A/N: I posted multiple chapters today, 7/24. Please ensure you've read the previous chapters. Thank you everyone!

Chapter 6: The Red

Francine's Townhouse

Will checked himself in the mirror for the tenth time that evening. After he made the date with Jack, the week seemed to have flown by. He'd spent days trying to find another way forward with the Lafayette story, but he was currently at a dead end. He had files upon files and it took time to comb through it all and figure out what it all meant. There were pieces of the puzzle he couldn't fit together and others that he could that didn't add up to much. Or if it did, he didn't understand the importance.

"Deep Throat" had called again Thursday afternoon and he told him the truth, he had nothing so far. He didn't tell him about visiting Jack at Anicetus Security. He also didn't tell him about the GPS tracker he'd found. There was no reason to keep things from the guy; call it intuition or maybe it was good ol' fashion fear that kept him from trusting his own "source".

He literally had no idea what the guy wanted and why he needed the information. All he knew was that the only reason he was interested in the story at all was because he'd been there. He'd seen Antonio Lafayette in his final moments of life and it was that reason alone that had driven him forward. He should talk to "Deep Throat", let him know what he found. Maybe then the guy would enlighten him as to who he was and why he wanted him on the story.

"Lookin' sharp."

He saw Francie's reflection in the mirror. She was standing in the doorway to her bedroom, a smile on her face. Turning, he held out his arms and looked down at himself. He'd chosen to go with all black, from his shoes on up, except for the tie. He went with red. "Yeah? Think I should stick with the red tie, or-"

"I like it." She entered the room and reached out to adjust the tie. "Why are you so nervous? You two have already slept together."

Will pulled away and turned to the mirror. The tie had been slightly crooked. "I know. It's just this is our first real date date, y'know. Last weekend had been like a whirlwind affair." He saw her laughing behind him and said, "I'm serious. It was spontaneous and-"

"A whirlwind."

He turned back around, a smile on his face. "We didn't talk much. I mean, I did most of the talking. It felt," he let out a breath and sighed, "illicit, and, like one of those old movies we love so much."

"Like the one you're seeing tonight? Well, you're no Eva Marie Saint, but if you were her, then your date wouldn't have said yes."

"Why'd you assume I'm the woman? I could be Cary Grant."

She gave him a potent look then rolled her eyes at him. "I'm positive your date isn't fusing over what he's wearing tonight."

"Jack," he said they left her bedroom. "His name's Jack. Jack Donahue," he said and she stopped and turned to face him. Her look of shock and surprise stopped him dead in his tracks. "What? What is it?"

"That's Sydney's father's best friend. That's her Jack."

"Jack-...That's Syd's Jack? Oh...God," he said as he suddenly realized that the Jack that Sydney has always talked about since they've known each other is the same Jack he was dating. Then, he thought, "Wait...So what?"

"So what?!" Francie echoed, but in surprise and disbelief. "Isn't that awkward?"

"I mean...yeah, it could be," he said as he walked around her and grabbed his jacket. He pulled it on as he thought about it more. "It doesn't have to be an issue. Okay, once I had a crush on Sydney-"

"More like you loved her, but whatever."

He stared at her and shook his head. "Misguided love. It was inappropriate and mostly infatuation, not actual love. A crush," he emphasized. "That was almost a year ago. What Jack and I have, though we've only known each other for a very short time, is, it could become..." he couldn't say the words because he felt in heart how much he wanted it to happen.

Francie walked toward him and placed her hands on his shoulders. Giving them a squeeze, she said, "Actual love."

Will looked away, feeling the heat creep up his neck. "A possibility of a meaningful and serious relationship. The fact that he and Syd know one another is unimportant."

Francie smiled then and apologized. "You're right. I'm sorry for freakin' out. It was just the sudden realization of who he was. I've never met the man. Syd likes him."

He's heard multiple stories of how great of a friend he was to her father, about times when Jack had been there for her when her father couldn't be, and how he was the one who taught her self-defense. Little things, but important things. Jack's loyalty, his friendship and devotion to Sydney and her family.

"You know he works for her father, right?

Will actually didn't know that. "Her father works at Anicetus Security?"

She stared at him as she said, "He owns Anicetus Security. Where have you been?"

"I don't know. Work?" he said as he defended himself. "Once I stopped being infatuated with Syd, I tried to remain tone deaf to her personal life. I didn't want to get involved and set myself up again for-"

"Failure?"

"That's better than what I was thinking, so, yeah."

Will realized then that when Jack had told him about his best friend's wife dying, that he'd been talking about Sydney's mom: Emily. That had been the night she died of cancer. Jack had said that, that she died of cancer. He felt so sad then. His friend and his new boyfriend both were suffering from the same heartbreak and death.

"Are you okay?"

He gave a nod and said, "Yeah. I just...Jack had said something last weekend. You know, I just realized I don't even know Sydney's father's name. I feel like such a horrible friend."

"Well, she always calls him "dad" around us. It's Arvin. I only know who he is because I've known Syd longer. We used to have sleepovers at her house."

"Sleepovers, huh? Were they anything like the ones in those campy chick flick movies?"

Francie shot him a look as she grabbed her keys. "Listen, you may be cute and all-"

"Aww, Francine," he said with a smile, "you think I'm cute?"

"Shut up. Let's go, you don't want to be late."

"No, I don't," he said as he followed her out of the house. "Jack's very punctual. It shouldn't be the second date when he finds out I'm notoriously late for everything."

