"Hi, Connie," said Jason, walking back to his car. He willed his breathing to calm—he didn't want to alarm her.
"What happened?"
"I reached the rendezvous—Gray's not here. Tasha either. Just…" He hesitated but didn't want to keep anything from her. "Some bloodstains."
"Oh no!" She seemed shaken, more so than he'd expect—since after the gunshots, it was a reasonable assumption. He could still see it in his mind, dark splotches on the ground, shattered glass glinting in the artificial light.
"It didn't look like enough to be fatal." He stepped up onto the curb, keenly aware of his surroundings; the placid, mostly deserted downtown belying the violence that had shattered it a few hours ago. "I called Gray—still couldn't get to him. Now I'm heading to his safehouse. Gotta take the long way around, lose any possible tails. It all looks empty… no one around… hopefully they won't expect me."
"How…are you?"
"I'm okay. The two energy drinks seemed to dull the drugs' effects. And the painkillers are still working so… I feel pretty good. A little weird. It's Gray and Tasha I'm worried about."
"Be careful, Jason."
"Hopefully the safehouse won't be compromised. If it is…I'll have to figure out the next step. How are you and the girls doing?"
"Well…"
He caught the upset tone in her voice. "What's wrong?"
"The girls are fine. They're sleeping. I just…had a nightmare and I couldn't sleep. So I…watched Elliot's video. The second one."
"Well… if it's hard for you, maybe you shouldn't watch it."
"It's not that. I mean, it is hard. But I want to help. I didn't figure anyone would be awake! James saw part of it. Didn't watch to the end, but it was enough."
"That would be shocking for anyone to stumble on."
"It's not that either. It is—but. Jason— Yavesh has been sending him videos."
"What." Shock shot through his chest.
"They sent him like four."
"Of Luna?"
"Yeah. The last video—she was hurt. And…they threatened to do more."
"What are they demanding?"
"That's the thing. They haven't demanded anything."
"Maybe… they're leading up to something."
"I didn't think of that."
"They have to have some kind of purpose. So, they told him not to tell?"
"Or they'll do something worse to her."
"That explains how he's been acting lately. That would just—tear me up inside if…" He didn't want to think about it. To see Connie captured—trapped and threatened—and it would probably be because of him—
No. That will not happen. She's safe.
"Does he still have the videos?"
"Mm-hm. He sent them to me. I'm…going to look through them."
"I'll help when I get back."
"You have a better chance of finding something. I have no idea what I'm doing."
"You could see what others can't—everyone has their own perspective. And the more people on this, the better."
He reached his car. Checked around it— didn't see a sign of anyone. He slid in behind the steering wheel and locked the door.
"I just wish I could do more."
"You're doing more than you think. You helped the girls; you drove us back—you helped James—Support personnel are no less important than the agents who are out risking their lives." He winced when he realized what he'd said.
But it was true—there was no safe place where Yavesh was involved. The safest place was the palace with all the guards and security.
"I really hope I can find something from the videos of Luna," she said. "Maybe if we find something similar to Elliot's—I don't know."
"At least we'd know they're in the same place. Maybe at their headquarters. Since they're saying they're Yavesh openly, they seem to be pretty secure we can't breach them."
"Jason—I thought of something. When I was driving. I was just wondering… if Ali could be going to a Yavesh meeting instead of for his business."
"That's a distinct possibility."
"I figured you probably thought of that already. I mean—he did say he's going to Konterr—"
"Hm, I didn't remember he was going to Konterr. I was in such a rush I didn't put two and two together."
"Well—it's been a long night."
"That's true."
"I better let you go."
"Maybe you should try to get some sleep."
"Maybe I can…now that I've heard your voice and know you're safe."
"No sense in both of us losing sleep."
"I just wish—you didn't have to do this dead tired."
"I have the energy drinks, remember? I'm wide awake."
"You'll collapse later."
"I know. But I gotta get through today. I've pulled all-nighters before on missions."
"Not after…such a long day."
"Hopefully no more bad surprises—hopefully both Gray and Tasha will be at the safehouse."
"I think… I will get some sleep. Try to. Then I can look at this with a fresh mind… give my best for the girls…. I'm not like you, I can't just take some energy drinks and power through it."
"I want you to feel as good as possible."
"I'll only feel really good when you get back."
"When I get back… I'll make up for your night alone." Thrills raced through him when he thought of seeing her again, her skin clothed only by moonlight. Such a glorious form—to gaze on it in awe would be enough.
"Well…you probably better get some rest first. And let your wounds heal."
"These are nothing. Nothing to keep me away from you. You remember– your love is the best medicine."
"I'll just be really careful."
"Give me all your love. If it's what you want."
"That shoulder wound looked pretty awful. And your thumb… and face…."
"I think you can avoid those things pretty well." He guided the car through the darkened streets.
"Your back though…"
"Well, I just won't lie on my back."
"We can find different ways to do things to avoid it…. Find new dimensions… It's always surprising…always wonderful… how many things we can do together! It's like infinite. We could do something new each time."
"Even if it were the same each time, it'd be amazing. But I love finding new ways to express my love."
"Me too! Jason, I wish you were here right now—I could smother you in kisses—"
Longing surged through him—he'd much rather be doing that. It would rejuvenate him more than a thousand hours of sleep. And he longed to find something new she liked… at least he had something to look forward to. It would feel even more astounding after the harrowing day—such a contrast. To immerse in her love… like nothing else.
"What are some things you'd like to try?" he said, driving through the downtown. It was a lovely, enticing place—if it hadn't been tainted by violence. He wondered if the police had responded but couldn't risk that they had been bought off.
"Hm…" she said. "I think… I want to do what you want. Since you're the one that's injured. Something that doesn't hurt your shoulder."
Even though his injuries were insignificant in comparison with her love, his heart warmed at the fact she was considering his wishes. Something shot into his mind unbidden. But perhaps…. Delight spilled through him, drowning the initial flare of fear.
He'd have nothing to be afraid of, with her there. It could be a next level of healing….
"I…don't know if you'd be up for it…" he said. Never wanting to do anything she wasn't comfortable with. "If… we could get some handcuffs…."
"What."
"Not if you'd rather not! I mean—for me, of course."
"Why?" she sounded mystified. "You hate being trapped! It's… I don't want to do anything that reminds you of your trauma."
"That's the thing. It could help me. Erase some of the pain and torture… help me not panic if I'm trapped somewhere innocuous… and with you, it'd be more than just innocuous. It'd be—wonderful. Your love would wash all the pain away."
"I'd love to help you with that! If you think it would work… not backfire…"
"I don't think it would. I trust you. I know you wouldn't hurt me. Doing it with someone I trust with my life…. That would be the remedy."
"I…suppose I'm willing to try it. Just. Let me know if it's too much."
"We could start slow. If I'm like panicking—just let me out."
"I better practice unlocking the handcuffs first." She laughed. "That sounds weird."
"If you'd rather not…"
"As long as you want to. At any time… if you're uncomfortable…."
"I suppose I better be okay with being a little uncomfortable. I won't like it at first. But once you start to touch me…. It'll blow any sort of fear into oblivion." Excitement blazed through him—for being able to get over some of his panic—and, more, for experiencing another dimension of her love. Being tied up seemed a positive thing now. Within her in control, anyway. To be at the mercy of her tender ministrations… he could hardly stand it. It gave him something to look forward to, to hang onto, while he plunged ahead on his mission.
