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"Il y a pire que de ne pas connaître l'amour, c'est de le trouver dans un temps de ta vie qui le rend impossible"
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"It's a left up a head"
Sonny nods and flicks on the turn signal.
"Left Sonny, not right."
Clay's smug tone sets his teeth grinding but he dutifully changes the signal before he snipes back.
"I know. I just hit the wrong damn button. These European Cars ain't made like they should be."
That gets him an eye roll but then the kid shuts up, turning away to look out the window without engaging and giving off the strong impression that he's too good for the argument, all high and mighty like he is about most things these days.
Spenser's always had a bit of an air about him but recently Sonny's finding him, and by association, Rebecca, a bit harder to tolerate. Hell he's finding most people and especially anything resembling love or a couple a little harder to be around these days since Davis broke it off last month.
He refuses to say that she broke his heart because that just sounds too damn pitiful. Too soap opera-y or highschool drama club for the big tough, tier one operator from Texas..
That doesn't change the fact that she did though.
Before her, he never understood why people let someone else into their lives like that. Why anyone would willingly allow themselves to become so utterly dependent and reliant on another person that they end up completely at another's mercy, vulnerable to their whims and decisions and even worse to the cruel twists of fate that can hit as quick and jarring as a car running a red to utterly destroy your whole world in a second. He never left himself vulnerable like that before. Never ceded the slightest bit of control. Sex, intamacy, and relationship were all on his terms, fit into his lifestyle and his plans, which most of the time involved a quick night, a good time and then no strings attached the next day. He could never have imagined being in such a serious relationship, still isn't really sure how the hell he ended up in one with so much on the line that when it ended his world and his chest had a hole bigger than a swiss cheese kevlar plate at the mercy of a sniper firing .338s.
The irony is Sonny would much rather be dealing with a bullet wound, even from one of those. That he knows how to handle.
This... this is a whole new kind of demon that he has no experience with and is embarrassed to even be feeling in the first place. It's a double whammy of despair and anger because he had only himself to blame for letting it happen in the first place. He always knew it was a bad idea, for so many reasons. They both did. So now he can't exactly pretend it's anyone else's fault but his own when he has to work hard to plaster an indifferent mask up over all the other things not so indifferent down beneath. He paints on a big smile, hits a few extra strip clubs and figures that soon enough that regrettable decision would be in the rear view mirror. That strategy worked to a point, it keeps him out of his empty bed and drinking most of his feelings away night after night, but even still there is a palpable and persistent loneliness that the whisky can't seem to ever dull completely.
Sonny tries to blame his inability to rebound as quick as he would like on the fact that his poor excuse for a wingman can't be pulled away from the controlling clutches of Political Polly to do anything so disreputable as frequenting an adult entertainment facility. It was way easier to point the finger at Clay disappointing him a few nights a week than deal with the reason he was back out there in the first place or the fact that if and when he finally passed out at the end of the night it wouldn't be Davis coming to lecture and drag his drunk ass home. That ship had sailed, both on their relationship and the years and years of friendship that won't be recovered now.
"Left Sonny!"
Shit. Clay's words jerk him out of his morose thoughts and he slams on the brakes, swerves and manges to make the turn at the last second. Sonny slowly accelerates out of the hairpin turn, smoothing out the wheel and tires and trying to ignore the palpable judgement coming from his right in the passenger seat. However, when Clay finally relinquishes his grip on the grab handle and settles back into the seat with just a little extra dramatic flair he can't resist grumbling pointedly out the side of his mouth,
"I wish I left you back at base"
It was partially under his breath and partially not, but if Clay hears the jibe he doesn't react to it which pretty much says all it needs too about where their relationship is at these days.
It's not just Sonny that's been in a mood lately. Clay is pissed at him and he knows it. He's just not sure if the wedge was driven when he was keeping secrets and refusing to let Clay in on his secret romance or if Clay's just gotten tired of being used as a punching bag for his slightly unhinged best friend who is lashing out like a wounded animal over the last few weeks, completely unconcerned with who gets caught in his crosshairs. The sad part is he can't even really pin it down to one specific thing that he said or did that might have crossed the line because suffice to say he isn't exactly a barrel of laughs to be around these days and some of his banter has maybe (probably) strayed over the line from brevity to biting on a few recent occasions.