"You're also very obedient. He should enjoy that aspect of your personality."

Will stopped walking as he thought about why Jack would enjoy obedience-...He stared at her as she started laughing. "I swear, if we weren't such good friends-"

"Don't make threats you know you can't keep." She shot him a look as she got into the driver's seat of her car. "You know, Will," she said once he got into the passenger seat, "It could be a good thing you're the exact opposite of one another. I think it could work."

"You really think so?"

She looked over at him and took his hand as she told him, "Yes. I do."

He decided to ride with Francie to her restaurant so not to have two cars. Jack would be his ride for the rest of the evening. Charlie, Francie's fiancé, was to meet them there since he was coming straight from work. He wondered if Jack was coming straight from work as well or if he would have a chance to stop off at home to change first. It didn't matter; he was overthinking because he was nervous. What if Jack decided not to show up? What if he didn't like his friends or vise versa?

"Stop thinking?"

"What?" he asked as he stared over as Francie as she drove.

"I can hear you thinking from over here. You're afraid he won't show."

"How'd you know what I'm thinking?"

She stopped at a red light and looked over at him. "Because I know you. You're sweating, staring out the window, and chewing on your knuckles."

"I'm not chewing on my knuckles."

"Might as well. Look, I know you're afraid. You haven't had a real date with a guy since David. I was there, remember. I saw what he put you through. How he kept you on pins and needles, making and then canceling dates, standing you up all the time. Then, apologizing and make you feel like he's actually gonna change only for him to do it to you all over again. It was his way of controlling you."

"Francie-"

"He was able to do what he wanted, when he wanted, and to hell with what you wanted and how you felt. He played with your heart for two years, all the while, he was out there-"

"Francie!" he snapped and then told her, "Light's green."

She turned away and started driving again. They were quiet for a moment before she said, "If he stands you up, don't forgive him, Will. Move on. Promise."

Will rubbed at his face and head. He suddenly had a headache.

"Promise," she said again.

Will shook his head as he had to bite his tongue from saying something he would regret. She didn't know. Not yet, but one day. Francie would know about Charlie. Instead, he said, "How 'bout Syd? We haven't tossed her to the side, have we? She's our friend and she is notorious for canceling dates, even holidays, but we're still here for her. We're still friends and we still make plans with her knowing damn well she might get called away. Francie...I am sorry. Giving second chances is what I do."

"And that's why you're so easily manipulated. I didn't mean that-"

"Yes, you did," he said as he stared out the window. It wasn't like she was lying. He didn't want to hear it.

"I'm just trying to protect you-"

"I know, and I appreciate it. I really do." He took in a breath as they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. As he spotted a familiar car, he checked the time. "He's early."

Francie parked and cut the engine as she looked over at him. "He is?"

He opened the door and got out, tossing over his shoulder at her, "Are you surprised?"

"Honestly, no," she said with a smile. "Like you said, he's very punctual. With a man like that, I would think he would've given you a call at least two hours in advance if he had to cancel."

Will thought about that as they entered through the "Employees Only" door. "You know what, you're right. Jack would've called."

"Remember that before you freak out next time."

He left Francie as she veered off to her office as he pushed his way through the swinging kitchen door and headed toward the front. Will spotted Jack almost immediately as he was admiring the décor. Jack was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and red tie. He must have come straight from work.

Jack turned and their eyes met. He smiled as Jack's eyes glanced over his body. A faint smile twisted up a corner of his mouth. Seal of approval, he thought as he stopped in front of him. "This is a nice place," he told him as he reached out and slid his hand around his waist.

Will smiled back at him once he stepped closer, saying, "Francie, my friend, she worked really hard to get it perfect. Then the day of the grand opening, she realized how much she hated the color white."

Jack glanced around at the white walls and tables. "Too...sterile?"

"She said that it didn't feel like home. Comfortable. Warm. White isn't warm. It's, yes," he gave a nod, "sterile, like a hospital."

"When was that?"

"A year ago."

"She's lived with this for a whole year?"

Will shrugged and said, "Guess she thought she'd get used to it; or, that it'd miraculously change overnight."

Jack gave a nod. Turning to him, he said, "Shall we?"

They headed toward a table and he nearly stopped as Jack actually pulled out a chair for him. Will normally did that for his dates, except with men. Well, David was the only man he'd really ever dated, and neither one of them pulled out a chair for the other. Maybe if he'd done so, David wouldn't have-He shook his head of those thoughts and sat down. If he had found a way to keep David by his side, Jack wouldn't be sitting across from him now. And he really liked seeing Jack sitting across from him.

"Hey, Will."

At the sound of his sister's voice, he turned in surprise as he stared up at her. She was wearing all black, the uniform all servers wore, and her pinkish hair was pulled back into a ponytail. "Amy. I thought you had tonight off?"

"I did but one of the servers had an emergency, something to do with her kid. I'm filling in," she said all that while looking at Jack. Her eyes were taking him in and whatever she saw, she liked.

Of course she did, Jack was handsome and his dark brown eyes were intoxicating. And that suit looked really good on him. "Uh, Jack, this is my sister Amy. She's a server here. Amy, this is Jack. My...date," he said a little hesitantly, not sure if Jack would label this a date. Was it...? Yes, it was a date. Why was he so nervous?

"Red or white wine?" Jack asked him suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Uh...I'm having the-..." he trailed off as he looked up at Jack and told him, "I, don't know. All I know is that I don't like Merlot. I'm really a beer guy."