"You could be my rescuer, maybe. You find me in the depths of the castle…."
"Like that dungeon!"
"Yes. That—should have been innocuous and not affected me."
"I'd be your wife… coming to rescue you… I think I saw a movie like that once."
"After that… we'd go live in our castle. Like how we really will. Our house won't be an actual castle… but it'll be like one. Beautiful, wonderful… full of life… after all of this darkness…"
"Jason—that sounds heavenly. This is the last dangerous mission."
"I think it will. I'm not…who I was. I'm able to do some of this but…. Best to stay in the background. Then I don't endanger you. And… we'll probably have our kids to look after."
"Our little girls! Maybe. I don't want to jump the gun, in case…"
"If it doesn't work out, we'll find someone else who needs us. And—"
"And… if it's God's will…"
He didn't want to come out and say it. After the harrowing journey she'd had to come to the point of accepting possible pregnancy again. But she didn't continue, so the image stayed between them, hanging in the dark and silence. He didn't know what exactly she was thinking. But he envisioned the little baby girl, with bright red hair, he'd envisioned in their glade a few days before.
She breathed a deep sigh. "I better let you go and focus on your mission."
"I suppose…. I do have to watch for tails."
"I hope I haven't endangered you!"
"I can multitask. It wouldn't be hard to see a car on this empty street. But I better let you rest. You're right—I will need a few days' rest after this. If we have some time to ourselves…."
"We can try the…new therapy." Bright hope shone through her voice, along with excitement and amusement.
"The only time I've ever longed to get trapped."
"I love you, Jason."
"I love you, Connie." Love soared through him. All the darkness in the world didn't compare, couldn't touch them.
"You better not get any more injured."
"Yes, ma'am." He saluted though of course she couldn't see. But she was his captain.
"I'll—see you soon." Her voice faltered slightly.
"It shouldn't take long if they're both at the safe house. I'll bring them back—and you can see them tomorrow. Get a couple hours of sleep, at least."
He said goodbye and drove out past the serene suburbs to some gentle hills and a lake gleaming in the dusk of early morning. Mist roiling over its surface, the pines dark shards against the indigo sky.
He took a winding gravel road and had to rely on offline maps to get the rest of the way. But it made sense a safehouse would be off the grid.
A little cabin, nestled in the trees and bushes at the edge of the lake. You wouldn't know it was there if you weren't looking for it and if you did know it was there, you'd assume it was abandoned. The driveway was nearly obscured by vines. Even the windows looked broken. But as he got closer, he realized that was part of the illusion.
He parked the car on the side of the driveway, half-hidden in the bushes and some kind of flowering vine tangled with wild grapes. Then, taking out his gun, he crept toward the house. Vines crawled over the back door. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. He knocked quietly, but no answer. Then he called, but his phone was out of service.
Wishing they'd had the chance to figure out a passcode, he crept to the side that faced the lake. Stepped up onto the back porch and knocked in Morse code, IM JASON.
No answer.
He tried several more times.
Maybe Gray was unconscious. Or maybe he wasn't there at all.
If he was seriously injured, he'd need help. Jason picked the lock and carefully swung the door open.
A flash in the dark and a boom.
A bullet seared past his ear.
He dropped to the floor, whipping his gun toward the right.
Another gunshot zipped through the air, slammed through the window, shattering it.
Jason shot vaguely toward the figure, aware it could be Gray, so the shot went wide. In the flurry of action and the dimness, he couldn't quite make out the shooter, but he had light-colored hair, and was around the same build as Gray.
"It's me!" said Jason. "Jason Whittaker!"
"Jason?" Gray's voice was incredulous, shaken. He lowered his gun.
Jason tucked his gun into his belt. "Is Tasha here?" Hope and dread filled him.
Gray seemed to collapse in on himself. He shrank back into the corner on a light-colored couch, which was marred with a suspicious dark patch. He slumped onto the seat and leaned his forehead into his hands, covering his eyes.
"Is she okay? Is she—?" Jason couldn't bring himself to say the word.
"I—I don't know," said Gray faintly. "Th-they took her." His despairing voice almost faded completely.
Jason advanced. "What!"
Gray scrambled up onto the couch and pressed against it, terror gleaming in his eyes.
Jason stopped. Remembering. How could he be so thoughtless. He was only thinking about Tasha, the one missing, the one he knew, the one who had never tortured him. Though they'd broken up forever, of course they had a stronger bond. But—Gray could be injured.
With a twinge of empathy, Jason crouched down, making himself seem less threatening. They were on the same side, after all. And if he was to get Tasha back, he'd have to coax coherence out of Gray, not make him collapse. It was a wonder he'd gotten this far in his condition. How he'd even managed to do the mission was mystifying. Of course, being discovered, being in a gunfight, would shake anyone, even if they hadn't been captive for months.
"Are you all right?"
Gray unfolded himself and sat down a little more casually, though he exuded tension, and there was a flash of shame in his eyes, presumably for his "irrational" fear.
Jason knew full well what a similar situation could do, even if it held no actual danger.
"I'm fine."
Jason stood, though he kept his posture neutral. He gestured toward the dark stain. "What's all that blood from then?"
Gray glanced at it. "That's nothing. Just…" He pressed his hand to his left side. Jason could see a dark area beneath his jacket.
"It's not nothing. You need it treated."
"It's nothing—compared to what she had."
"What happened?"
He sank down again, his head in his palm, though he kept his other hand on his wound. "They found us out. It… it was my fault. It went well at first. I… I could do it when she was there. But then… she thought I was ready for a solo mission. It'd make it so I was an authority in my own right. She'd be watching from a distance, so I wouldn't be completely alone anyway. But—it was still too much for me. I was doing the trade. It felt—so good. To be an agent again. But then—that man…touched me." A shudder wracked him. "H-he probably didn't mean anything by it. Just…comradely, you know. Which was good he…saw me as an equal. But I—I froze. Everything slowed. I couldn't see or hear, just…vague shapes, sounds… He did it before, but I was able to work through it when Tasha was there. When she wasn't—I collapsed. I said something about how I was sick… I at least had presence of mind for that. I hoped he bought it.
"But that sowed suspicion in his mind. Because after Tasha got me back to the hotel…they came for us. We got out onto the street and there seemed to be gunshots from every direction…. She went ahead, trying to get them—we were pinned down. I tried to get to her but—I was shot. I couldn't move. I knew they'd take me. I…." He looked sick, his face deathly pale in the dim light.
"Anyone would react that way in the same situation."
"But I'm not anyone!" he snapped, some of the old fire gleaming in his eyes. Whatever she'd done, she'd brought back some of his confidence, if not pride. A good thing, Jason reminded himself—to a certain extent. But Jason couldn't stop the shiver of fear rippling down his spine.
Gray leaned back against the couch. "But it turns out… I'm less than most people—not to mention far less than I used to be. I…couldn't move. If I'd been able to—fire back in time—But they shot her. Her side, her head. She was lying there in her blood and I—" His voice broke. "She did so much for me—tried to build me back up again—but I couldn't save her and—" A silent sob shook him, and he buried his head in his arm on the side of the couch.
"So, you're sure they took her?"
"I…tried to get to her at last but they shot me in the leg and…next thing I knew, she was gone and there was only blood where she'd been. Her blood." He almost choked the word.
