One of the benefits to knowing several generous billionaires was most definitely the vacation packages. Eric might be eccentric even by their standards, but he sure as hell knew how to make a body feel welcome.



It had taken the best part of three months for Jared to hector his lover into taking a break, but Eric was doing a damn good job of making sure Jensen wasn't too put out by the middle-of-nowhere-tropical-paradise.

Still, it should have been Jared who got the medal for perseverance in the face of adversity. For a man who had spent his entire military career jumping out of planes at 30,000 feet, Jensen hated flying. And he hated landing even more.

Jared had finger marks etched into his wrist. Not that he was complaining. He'd take a few bruises any day if it meant holding hands with Jensen in a semi-public place. It was simply a little strange to see his unshakable lover spooked by something that should have been an every day habit.

He said so, and Jensen pushed him, and his luggage, into the enormous pool as they were passing it on the way to the main house.

Eric had bought the island ten years ago, after hitting it big in the pharmaceutical industry. Aside from the ten permanent members of staff, all who lived on the other side of the mile long island, there was no one to hear the blue streak Jared cursed into the humid air.

The pool was shaped like a pyramid, the apex forming shallow steps onto the stone covered deck. Jared kicked back and dove for the case that had settled at the deepest end. Surfacing, he shook his hair out of his eyes. As an ex-soldier, Jensen despaired of Jared's hair, so Jared threatened to grow dreadlocks.

"Gee, thank you very fucking much, Jen." Jared drawled, blinking away the chlorine. "I now have no dry clothes."

Jensen looked scandalized. "You need clothes now?"

"You're real funny."

"Yeah, I know." A smirk, slow and too fucking beautiful. Sunglasses hid the crinkle of Jensen's eyes, and no matter how hot they made him look, Jared wanted to crush those Oakley's under his heel.

Instead, he thrust an arm up to Jensen, frowning expectantly.

"You gonna help me out?" The luggage clattered on the side of the pool as Jared hauled it free from the water.

"Nuh uh. No way." Jensen held his hands up in surrender and backed away from the pool. He knew that given half the chance, Jared would pull him in.

"Get ya ass in here, Ackles." Jared growled, hauling himself half out of the pool with one arm his other hand coiling around Jensen's ankle, tugging gently in threat.

Like any good soldier, Jensen knew which fights to take to the limit, and when best to retreat. Jared did an embarrassing inner cheer when the sunglasses were removed and tossed onto the low couch beside the pool. Pausing only to remove the soft white button down shirt Jared liked to paw at, Jensen took a single step forwards before diving clear over Jared's head into the warm water.

"Always gotta be your way." Jared muttered fondly to himself, following the blurred line of Jensen's body as it cut through the water to surface on the other side of the pool. Short blond hair stuck out wildly in every direction, and the cheeky grin that cross the older man's face took Jared back to the first time they met. At fourteen, Jared had fallen instantly in lust with Jensen, seeing someone golden and bright for the first time in his life. He had smiled that way all the time back then, warm and uninhibited by responsibility.

It was one of Jared's favorite pastimes, trying to make Jensen smile that way.

Several strong strokes brought them nose-to-nose, water dripping over Jensen's cheeks.

"You're hot when you're wet." Jared blurted out ridiculously, blushing when Jensen threw his head back with a laugh.

"You're a strange one, Padaleki."

"And you," Jared grinned wrenching his short over his head, kicking strongly to keep afloat, "are wearing too many clothes."

Jared's shirt hit the poolside, soon followed by his shorts and Jensen's cargo pants and boxers.

"Dude, do you even own underwear?" Jensen sniggered, letting the faint Texan twang Jared adored seep into his voice. Though he had been born in the same state as Jared, the blond could count on one hand the number of years he had lived there. Jared had long ago suspected that Jensen doctored the accent to remind him a little of home, but he hadn't quite worked up the courage to say anything.

Getting as close to Jensen as he could, crowding him into the apex of the pyramid, Jared stole their first kiss in almost eight months. Tender at first, almost chaste, he braced his knees between Jensen's; against the corner walls keeping them both afloat, and gently pressed their lips together.

It was Jensen who deepened the kiss, opening his mouth for Jared to fill it with his tongue, tempting and teasing until Jared was kissing him hard and fast, the way they always kissed.

Fingers tangled in Jared's hair, chest to chest as his hands traced a scar that ran over Jensen's left shoulder and vanished into his neck.

The warm water was suddenly boiling, and Jensen's eyes were ablaze with all the fires of a Caribbean sunset. "I think I missed you." He smiled, sweet grin morphing into that smirk.

"You think?" Jared growled, pushing and sliding until Jensen was pinned between him and the pool wall. A soft moan slipped from swollen lips as one of Jared's long fingers located the opening he planned to fuck. Before his finger could slip past muscle, Jensen's hand was on his chest.