Jack's look softened slightly as he stared at him. "Duly noted. Stella Astois okay?" Will smiled in approval. Looking up at Amy, Jack ordered, "A pitcher. Thank you, Amy."

"You're welcome, Jack," she said as she wrote down the order. As she walked away, she glanced over her shoulder and mouthed back at him, "He's cute."

He shook his head. As they waited for the beer, they talked. Jack told him about his uneventful week at work and he smiled as he thought about how much he liked how Jack didn't order a bottle of wine assuming his preference, but had, instead, conversed with him first about what he preferred. He didn't order for him and didn't cut him off or talk over him; he didn't make him feel less-than when he himself felt less-than. No, he was eternally grateful that he didn't find a way to keep David in his life at all.

Jack was, by far, a million times better than anyone he's been with and well worth his time. Possibly his love. Hopefully. One day. He had to take it slow, he told himself. He was through with falling in love too fast and too hard. It only hurt more when he hit bottom. So, if he took it slow, gave it time to actually develop, then maybe the bottom wouldn't catch up with him so quickly. It wouldn't hurt as much when he hit it.

That was stupid. It would hurt more, he told himself. A lot more, but it was worth the risk. Jack was worth the risk. Even though, he knew, it wouldn't last. Jack would see how stupid he was, how docile. He wasn't strong enough to be with a man like Jack. God, he was worthless.


Outside Michael Vaughn's Apartment

Sydney shifted in the passenger seat, trying to get comfortable. Next to her Dixon sighed heavily as he leaned against the driver side door and regarded her through slightly closed eyes. He was irritated, tired, but most of all, still polite. No matter how frustrated she made her partner, he never once got angry at her. Not even the time she literally left him hanging upside-down from a tree in Beirut. Yeah, not even then.

Instead, in his usual calm, smooth voice, he said, "You know, if I knew you had this much trouble asking a man out, I could've given you lessons first."

"You have experience asking guys out?"

Dixon didn't move, didn't even smile, as he said, "I've been a spy for nearly two decades, Syd, if I had to, I'd give a guy a goodnight kiss on the lips before knocking him out with a tranq gun if it meant a successful mission."

She didn't think she'd laughed so hard in a very long time. It hurt. She needed that laugh. She needed his calm. His humor. She needed Dixon. Her partner. And Kendall had almost kept them apart for this mission.

Marcus Dixon was not only a vet within the C.I.A., but a veteran of the Armed Forces as well. He served in the Army before joining the agency after Vietnam. Though he's only been her partner for three years, it felt longer. A lifetime. It helped that they were also really good friends. His wife was also pretty amazing, and their two kids.

Seeing him with his family made her believe that one day she too could have it all. The career and the family. One day wasn't today, or this year. Probably not even the next. That was okay; she was too busy worrying about her own life to have time to worry about someone else's life.

"Why are you so nervous anyway? It a job like any other job."

If only it were that simple. It should've been that simple. This was a job, just like any other job. Keep her cover while getting in good with the target in order to obtain information. No big deal. Easy-peasy.

Except it wasn't. This guy was an SD-6 operative who believed he was an CIA operative, who she had to become acquainted with in order to learn more about the international criminal organization he didn't know he was working for. Yep. Nothing simple about that. Oh, and to top it all off, she had to pretend to be a Philologist while he-unless he decided to break his cover-had to pretend to be French. What?

She looked over at Dixon and said, "Have you ever had a job this complicated?"

He only stared at her, then yawned into his hand, before blinking over at her in tired resignation. Point taken. He has been a spy for twenty years. He's seen a thing or two.

"Do you need a pep talk?"

"I need to know that this'll work."

He smiled then. A nice pleasant smile that calmed her nerves as he said, "It'll work."

"How'd you know?"

"Because, Syd, it's you. It has to work. You'll have it no other way."

She really did want to hug him right then. He was right. She wouldn't have it any other way. She would make this work, no matter what happened.

The door to the apartment building opened and their target exited out onto the sidewalk. Michael Vaughn, aka Henri Thomas, stuffed his hands into his light weight jacket and started walking. Dixon had ensured he would leave tonight by interrupting his cable and shutting off the water to the apartment. Then, to make matters worse, he broke into the empty apartment next door and set-up a boombox that played a CD with an hour's worth of construction noise.

"What if he decides to drive-"

Dixon pulled something out of his pocket and held it up. It looked like a piece of machinery with wires sticking out of it.

"Did you-"

"Remove the starter? Why yes, Agent Sloane, I did. I'll put it back once he's gone."

They both watched as Vaughn bypassed his car and kept walking. The moment he did that, she was out of the car and crossing the street. Pulling her Mom's from her pocket, she made a call to Dixon. He was such a good partner that he listened as she rambled on for minutes about nothing real or important, but were real and important things to Kate Jones. Things like rare books, bad relationships, and a cat named Tom. Tom the Tom Cat.

She was finishing off a story about Tom the Tom Cat, and shortening the distance between her and the target, when Vaughn stopped and opened the door to a bar. Pulling the phone away from her ear, she was looking down at it, ending the call, as she reached out to grab the door as he held it open.

"Oh, thank you," she said as she glanced up. Vaughn nearly gapped as he caught her eye. She looked at him, pretending a moment to be startled, and confused, before asking, "Hi...Do I know you? You look awfully familiar."

Dixon was still in her ear despite not having the phone up to it. She heard his soft laugh as he said, "Did you put a twang in your voice?"

