And the Truth Shall Make You Free (2/3)
[1]
Jongdae sits up suddenly in bed, kicking wildly against the fabric restraining him, and he’s already got a knife in his hand before he remembers that he’s at a hotel, in Seoul, on a mission with Suho, nowhere near the West Coast of the United States. He’s safe. Sighing, he slips the knife back into the sheath strapped to his thigh and falls back against the blankets panting hard, hair sticking to his neck with sweat.
A tentative knock on the door has Jongdae springing to his feet, and in seconds he’s peering through the peephole of the door, pistol in hand. Luckily, it’s just Suho. He definitely wasn’t feeling up to threatening anyone tonight.
“Oh, were you asleep?” Suho asks hesitantly, taking in Jongdae’s disheveled hair and rumpled bed.
“Something like that,” Jongdae says ruefully, trying unsuccessfully to flatten out his hair into something a little closer to Suho’s flawlessness than Jongdae’s own typically disheveled state.
“I just had some notes to give you about tomorrow,” Suho says, stepping into the room and letting Jongdae shut the door behind him. “But we can always go over them in the morning, if you want.”
“No, no, now’s fine,” Jongdae says quickly, and Suho gives him a strange look before sitting down at the small table next to the bed. But once he’s seated, Suho makes no move to begin talking. Instead, he simply sits, staring at Jongdae as if trying to imprint the image of his face in his memory.
“Uh…Suho?” Jongdae asks awkwardly, waving a hand in front of his face. “Are you going to talk or what?”
“You know, the pretending part of being a spy always came easily to me,” Suho says and Jongdae’s bemused smile flattens out into a thin line.
“I don’t see-” he starts to say, but Suho cuts him off.
“It’s probably because of my family-when your whole life is planned out for you from the beginning, you get really good at hiding everything about yourself so you can show people exactly what they want to see. All this,” and here Suho sweeps his hand downward as if to take in his perfectly styled hair, his spotless suit, his model posture, “isn’t really me. But sometimes it feels like I’ve forgotten what it even means to be me. Sometimes I wonder if Kim Junmyeon is a real person at all.”
Jongdae starts, realizing the depth of the trust Suho-or Junmyeon-has just placed in him. That’s when he realizes how wrong this is.
“Well, you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, Agent Suho,” Jongdae says coldly, ignoring the uncomfortable squirming of his stomach when he sees Junmyeon’s face fall. He needs to hear this. He needs to be reminded how dangerous trusting in someone can be. “I know it can be hard to keep up the pressure of the job. But that’s the oath we all took when we agreed to do this-we said we were fine with never being ourselves again. We said we were all right with looking in a mirror and seeing a stranger staring back at us. Now, do you have anything related to the mission to discuss? Because if not, you can see yourself out.”
“It’s all in here,” Junmyeon-and damn it, now Jongdae can’t get the name out of his head-says shortly, standing abruptly and dropping a notebook on the table. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
And in a few strides he’s at the door, yanking it open, and disappearing. Jongdae’s a little disappointed that he couldn’t even work up the emotion to slam the door behind him. Jongdae reaches for the notebook, flipping through pages covered in Junmyeon’s small, neat writing, and pretends that he doesn’t feel a strange ache in his chest. It’s a little strange how much effort that takes.
---
The next day, Junmyeon-damn it, damn it, damn it-is perfectly civil to Jongdae. He says good morning as they get into the car, and reminds him to conceal his numerous weapons particularly carefully-after all, if Tao realizes that Jongdae’s anything but an interested reporter the whole plan could be compromised. Jongdae is equally civil, if a bit short with his responses, but he’s never been that talkative anyway so he’s not sure if Junmyeon notices.
“I’ll be waiting somewhere nearby,” Junmyeon says as Jongdae’s extricating himself from his seatbelt. “The comm line is open. I’ll be listening to everything, so response time should be fast if anything happens in there.”
“Of course,” Jongdae says coolly. “I’m going in.”
And then he’s walking up three flights of stairs, ringing the doorbell next to a spectacularly nondescript apartment door, and considering the strangeness of his situation. He’s about to seduce a popstar in an effort to catch him in the act of smuggling illegal weapons and a man named Kim Junmyeon is going to be listening to the entire thing. What a day.