"I wanna try something." There was a twinkle in his eye. The twinkle. The one that meant bad, bad things for anyone nearby. "Come on." It was impossible to resist, so Jared let himself be tugged to where the water was shallower, and his feet could touch the bottom of the pool. Evidently, Jensen had been here before, because as Jared's feet slid back, his knees hit a hard shelf in the pool.

Hands on his shoulders, Jensen pushed Jared down. "Sit." He ordered, before dropping to his knees, head vanishing beneath the surface.

"What? Jen…oh jesusfuck."

Jared had never been able to swim before joining the company-never needed to. Another thing Jensen had taught him, right along with some rather brutal exercises in holding his breath. He'd never beaten the blond man's record, and fuck it all; it was not fair that Jensen was using his skills for such an evil, evil ploy.

There would be bruises on his thighs from the way Jensen held himself under, but the hot warmth that had engulfed his dick made any pain a trivial obstacle. One easily overcome just by imagining the way those lips were stretched obscenely around his cock.

How long could Jensen hold his breath? Two minutes? Three? Fuck, no way Jared would last that long. Tugging sharply at the golden hair his fingers had settled in, he pulled away from the sensations he could lose himself in.

Breathless and flushed, Jensen surfaced, unable to catch his breath before Jared dragged him forwards and thrust his tongue in his mouth the way he had just done with his dick.

"Fuck…just fuck…" He shuddered as blunt nails scraped across his chest, his own arm winding around slippery smooth flesh. "When did Chris last fuck you?" Jared forced eye contact, and was rewarded with not so much as a blink.

"Yesterday." Jensen admitted without guilt.

Jared nodded. "Good." And with that, he pushed one, and then two fingers inside his lover, twisted them, then replaced them with his dick. The cry that left Jensen's lips never made it passed Jared's mouth, muffled and drowned by a kiss twice as violent as the pace he set between them.

Every thrust forwards was met, teeth scrapping over his lips, hungrily clashing. The grip in his hair was so tight it hurt until they moved harder, faster, slipping and messily knocking against the side of the pool.

This was how things always were between them. So passionate it hurt. Desperate, stolen moments that Jared clung to jealously. Jensen was his when he was in Jared's arms. The world could have him at any other time, but when they were together, sometimes it hurt more than when they were apart.

"Mine." Jensen shuddered and came, clinging the way Jared needed him to, clutching at his shoulders until Jared came as well, everything over before it had really begun.

Untangling them both, Jensen snatched another kiss, hard, but without teeth or tongues.

"Inside, now. Right now."

Screw the steps, Jared braced both feet on the pool floor and manhandled Jensen onto the cool stone edge before hauling himself free of the water.

He had barely stood before Jensen was in his arms again, steering them both towards the wraparound porch.

Entwined and hungrily locking lips like horny teenagers, only Jensen's strong arms kept Jared from falling ass backwards over the divan when his long legs tangled in the white throw.

"Klutz." Jensen gasped, fighting back Jared's tongue and nipping lightly at his lower lip. Hands slipped and slid over wet smooth skin. Jensen's fingers tangled in Jared's hair for a better grip, and he used the leverage to deepen the contact between them.

Instead of fumbling for the bed, Jared steered them to the back porch overlooking the ocean. Someone had set up a low platform, covered it in soft cushions, the perfect spot for slow, illicit liaisons.

"Wanna stay like this forever. You and me." Jared broke away and untangled himself long enough to encircle Jensen's waist from behind. The smaller man threw his head back as Jared's fingers tiptoed lazily across wet, sensitive skin, closer and closer and…"Promise me, Jen. You and me. No more running. No more lies." His fingers lightly closed around Jensen's cock even as he sank slowly to his knees, pulling Jensen down to straddle his lap, back to chest.

Jensen choked out a shaky laugh. "Now…really isn't the…time for this oh god."

"Lord's name, babe." Jared chuckled, and Jensen said the worst thing he could have said.

"Bite me."

On command, Jared's teeth sunk into the tender skin where shoulder met neck, sucking and nipping, his fingers working Jensen's cock as his tongue soothed away the hurt.

It served him right, Jared thought wickedly. Everything he had learned about war, about combat, about interrogation, he had learned from the man in his arms. Cool, unflappable Jensen had broken Jared apart at the seams so many times he'd lost count. Turn about was fair play.

Still, a lap full of squirming, wet, naked Jensen would test the resolve of a stronger man than Jared.

When Jensen's hand reached over his shoulder to grasp desperately at Jared's hair, the younger man took advantage of their position. Shifting his knees until Jensen's legs fell either side of his thighs, Jared shuffled awkwardly, widening his own legs until Jensen was forced to hang on to Jared's arms in order to keep his balance.

"Come on, Jen. Promise me." He enticed, slow and sweet, licking a line from bite to ear, teeth dragging and fingers clenching lightly.

Too busy remembering to breathe, Jensen simply shook his head against Jared's shoulder.

"Alright then. Remember, this is your fault.

His voice rough with lust, Jensen twisted his head awkwardly, sliding further down Jared's thighs. Green eyes burned a trail straight to his heart. "Bring it on, tough guy." Jensen challenged.