Ignoring Dixon, she said to Vaughn, "I'm sorry, maybe I've mistaken you for someone else. It wouldn't be the first time," she played dumb as he went to walk around him.

Her pretense gave Vaughn several options. He could hope she didn't remember him and introduce himself as Michael Vaughn, stick to his cover from the French Consulate, or ignore her completely.

He finally made his choice as he stopped her with a slight smile on his face. "Mademoiselle Jones. Kate. From the French Consulate," he said in a French accent, "of course." He quickly looked around and then asked, "Meeting someone?"

"Oh, no, I'm new to the area and thought I'd take a walk, get a drink. You?" she asked eagerly, smiling up at him.

"I come here most nights when I can't sleep. Can I…" he stepped up to the counter with her coming up beside him, "buy you a drink?"

"Thank you...Harry, right?"

He laughed a little and corrected her, "Henri," he said. "Henri Thomas."


Francie's Restaurant

Jack took a sip of the beer as he looked over at Will. He could tell he was nervous, which confused him. He wasn't nervous at all and he wondered if it was due to the fact that he held no expectations of the evening. There were no illusions in his head of this being more than what it was, and since he was the one who was in control of it, the only thing he had to be particularly nervous about was keeping Will in his confidence. His heart wasn't being exposed with this arrangement. And that was how he needed to view it, as an arrangement. That sounded, and felt, utterly cold of him.

It wasn't easy. Despite his cool exterior, he was a man who felt very deeply and so strongly that it was blinding at times, if not all the time. Sometimes what he allowed himself to feel was downright foolishness. He had the ability to fall hard and fast, like he'd done for Laura. It hadn't taken long after their initial first date before they were engaged. Then they had been married within a year. Partly due to his own need to "run away" from his true self, but mostly due to the intense love he'd felt for her.

His devotion to his wife would, and had, undoubtedly blinded him to his lingering desires to be with a man. And it'd blinded him to her obvious, two-faced, betrayal of his entire marriage and life. Another thing he had to guard with respect to this arrangement with Will, was his fierce loyalty and devotion to anyone he loved.

If he allowed himself to love Will, then he would certainly be lost and hopeless to keep himself from becoming completely vulnerable to him in every way imaginable. The last person he'd given his heart to had been his daughter, and the only lover he'd ever given it to had been his ex-wife. No man had ever had his heart because if he thought his love for Laura had been intense, his love for a man would feel like the sun burning him alive to his purest delight. He would happily burn for the rest of his life for the love of the man who loved him back.

He had told himself for years that relationships didn't matter because he couldn't risk it with the life he led. It was a weakness. A vulnerability he couldn't afford. It also wasn't practical. There would never be a good time to fall in love. Never a good time to be in a relationship. He could die tomorrow, tonight. Or worse, be the reason why the man he loved died. He couldn't take that. He didn't want to ever know what that felt like.

His life was one big risk management crisis after another. He literally spent time identifying, evaluating, and prioritizing risks to his life and safety every day. It was exhausting, but needed. He varied his route to and from home and work every day. He never used a credit card so his transactions couldn't be traced, and, thanks to cells phones, never made a call from his home. He still used pay phones for some calls and preferred to conduct all business in person. He had no personal home computer and didn't see himself ever getting one due to the security risk.

He took every precaution. His name wasn't even on his lease; he used an alias. Nothing was in his name, not his real one and not in Jack Donahue's. He purchased his car and yacht in cash, neither of the titles were in his name. It was as if his whole life wasn't really his life at all. His life was made up of multiple lives, lives and aliases that needed to be preserved and kept guarded. And Will's presence jeopardized all of it.

He stared over at Will and knew in every fiber that made up the man he was that if he fell for Will, that the risk would be well worth it. So, his only goals were to not fall in love, and once it ended, to not break Will Tippin's heart. He knew it was all easier said than done when Will smiled over at him. A genuinely happy smile, like he knew how important he could be in his life. How he could literally be his everything. Much like Sydney was his everything. He would do anything for her, and he knew if he allowed Will into his heart, he would do anything for him.

Downing the beer in the glass, he had to pour himself another.

Amy dropped by the table with the check and told them goodnight. "It was nice meeting you, Jack," she told him before telling Will she'd see him at home.

After they finished dinner, a woman and man approached their table. He'd recognized the woman as the one who'd taken charge in the kitchen after they'd ordered. The man had been at the counter eating and conversing with her as she wandered around the restaurant, moving from table to table, talking to guests, and then back to the kitchen. She hadn't been taking orders, but touching base with all her customers. She had yet to come over to their table, but he figured it was because she was Will's friend. She was the one who owned the restaurant. She had been giving them their privacy, until now.

Will turned as they approached and smiled. "Hey, I was wondering when you were going to come over. Jack, this is my best friend Francine, and her fiancé Charlie. This is Jack."

Jack stood and greeted them both before he moved to the seat next to Will; that way they wouldn't be sitting across from one another anymore. Not being able to touch Will had been driving him mildly insane. Once he was seated, he draped his arms across the back of Will's chair and noticed how Will seemed to relax as he leaned into his side.

Francine had brought over a bottle of wine with her and put it on the table. "You ordered a bottle to go?"

Jack smiled up at her. "Actually, I thought at some point you might join us. If you have a bottle opener..." Francine quickly retreived a bottle opener and handed it to him. He opened the wine and poured them all a glass. After a moment, he eyed Francine as he said, "I noticed you were in the kitchen after we ordered. Don't tell me you cooked our meal yourself?"