He’s ready when Tao opens the door, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a leather jacket that Jongdae can tell he thinks makes him look dangerous. Tao warily glances around to make sure there’s no one to see them before quickly pulling him inside, and Jongdae just barely manages to stop himself from reflexively breaking Tao’s wrist when he grabs a handful of his shirt, pressing him up against the door.
“Okay, there’s something you need to understand,” Tao says, eyes dark, and Jongdae is ready for him, all concerned smiles and pointed glances trailing from Tao’s mouth down his chest. “I have a set of papers in the care of one of my stylists that say quite clearly, with beautifully photoshopped pictures, that I am not here right now. They also contain some rather unfortunate allegations against you, along with fairly concrete evidence as to your poor character. You so much as think about telling anyone about this, about me, and you are finished. This is a one-time thing. Understand?”
“Perfectly,” Jongdae says softly, reaching up a hand to brush Tao’s bangs out of his eyes. “You’re an idol, of course you have to take precautions. And I would never dream of telling anyone about this. You’re beautiful, Huang Zitao. I would never want to betray your trust like that.”
Tao shivers at the sound of Jongdae whispering his name, and Jongdae stills when he hears a snort in his left ear. Junmyeon, that idiot. Doesn’t he realize that an open comm line means the hearing goes both ways? Luckily, Tao doesn’t seem to notice, because he’s staring straight into Jongdae’s eyes, hungry smile curling the corners of his mouth, and then Tao is leaning down, dragging Jongdae’s head up with both hands, and kissing him.
It’s nice being kissed, Jongdae thinks, sighing slightly as he lets his hands settle gently on Tao’s waist, and no one’s wanted to kiss him in a while. Even though Tao isn’t really Jongdae’s type-he’s not a fan of people who turn narcissism into a career-if he closes his eyes Jongdae can almost pretend that he’s enjoying this, that this is what he wants.
Tao kisses desperately, as if he’s afraid Jongdae’s going to disappear beneath his fingers, and Jongdae takes advantage of that, pulling on Tao’s hips until they’re pressed flush against each other. The slight turn allows him to scan the room with his peripheral vision, looking for anything out of the ordinary. There are a few duffle bags piled near the door-Jongdae makes a note to check those out later-but the general detritus of clothes, bags, and shoes scattered around the room makes it hard to spot anything suspicious straight off.
Jongdae decides he needs a better vantage point, and so he starts walking them backwards until the backs of Tao’s knees hit the couch. What Jongdae’s not quite prepared for is Tao flipping them around, so Jongdae is trapped between the couch and Tao’s chest. As a result of this sudden development, Jongdae decides that he needs to get Tao off of him if he’s going to get anything done. He grabs the collar of Tao’s jacket, using it to pull him even closer, and licks into Tao’s mouth, listening with satisfaction to Tao’s low moans and breathy sighs. It may have been a while, but Jongdae’s still got it.
When he’s sure Tao’s attention is thoroughly focused on his mouth, he quickly slides his fingers under Tao’s shirt, anticipating Tao’s shudder before it comes. That’s when he pulls away, hands still rubbing soothing circles on Tao’s stomach. Gasping as if as breathless as Tao, he whispers, “You know what would make this even better? A drink. Have anything…quality?”
Tao looks down at him, wide smile spreading across his face, and Jongdae thanks his lucky stars that he was right when he pegged Tao for the type that would rather get drunk before having sex with a stranger. If Tao had been offended, he might have had to resort to…other measures…to restore his trust. Ones he’s not sure he wants Junmyeon to hear. And speaking of Junmyeon, just then he hears another tinny derisive laugh in his ear.
“You do know I can hear you,” he breathes, and the line immediately goes silent.
“Sorry,” Junmyeon mutters stiffly, and Jongdae has to fight the urge to roll his eyes, instead sending his most sultry look Tao’s way when his eyes flick up to meet Jongdae’s, bottle of who-knows-how-expensive wine clutched in his hand. Reaching into his pocket, Jongdae palms the small pill he brought with him before standing and wandering over to the table, pressing himself tightly against Tao’s side as he pours the wine into two elegant glasses.