When sharks went in for the kill, their eyes turned black. If he'd have been looking in a mirror, Jared would have seen a similar look in his own. He dipped his head, stealing a burning, fast, dirty kiss from his lover's swollen lips. The moment Jensen's tongue slipped between his lips and attempted to tangle with Jared's, he pulled back.

"Whoa, what, Jay…" Jensen squirmed madly, his hands clinging to Jared's arms as the younger man utilized his extra height and muscle mass to rise up on his knees, nudge Jensen's thighs as far a part as he could, and use his free hand to line his cock up with the hot open hole he had only just fucked.

"You might be willing to die for them, Jen. But right here, right now, you're mine." Jensen shuddered as Jared growled the words into his ear.

"Yours." The word was gasped, shaky, hazy with lust, but the second it left Jensen's lips, Jared snapped his hips upwards and dragged Jensen down onto his dick.

The sound he wrung from Jensen's swollen lips was the closest he had ever heard the older man to loosing control. A primal, guttural cry that was half-pained, half-desperate for more. His balls seated against Jensen's tight ass, Jared wrapped both arms around his lover, holding, comforting, restraining. He knew Jensen must be sore. Their fuck in the pool had been hard and fast, and was the first time they had been together in, god, too fucking long. His throat felt as if it had been sandblasted, he could barely breathe. Jensen was hot and tight and so fucking good. Just how he remembered and a million times better.

"Jay…I…jeeze." Jensen was the only spook in existence who never cursed. Ever. No matter if he was getting fucked bowlegged or being shot at by disgruntled Koreans. He never cursed. His momma wouldn't approve. Jared wasn't entirely sure Momma Ackles would approve of her baby boy killing, lying and blowing shit up for a living either, but maybe things were different in blue blood families.

But of course, Jared wasn't dealing with any fucking spook. He was dealing with the best of them, and Jensen Ackles never lost a battle. Ever. Not in the field, and not with Jared. Holding onto his functioning brain cells with a control that was damned impressive, Jensen threw a blistering glance over his shoulder before clenching every goddamn muscle he could and twisting his hips until Jared's cock felt that it might just explode if he didn't move nowgoddamnitmove.

In lieu of reaching his lips, Jensen brought one of Jared's wrists to his mouth, sucking and bathing the sensitive skin over his pulse.

Stepping up his game, Jared began to thrust his hips. Tiny movements that drove them both wild. Though Jensen had no control over the tempo or depth, he continued to gyrate and writhe. When he slipped Jared's thumb between his lips, Jared nearly came, if felt so stupidly good.

His hand covered Jensen's entire fucking face, palm cupping cheekbone, fingers brushing long, pretty eyelashes, and Jensen's lips, red and flushed, sucking on his thumb like it was his cock.

Jensen was the world's pushiest bottom. Jared could have him hogtied and gagged, and he'd still be in charge, and they both knew it. Jared could accept that. He knew what it cost a man like Jensen to give himself over the way he did. He let Jared fuck him hard, slow, anyway he wanted, hold him down, tie him wide open. Hot. Needy. Vulnerable. Men in their position didn't give that type of control over to just anyone. Jensen trusted Jared not to abuse that trust, and to protect him when he was at his most vulnerable.

Jared had never been able to do that, but it didn't stop him appreciating the gift he was given.

Teeth scrapped across the tip of his thumb, even as Jared double-timed the pace of his thrusts. He didn't care if he drove them both to cardiac arrest. If Jensen wanted to play with fire, that was fine by him.

Jared jerked his thumb free of Jensen's pseudo blow job and all but threw the smaller man off his lap.

"You make me so fucking crazy." No anger, just truth. Jensen grinned up from where he was sprawled, his cock red and pulsing, his cheeks so flushed they made his eyes glow in the semi-darkness.

Jensen did make Jared crazy. They had the world's strangest relationship. Stealing kisses in deserted corridors. Fucking against bunker walls when the guards changed. They fucked more when they were pretending to be someone else that they did when they were just Jensen and Jared, and then every kiss, every thrust, was tempered by the knowledge that it might be the last. Jared's job wasn't all that dangerous, but for Jensen, 'I do stupid stuff' was practically part of the job description.

"Jay." Soft, gentle. Full of pride and affection and maybe even love. Jared pulled him close for a kiss, trying to siphon whatever it was that made Jensen Jensen through his tongue. Parting, Jensen whispered, "In me, now."

Never able to deny the blond in his arms anything, his earlier mission damned, Jared dragged him over to the wide railing that separated garden from house, and folded Jensen over it like putty.

A kick to slender ankles, a thrust, and he was back where he belonged. Jensen sighed, happy, content, even as Jared fucked him so hard they'd both be feeling it a month later, on other sides of the planet.

His hand curled around Jensen's cock. Jerked once, twice, three times and Jensen was coming, hot and sticky and dirty into his palm.

