dipentra reached the entrance of the billiard room. Before the two men could even close the doors behind them, there were the sounds of automatic sub-machine gunfire and screaming. Nils ducked into the bushes along the border wall as havoc broke loose and the more heavily armed guards from the outer lines of the palace fell in to aid the royal family. Paras ran to the far end of the gardens as the Princess Shova ran out, screaming as her nephew Nirajan fell from the shots his brother was now firing upon the gardens.

There was an explosion of glass as the royal guard demolished the doors leading from the billiard room and began carrying out the bodies of the injured and dead royalty to be transported to the closest military hospital. Members of the guard seemed unaware that the Crown Prince was still running free on the grounds and were more caught up in the rescue effort than anything. As Nils looked across the grounds, he could see Hélène and Jackson sneaking away, using the chaos as a cover. Dropping his gun in the bushes, Nils watched to make sure the rescuers were preoccupied before running after his team members, glancing at Paras' smiling face as he ran by. The prince waved at him with a pistol in his hands as the assassins made it to the wall. All three of the people on the inside were out and slinking along the Kanti Path that ran along the side of the palace from which they'd escaped.

Other than the sirens and shouts of the rescuers, it was silent, but by the time the group had made it to where Solveig parked their car several hours earlier, there were a few shots and they all knew that Paras had done his biggest part by killing his cousin. They got into the car, Nils in the driver's seat, as ambulances dispatched from the two hospitals a couple of blocks from the palace streamed by on their way to the hospital.

With absolutely no modesty, Jackson and Hélène stripped down to their underwear and put their blood-splattered clothes in paper bags. Garment bags hung from the hook on one side of the car and Hélène unzipped them, extracting a suit for Jackson and a dress for herself. They changed in silence as Nils watched the road, and once they finished, Nils pulled away from the parking structure and drove them to a hotel on the opposite end of town. The two alighted and watched as Nils drove away towards where Solveig was keeping Devyani; the plan was to take her over the Indian border and then drive themselves to an airport in the country to fly back to Europe. With a quick look at Jackson, Hélène pressed a passport into his hand and they walked into the hotel as Colin and Deirdre Reilly, an Irish couple sight-seeing in Nepal on their honeymoon.

By the time they'd checked in, the city of Kathmandu was already in turmoil, but the two members of the World Society had absolutely no intention of leaving until the entire plan was seen through.

---

Everywhere Gajendra Bohara looked, he could see the two people who held him at gunpoint and forced him to give the tainted cigarette to the Crown Prince. Here the blonde was at the market, standing behind him in queue when he was waiting to pay. There the blue-eyed man was sitting next to him when he stopped in the morning for coffee at a café near his house. As he sat in his office, he could look out and see them arguing over a map nearby. He swore he could see them stalking around his house at night, and all this was enough to leave all mention of them out of his testimony. Whenever he'd mention people around the house, his wife would brush it off as the media, and after awhile, he just stopped mentioning it even to her—by the time the new king was established, he stopped seeing the woman.

The man, however, hung around, but what worried Bohara about him was the fact that he could look and see him and the next moment he'd be gone. There was something terrifying about the young man even though he was probably half of Bohara's size and age—he was such a slip of a thing, Bohara could probably break him, but the look that was always on his face burned in the back of the Nepalese man's mind. He only ever saw him from a distance, and from that distance, his eyes looked soulless because of their pale colour. There was no doubt in his mind that he wouldn't hesitate to kill him and his family, and that kept him on edge.

Jackson, on the other hand, was quite enjoying this act. It wasn't something that he'd done before with any of his victims—usually he was in and out, just trying to avoid the prying eyes of the authorities. This job was making him ballsy though; it wasn't often that the person who hired assassins was the new ruler of the country. He found himself following the former Crown Prince's assistant everywhere, finally getting a huge thrill out of his job. Sure, the cerebral part of management was wonderful, but working to avoid having Bohara see him twice was so much more exhilarating. He liked hiding and seeing the effect he had on the other man. It was so invigorating that Jackson would leave his hotel before sunrise claiming to be going hiking in the mountains and when he returned late that night, the hotel workers honestly thought he'd been working strenuously all day.

One night at the beginning of Jackson's third week in Kathmandu, he walked in as normal and smiled at the desk attendant but this time the man beckoned him over.

'Mr Reilly, you have a guest. She came a few hours ago and we sent her up to your room.'

'My wife?' questioned Jackson.

'No, she said she's your sister.'

'Oh, of course. I wasn't expecting her so soon.'

The man smiled and nodded. 'How were the mountains today, Mr Reilly?'

'Very beautiful,' he said shortly before walking over to the open elevator.

Once the doors closed, he immediately began undressing. His suit coat was draped over the rail, his shirt quickly unbuttoned and untucked, and his belt undone before the doors opened on his floor. Grabbing the jacket, he hastily went to the door of his room and keyed in, shoving it open and dropping his jacket, shirt, and pants before the door even closed behind him.

'Lyna?' he asked, out of breath as he traipsed forward into the open living room.

'Oh... I didn't consider that.'