“To…companionship,” Tao says, setting down the bottle of wine, and there’s a look in his eyes so raw and sad that Jongdae suddenly feels terrible for doing this. But he takes comfort in the fact that Tao won’t remember anything about tonight in the morning, leaving his brain to fill in the gaps with what Jongdae hopes will be beautiful fantasies. And before Tao can reach down to grab his glass, Jongdae is pulling him closer again and kissing him, one hand slipping under Tao’s jacket and sliding it partway off his shoulder, the other dropping the pill in Tao’s glass, where it bubbles briefly before dissolving.
When Jongdae pulls back, leaving Tao looking particularly disheveled and happily surprised, he reaches for his own glass, raising it to his lips. Tao’s quick to follow suit, and again Jongdae feels a pang of guilt at how much Tao wants this.
“To companionship,” he says softly.
He’s there when Tao begins to fall, catching his lithe body in his arms and dragging him over to the couch. Frowning, Jongdae starts rearranging things to make the scene a bit more believable when Tao wakes up. He empties the rest of the wine into the sink, wincing a little at the loss, and quickly shucks off Tao’s jacket, shirt, pants, and shoes, tossing them haphazardly onto the floor around the couch. Then, a thought coming to him, Jongdae pulls off his own shoe, peels off his sock, and leaves it among the pile of Tao’s clothes.
“What are you doing?” Junmyeon asks, no doubt confused by the sound of all the shuffling fabric.
“Making sure my cover is safe,” Jongdae mutters back, glancing around the small apartment for anything he might have missed. Satisfied, he turns back to the couch, where he grabs a blanket off the ground and throws it over Tao’s unconscious form. It’s the least he can do for the poor guy. And then Jongdae’s struck by another thought and, after a bit of hunting, manages to find a pad of paper and a pen in a desk drawer.
“Thanks for an amazing night,” he scribbles, hating himself a little bit more with every word. “Don’t worry-you won’t be hearing from me again.”
“So…see anything suspicious?” Junmyeon asks, confused by the lack of sound on Jongdae’s end.
“I’m looking, I’m looking,” Jongdae says, tearing the piece of paper off the notepad and dropping it onto the table, next to the wine glasses and empty bottle.
“Are you-Chen, did you just write him a note?” Junmyeon says incredulously, and Jongdae sighs.
“It’s the least I could do,” he explains, crouching down next to the duffle bags and unzipping one. It’s full of boxes, many of them wrapped in colorful paper. Gifts from fans perhaps?
Puzzled, Jongdae reaches down and pulls out his knife, sliding it along the edge of one of the boxes. What slides out are definitely not gifts from fans.
“Excellent,” Jongdae breathes, ignoring Junmyeon’s flurry of “What? What did you find?” as he slits open a few more boxes. Besides a few empty ones, the rest are all stuffed full of explosives and various small firearms. Jongdae grins to himself, snapping a few pictures of the bags, the weapons, and the apartment-carefully keeping Tao out of the frame.
But just as Jongdae’s standing up, preparing to head downstairs, there’s a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” Junmyeon hisses, and Jongdae resists the urge to make a sarcastic comment about not being able to see through doors. Instead, he walks over and peers through the peephole. The man on the other side looks vaguely familiar…but Jongdae can’t quite place him. Even from this strange angle Jongdae can tell that he’s sweating, and he’s anxiously twisting his hands together.
“Jun-Suho,” he says, sparing a few moments to curse his slip of the tongue. “I think we have our man.”
“Perfect,” Junmyeon says, and Jongdae can hear the grin in his voice. “I’ll be right up with my best cop voice and a pair of handcuffs.”
Pasting an expression of slightly drunken good-naturedness on his face, Jongdae yanks the door open, making sure the man can’t see far enough into the room to spot Tao on the couch.
“Hello?” Jongdae says with a smile, and the man jumps backwards, obviously disconcerted.
“I-I’m-where’s Zitao?” the man asks. “I’m his manager, and you’re not supposed to be here.”