"Yeah, baby. Come for me. God, you feel so fucking good. So good, Jen."

The spasms of Jensen's body around his cock made him come, deep inside his lover. Echoing Jensen's sigh, Jared wrapped both arms around Jensen's waist and laid his head down on scorching skin.

Later, after finding the shower and giving it a test run, Jared's fingers occasionally sinking into wet heat, they stumbled sleepily to the master bedroom.

"Come'er." Jensen muttered dozily, one arm holding the soft sheets up for Jared to slip under them and wind himself around Jensen like a boa constrictor. It was there that the dynamics of their relationship shifted again. Jensen slept closer to the door, and he tucked Jared's head under his chin, their legs so entangled they could barely move. Jared knew for a fact that there was a gun under Jensen's pillow. "Hey, Jay?" Jensen whispered, the night air cool and fresh, his fingers threading through Jared's hair.

"Hmm?"

"Tomorrow, we'll tell Jeff to stick it."

"What?" Jared was suddenly wide awake. He looked at Jensen, who refused to meet his gaze.

"You heard me."

"You serious?" God, because the grin splitting his face was going to need surgery to straighten out.

Jensen nodded, and Jared whooped with delight. Soft laughter joined his exuberant cheers. Catching Jensen's hands in his, Jared threw his weight sideways until Jensen was between his thighs.

"What about Chris?"

"I'll talk to Chris." Jensen hedged softly. Jared felt a spasm of guilt. Jensen loved Chris. Chris loved Jensen. Platonic. Romantic. Screamingmonkeysex. Jared had never been able to figure their relationship out. He knew they slept together, didn't care either way, besides, it was kinda hot, they were both fucking gorgeous. Jared trusted Chris, he needed to, because Jensen's life depended on him.

Chris would understand. Maybe. Fuck it, even if he didn't…

Screw sleep. Jared planned to find out if they could do slow and sweet, after all.

**************

Morning came with the smell of fresh coffee and citrus. During the night, he'd kicked the sheets to his knees, but the warm breeze that blew through the open windows staved away the chill, and the bedroom was positioned so the morning sun didn't shine too brightly through the thin drapes.

Joints popped and muscles rolled as Jared stretched out the sleep, his hands brushing the pillow Jensen should have been reclining against.

Paper crinkled. Jensen's neat handwriting his first morning greeting.

Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.
Gone for a run, see you at breakfast.

A run. Christ almighty, Jared was obviously doing something wrong if Jensen could still run after their attempt at Gold, Silver and Bronze in the sexual gymnastics last night. He'd forgotten how good it felt to actually share a bed with someone he cared for, and slow and sweet had given way to let's fuck until we can't see straight.

Housekeeping had put all of Jared's wet clothing through the dryer, and his shorts were laid out neatly in the adjacent dressing room. Snagging a bright blue pair that Jensen swore blind should be salted and burned, he lazily ambled through the sprawling beach house to the sunspot porch, and the breakfast table that had been laid out for them.

Exotic fruit, sliced and drizzled with light honey filled three long plates, each covered with delicate white netted frames to keep away hungry insects. There were mugs of juice, orange, apple, grapefruit and pineapple, each with their own white lace cover, and warm bread, silver bowls of butter, and just for Jared, a mug of milk and a dispenser filled with Lucky Charms. It was scary how well Eric knew them. There was even a cafetiere of coffee for Jensen.

Jared watched birds playfully darting between trees, their chirping and the ocean below the only real sound on the island. It was calming and comforting, he could get used to the feeling. Picking at the fresh fruit until Jensen returned, Jared couldn't help but think how glad he was that he had browbeaten Jensen into taking a vacation. He'd used every trick in his book, and then recruited help from Chris and Chad. Jensen had probably consented to get some peace, but Jared would take his victories where he could.

Before he knew it, he'd picked his way through one of the plates of fruit whilst waiting for Jensen, and the sun had grown high in the sky. The island was only a mile long, and less than that wide, even walking, hell, even crawling, Jensen shouldn't be taking so long.

Deciding to take a quick shower, Jared replaced the covers over the breakfast. By the time he returned, stopping to check his emails on the way, the sun was at its highest point, and there was still no sign of Jensen.

Now if it had been Chad who was late, Jared would have completely understood. His work partner was easily distracted by shinny things, women and cars and the occasional ice cream parlor. There had been that one time in Monte Carlo…Jared shook his head. He was not going to remember that mission, thank you very fucking much.

Not Jensen though. If he said he'd be somewhere at eleven. He'd be there at eleven, and he'd bitch at you if you were thirty seconds either side. The government could set their clocks by him, and Jared knew that he ran five miles every damn day come Hell or high water.

Slipping on a battered pair of running shoes that had seen better days when Communism still was still a popular alternative, Jared began jogging along the shoreline. Jensen liked to run in the tide, so there were no footprints for him to follow until halfway along the stretch of sand. There trees had stretched out to make a small peninsular in the sand. As Jared jumped up to stride over it, his foot landed next to a similar imprint. So Jensen had run that way.