She smiled as she said, "As a matter of fact, I did. Did you like it?"

Jack felt a soft smile on his face as he told her, "Let's just say that I've been to many fine restaurants the world over and what you cooked was one of the most exquisite meals I've ever had. The fact you charge such a reasonable price is truly a disservice to your skills."

Francine flicked Charlie on the shoulder and said, "See, that's how you compliment a chef."

Charlie rolled his eyes and then glared at him in mock annoyance. "Thanks for that; now I'm going to be in the dog house because I told her it tasted okay."

"I do have a question," he said as he looked at Francine. "Why are your prices so low? What you cooked for us is worth at least five times as much as what you've got it priced for."

She sipped on the wine as she looked around the restaurant. Then she told him, "I thought about it. Then I considered the neighborhood. My neighbors can't afford two hundred dollar plates. They're lucky to be able to pay a hundred dollars for two. I decided that if I was going to open a restaurant in my neighborhood, then I was going to make fine dining affordable to everyone. The wine is the most expensive thing on the menu, so thank you for buying a bottle."

"Had no choice; it's very good wine," he said as he raised his glass. Will, Charlie, and Francine joined him as they all raised their glasses in cheers. Jack took a drink as he felt a hand on his leg as fingers rubbed very close to his inner thigh. Looking over, he saw Will looking at him. He was pleased.

"So, what'd you do for a living, Jack," Charlie asked, and from his tone he was clearly trying to re-establish himself in the eyes of his fianceé.

"I'm in private security," he simply told him.

"Oh, yeah? What company?"

"Anicetus Security Firm."

Charlie smiled as he told him, "You're one of my clients." At his confused look, he explained, "I'm a corporate lawyer with Leming Letterman. Your company is one of our clients, specifically one of mine. You guys are very good at keeping yourselves out of trouble."

Jack felt himself smirk. If only Charlie knew the truth about his company.

"I told Jack about your intense hatred of the white paint," Will told Francine.

"You hate the paint?" Charlie said as he looked at Francine. "I thought we agreed on the white because it was a clean look."

"Clean and unemotional-"

"It's been white for the past year and now, suddenly, you think it's unemotional?"

"It's not warm. I wanted warm. Sultry."

"Warm and sultry?" Charlie asked as he looked over at her. "Baby, it's a color."

"The right color can create atmosphere," she countered as she downed the wine; she was clearly unhappy, and not only with the paint. "The white isn't working for me anymore. It has to go. I hate it."

Looking from Francine to Charlie, and then back, Jack said, "In Chinese culture white is worn to funerals. It symbolizes death and mourning." He saw Francine's face drop. That wasn't the best thing to say, he realized. So, he quickly told her, "I would go with red."

"Red, like your matching ties," she said as she waved her finger between him and Will.

Jack looked at Will's red tie and then his own. He hadn't even noticed. He almost laughed. Will knew he was amused as he smirked and gave him a nudge into his left side. Regarding Francine to keep from grinning, he told her, "Red symbolizes success, happiness, and good fortune."

Her eyes lit up as she pointed at him. "Red. I knew I should've picked red. See," she said as she turned to Charlie, "I was right. Red is warm and it's good fortune. I'll close on Wednesday and re-paint. It's our slowest day so it won't hurt us too much."

"What about green?" Charlie said as he looked around the restaurant. "I always liked the color green."

Jack shook his head after he finished the glass of wine. "Green is bad luck. It's associated with infidelity."

Charlie's eyes darted to Will as Francine smiled at him before turning to her fiancé and said, very sweetly at him while she looked at Charlie, "Thanks, Jack."

He immediately wondered if they were going through something when he felt Will's hand rub over his thigh and squeeze. His left hand came up and caressed the back of Will's neck as Will leaned into him and spoke into his ear, "It's time to leave."

Checking his watch, Jack saw that they had thirty minutes to get to the Fairfax Theatre if they wanted to make it on time.

"We have to go," Will told Francine and Charlie as they both stood.

Jack listened as they said their goodbye's as he pulled out his money clip. The bill was a little over a hundred dollars thanks to the bottle of wine he'd ordered, but he tossed down several hundreds onto the table. Francine saw the amount he'd paid and went to protest when he told her, "It was worth that much, maybe more. Plus, you'll need it if you're going to shut down for a day to remodel."

She pulled him into a hug, catching him off guard. Once she let go, she turned to Will and said, "Don't let him go." Then she turned to him and threatened, "And you, don't break his heart."

"I'll do my best not too," he promised her, because that was all he could do. He put the cork back into the wine bottle and took it with him.

Once they got into his car, he heard Will tell him, "I know you didn't know, but a few months ago, I found out Charlie had been cheating. Francie doesn't know, but she's-"

"Suspecting?" Jack glanced over at Will as he started his car. "I put that much together. Why are they engaged if she doesn't trust him?"

Will shrugged. "I don't know. When I asked her, she quoted Queen. Said that love was a crazy little thing," he said as he leaned toward him, putting his hand back on his thigh, like he decided that was where it belonged.

"What I find interesting is that you haven't said anything."

Will shook his head and looked out the window. "I want to. Francie's my friend and I want her to be happy, and to know the truth. Right now, if she knew the truth, she wouldn't be happy. I also made a promise to Charlie. He wants to be the one to tell her. I figured since he got himself into this mess, he should be the one to confess. If he doesn't, before the wedding..." He looked over at him and said, "I will. Can you imagine? Cheating, I mean?"