Jason's stomach flipped. Tasha—taken by Yavesh. His vision swam. He sat down on the couch beside Gray, just avoiding the bloodstain.
Shuddering sobs shook Gray, eerily silent. Tears glistened on his cheeks, dampened the sleeve of his jacket.
A ghost of anger swept through Jason—Gray should have protected her! But he knew Yavesh, and he knew what PTSD did to you. Instead of anger taking hold, empathy gripped him, tears springing to his eyes, trickling down his cheeks, a keen pain in his heart. "It wasn't your fault."
"But it was! I was…too weak."
"You shouldn't have been put in this position yet. Tasha did her best—you did your best. It wasn't enough."
"My best should have been spectacular. I should be better than all of them. Instead…. I'm this quivering wreck of a man. Not suited for anything. Couldn't even save my savior."
"Even the best can be brought down. You can't singlehandedly win against a superior force."
"I used to. All the time. Now…. Well. Even then I wasn't as good as I thought, because I was captured. I was taken. And just two of them…beat me down and…" He gulped, his whole body shivering.
Despite the differences, the similarity of their thought patterns struck Jason. How he hadn't been what he thought… seemingly minor things had crushed him…
"No one can always win—no matter how good you are," said Jason, ignoring the whisper that he should apply it to himself too. "It's just an illusion brought about by success. I mean… it was only by sheer luck—probably God's grace—that I escaped as often as I did. With how many times I blundered. You were better than me. But you can't succeed one hundred percent of the time. No matter who you are. It was…horrible that happened to you."
"It destroyed me. What there was of me. It did destroy any illusion of my…greatness. It shouldn't have done that if I'd been anything to speak of…."
"It was rape, Gray." He hated to use that word. Hated the word itself—and to cut into him like that—but perhaps he needed to hear its brutality to get the full picture.
Gray flinched as if it had physically hit him, and guilt seized Jason. But he continued, "It would have destroyed anyone. Especially…what I know of… how it was used. No one can escape such trauma. You shouldn't have been forced into this mission. You would have been able to face it later on… but it's only been several months. I'm still recovering. It's been years." Well… the latest incident was several months (not counting the one yesterday…), but it was mild comparably. "For you… it was much worse. It's…not the same as pure torture. It's even more traumatic." He stopped, not wanting to hurt him, but needing to let him know he wasn't weak for collapsing. Jason on the other hand… he'd collapsed after much less…
"Tasha said the same thing. She said that… sex is special, it's not like anything else. And when it's twisted… when you're…used…against your will… it does things to your mind no one can prepare for or even understand, and it's different for anyone. And that I was strong for simply enduring it. I had dismissed sex as a mere tool before, but now… I came to see it how she did, logically at least, though I…still felt horribly weak. But I began to feel strong with her there. I began to think… it was me, it was my strength, though I was grateful to her for giving it to me. But then… now… with her…gone… I—I'm undone." His voice broke. A tear trickled down his cheek, his eyes in the salmon glow of morning sunlight heartbreakingly lost. "It was always her, she was with me… my only strength… and now… they took her and I have no hope of having any sort of strength to get her back. Even if she's still alive."
"Well… they probably wouldn't have taken her if they didn't want her alive."
"There is no good scenario. At least… if she were dead… she'd be beyond pain. But with Yavesh… knowing what it does… the best case would be if they only wanted to torture her for information. She is an NSA agent. But what I've learned is that their operations, though in separate cells, are permeable. The overseers move the players like a chessboard. And there are human resources in all of them. If they see a valuable player who would be more suited for another area—they move them. And if they see a potential slave—they funnel them into human trafficking. That was one of our most valuable discoveries. Getting a window into their mode of operations. My main hope is that… Tasha isn't young anymore. Human trafficking is usually meant to trade the younger ones. So… they're probably holding her somewhere, maybe even healing her before they interrogate her. But…maybe that's wishful thinking. I know… what the worst torture is, and…Yavesh knows it too. They might…." He closed his eyes, looking faint.
"If they let her heal first, that'll give us time to find her."
Gray nodded. "Now that you're here, she has a fighting chance. I'm not able to save her from the same fate. I would just make it worse."
Jason was struck again by the echo of his own thoughts. He didn't feel adequate to this task either. But he had no choice—he had to find Tasha.
He'd be more likely to succeed if he had help, though…
"Gray, you have more strength than you know."
"She said that. But without her…. I'm falling apart. I don't think I could do anything useful. I'm the one who got her into this mess. She was the only strong one… propping me up. I am nothing on my own."
"You're not nothing."
"What am I? No longer the great agent. I crumble at a single touch. I don't see how I could possibly help!"
"Well…you can start by giving me any information. Any small details. Like the appearance of the shooters. Anything they said."
"They didn't say much…"
"Now that your cell is breached, you can tell me about your operation. The people you were dealing with. What you've found out about Yavesh."
He nodded, the sunlight gleaming through the window, illuminating his pale, drawn face.
"But first, we need to tend to your injuries."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine."
"It's nothing compared to what happened to Tasha."
"Maybe so. But it doesn't mean it's nothing. You can't help at all if you're unconscious."
Gray couldn't argue with that. Or at least, he didn't seem to have the strength to argue. Jason hoped he'd see he did have something to offer—and that he could empower him to help find the one who had bolstered him. Jason wasn't Tasha but if he could infuse strength into him somehow…. It was apparent that they'd shared a special bond, and Jason wasn't quite sure of the nature of it. He doubted it was anything other than professional… but for Gray to be so dependent on her… somehow, she'd earned his undying trust. In the end, he had to learn how to walk on his own. It would take time. But time wasn't something they had.
Jason would go in alone if he had to. But if Gray could find a way to tap into his expertise… to fight by his side still gave him a shadow of trepidation, but it would be worth it to find Tasha. To work together for this would forge more healing between them. Continue Jason's path of forgiveness. And most importantly, help Gray recover. Into a new, better shape, with his old expertise bound to his new more altruistic self.
For to be so concerned for another being… Jason never thought he'd see such a thing from his former torturer. It was progress. Even though it had come at such a high cost. Even though he was adrift without his mentor.
Jason hoped he wouldn't go backwards after this incident… but most of all, he hoped he didn't revert to some of his former cruelty… not likely, though he still had that potential buried in himself. Along with the potential to be a great agent again. Jason hoped the two didn't go hand in hand.
He searched through the house for any sort of first aid, and to his surprise he found some in the kitchen cupboard. This was a safehouse, after all. He slid the dusty kit down from the shelf and, after brushing it off, carried it over to where Gray was sprawled on the couch.
"Maybe we'd better go over to the other couch." He didn't want Gray to have to lie in his own blood. "Can you walk?"
"I…think so." He tried to push himself up, but fell back with a gasp, favoring his leg. "Maybe not," he said, breathless.
"I'll help you."