Still, that lone footprint was the only sign of Jensen Jared encountered at all. He ran the route easily for an hour, stopping at the house and finding the building deserted.

Frustrated and fighting off the worry that had begun to uncoil itself in his belly, Jared put in a call to Jensen's partner, utilizing the satellite phone Jensen had packed.

Kane answered on the fourth ring, bad tempered and with a South African twang that made Jared wonder if he'd interrupted the man during a job.

"Ya?"

"Chris?"

Static filtered down the line, and he heard Chris say something to another person in the room with him.

"Hang on, man." More static, then, "Hey, how's Paradise?"

"Lost." Jared said bluntly. "You heard from Jen today?"

"He ain't doing a Swiss Family Robinson with you?"

"He was. I haven't seen him all day."

"You lost Jensen." Chris deadpanned. "On an island. How the fuck do you loose someone on an island where the population can be counted on body parts?" Chris sounded incredulous, but Jared could detect the underlying worry. Chris and Jensen went way back. Their missions were the stuff of legend, hell, most of Jared's training simulations were modeled on stunts the two men had pulled off over the years.

"I haven't lost him." He protested hotly, resenting the implication. "He lost me. I think. Look, has he called you or not?"

"Or not. If I don't hear from you in five hours, I'm flying out to you."

"Is that really-"

"Yes." Blunt, sharp, and the perfect reminder as to why Chris Kane was one half of the best duo the company had. He was even worse than Jensen. Paranoia was an art form when his friend got a hold of it.

By mid afternoon, Jared had hectored the island staff to within an inch of their sanity. No, there had been no unauthorized traffic on the island. No boats within three miles of shore. No incoming flights. No sir, there really hasn't, I promise you.

By midnight, he had an irate Chris back on the phone, briefing him for possible scenarios.

"You listening to me kid? Do not do anything stupid, alright. Yes, that is a fucking order, don't make me pull rank on your ass. No, man. Something's happened to Jensen, and he would not want you getting involved, Jared, you understand? Jared? Jay! Don't you fucking hang up on me you stu-"

To hell with the fact that Chris Kane scared the shit outta him. Kane was in South Africa, and unless he'd perfected the art of killing with his mind, Jared was safe on his island. And yes, he was aware that it was perfectly possible that Chris could kill with his mind. Fucker was scary that way.

Next, he put in a call to Chad. His partner may have a mouth the size of the Grand Canyon, but he was unfailing loyal. And Jared, god help him, did trust Chad.

"Cassa Del Murray." An answer on the second ring. It was true. Chad never fucking slept.

"It's me." Whatever tension he was feeling must have leaked into his voice, and against all the odds, it seemed that Chad could be professional when the occasion called for it. "I need a favor."

"Name it."

"I need you to find out of there has been any commercial or private activity around -22, -67."

Tapping already. Chad was at home then, which meant he was probably propped up on the porch, laptop, porn and a cold beer.

"Time frame?"

"Last twenty four hours."

"Hmm." Which was Chad-speak for whateverthefuck.

Jared hastily moved around the room, now too big and hollow, a false beauty meant to accessorize the missing spy. He slid Jensen's gun from under the pillow, knowing his lover would have taken a different weapon with him on his run. The metal was cool, hard and solid. Even the knowledge that it belonged to Jensen couldn't stop the memories that the feel of it brought back.

"Okay, problem Jay-man."

Problem. Why was there always a fucking problem?

Jensen had been missing for eight hours…at least. That was a lifetime in their world. Enough time to torture, maim, and for the concrete shoes to set. Fuck. He wasn't even going there. Jen was fine. He was fine. He was-

"What problem?" He growled.

"Coast guard always keep a record of all commercial craft in local waters for insurance purposes. I've tried to pull up yesterday's records but according to the database, there's no entry for yesterday or today, or any record of commercial vessels in the area for the last three weeks."

"What about private? You know, small boats. Would there be any record of them?"

"Only if they carry GPS. Small boats, and I mean real small ones, often fly under the radar. Locals use them to trespass on land for poaching. Easy to hide, easy to row."

…Easy to hide a body in…

Not what he wanted to hear. Not by a long shot.

"Thanks man, look, one more thing."

Chad grunted, a sound that portrayed just how pissed he was that Jared still felt the need to thank him for anything. "Fine, but then you're gonna tell me why you're calling' me about local sailing regulations instead of bouncing Jensen's ass on your balls."

Jared sighed, pinched his nose and shook his head at the question in his friend's voice. "Jen's missing. Has been since this morning."

Chad curse. Colorfully and creative. "Dude, that's not good. Not good at all. You called it in?"

"No." He hadn't, because Jensen's handler made Hannibal Lector look like a girl scout. Jeff scared Chris, and when scary things got scared… so not good.

The concern in Chad's voice heightened. "You think he's gone under?"