Jack could not, especially when it came to being in love. When he loved someone, he became addicted to that person's presence along with their body; it had been one of the reasons love had to be something he restricted from his life for a very long time. "I can't, actually. I could never drag someone along in a relationship knowing that I'm being unfaithful. That's cruel."

"Not even if you loved them?"

He stopped at a red light and looked over at Will as confusion filled his head. He worked his thoughts around as he tried to figure out a way to explain it. He hadn't had the need to talk about this for a very long time. Then, he finally answered, "Especially then. I would have no need to be with anyone else if I were in love. There are no stipulations, no exceptions. Love, to me, is absolute. Infrangible."

"Infrangible?" Will said with a serious deep look in his eyes as he smiled.

"You're a writer. You know what it means," Jack said as he reached down and picked Will's hand up off his thigh. He held his hand as he returned his attention back to the road as the light turned green.

Will squeezed his hand tighter as he said, "Yeah, I know what it means," as he brought his hand up to his lips and kissed his knuckles.

Jack felt a tightness in his chest at the gesture as his words echoed in his head. Everything he'd said had been the truth. It was the only way he knew how to love those who chose to love him. Since he never truly felt like he deserved the love that he'd been given, he didn't waste any of it. It was charished, protected, and respected. He would protect Will for as long as he lived.

Looking over at Will, he felt he didn't deserve him, but it was too late. He was the one that decided to make this move. He chose the risks despite the dangers to himself and Will. The biggest danger wasn't death, but being in love. Taking a breath, he forced his feelings down as he concentrated on driving.

As he took a left turn, he glanced in the mirror and noticed a car. A BMW. The same one he'd spotted when he left the parking lot of the restaurant. They were being followed. It had to be SD-6. More importantly, he knew who it was behind the wheel. Another strategic play in this game he created. Ignoring the tail, he focused on the road in front of him.

Once they got to the old Fairfax Theatre, Will started rambling as they approached the ticket booth. "This is one, if not the oldest, movie theaters left in Los Angeles having opened in 1930. The new owners preserved the original historical features, including the free-standing ticket window," he said as he stepped up to the window in front of him and said, "I have two tickets waiting for Tippin."

The girl behind the glass picked up two tickets and handed it to him, saying, "Enjoy the show."

"Thank you," he said as he took the tickets and smiled over at him. "I reserved them the day I asked you out."

"Over confident in the fact that I wouldn't bail on you?"

Will beat him to the door and held it open for him. "No, just excited you said yes. And, I figured you're the type of guy who would call me well in advance to cancel a date," he said.

Jack wasn't so sure about that. He would like to think he would if he knew well in advance, but sometimes his life was hectic and he had to cancel plans he'd made last minute. Not that he had many plans outside of the job. He realized how true that was as they approached the concession stand.

"All the seats and carpeting are brand new," Will was saying, "But, like I said, everything else is the original Art Deco style from the '30's. Fun fact, curtains still hang in front of the screens until it's time to show the movie."

Jack took in the bright colors and décor with very limited interest. The only thing he found interesting was Will's enthusiasm. Though, he had to admit it did feel like he'd stepped through a time machine. There were a few other movie goers in the lobby. All of whom weren't nearly as neatly dressed as they were. There was a young couple, teenagers, in jeans and t-shirts and a very short skirt who got to the concession counter before they did. The other couple was two older ladies dressed in casual clothing who bypassed the concession altogether. He took in their handbags and wondered if they had smuggled in their own snacks and drinks.

He remembered his mother doing that when they went to the movies together. She literally packed her purse full of bags of popcorn that they had made on the stove at home, penny candy that they'd bought at the corner drug store, and cans of soda. Then she taught him how not to feel guilty when they got the contraband inside the movie theater. The first time they did it, he could hardly eat a single piece of candy or popcorn without thinking they would get caught.

After the second, third, and fourth time, he knew they wouldn't and could finally enjoy the experience. At the time, it'd felt like it'd been their little secret. It'd been thrilling to a young kid to feel like he was pulling a fast one over on somebody and getting away with it. Then, to have someone to share the experience with, in his case his own mother, had been oddly enduring. It made him love her even more. He remembered looking forward to their adventures to the movies together. That all changed when she got sick. He'd been twelve.

Laura didn't care for movies. They had a date once to see something that he didn't even want to see-some space thing-and ended up leaving before it was over. It hadn't been the movie, but knowing that Laura wasn't enjoying her time with him. So, he stopped going. Instead they did other things together. Sydney enjoyed the movies, and when he finally got to take her to the movie theater when she was about six, he made her take her school bag. She ended up being the contraband carrier and they had one hell of a good time. Then he had to go away and when he got back, it had been when everything had gone all wrong.

Tonight he wasn't smuggling anything into the movie theater, but that didn't mean he couldn't find something illicit and forbidden to get away with while the lights were down. He wondered if Will had ever done anything remotely illegal. He would have to find out.


The Block Pub

"Favorite color?"

Sydney smiled as she lifted her glass of Chardonnay and took a sip. "Why do you need to know that?"

Vaughn gave a shrug. "It's what people ask."

"And you want to be "people"?"

There was a real genuine smile on his face that she loved to see. He shook his head and picked up his bottle of beer. She waited as he took a sip, and the red that started on his neck grew. She knew she was good at flustering men, but Vaughn was the first guy she's been out with that made her want to break her number one rule with, which was: no sex on the first date. Second date was okay, but never the first. She needed, and wanted, the anticipation. Also, it gave her time to do a little research about them before hand. Her time with the agency really made her paranoid, and Jack. Oddly enough, not her father.