"I'm only on this couch because… I was waiting up all night, gun at the door. Now that you're here… I can rest." With determination on his face, he pushed himself to his feet and stood unsteadily. He swayed a little but took a step forward. He gasped as he set his right leg down, the one that must be injured. Another step—a cry escaped his lips. He faltered, began crumpling to the floor. Jason caught him. He struggled, panicking—then glanced at Jason and relaxed a little, as if realizing who he was. Jason helped him over to the couch along the wall facing the door. Gray sank down into it, breathing hard, a crease in his brow. His body shook uncontrollably, probably from shock and loss of blood, though some of it might have been from his touch. Jason dragged an old blanket from the side of the couch and draped it over him. Then he went looking for some food. He found some energy bars in a drawer in the kitchen and spread them out in a fan shape for Gray to choose. He gestured weakly for the chocolate one and Jason opened it for him. He took it carefully and nibbled at it. Then he rested his arm down on the couch, holding the bar where it was still clothed with plastic. He took a few more bites and finished it, then nodded. A faint hue of color brushed his cheeks. The wrapper tumbled from his fingers to the floor.
"We'd better get you fixed up or the bar won't help much. Do you want another one?"
He shook his head. Reached for the first aid kit. "I can do it." He attempted to sit up, but then sank back down. "Still dizzy…."
"I'll help you. If it's okay. Then you'll be able to help me with Tasha."
"I want to be able to help. I…." He gulped, looking sick.
"Maybe you shouldn't eat it so fast next time."
"I just… was so hungry…."
"I don't blame you." The energy bars were looking awfully good to Jason. But he wanted to save them for Gray. And didn't want to delay in treating him. He didn't want to force him either; he knew the toll that physical contact took on him. But if left untreated, who knew what his wounds would do.
Jason opened the first aid kit, happy to find most of the items were still there. Peroxide, bandages…. Some kind of long, silver tool he presumed was for digging out bullets. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it.
"Can I see?" said Jason.
Gray hesitated, then nodded. Fear and trust warring in his eyes.
Jason slid the blanket down to his waist and gently pulled back his jacket. Then, he grasped the edge of his shirt and gently slid it upwards until it caught on the dried blood. Gray gasped, his whole body tense. "Let me know if it's too much," said Jason.
Gray nodded, his jaw clenched.
"I think I'll have to dampen this again to get it loose." He took the clean white rag and headed into the kitchen, poured water from the sink onto it, then returned. He knelt beside Gray and, after asking permission with his eyes, pressed the cloth gently against his side.
Gray closed his eyes, pain writhing across his face.
Jason slowly peeled the shirt upwards, and it lifted away from his skin. Blood was smeared over his skin and there was a distinct hole where the bullet had gone through. Jason pulled the jacket away further and checked his back; thankfully, it looked like a clean exit wound. Like Jason's wound, it had torn through his flesh, too close to the edge to graze anything vital. But it would need to be cleaned.
"We could take you to the hospital." Probably should, he thought, but didn't say, guessing his reaction.
He sat up, panic in his eyes. "No—please. No hospitals."
"Okay."
"This'll be the hard part."
He nodded.
With a water bottle, Jason poured water on the wound. Gray inhaled in pain but didn't make a sound. It was like déjà vu in a way; he'd just experienced something similar, though with knife wounds, not bullet. Then he poured peroxide into the wound.
Gray screamed. Far from being any kind of catharsis, the sound shot through him, flinging him back to the time when the echoes of his own screams were ricocheting off the walls. He had to force himself to move; to not freeze in place. Gray needed strength beside him, not a trauma-riddled has-been. At least, the illusion of strength.
"You all right?"
Gray nodded, a lock of blond hair fallen over his forehead.
Jason took the bandage and taped it over the wound. "Where else are you injured?"
His eyes fell to his chest.
"There?" Jason pointed to the area.
"It's not very bad."
"Maybe I should take a look."
Gray shook his head, paling further.
"Your leg. How bad is that?"
Gray didn't answer. Jason searched for an area that looked bloody and found it on his right calf. It was hard to see in the black material; it had looked like a shadow before. But sure enough, there was a bullet hole. To his dismay, it didn't look like there was an exit wound. He knelt by Gray's leg, thankful it looked like loose material, rather like cargo pants. He slowly scrolled the material up then saw the bullet wound and stopped after lifting it above the bruised, swollen area, soaked with blood. Focused on the injury, he wasn't as careful and brushed his knee with his thumb as he was lifting his hand away.
Gray flinched violently. Then he cried out in pain. He closed his eyes, looking sick. Breathing unevenly at first, his breaths steadied but were still deep, his face full of suffering. "I'm sorry," he near-whispered.
"No—I'm sorry. That was careless of me."
"It was just a touch. I react more to that than—actual pain." He laughed bitterly.
"That's only natural after… I mean—it'll take a lot to get past that. I understand. Well—not totally but—"
"I hope you never understand totally." He gritted his teeth, spearing Jason with his eyes, so full of anguish it hurt to look at them
He dropped his eyes and lay back against the couch. "Do your worst."
"Are you sure."
"This needs care… I know that. I'm not going to be so stupid as to deny it. You at least… well. You and she are the only ones I…trust." He glanced meaningfully at Jason again.
A fist wrenching his heart, he settled down and examined the wound without touching it. It was an ugly thing, and, sure enough, there was no exit wound. A large contusion hinted that the bullet had hit his shinbone. Who knew the damage. Jason wasn't sure if the best course would be to take the bullet out. But if it stayed in, it would probably cause infection….
I've dug bullets out of myself and Tasha. I can do this.
In the old days, he would have been ecstatic at the chance to cause pain to his enemy. But now, he just felt sick. For some reason, perhaps because of his own torture, including the most recent incident, he felt more shaken now at treating a wound than he ever had. Or perhaps because of this strange bond between him and Gray, grown from the trial of hatred into an intense form of sympathy. They were alike, in a way. And causing him pain reverberated back to Jason.
But causing him pain now would save him from more in the future.
Jason searched for a painkiller but didn't find any. Then he realized he had some in the car. He went to get it, feeling a little possessive of the small bottle of pills… pain was awakening across his shoulder and jaw and hand—but there would still be some left. And Gray's was excruciating in comparison.
He spilled two morphine pills and an antibiotic into Gray's hand, and he tossed them into his mouth and drank from the water bottle. Jason took the bottle, poured the rest of the water onto the wound, then asked if he was ready. "Maybe we should let the painkiller take effect."
"No—let's get it over with. Is there something to bite down on? I don't want to confirm even more that we're here."
Jason searched and found a short, small piece of wood near the fireplace. Gray took the piece of wood and bit down on it, his eyes closed as he lay back against the pillow.
Jason poured peroxide into the wound. Gray screamed but it was muffled. Tears streaked down his temples into his hair.
Tears blurred Jason's own eyes, but he forged forward. Took that wicked looking device from the kit and slid it carefully into the wound. Gray took hard sharp breaths.
Jason probed as gently as he could. Gray groaned, turning his face toward the back of the couch, digging his fingers into it.
Jason found a foreign lump embedded just to the left of his shinbone. Taking another thin instrument, he inserted it into the wound and then, trying not to dig around too much, trapped it between the instruments and began to lift.
It took several attempts. Gray didn't scream but he was trembling, whimpering moans escaping with every breath. Sweat beaded his skin.
"Almost there," said Jason. Concentrating, making his tired fingers move, and forcing them to have the finesse of a surgeon's, he lifted the foreign object through the swollen bullet hole and tossed it onto the floor with a clink.
Gray slumped back against the armrest, his eyes closed, unconscious.
Jason sat back himself, leaning against the bottom of the couch. Swiped the sweat from his brow. He felt weak and shaky and nearly nauseous.