So while getting paired together normally would have been a real treat, something that doesn't actually happen all that often due to their specific skill sets and usual deployment on a standard mission, this car ride has been mostly stoney silence only occasionally punctured by not all that good natured bickering. It would be hard for an outsider to appreciate the difference because at the best of times he and Clay are tossing insults at each other just as much and it probably sounds very similar if you weren't familiar with the fine nuances of their usual brotherly banter.
Sonny much prefers to blame the French for the foul atmosphere permeating the mission rather than any part of his home drama seeping in and dragging others down with him. The culture here has just never seemed to sit right with him and everyone knows it so being stuck in Paris for the last few days actually gives him a welcome excuse to bitch and moan and just generally be his current miserable self rather than wasting energy he doesn't have trying to be a decent human.
That said he is still being a dick most days so he doesn't exactly blame Clay for not being all that enamoured with getting assigned to ride shotgun with him today. Thankfully for both of them they are almost to the location they've been assigned to check out.
Sonny isn't exactly sure when or how Bravo became the French Government's little bitches to send out on a whim to chase down what he is sure is crappy intelligence lead but he will be glad when they have gotten it over with can get back to their temporary accommodations and try to forget this embarrassment of a mission over several cold beers.
Supposedly there is a heightened threat level, some specific chatter about an imminent attack. Mandy and Lisa have been working for several days with French Intelligence but honestly Sonny hasn't been hanging around the TOC or paying too much attention or trying to help with their work like some of the others have for one very obvious, 5'6 brown haired reason. So he honestly doesn't really know how this location fits in with the bigger picture and he doesn't really care. He stopped listening after the part of the brief that told them what they needed to look for and that was enough for him.
What he does know is that they could have been there a whole lot sooner if they hadn't had to take indig vehicles which means he and Clay are currently crammed in some dinky little sub compact, a brand he's never heard of, Megan or Megane or something equally pathetic like that. Its so tiny it feels like he is driving a go kart around a kids race track and makes him long for a good old american built truck with some hauling power rather than a tamed beast designed to best maximize parking space on old cobbled streets.
"What the…"
Sonny eases the soap box racer to a stop as suddenly the world plunges into darkness around them. Building lights, traffic lights, everything and anything electrical around them blinks out in an instant and doesn't turn back on and it's only his headlights punchng two rings of light weakly out against the overwhelming black settling all around them.
He looks over at Clay who looks as confused as he is.
"You think that's a big ol' coincidence or..."
Clay grimaces, pensively peering out all around then through the different car windows "No, don't imagine so"
The darkness extends out as far as the eye can see, falling across all the city in their vantage. It's far bigger and way more expansive than just a standard power outage caused by a downed wire or failed grid.
Spenser reaches to his shoulder "Havoc this is Bravo 6, there's been some sort of electrical disturbance in our sector, do you copy?"
No response
He frowns and tries again "6 to Havoc, are you receiving?"
Still nothing, just an ominous silence to partner with the oppressive darkness.
Now for the first time Sonny is intrigued, he is ready to go forward and continue to the target because clearly there was actually something to the chatter. Whatever just hit was big and powerful, able to knock out electricity and communications technology for miles and miles throughout this very dense part of Paris. Despite all his previous misgivings and complaints he is fully on board now, adrenaline starting to pump and that familiar buzz before a mission creeping back up and overriding any lingering crankiness or thoughts about his personal life. He wants to ride those good vibes out now and doesn't see the harm of continuing a little further before they head back to check in with everyone else.
Clay of course disagrees much to Sonny's annoyance but not at all to his surprise. The little shit lays out a solid argument and then delivers the knockout punch mic dropping some irrefutable logic that Sonny knows would have come straight from Jason's mouth if he was here.