Jackson glanced over to the bed; lying right in the centre was Melissa wearing those God-awful flannel pyjamas she so adored. She looked at him standing there in his underwear and undershirt with a raised eyebrow before shrugging, pressing the power button on the television and leaving them draped in darkness. There was a little bit of thumping as Jackson felt around for a lamp, and when he found one, she found that he was standing right over her.

'Melissa, what are you doing here?'

'My friend Hélène told me that she'd worked with you the past couple of weeks and then told me where you were staying,' she said, putting her arms behind her head. 'I was in Hong Kong, so it wasn't too far to get here.'

'But why are you here?'

'It's been two years,' she murmured. 'Haven't you been curious about where I've been, what I've been doing? It's easy to tell where you've been because you leave a pretty wide path of destruction.'

'I figured you'd be living at home, being a housewife, taking care of your children,' he said dryly. 'That's not exactly something I care to take up my time asking about.'

'You seemed shocked enough to see where he punched me,' she muttered.

'He did that?' Jackson asked, angered. 'Where is he right now? Still in Hong Kong?'

'Oh Heavens no,' Melissa laughed. 'Poulain killed him right before the Pakistan coup d'état for allowing you to see me.'

'Allowing...?' he asked with wide eyes. 'What do you mean by that?'

'Poulain is preening you to be the next head. A person who is the head of an organisation like his cannot have any liabilities. Everything has to be business because business deals are easy to rearrange or bounce back from. It's when things get personal that people stop being level-headed and get into trouble.'

'What does that have to do with you?'

'Poulain thought that we were getting too close and that there was the possibility that we may have become romantically involved.'

Jackson laughed. 'Are you serious?'

'Completely,' she said with a loud, aggravated sigh. 'After Robert died, they abducted my daughter and me and held us for that entire year that you didn't have an assignment. At the end of the year, they took my resignation and sent the three of us to live in Hong Kong because it's one of the areas that the organisation doesn't have jurisdiction over.'

'You've been living in Hong Kong for the past year and didn't even call me?'

'They're keeping tabs on you. They know whoever you call and who calls you.'

Jackson thought about the cell phone in his suit pocket. 'Well, I never call anyone that I shouldn't, so I suppose this isn't an issue.'

'You're the picture-perfect manager, my dear.'

Without a word, Jackson turned off the light and got into bed with her, urging her under the sheets so he could hold her and smell her perfume.

'Nice to know I'm a security blanket.'

'I can't believe they thought we'd become romantically involved,' Jackson said under his breath. 'You're basically my sister not to mention I'm pretty sure you're a lesbian.'

She laughed. 'No, I just hate men. Fuck you all.'

'You used to steal my pornography, Peach. That's a bit of a tip-off,' he said with a snort.

Even though he couldn't see her face, he knew that she was scandalised. 'Did not!'

'I was awake.'

'Jackson, you don't even have pornography,' she said simply.

He pressed his nose to the nape of her neck. 'Of course I don't.'

She grumbled and rolled her eyes before becoming serious. 'Keep working hard, Jacks. Just know that the kids and I are okay, and we're moving back to America in a few months.'

'To be honest, I really haven't thought about it too much. You can take care of yourself, you don't need me to protect you.'

'More like I can kick your ass,' she said, pinching him hard on the arm. 'Mum pulled some strings and I'll be working in the Federal Bureau of Investigation doing the same damn thing I did for the organisation.'

'Where are you living?' he asked as he pressed his nose just behind her ear. His breath was warm against her shoulder.

'New York City,' she replied softly. 'I don't want you to come anywhere near there, okay?'

'I understand,' he said, pulling her closer, running his fingers along her waist softly.

To anyone else, it would have seemed like they were a loving couple musing over memories, but Melissa knew better. She didn't have a name to describe him until a psychology class she took in college, but the perfect disorder for him was alexithymia. He'd grown increasingly logical over the years to the point where he was almost devoid of emotions except for the occasional uncharacteristic outburst. He never spoke of dreams and didn't fantasise about the future (or anything, for that matter). For him, the future was extremely concrete—he'd be doing what he was doing now until he died or was killed in the line of duty. There was no need to worry about the normal course of action for human beings: college, work, love, family. For Jackson, it quit after the second step. She knew that he had deeper feelings for her, but he could never put it into words. Cuddling against her was like saying 'I appreciate you coming to visit me, Peach. It really means a lot to me.'

In the back of her mind, she wished there would be someone who could understand his cold nature and learn to deal with it. Everyone always seemed to want some man who would profess his undying love for her every day, but it took someone specific who could learn to put up with Jackson's shit. She'd grown with it and tried to smack it out of him, finally accepting that he was going to be a general jackass in the end, but someone coming across him in five or ten years wasn't going to be as accepting as she'd become. Putting her arms around Jackson, she held him closer and kissed the top of his head.

'I'm leaving Kathmandu tomorrow,' he said, yawning a bit. 'Poulain called in all of the main members of the society from their assignments.'

'That's weird,' she said, rolling her eyes up in thought. 'Why would he do that?'

'I didn't get many details,' he replied. 'It doesn't really matter all that much to me.'

With that, he nuzzled his nose to her shoulder and drifted off to sleep, but Melissa kept looking at the ceiling, worry written all over her face. When she woke up early the next morning, Jackson was already gone.