Hm…maybe I do need some kind of sustenance to keep going… wouldn't do to just collapse… The energy drinks caused the illusion of adrenaline but I'm fading fast… He took an energy bar from the floor and opened it, his hands shaking. His fingers were smeared with blood, but he couldn't wash his hands if he couldn't get up. He nibbled the bar, realizing he should probably drink something too. And take his next dose of meds. But right now, it was all he could do to just keep holding the bar up to his lips.
At last, when the bar was two-thirds eaten, his hand sank to the floor and lay there, exhaustion washing over him.
He felt sleep creeping up on him and was welcoming it with open arms when he heard a slight rustling beside him and snapped back to full awareness. He pulled the blanket up over Gray.
Gray's eyes caught his, translucent in the early morning sunrays glancing across the lake. "Thank you." Incredulity simmered in his eyes.
"I just hope… I haven't made it worse."
"It already feels better. And… you happened to have painkillers…" His eyes flitted over Jason's cheek. Heat flooded Jason's face, concentrated in the sewn lips of the wounded scar. The vicious slice across his earlobe. "So… you gave me your own medicine."
Jason nodded.
"What happened?" A tinge of sympathy shot through the curiosity in Gray's voice.
Jason rebelled against telling him anything and some of the old anger reared up inside of him, hot, akin to hatred.
Gray was the reason he had the scars that had attracted Karl's attention in the first place.
But he shoved that emotion down. Gray would need something to distract him from the pain and horror of this situation. "I was…captured."
"Again?"
"Yes—again," he said, a wry smirk tugging at his lips. It did seem to be a recurring theme… it was partly due to his foolishness and incompetence. But this time, it had infused determination into him to never let it happen again. Even if he deserved it. He had to make himself believe he didn't. He had to get out at all costs—even if it meant getting out on the other side of the veil of death.
"It looks recent."
"It was yesterday."
"Yesterday! And you still came for me?"
"I had to help you and Tasha if I could. Besides, it wasn't that bad this time. He wasn't nearly as efficient as some." He gave Gray a meaningful look, making sure it bore no malice.
"It's true I don't see many injuries. But there could be more beneath your clothes."
"Not as much as…there could have been. I fought him rather than lie there and let it happen to me. I took my chance."
"A good interrogator wouldn't have given you that chance."
"He was injured himself, and overconfident." He fought the self-doubt crashing in on him. Perhaps in other circumstances, he wouldn't escape. Well…there was only one other option… besides not getting into situations with a risk of capture in the first place. "It's true, you didn't give me much chance to escape." He couldn't keep the accusing tone out of his voice this time. "By the time I was untied, I was too injured to do anything. Karl— he ordered me on the floor. At first… I couldn't move. All of the horror of the past came rushing in on me and I saw myself as…something worthy of being crushed. Because I'd let it happen. I'd let myself be captured. Then… I realized I was more than that. I wanted to live…not be tortured into nothing, not be…sold into slavery. He was distracted for a split second. I think that was it. Then I—attacked him. He cut me with his knife, but it was better than abject submission. I never want any of these kinds of wounds again." He brushed near the knife wound on his face, feeling a whisper of pain. I deserve that for not reacting sooner. "Only these." He lifted his left hand, revealing the puckered wound threaded together. It was an ugly thing, but still there was dignity and honor in it, unlike the others.
Gray's eyes gleamed with admiration. "You fought. That's more than I can say I did. I suppose…weakly…. But it wasn't enough."
"You were injured already, weren't you?"
"So were you."
"Not as badly. He just…well. Cut into the scars you gave me."
"How creative of him."
Jason was startled at his words, but realized they'd been said in a sardonic tone, more aimed at his torturer than him. Still, they sliced into his heart.
"Sorry. It is…something interrogators do. Cutting into wounds… a psychological tool. I've done it."
"To me."
Gray's eyes sparked with realization. "Oh yes, now I remember. There have been… so many." He frowned. "But now I see the inherent cowardice of it. Slicing into someone who can't fight back. It may be necessary, but there's no honor in it."
Jason's vision swam, the room receding into a dim haze. "It's never necessary."
"I'm sorry. I…. shouldn't be bringing this up. I… was just speaking as my old self. What I was. The man I am… is incredibly grateful for everything you've done. I'm mystified as to why you would do it."
"So am I, sometimes. It's God. It's also…wanting to be better. Hatred is at least as destructive to the person experiencing it as its object."
"Before...I never hated anyone. It was just my job. I moved on. Now…. Hatred is too mild a word. To forgive…unfathomable."
"You…have a lot more to forgive."
He nodded, looked away as if to examine the fibers of the couch, the small dots in the brown. Then he looked back at Jason. "Still, what I did was…significant. I was merciless with you. You…and Tasha…are exceptional people. Before, I would not have called it strength. But how can it not be strength, to strive against your own intense instincts, for some greater good?"
"Tasha forgave you?"
"Not in so many words. But her actions… she doesn't just tolerate me for the job. She… gave me part of herself. She…cared for me."
"How far did it go?" Jason didn't feel jealousy, just a certain protectiveness.
"Hardly anywhere. Tasha is the consummate professional. Just being together… so close… It wouldn't have affected me in the past, but now… I'm not sure what exactly she felt. Probably mostly sympathy. But…she didn't let it go past… well. It's hardly worth mentioning. I'm not sure what I feel either—all of this is new to me. I just know she's become…very special to me. The first person I can remember caring about. It's…strange. Uncomfortable—worrying about her like this. But I can't help it. And I…don't regret it." Incredulity gleamed in his eyes. "I want to help her but… I fear I'm unable. Even if I weren't injured."
"You probably shouldn't put much weight on that leg, anyway. You can help by giving information. Anything you can remember. A small detail could break the case."
"I'll tell you all I can." He smirked. "A willing interrogation. I suppose that's the way to get someone to tell you something. Make them care. Force doesn't have to enter into the picture at all."
"Sympathy does happen to be the better way, I've found."
"I'm coming to see its value."
Jason's heart warmed at the words. It wasn't an apology, but it was close.
He drew a chair up beside the couch and asked about the last mission first. Gray told him all he remembered. They both ate another energy bar, and another, until they were gone. Jason knew these were only band-aids on a gushing wound, that sooner or later they wouldn't be enough to keep him going, but he'd take what he could get. Hopefully the energy would last until they could rescue Tasha. He'd make adrenaline take over when the caffeine ran out, until it ran out too.
He kept Gray's water bottle filled, making sure he stayed hydrated. Jason drank from another water bottle, knowing hydration was important, but prioritizing Gray since he'd lost a lot of blood.
Jason wrote down some notes, but he wasn't sure where exactly to start. They didn't have a possible location where Yavesh had taken Tasha. The weapons traffickers' hideout—but that was unlikely. Since she was a high-value target, someone high-up was probably interrogating her.
Ali.
Jason wasn't sure how high up Ali was, but it was true he had been called over to Konterr…just as the firefight had been going on.
If only Jason knew where he'd gone, but Ali wouldn't be so stupid as to reveal that.
Jason could call him on some pretext…. They had this "rapport" but calling now would probably make him suspicious. Especially if Jason just "happened" to be in Konterr. Jason did have a connection with him. Was there a way to use that….
Perhaps he should call some of his other contacts and see if there was a way they could help.
Even the NSA. If their agent was captured, they'd want to know about it. With how dark Gray and Tasha's op had been, Jason wasn't sure if they'd know about her capture yet. Still, they had ways of knowing…. They might at least know her communications (or their observations) had gone dark….