"No!" No. No and nononono. Underscored and bold printed. Yes, he'd thought about it, and yes, he's burned the idea as soon as it formed. Jensen hadn't left him. He hadn't gone AWOL. He wouldn't. He hadn't. Never.

"He could, you know." Chad said with all the tact of drunken Hollywood exec. "If anyone could…"

"He'd have told me. He'd have told Chris." No one could fake the worry in Kane's voice. Not even a man paid to lie on a daily basis. Fuckfuckfuck. Jensen wouldn't do that to him.

"Jay-"

"No." he shouted, scaring a turaco from its perch. "No, he's in trouble, I know he is."

Still trying to hammer some sense into Jared's skull, Chad continued, safe in the knowledge that Jared couldn't strangle him down the phone. "If he's in trouble, real trouble, then it's not something we're trained to deal with, dude, we don't know even half the shit he gets up to."

"I know some." Jared said quietly. Like the time he'd been home for a week, and Jensen had turned up on his porch, straight back from Kenya, eyes hollow, and not spoken for three days.

When Jensen had recruited him to the company five years ago, he'd known he might have to do things that would keep him up at night. In reality, Jared's special talents had been turned to a much less bloody use.

Jared was a thief of sorts. The IIA sent him after anything and everything. From fine art to information. Most of his work set up the deep cover missions that Jensen and Chris dealt with. Last year he was sent after a Monet that Jensen used to pass himself off as a serious contender in the art underworld. Only a week ago he had been breaking into a London law firm. Next week he might be trying to crack Fort Knox. There wasn't a building that was safe from him, but buildings very rarely tried to kill you.

Maybe it had bugged him, years back. He worked Europe, America, and well built, cosmopolitan areas whilst Jensen vanished into Kuwait for three months, Russia, Korea. He and Chris worked the powerhouses, the diplomatic time bombs.

They were damn good at their jobs, and their jobs were damn good at doing them in.

Jared didn't want to end up like Chris, and he hated that he could see Jensen getting harder and harder after every separation. It was that, more than anything, which made him so desperate to convince Jensen to retire unbroken.

"Look," He said wearily, "Just keep an ear out for anything strange, okay. If someone's taken him, it's going to attract attention. He and Chris have pissed off a lot of powerful people over the years."

Chad sorted, the eye roll as clear as day to Jared, who knew him so well. "Yeah, but he and Chris are ex-military. Not two street rats that got good enough at the game to attract a sponsor. You get involved in whatever shit is going down, you're gonna be playing with the big boys."

"You with me then?"

"Fuck yeah!" Jared could hear the clink of a beer bottle against teeth. At least he had one ally in all this. "Where do you want me?"

"Just stay where you are. Stay sharp."

"No worries, and Jay?"

"Yeah."

"Don't get shot, okay. That'd kinda fuck over the whole partner thing we've got going."

*************



The headquarters of IIA, the International Intelligence Agency, had been built on an island between Sê o Tome and St Helena, only a half dozen miles from the Equator, off the West coast of Africa. Roughly ten miles square, and affectionately known as Tracy Island, the private land sat smack bang in the middle of the globe. It was as far to LA as it was to Singapore, and the weather was merciless.

Steve landed the SikorSky S76 helicopter on the landing pad with the care he showed anything with an engine, but failed to transfer into his social life. The IIA pilot had been waiting for him in Port Gentil, Gabon, and aside from a twitch in his left eyebrow, he hadn't said a word to the young agent.

"Thanks, man." Jared said anyway as he boycotted the small flight of retractable steps and jumped to the solid ground. The rush of propellers eventually died down, but Jared instinctively ducked, years of banging his head against doorways making him paranoid of the swirling blades.

"Jared!" McG, his handler, was waiting on the white steps of the main building. Styled much like the Spanish colonial villas in Europe, the three story building shone white against the hard sunlight. Flowers imported from various tropical locations all blossomed in the well cared for earth, and delicate fuchsia colored flora twined above their heads, forming an arch across the curved entrance to the courtyard.

Stepping into the shade of the only real home he had ever known, and hearing the soft tinkling of the beautiful fountain situated pride of place between the verandas, Jared felt the weight of Jensen's disappearance lessen somewhat.

With only twelve active agents, five handlers and four directors, the IIA resembled a ridiculously complex and atypical family.

McG was the favored uncle. His eyes hidden behind luminous green wrap around shades, Jared's handler threw a strong arm around his shoulders.

"You okay, Little Jay?"

There was a lot Jared wanted to say. 'I lost him,' and 'I'm sorry' being high on the list. Instead, the only words he could will his mouth to form were, "Jeff's gonna kill me."

McG clucked sympathetically. "Nah, If he killed my favorite charge, I'd hafta kick his ass, and you know the bastard's scared of me."

Putting McG and Jeff next to each other would have been like putting the sun in the night sky. It wouldn't work. Ever. Besides, unless one had a fully armed SWAT team behind them, kicking Jeff's ass wasn't going to be a walk in the park. Jensen could kick Jared's ass. Jensen could even kick Chris' ass. Jeff didn't have to kick anybody's ass, no one had the balls to even try it.