She remembered always confiding in her mom about any dates and boys. Her dad had no interest. Then, there was Jack. He didn't want to know, but he was concerned. So concerned in fact that he taught her self-defense so she could protect herself against anyone who tried to get too frisky with her in the backseat of their car. Her first pocket knife had been given to her by Jack with instructions that if she ever had to use it, to call him and not her father. At the time, she thought he'd been joking. Now, not so much. Knowing that not only her father, but Jack, could very well be in the spy business themselves had caused her to re-examine her entire life.

At least with Vaughn, she knew he was a spy. There were risks, sure, but there were always risks. She might have to kill him one day. Or, she might find herself falling for the guy. He was cute. Well, studly cute, and his smile made him even more beautiful. She really liked his smile. Aside from those things, she didn't know too much about him and what she was getting from him were half lies and manipulated truths.

One of the first things she learned about a cover, and preserving a cover, was how to spin your own truths. Lies were hard to remember, but create your lies around truths and they were easier to remember. The intel she'd been given to her by Kendall worked well into Vaughn's cover as a French attaché. Vaughn was of French decent, he knew the culture, the language, and the books.

Oh God, the books. She was glad she knew a thing or two herself about French Literature or else her cover would've been blown a long time ago. Being a Philologist had been a stretch for her, especially when it came to rare books, but she could hold her own when it came to the classics. She's read the classics. And since she had to be fluent in many languages to be a field agent, she took up the hobby of reading foreign books. She's read Tolstoy, Proust, Rumi, Jane Austen (who was an English writer, but she loved 'Sense and Sensibility') and even Jules Verne's novels in the original French text.

Vaughn was watching her. His eyes soft and patient, staring into hers. "No favorite color. How about...favorite book quote? Don't have to be from your favorite book."

Sydney smiled. She was just thinking about her favorite book which held her favorite quote. Taking a moment, she made sure she had it correct in her head before saying, ""Know your own happiness. You want nothing but patience-or give it a more fascinating name, call it hope"."

The way he breathed out, and the small reflective smile on his face, told her one thing. He knew the quote. "I should be glad it was not..."She was stronger alone." It would have left me with no hope."

"Oh, but I am, Monsieur Thomas," she said before smiling as she took a drink of the Chardonnay. "See, these are much more interesting questions. Who cares about color anyway? Would you like me more or less if you knew I loved the color red?"

Vaughn didn't take her eyes off her lips then. She knew she was wearing red lipstick. Biting her lip slightly, she made him look away, but that smile had gotten wider and a little slyer. Needy. She could be a tease, but what she was doing to him was much more. She was making certian he would want to see her again.

That was her only goal with this first encounter. To make an impression and ensure he kept her close by asking for a number. Or a real date. She wasn't supposed to entertain the thought of breaking her number one rule. She wasn't supposed to be wondering how his lips felt on hers, or how his hands felt on her skin. Nope. Those were not supposed to be her thoughts.

Not at all.

"What about you?" she asked. Vaughn seemed to have drifted away into his thoughts and looked confused. "Your favorite book quote."

He leaned back in the chair and took a sip of the beer. Then he told her, "My favorite is not by a French author but an English one. John Milton wrote, "Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep." It reminds me to not let hate win."

Sydney stared across the table at Vaughn and for the first time since they started talking felt like she had gotten to know exactly who he was behind the French accent. She liked the man she saw.

She wanted to know more about Michael Vaughn.


Fairfax Theatre

Will had planned on actually watching the movie even though he'd seen it about twenty times already. It was one of his favorites. One of Jack's favorites. They had watched about half of it. Up until the train scene. The dialogue between Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint was one of his favorites in any movie he'd ever seen. The looks and nuances played by the actors along with the amazing words...Ernest Lehman was an amazing writer.

Then Jack's right arm pulled him closer. He turned and his lips were on his. Things progressed quickly after that. Jack's left hand yanked his shirt out of his pants so he could touch his stomach as his hand did the same so he could touch Jack's back.

They had chosen two seats at the very back of the theater near the wall. Not that they had a lot of people in the theater to worry about. In fact, only five, and most were sitting in rows near the front or in the middle. No one noticed them, or the way Jack's mouth moved to his neck as his hand unzipped his pants.

Will had to close his eyes as he felt his body tense with need as it nearly caused him to groan out loud. Jack's mouth was covering his as his hand started moving. His hand somehow found its own way into Jack's pants as he turned, angling his body closer to his. His other hand was in Jack's hair, gripping, twisting, and pulling in an effort to keep himself from screaming as heat and tension filled his body.

Jack muffled any sound he made by the use of his mouth and tongue. All he heard from him were soft sighs and a moan before he moved his tongue over his in relation to what their hands were doing to each other. He didn't know how Jack could be so quiet when he was struggling to stay inside his own skin. He wanted so much more. He wanted to climb on top of Jack. He wanted to put his mouth where his hand was, and wanted Jack to do the same. But they couldn't. This was all they could do to each other at the moment, in that building, and in those seats.

Someone could see them. An employee could walk in and spot them. A security guard could yank them up by the collars and throw them out for indecent...something. He was certain what they were doing was illegal, or at least frowned upon. He nearly laughed. In fact, he did. As his heart pounded in his chest with the fear of being caught, he chuckled into Jack's mouth as he felt a sudden spur of exhilaration. He felt Jack's lips smile against his own before moving away. Jack kissed his neck and then did exactly what he wanted as he replaced his hand with his mouth.