He had to start looking for her. But first he had to strategize. No more rushing in without a plan. Even if his instincts itched against it.
If I don't get captured, it's more likely she'll be rescued. See the logic in that?
If captured—it won't be permanent. I got captured to rescue her before… but I'd prefer not to do it that way… the choices I make do affect what happens. I won't always be able to get out. Lately, I haven't been getting out unscathed.
Going up against a superior force… how exactly to approach it…
I need all the information I can get. She might need time to recover so they might be ignoring her… but I can't count on that. She might also need medical attention, and they could be denying her adequate care.
Start with the one who knows about this op… he might know something Gray doesn't…
He called Markov. At first the phone rang several times, then Markov answered.
"Yes, Jason." His voice sounded strained, weary.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. What's the news?"
"Have you heard about Tasha and Gray?"
"What about them." Alarm crept into his voice.
"She didn't call you?"
"She may have, but I was a little busy at the moment."
"What happened?"
"Nothing much. Just—had to get another surgery."
"I wouldn't call that nothing."
"Some artery decided to start bleeding again." He swore vehemently. "So, what's up."
"Tasha was taken."
"What!"
"They were in a firefight last night. Pinned down and—captured."
"What about the asset?"
"The asset?"
"Gray."
"He's the one that called me, actually. I met him at the safehouse."
"You're with him now?"
"Yes."
"That's something anyway. He didn't get captured—or run away."
"He did get shot."
"How is he?"
"I took care of his wounds. Took the bullet out of his leg. But he can't really walk on it."
"He should probably get to the hospital. Maybe I can get some use out of being here after all. Get some interrogation in."
"I have an idea." Which was kind of making it up as he went along. But it was better than totally winging it and charging into danger without any backup. Or going in with someone he didn't know or trust.
"What is it."
"I think I have a lead. Ali said he was coming here to Konterr last night. And we know he's Yavesh. He took the call around the time of the firefight."
"Hm, that does sound suspicious. Do you have any way of tracking him?"
"I should have thought of it. I…" Something struck him. "He did say he was going to his business. He might make his trip seem legit—he is someone who covers his tracks."
"He could have taken care of the preliminary business last night and then gone over to his company. It's a bit tenuous…but if it's all you have…"
"I'd also like to keep Gray with me."
"Whatever for?"
"Because…." Jason thought for a moment. He didn't want Gray to have to go to the hospital, and he didn't want him to go through a potentially hostile interrogation. "I need him here. He might think of more clues as we go along. He's the one who's been in the thick of it with the traffickers. He knows what they look like."
"That's true. These meds must be getting to me."
"I'm also wondering…since you're their superior… if you know anything you haven't told them, need-to-know."
"A few things, perhaps. I can send you their file."
"That'd be great. Would you be able to send another agent? Someone you trust?"
"Well, I would have said Amber, but she's still recovering from her concussion. I would have said most of my people but now I'm not so sure after last night's debacle. And how Wil's trail has gone cold—seems suspiciously quickly. I know most of my agents are fine but I'm not totally sure… especially with a mission this sensitive. Yavesh knows how to get its claws in everything.
"I think…. This person isn't officially an agent yet, but I've known him most of my life. Back from when we were security guards together. He stayed a security guard, but now he wants to transfer to MSS. I'm fast-tracking his approval because I know he has what it takes. He's not in on this mission yet either, but I can debrief him, and send him the file as well. He may not be a fully-fledged agent, but he's the only one I can recommend at this point who I can also spare."
"Who is it?"
"Sam Kent."
"Oh—that's Dana's husband, isn't it?"
"Yes. I wonder…. She may be a bit maverick, but she's also got a good head on her shoulders. She might be an asset as well. If Sam trusts her, so do I."
"Maybe I'll call her." Jason looked out the window from his chair near the couch, the sun rising above the trees, blindingly bright, rays shooting through the top branches of the pines. "I'm thinking… we could call in everyone we can find that's trustworthy, have them on standby. I'll stake out the company. Follow him and let you know where he leaves and reaches his destination."
"If this wasn't Yavesh, I'd say that wasn't worth the effort, but we have to take every lead we can get. Tasha is worth the risk.
"You two had something together, didn't you."
"That was long ago."
"Back when you were here last time?"
"Yes." And afterward, but he didn't want to go into it because that relationship was over.
"Good thing, because I saw some chemistry between Gray and Tasha."
Jason glanced at Gray, lying on the couch, his back to the sun. "I'm not sure if there's much there…"
"I can sense these things. After managing agents for years. Anyway. I'd better let you go."
"I'm going to contact the NSA next."
"Good thing. I may do the same. I would go myself but… the only way I get out of the hospital is if I sneak out…." He sounded like he might be considering the idea.
After he hung up, Jason called one of the NSA deputy directors. He was glad he still had a direct line to the Agency rather than having to wait for a secretary to tell him "all directors are busy at the moment."
Jacquelyn Lapeer answered, sounding a bit put out. "Yes."
"This is Jason Whittaker. Tasha Forbes has been kidnapped."
"Oh, that was Robin's mission. I'll transfer you."
Robin Sheridan answered. "Yes, Jason. How can I help you."
"Tasha's been kidnapped."
"When?"
"Last night."
"How did I not know this?"
"They were caught in a firefight. Tasha must not have had time, and Gray didn't have a direct line to you."
"We figured he should be kept in the dark. However, looks like that might've been an oversight. Is Gray with you?"
"He is. He's been injured though. I've taken care of his injuries."
"Good. So you have control of the asset."
"Yes."
"It's a good thing we have another agent there. Former, but still. Muldavia hasn't been a focus…. But Yavesh is becoming more of a global problem. As Tasha's relayed to us. We will send someone over right away."
"I'll get a head start by staking out the company, then your agents can take over. Maybe they want to take over other aspects of this as well. I'm planning to call some other agencies."
"We should probably direct the op, since we have seniority, and this is our agent."
"Since it's Muldavia, you should probably contact the king."
"If it's our agent, we don't need permission. But of course, it'll be better to coordinate."
"I'll contact you when I have some new intel."
"And I'll send someone from… oh, let's see. Slovakia is closest. The one I can afford to spare, anyway."
"Thank you."
"I'll send him to Konterr, keep him on standby. He might not be happy about it but… his mission isn't in an urgent phase. Keep the asset with you at all times. Don't let him out of your sight."
"I'll have to take him on the stakeout then."
"I want him in the NSA's hands. You're not NSA anymore but you'll have to do for the moment. I'll send you Novac's contact info. We don't want to be so in the dark we can't coordinate. Tasha would be a huge loss, so we have to do everything possible to rescue her."
"I will."
"Thank you, Jason. Without your assistance we might have lost her forever."
Next, Jason called Saul. He sounded in the middle of something; a couple kids were crying and/or yelling in the background. Saul handed the phone to Leila, who said she had started the preliminary human trafficking task force. She agreed to send over a few agents, the ones she trusted. One of them was Saul, who volunteered from the other side of the phone. He would lead some agents covertly to Konterr and wait for the signal.
Jason also called the King, who agreed to send some of his task force.
Finally, he called Dana, who agreed enthusiastically to come with him on the stakeout.
"It doesn't directly have to do with zyx…," said Jason.
"But it's all connected. As I've been learning."