The fact that Clay is right, they probably should go back, but channelling Bravo 1 just serves to increase Sonny's bad mood so he clamps his mouth shut, grunts his agreement and slowly turns the car around in the narrow, unlit street.
Clay starts to navigate them back towards their basecamp. He slowly and cautiously picks their course back through the dim deserted streets. The eerie silence lingers both outside and inside the car. Every once and awhile Clay breaks it to provide a bearing but other than that it's quiet as Sonny focuses on slowly making his way through the hauntingly empty streets.
A few minutes later. The first signs of light twinkles in the distance like a mirage and as they creep closer towards it Sonny realizes it's a group of French police cars starting to set up a roadblock further down the road. There are red and blue lights flashing spurts of colour all around and shadows of bodies working in and around the car headlights to erect a blockade probably with the foolish hopes of catching whoever was behind this on the move. He longs to be able to point out to them that whoever it was that was tech savvy enough to pull this off probably was smart enough to have a plan that doesn't involve traipsing through the streets immediately after.
Sonny eases the car to a quiet stop a few blocks away and studies the activity. Clay does the same and then after a moment of reflection they perhaps very predictably come to very different conclusions.
Clay for some reason wants to go through it. Figures they can play the tourist card and continue on their way with the least amount of backtracking or time wasted.
Sonny tries not to be too obnoxious in telling him all the ways his plan is idiotic although part way through listing all the different headaches that dealing with French cops and their questions is likely to produce he somewhat loses sight of that goal. Even though they are dressed like civilians they are still armed and should that get it something else abnormal catch their eye they are going to be in for more than just a quick little chat which is definitely not something he wants to risk.
Finally Clay sighs rather than continue arguing and gives in with a wave.
"Okay fine, give me a sec and I'll figure out a different way back."
Sonny waits with as much patience as he can muster with an already short temper and probably ends up falling far short of the requested minute before he breaks the silence.
"Are you sure you remember the map?"
"Yes. Unlike you I was paying attention during the briefing." Clay snaps back. Equally over this situation and not even bothering to try for his usual zen crap.
"I listened..."
"To the first five words or ten?"
"Just shut up and put all those brain cells to work trying to find us a new route and if it's not too much to ask, try not to get us lost again."
"I knew where we were going. I can't help that they apparently don't bother teaching lefts and rights in the Texas school system."
He falls silent for another few seconds and then evidently comes to a decision. "Ok we will back track a few blocks over to the left and then we should be able to get back on course."
Sonny nods and goes to turn around for what feels like the millionth time today but quickly realizes avoiding a confrontation is no longer going to be an option. Their loitering has finally been noticed and a few police officers have stopped working and are staring down the street in their direction.
"Go back to work, go back to work" he urges quietly under his breath but they of course do the exact opposite and a few of them abandon the blockade and start walking towards the car, flashlight beams swinging up and down the street as they head in their direction.
Sonny huffs in frustration, "Fine I guess we can't avoid it now then. Time to play the tourist."
He blows out a loud breath before begrudgingly going to take the car out of neutral to approach the blockade except his foot fumbles, hits the gas instead of the clutch and the car revs dangerously under them, held in place even as the engine races.
Clay calls his name, "Sonny…" his tone slightly wary now as he watches the officers out the window.
"I got it, I got it." Next thing you know the little twerp is gonna find a way to critique his driving too.
He jams down on the clutch, but it sticks on the release because of course it's a piece of shit car so he tries again. Frustrated and distracted now, he goes to slam down on the clutch but presses down with the wrong foot, floors the gas without meaning too and the car shoots forward, wheels skidding and slipping noisily on the wet pavement.
Son of a bitch.
"Sonny!"
He's flustered and embarrassed as the car noisily protests the wrong gear, watching cops and cars with flashing lights get alarmingly closer as they speed forward, and his foot searches but can't seem to find the brake.
Their heads snap up, eyes widening with alarm before guns start appearing out of holsters and then rise up to point at him along with blinding flashlights.
He finally manages to find the right pedal and hammers on the brake hard enough to bring the car to a skidding halt about 10 feet away from the blockade right about the same time the first shot gets fired.