"Don't let Chad hear you call me your favorite." Jared joked lightly, relaxing in the presence of the man whose job it was to keep him safe and happy.

McG shrugged lightly and led Jared into the shady entrance hall and up to the main balcony. "Chadmeister's my favorite on Tuesdays."

Jared watched as the beautifully paneled door swung open onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard. It was here that the Directors met most of the agents, both before and after missions, or if an agent wished to seek them out. The three men and one woman lived in the huge building, which also served as the central hub of intelligence coming to and from the island.

Jared stepped out onto the balcony, the sun blinding him at the exact moment a fist flew out and sent him reeling back into McG.

"Jeff!" Eric's gun fire voice stopped any escalation in the violence, and McG carefully steadied Jared until he got his feet back under him, the Technicolor of the world spinning sickeningly.

"You were saying." Jared pointedly whispered to his handler, one hand working his stiff jaw.

Okay, yes, he had expected that. Jeff was fiercely protective of his two charges, and guarded them with all the violence and ill tempered paranoia of a momma bear watching over her cubs. So it was with a fair amount of gratitude that Jared nodded to Chris as the other man moved from his lolled position against the railings to stand closer to his own handler, ready to reel him back in.

"There'll be no more of that, damnit." Eric snapped, his sunny face lined with unease. He and the other Directors had not moved from their chairs around the large table that dominated the balcony. "Now sit." He barked.

Obediently, the four other men took their places. Jared opposite from Chris, McG, likewise from Jeff.

Jared's ass had barely hit the chair before he blurted out, "Where is he?" McG kicked his shin surreptitiously.

"What Jared means is-"

"Where is he?" Jared butted in, ignoring McG's glare and looking imploringly at Eric. Jensen vanished from Eric's island. Jensen was Eric's golden boy. The Director stared Jared down.

"Right now, we have no idea." Eric admitted. Jared made a growling noise that was echoed by Chris, and Jeff casually cracked his knuckles. Clearing his throat calmly, Eric continued. "But we have heard from him."

"What?" Jared blurted.

"When?" Chris added, his own voice following the same tones of anger that Jared had perfected.

"Twelve hours ago. Alona traced the call to Maur."

"Malaysia?"

Eric nodded.

"That's what," Chris scowled, looking directly at Jared, who shared his frown, "a hundred miles or so from the Island?"

"Less." Jared remembered how long it had taken them to sail via speedboat from Kuantan. They could only have covered thirty or so miles. "Eric, please," he begged, "what the fuck is going on?"

"I called Jensen on the island, early yesterday morning. An hour before, we downloaded this," Eric handed out copies of a printed page, "I think you had better read it."

The page was blank on one side, but when Jared flipped it over, his heart might well have stopped beating. Across the table, Chris went pale, and McG cursed creatively under his breath.

A grainy, black and white picture of Jensen looked back at him sullenly, and Jared couldn't help but reach out and touch a finger to the ink of Jensen's cheek. The fear and the emptiness that had begun to grown in him like a cancer grew heavier and darker as each word from the page imprinted itself into Jared's mind.

Horrified, Chris shook his head stubbornly. "He's been Grey Listed?"



Grey List...

Jared had heard Jensen mention that before. Once, casually, when they were discussing the dangers of joining the IIA, and again, on the phone, when he wasn't supposed to be listening.



He turned to McG to fill in the blanks. Obviously being Grey Listed was a bad thing. He'd understood as much from the serious way Jensen had spoken about it, but he still wasn't sure what it meant.

McG squeezed his knee, and Jared's heart grew cold. "Obviously what we do here isn't NATO approved. Hell, we aren't approved of by any national or international agency. We were founded to provide an impartial group that dealt with issues too complex or volatile to be handled by any national service. We have no alliances to any country, politically or economically, so naturally, we step on a few toes."

"CIA and Mossad, mainly." Jeff added gruffly. "Though we ain't so popular with MI6, either."

Chris snorted derisively. There was obviously a story there worth hearing. "Then, of course, there is the criminal organizations. Chinese Triad, the Mafia, Al-Qaeda, the list is endless. All of them are well connected, and not a single one of them are pacifists."

Jared really, really did not want to even think about Jensen tangling with the Mafia, or anyone remotely similar. It was the criminal underground that brought them together in the first place, and they had both nearly died in the process of the job.

Picking up where Chris had left off, Eric fixed Jared with a stern, but understanding glare. "Now the Grey List is a shadow list, passed from agency to agency, and throughout the major criminal organizations. You are familiar with the origins of the term 'outlaw'?"

Jared nodded, his throat dry. An outlaw was someone outside the protection of the law.

Impatiently, Chris threw his hands in the air, fear making the lines around his eyes tight and deep. "It means that Sally Homemaker could walk up to Jen in the middle of fucking Mardi gras, blow his brains out, and no court on the planet would convict her. Every year there is an open season on 'undesirables', people who piss off too many of the wrong people."