"Last night…" It struck him—the rather bittersweet taste, the pounding of the floor and the glitter in the air, everything blurring into a vague haze. "At the slave auction—they were using it."
"On the children?"
"Well…passing it around. They may have been using it on the kids—some of them seemed in a daze. In the interest of the investigation… I tried some."
"Really? What was it like?"
"I'll tell you when we're at the stakeout."
"Should I meet you where you are or-?"
"Probably best. We don't want to draw any more attention than we have to."
He told her the address, letting her know how hidden it was. "How close are you?" he asked.
"I've been staying in a village west of Rakima. So I'm closer than I would have been, but it'll take about an hour and a half."
"I hope Ali won't make a move before then. Might even wait till tonight. But can't count on that."
After he hung up, he turned to Gray. He was lying back against the pillows, his eyes closed. Jason wasn't sure if he was asleep or not. He did have some time to rest… Despite the adrenaline racing through his system, Jason felt deathly tired. He couldn't pretend yesterday had been in any way normal. In the old days, he probably wouldn't have blinked an eye, but now…. Of course, torture wasn't just pain, it was soul-crushing. And with PTSD…. Well, it was a miracle he had had the energy to fight back.
Never again, he thought, and crept over to the other couch. The bloodstains were dry now. He lay down and before he knew it, he was consumed by oblivion.
He jolted awake. A nightmare flitted at the edge of his vision. He was glad he didn't remember it and didn't try to retain it, even though a part of him was drawn to its darkness.
Gray was tossing and turning on the couch. The morning light, now more yellow than gold, splashed over his writhing form. He cried out, whimpering.
Jason leaped to his feet—or he would have had he been less weighed down by exhaustion. He felt impossibly heavy and reeled more than walked over to Gray.
Gray needed rest, but Jason didn't want him to be trapped in a nightmare.
Jason shook his shoulder gently. Gray bolted upright, fear flashing through his eyes. Then he seemed to recognize Jason and some of the fear melted away, but not all of it. He slid away from Jason and Jason pulled his hand back, realizing what he'd done.
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay," said Gray, breathless. "Thank you for waking me. I…." He closed his eyes, shuddering. "It seems that… with Tasha gone… the nightmares have gotten worse…"
"I wish I could help…"
"You have." He gestured to his leg, wincing in pain.
In the light, Jason noticed a dark stain on Gray's green shirt. It seemed to be spreading.
"Gray, what is this?" He gestured cautiously to his chest.
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"It…doesn't look fine. We should get this taken care of before we leave."
"I'm staying here."
"You… have to come with me. The NSA told me to keep you within my sights."
"Oh. So, they expect me to bolt, do they."
"Well… they are the NSA. And with your…history…"
"I'm a flight risk. Probably always will be, to them. Tasha…." His voice trailed off, a pained expression on his face.
"We'll just be staying in the car. I'm taking a background role. You don't have to do anything but rest."
"If I'm going… I want to help."
"If you think of any more intel…or if you see any of the kidnappers…."
"I'll let you know." His eyes gleamed with fierce determination.
"In the meantime…we really should take care of this."
"I can probably bandage it myself."
Jason nodded. "But you'll need another shirt." He headed toward the stairs then realized—Gray should probably come with him. But Jason doubted he'd go anywhere, so he bent the 'rules' a little. He wasn't about to subject Gray to climbing steps.
He dashed up the stairs, forcing energy into his veins he didn't feel. After the nap, his body felt more tired, not less. Probably telling him he needed more rest. And the nightmare didn't help….
He checked the dresser and was happy to see some shirts folded there. He picked out a black shirt, which would be good for blending in, then dashed back downstairs, the motion jarring his shoulder and cheek. He figured maybe he should put bandages on himself, but the wounds weren't that bad, and he wasn't the priority. Of course, no bandages would look a bit strange if he had to get out for any reason, but he wasn't planning to. He would call in the experts. Be a spy, not a covert action hero.
Gray had propped himself up on the couch; his face looked weary. "I—I'm not sure if I can get up."
"I don't think you need to get up yet."
"Will you…look away?"
"Sure." He handed Gray the shirt and the first aid kit. Then he walked over to the window, looked out at the glimmering lake. A fish jumped, flashing in the light, before splashing beneath the surface again. Jason wouldn't mind staying here a week or so… with Connie… the palace was wonderful, but this was more a working vacation… they had to steal spaces of time together…. He needed a honeymoon where they could only focus on each other. He wasn't sure if they'd ever get it….
Gray gasped, a small cry escaping his lips. Jason turned around before he could stop himself. Gray was stuck with the shirt still on his arms; he was frozen with pain. Jason raced over. "I'll help you." He slid the shirt off easily; Gray turned away. He slid his fingers through his hair; it stuck up stiffly.
Jason glimpsed the dark slash across his chest, seeping blood. "I'd better bandage this. I won't do it if it's too hard for you. But if you're unable to do it—it may get infected."
Gray nodded, his eyes darting to Jason then back to the side of the couch again. "It…keeps opening... During the fall, I think…." His voice was soft, almost a whisper. He looked back at Jason. "I've…got to let someone help me, I suppose…. I can't go like this." He looked ruefully at his chest.
"I'll be careful. I'll try not to touch you."
"I know… you at least won't hurt me. So…. It's all in my mind… have to…overcome…" Tears hovered in his eyes.
Jason took the first aid kit from the side of the couch where it had fallen and sat on the chair beside Gray. Closer to him, he glimpsed more of his scars, ghastly, shining where the light hit them. Pity trembled through him, along with powerful twinges of empathy, digging deep into his own scars. It was an odd sensation, because Gray had given him most of them, but he still held no ill will toward him.
Even during the worst of Jason's hate, he hadn't wished such horrific scars on him, and certainly not…the worst.
Jason tried not to dwell on the scars, but Gray must have noticed, for he said, "Horrific, aren't they." There was a note of shame to his voice that Jason knew well. But there was no shame in these scars… the torturers were the ones who had something to be ashamed of.
"It's… unspeakable what they did to you."
"I deserved it."
"No one deserves this!"
Gray shook his head, but Jason wasn't sure if it was to agree, or disagree. "Let's get this over with," he said, infinite weariness weighing down his voice.
Jason lifted the last unused water bottle from the floor and poured it over Gray's wound. He trembled, breathing hard, his fists clenched tightly on the couch.
"You okay?" said Jason, knowing 'okay' was relative.
Gray nodded, his eyes closed, facing away from him.
Jason took disinfectant from the kit and poured it over the wound. Gray flinched but didn't react otherwise, despite the pain he must be in. Finally, Jason took a bandage, matching the size of the wound, and laid it over the cut. Seeing it up close, it looked horribly deep; no wonder it had broken open.
And it was clearly a knife wound.
Smaller, more healed wounds and scars were scattered over his chest and stomach. Some were almost totally faded, and some were red, some haloed with remnants of bruises.
As Jason pressed down the edges of the bandage, Gray gasped and writhed away, huddling toward the back of the couch.
"I tried not to hurt you but—"
"It…" Gray gasped. "It didn't hurt. Not really. It's just…what they did." His whole body trembled.
"I know that… sort of… skin memory. Even if the wounds are scars."
"It's not that either. It's… I can't be touched. Before, with the bullet wounds, I could focus on the pain. But this… this sort of gentle touch…. I can't—can't take it." He tucked his head down, forehead against the couch.