Sonny hits the deck as best as he can in the tiny car, seat belt and tight dashboard pressing in at awkward angles as he ducks and covers. More bullets ping off the front and sides of the car as Clay does the same on his side.
"Jesus Christ. What the fuck are they shooting at." He yells over the onslaught and then ducks further as one bullet comes through the windshield far too close to where his head just was.
After a few more uncomfortable seconds the barrage finally stops.
Sonny waits a little longer just to be sure and then cautiously pokes his head up. Scans around them and sees that more officers have joined from the blockage and the group has spread out, dark shapes fanning around the car, surrounding it with flashlights raised and , guns locked, ready to shoot again at the smallest provocation.
He takes his hands off the wheel, holds them up in a clear sign to stop this shit.
"Touuucchyyyy. Holy hell what is their problem?" He mutters to Clay.
It was rhetorical, a humorous way to release some tension, but Clay answers seriously nonetheless, painting on the other side of the car as he slowly unfurls himself in the passenger seat.
"They think you tried to ram them, its a common tactic over here, vehicles have replaced bombings as the top terrorist MO in europe, ."
Clay's tone is tight, clipped, he sounds exasperated perhaps even more so than usual, but there is still something kind of reassuring about the kid being his usual know it all self right now. Sonny is just very grateful that Spenser skips the full on lecture or the i told you so about his driving right now.
"Thank you Encyclopedia Europe"
Grateful or not, that level of nerdy condescension can't be left completely unchecked
He doesn't get a response because Clay is seemingly more preoccupied with the more pressing problem of figuring out how to deescalate the angry officers starting to approach them with fingers still on the triggers.
Sonny is staring at them too, glaring from person to person as they creep forward and is very much looking forward to the moment when these idiots find out who they almost shot here and the shit storm they are in for when their bosses find out about it.
"Les mains en l'air. Maintenant!"
For all that Sonny's made absolutely no effort to learn French he can still pretty much guess what that means.
That said, they can also go fuck themselves, shooting first and asking questions later.
So while he does in fact already have his hands off the wheel and kind of in the air he also makes no attempt to raise them any further.
Clay of course cooperates quickly and calmly. He puts his hands up higher, then sticks them out the window before slowly reaching down and opening the door from the outside with one hand as instructed. It's all slow and methodical until he cracks the door open and then Clay's side of the car gets rushed. Hands grab him the door and him and wrench it open, he gets dragged out hard and Sonny can hear his head smack the door on the way out and the way he stumbles clumsily and grunts uncomfortably under their aggressive holds as he is forced out onto the pavement and pulled away from the car.
Sonny squirms in his seat, glowering in the direction he can see the Clay's form silouetted between a few maglight beams dancing and shifting in the dark holes. There is absolutely no need for that kind of roughness, especially when the kid was cooperating.
There's an urgent command from behind his head at his own window, clearly they are growing impatient wanting him to do the same but Sonny stalls one more long second just to prove a point. They aren't the boss of him and it won't do for them to get that idea. He takes one more lingering look to see if he can see Clay before giving up and starting to swing back around to focus on dealing with his own friends. As his eyes track back across the car towards his window they catch something red on the seat and he freezes his motion halfway around.
What the fuck. He stares uncomprehendingly at the undeniable pool of fresh blood on the seat Clay just vacated. Gapes at it, completely oblivious to the shouts escalating outside his window while he tries to adjust his brain to the fact that Clay had been sitting next to him, apparently bleeding from who knows where and quite a lot from the looks of it, and said nothing about it. The full realisation hits at the same time and with the same force as the rifle butt that strikes his window shattering the glass over his head loudly and spectacularly.
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I'm back :) A little more motivated and inspired enough to tackle one of the shorter outlines I was planning. Also I forgot how much fun it can be to write Sonny and I think he is going to get the mic for this whole story so buckle up!
For those to lazy to use google translate. The opening quote roughly translates to:
" There is worse than not knowing love, that is to find it at a time when your life makes it impossible"
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