His head rolled back as he let go. It took everything he had to not vocalize to the other five people in the room the pleasure he felt as he body shook. "Oh-" was all he could say as his throat tightened.

It took a couple of long minutes for him to figure out how to breathe correctly. And when he did, he quickly glanced around the nearly empty theater and let out a deep breath of relief. No one was watching them. No security guard stood at the end of the aisle with a flashlight and a look of disapproval on their face ready to escort them out. They were in the clear.

Jack was leaning against him, breathing hard into his neck. Will wrapped his left arm around his shoulders and held on tight. He had a feeling Jack needed it. Lifting his head, Jack brought his lips back to his and kissed him again, and again, and again. Will loved those kisses more than the deep ones. They were soft and lazy, but oh, so...He smiled into the next kiss as he thought, sultry. After sex kisses were a hundred times better than before sex kisses.

For him, it meant the other person still wanted him even after they got what they wanted. He wanted it too, but that didn't mean he was ready to leave and for it to be done and over. There had been far too many times when he never got a single kiss afterwards. Not even a "thank you". He wanted all of that and more. He wanted to feel wanted by the person he was intimate with instead of someone who'd been used and then discarded. Everyone wanted that, didn't they? Except for the assholes he'd dated or gone out with because they apparently didn't.

They quickly cleaned up but barely went back to watching the movie as they kept kissing, neither one of them wanted to stop anytime soon. Jack wanted him, Will thought as he kissed him again. Jack could have returned to watching the movie, could have acted like it didn't happen, but he didn't do any of those things. His hands were still on him, his lips still kissed his mouth and neck. It was as if he wanted him more now than he did before.

Will felt the same. He couldn't get enough.

The end of the movie came all too soon for his liking as it caused them to pull away. It was time to leave. He took Jack's hand into his as they left the theater. Standing under the marquee, he turned to him and laughed. "I can't believe we did that. That was amazing! I kept thinking we were going to get arrested or thrown out, which made it even more-" he leaned in and kissed Jack. Pulling away, he said, "Thank you."

Jack seemed highly proud of himself suddenly as he said, "You're welcome."

"I don't want you to think I get off on doing things like that in public. I've never done anything like that...Well, I did it in a car once in a parking lot." Jack raised his eyes but didn't seem upset about mentioning a past sexual experience. He was sure Jack had plenty of his own. "What I'm trying to say is...I don't know what I'm try to say," he laughed as he shook his head. "I'm just...happy. I'm sorry. I must sound like a giddy little school girl or something."

Jack watched him a moment, as if he was actually thinking about his reaction. Like it was something he didn't quite understand, or something he understood all too well. He still couldn't figure out Jack's looks just yet. He was very good at not giving too much away.

Then Jack's eyes darted off to the left suddenly and his expression returned to its normal stoicism. He turned his head and tried to follow Jack's gaze but he didn't see anyone. There were cars driving by, people walking out on the sidewalk.

"What is it?" he asked because he didn't see anything.

"Nothing," Jack told him as he took his hand. "Wanna get a drink?"

"Yeah, yeah, I could go for a beer, or three."

Jack pulled him along with him down the street to where he parked a block over. At the corner was a bar and he stopped and opened the door for him to go first. Will still didn't know if he would get used to Jack doing things like that. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it, or appreciate it, but a part of him felt like it was his job to be the one to get the door, or the check, or the chair. He knew it really didn't matter, but, to him, it sort-of did.

He didn't want to feel inadequate. Jack could easily make him feel like that way if he wanted. Not that he thought that was what Jack was doing. Or was it? Will tried to let it go, but deep down his insecurities were swirling and all the doubts he'd tried to push away were rising to the surface. Jack wasn't David, he had to tell himself. This wasn't the same.

It wasn't.

Whatever thoughts or feelings he had at the moment vanished the moment Jack pulled a ringing phone out of his pocket. Before they were able to take a seat, Jack held up a finger to him as he walked out of the bar with the phone to his ear. Will waited a couple of minutes and then shook his head. He knew that he was told to stay inside, but he felt extremely awkward standing around. He opened the door and stepped out.

"...Arvin, it's Jack."

Will stopped with his hand on the door as he heard Jack's voice. Jack was standing on the sidewalk with his back turned to him. Knowing this was a personal conversation, he turned to go back inside when Jack turned and spotted him. He thought Jack would be upset with seeing him there, but he didn't say anything to him.

He did step closer as he spoke into the phone, "Maddox called, we have a situation in Austria." Jack stopped in front of him and wrapped his arm around his waist. "Appears that way," he said. He walked him away from the door and leaned against the wall, pulling him closer.

Will wrapped his arms around his waist as they stood together against the wall of the building. People were passing by on the sidewalk, some looking at them, others not caring. He didn't care. If anyone had a problem, fuck 'em.

Jack placed a kiss on his forehead before saying into the phone. "I can be wheels up in two hours."

He didn't like the sound of that. Will leaned against Jack, resting his head on his shoulder as he rubbed his hands up over his back. Giving him a kiss on the neck, he heard Jack audibly sigh as he ended the call. "You have to leave?"

"I do," Jack told him as he ducked his head down and gave him a kiss. "You want me to drive you home?"

Will thought about it and asked, "Will you have enough time?"

Jack was quiet a moment as he gave it some thought. "I can push the flight time out an hour."

TBC...