"I'm sorry."
"It had to be done. I…should have been able to do it myself…." His voice faded.
The tension in his body told Jason he was far from relaxing, much less sleeping. Jason didn't want to move, didn't want to startle him.
With Gray's back to him, he could see the map of scars there. Even more than on his chest—remnants of whip marks, knife marks, even burn marks. Jason shuddered. He knew exactly how those felt.
There were other marks he wasn't sure what they were. Rough, from some grating object. Some form of torture Jason wasn't familiar with.
Yet…there was something familiar about them—
A lightningbolt struck him.
He felt sick.
Bite marks.
Places where—teeth had actually cut the skin.
He leaned his head into his hand. His vision wavered, tilting like a seasick ship
He closed his eyes, but he was unable to shed the horror of it.
He knew what had happened and it was awful, he didn't even want to think of it—but here was the evidence. Only some of it.
The impossible pain he'd had to bear.
No wonder he was so broken.
Tears slipped from Jason's eyes onto his cheeks. Flooded down his face. He couldn't stop them—didn't really want to. This was the kind of thing that deserved to be mourned over. Even now… he couldn't know the full force of the anguish that had been living in Gray's mind, shattering him with every flashback, every nightmare, every slicing memory….
A silent sob shook him, then another. His shirt was damp with the warm tide of tears.
"What's wrong?" said Gray.
Jason sat upright, not sure how to respond. He wiped tears from his cheeks, though some still remained. He didn't want to give him any reminder. But perhaps…. Knowing someone sympathized—though didn't empathize (Jason was glad of that)—would help him.
"It's just…the extent of it. I never realized."
Gray's brows furrowed. He looked incredulous, uncomprehending. "You mean—this is because of me?"
Jason nodded.
Gray sat up shakily. Gasped and huddled at one end of the couch, although he seemed like he wanted to get up if he could. Then he looked almost accusingly at Jason. "Why would you feel this much for me?"
"Seeing it—it's different than just—knowing."
"You saw." Shame and defensiveness merged in his eyes.
"I've lived with many scars. Those… I never experienced. Never want to."
Gray nodded, looked toward the window. His jaw clenched, as if he were fighting something within. "I hope…well. No one else deserves this."
"You don't. It's beyond any—they've ruined their own souls by doing it. It's not your shame."
"It is." Tears slipped from his eyes. "I feel shame every day—eating me up inside. Like a massive black hole inside me—soon I'll be consumed by it. That would be good, to feel nothing… but …all of it keeps coming back—I—can't get rid of it. I don't want to. Because I deserve it. I feel it because I should. For…being so weak." He exhaled shakily.
"I know… a semblance of that. Feeling like you deserve it. But that doesn't mean you do. Sometimes…someone just has more power. More will to hurt."
"Maybe I should have had that."
"You were still in someone else's power, so it might not have helped. They weren't fighting fair. It feels like your own shame, I know. But it really is theirs, even if they don't feel it. It shouldn't be like this… but it is."
Tears streamed down Gray's face. "How…do I get rid of it."
"I… I don't know. It takes time."
"By then I may be gone."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't live like this. With Tasha… it was better, but…. without her, everything is bleak. I don't want to live."
"I…. don't know if I can tell you it'll be better. But—we're going to find Tasha."
"I'm not under any illusions she'll stay with me."
"She wouldn't want you to die. She does care about you."
A light flashed across Gray's eyes. A sort of anguished hope.
"She'll protect you. She'll probably keep in contact with you even if you're not always together."
"I don't know if I can hold myself together without her…."
"I'll be there for you, whenever you need me." Within reason, he thought.
The puzzled look crossed his face again. "I don't think I'll ever understand… perhaps it is a sort of…mental illness. To love your enemy."
"It's better than filling up with hate. Better than doing—what Vivian did. It's the people who torture who are twisting their own souls. More than the ones they hurt."
His eyes narrowed. "So… there is hope for me?"
"You've come so far already. Look what you've done."
"I fell apart."
"You can't expect to do perfectly right away. By all rights you should have a year or so to recover. Your wounds aren't even healed yet! You shouldn't have been sent to the field."
"That's abundantly clear now. I had no choice."
"You did well, considering."
Gray leaned his arms on his thighs, rubbing his forearm absently. Near the self-harm scars, now mostly healed over. "One thing is clear, I'll never be what I was…. "
"I think you'll be an agent again. You just need to be given a chance."
Gray's eyes shot to Jason's. Then he nodded.
He tried to push himself to his feet but sat down with a wince. "I have to get going."
"I'll help you. First, we should put your shirt on."
Gray looked startled, then he bowed his head in acquiescence.
Jason took the black shirt from the furthest armrest of the couch and slowly lowered it over Gray's head. He had to wait patiently for Gray to lift his arms, but finally Gray pulled the shirt away. "I'll have to do it."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded, jaw set.
A knock at the door.
Jason's heart jolted. He whipped out his gun. He crept over to the door, aware it was probably Dana.
"Who is it?" he said.
"It's me," said a familiar voice.
Jason opened the door a crack, and sure enough, there was Dana, smiling, her hair sheened bright red in the sun.
She stepped inside.
"Who is that," said a stunned voice behind him.
With a shock Jason realized he hadn't told Gray that Dana was coming. He'd assumed he'd overheard the phone call, but he must've been asleep.
He turned around to see Gray pressed back against the wall, favoring his leg, his gun quivering in one hand.
"It's okay," said Jason. "She's here to help."
"Y-you trust her?"
"I do. I met her last time I was in Muldavia."
Gray still looked doubtful. For some reason, his eyes seemed to linger on her hair.
"Hi," said Dana, holding out her hand.
Gray, terrified, didn't even look like he saw it.
"This is Gray," said Jason. "He's been shot. He was Tasha's—partner."
"I'm sorry. Can I help?"
"You can probably… go in the other room. If you wouldn't mind. We just have to get his shirt on."
"He's still coming?"
"He wanted to and…. He'll just be waiting in the car with us."
Dana nodded, looking a little quizzical, and stepped through the door into the kitchen.
Jason picked up the shirt where it had fallen. "Take two?" he asked Gray.
Gray nodded. He sat on the couch armrest, gripping the back of the couch, while Jason lowered the shirt over his head. With groans of pain, he slid his arms into the sleeves. When it was over, his face was deathly pale. Jason knew that only part of it, probably the smaller fraction, was from physical pain.
"Perhaps we should… take you to the hospital instead. Who cares about orders. I know you won't run."
He shook his head. "I want to go with. I…don't think I'll get in the way, in the back seat of a car…."
"If you're sure."
His eyes flashed. "It's my fault. I have to—redeem… I have to… save her. I can't let it happen to her again."
"Let what happen-?" Then it hit him. He recalled what Tasha had confided two weeks ago, about their second mission—when she'd been captured in Iran.
They shared a knowing glance, part of it a vow to rescue her at all costs.
Jason went to the kitchen and told Dana, out of Gray's earshot, that he'd been through some trauma—so he'd need extra care.
"Of course. I saw—were all of those scars?"
Jason nodded.
"I've never seen so many. The poor man."
Dana kept a respectful distance and gathered the things they'd need from the cabin. Then Jason helped Gray out to the car while Dana hid her car in the bushes.
And then they sped off down the gravel road, away from the rising sun.