"Spies, criminals, soldiers who have seen too much of the wrong thing." Jeff added.

"But…but we're gonna help him, right? Find him, keep him safe until everything blows over…" Jared didn't even have to finish his sentence before the truth was made blindingly clear. Chris' gaze was fixed on the spinney white gardenia hanging above Jared's head, limbs bows like a serpent. Jeff chewed on the inside of his gum, and Eric was white beneath his perpetual tan. "God…you're not. You're gonna feed him to the fucking wolves!"

"Jay," McG tried to placate his ward

"How could you? How could you." Anger leached the volume from his voice, his throat so tight the words could barely squeeze their way from his chest. The black and white photo, his, fuck, his only picture of Jensen- it stared up at him, eyes no less intense for their lack of color.

He felt sick. The world was closing in on him, trees and bodies and colors…he hadn't had a panic attack since before he'd joined the IIA. Biting his lip until it was bloody, Jared forced himself to breathe, to be calm. He tried to do what Jensen would do…

…a bad idea. Calmest guy on the planet, but Jensen would have shot someone for even suggesting they left Jared out in the cold.

Fuck it, but he wasn't armed.

"I'm sorry, Jared, I really am." And Eric was, he looked it, Jared could feel it, so fucking sorry. "Look at the file, Jared. He's not listed as affiliated with the IIA. I think this might be a ploy to bring us out from under the radar. Until we know who set Jensen up, we can't intervene without jeopardizing the entire operation. Too many lives are at stake, not least your own."

"I don't care." Jared choked, McG's fingers almost crushing his knee. He didn't care, not about his own life, not about any life if Jensen wasn't in it. It was reckless, it was foolish, and it was exactly why Jensen refused to let him go operational with him and Chris.

Scoffing, Jeff shook his head as if dealing with a slow child. "Yeah, well, Jen does fucking care. Why do you think he left without telling you, huh?"

Jared froze, fury and hate fighting their way out from under the fear and anguish. Jeff sounded so fucking cavalier…he didn't care, he didn't…

Somewhere in the far away distance of his mind, he heard Eric and the other Directors mutter something between themselves before Eric spoke to the group once more. "We'll do everything we can to uncover the truth behind this, but until then, it is imperative that you do not make contact with Jensen. Doing so could expose his location to the enemy and compromise IIA."

"The IIA…" Jared shook away the ice cubes in his head. "Jensen is the IIA. He is your founding player-"

Eric's voice was a steel band around Jared's chest. "Which," He said coldly, "Is exactly why you must let him go. The IIA is his life."

The faces around the table, all people he had come to know, respect, even love, they all blurred behind a veil of tears as they asked him to do the impossible.

"I can't." Jared choked. "I won't."

Surprisingly, it was Chris was spoke up next, hammering the last nail into Jensen's coffin and throwing down the first shovel of dirt. "Then you might as well kill him yourself."

*******

Midnight saw Jared wandering the halls of the agent's villas, aimlessly placing one foot after another.

Every agent on the island was locked up in the hub, in a crisis meeting that he had been barred from attending. For his own fucking good. After the disastrous first meeting with the Directors, McG had almost dragged Jared down to the beach, where he had remained for hours until Chris found him. Looking almost as bad as Jared had felt, Chris shuddered before giving him an unexpected, but welcome hug.

Kicking his own placed on the sand, Chris flopped down besides Jared. "I ever tell you about our job in Marrakech?"

Mutely, Jared had shaken his head, prompting a wildly imaginative retelling of one of Jensen's more colorful missions, involving a dress, eyeliner and a bad case of mistaken identity. The tale brought a tiny smile to Jared's lips, and ended with Chris shaking his head sadly. "He'll be fine. You know Jen, he pulls stupid stuff like this off all the time. Mark my words, Junior, he'll be in a hotel in Singapore, some flossy on one arm and that prissy drink of his lined up along the bar."

Closing his eyes, his feet had led him right the door of Jensen's rooms. Either through rank or blatant favoritism, Jensen had landed the room with the best view. The two of them had spent what little time they shared on the base locked in that room. In lessons, or somewhat more pleasurable pursuits.

Though locked, Jared had no difficulty bypassing the security and slipping into the cool room. Spotless to the point of being obsessive, fine art from every corner of the world decorated the airy rooms. The paintings were Jensen's way of feeling at home when he was so far away from anywhere he resided.

There was one thing wrong with the picture, though. The small, ivory trinket box that sat on the desk was slightly ajar. Jared had never looked in it, noting the initials carved in the top to be those of Jensen's mother.

Tomorrow, he would go see Eric. He needed a job, any job. Jensen had given him everything. He wasn't about to shame the man by throwing that all away.

Heartache swelled once again from the bottomless pit that had taken a permanent place in his chest. With a trembling hand, he slid the box closed, and with it, closed the door on the first chapter of his life that had held any meaning at all.