“Tao and I are currently conducting an interview,” Jongdae says, giving the man a puzzled look. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. Right now he’s in the bathroom, I’ll just go call him-”
“No, no!” the manager says quickly, lunging forward as if to stop Jongdae from turning back into the room. “That’s not necessary. I’m just here to pick up some fan gifts that were left for Zitao yesterday. Normally I’m here in time to get them before he has to deal with them but unfortunately I was held up yesterday. We just need to sort them and check them out, you know, basic safety precautions, so if you can see them anywhere, just handing them out to me would be greatly appreciated, no need to get Zitao involved-”
As the manager in front of him stammers, Jongdae spies Junmyeon strolling up behind him. Junmyeon holds up the pair of handcuffs and points at the manager, a questioning look in his eyes. Jongdae winks in response and Junmyeon smiles, taking a large breath before shouting, “All right, put your hands on your head and get up against that wall, we’re taking you in!”
The manager starts and tries to run before realizing that Junmyeon and Jongdae are cutting off every possible exit. Jongdae hears the wail of police sirens getting closer and looks quizzically at Junmyeon.
“I thought it’d be easier to let them deal with him,” Junmyeon shrugs, and Jongdae smiles before turning to the man groveling on the floor in front of him.
“I didn’t mean to let it get this far, I promise, please don’t arrest me I have a very promising career ahead of me, you can’t do this-”
But the rest of the man’s words are lost in the shuffle as a pair of city policemen barge onto the balcony, grabbing him and marching him down the stairs and into a waiting police car.
Jongdae tries to catch Junmyeon’s eye but Junmyeon’s already turned and started following the policemen down the stairs, phone pressed to his ear.
“Hello, am I speaking to Lee Soo Man? Excellent, my name is Agent Suho, I’m with the CIA-yes, that American spy agency, though we really prefer the label “intelligence agency.” I just wanted to alert you that we believe an idol in your charge-Huang Zitao?-would benefit very much from an immediate change in manager. No, Zitao has done nothing wrong, we can assure you, his career seems very promising, but he just needs-”
Junmyeon’s voice trails off as he gets farther away and Jongdae spares a moment to shake his head wryly. Junmyeon may not be a great field agent, but he sure is an excellent businessman.
---
Jongdae ducks around a corner, panting, sweat streaming into his eyes, and listens hard for any sounds of pursuit.
“Taemin? Jia?” he barks into his mic. “Is anyone there? I think I managed to lose the group tailing me. Has anyone reached the vault?”
“I’m here,” Taemin replies, “And I think Jia’s on the way. Chen, you need to get down here.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jongdae gasps, head swiveling around as fast as possible as he strides down the corridor towards the stairwell, keeping a lookout for anyone following him. The noise in the stairwell is deafening, intruder alerts echoing off the walls, bouncing endlessly back and forth in the tiny space. Jongdae flies down the stairs, nearly falling but holding on just tightly enough to the handrail to keep himself upright. When he reaches the bottom he takes a moment to peek out the window. The hallway seems empty, so he kicks the door open and runs through, gun poised in front of him.
“Chen? Chen!” he hears Jia yelling in his ear, “You really need to get down here, there’s a…a thing. A shield or something. Here, in front of the disk, I think it’s a trap-”
But Jongdae stops listening, instead focusing all his energy on running, tracing out the map of the building in his head-first left, second right, third door on the left, down another flight of stairs and then-
He runs through the gaping vault door only to stop short at the sight in front of him. Jia hadn’t been exaggerating, there’s some sort of wall trapping Jongdae’s fellow agents in a small corner of the room. Jongdae does a quick head count-four, five, no, six. Six. As in, the entire team. Oh, no.
“What is this made of?” Jongdae yells over the blaring alarms, running towards it with arms raised, preparing to slam the butt of his gun against the glass. He’s stopped by a sudden enormous clamor as all of his teammates simultaneously begin screaming and motioning for him to stop.
He manages to pull up right before hitting the wall, and hears Tiffany shouting something about electrically charged and Kyunhyun’s already been really badly shocked, we don’t need you getting fried too.
“There’s something that looks like a control panel over there,” he hears Ryeowook yell. “But when we tried to get close to it is was just colors and then-”
But Jongdae’s already across the room, staring at the small colored squares flashing on the thin, dark panel. And that’s when Jongdae hears the rumbling. Before he can step away, or do anything to avoid it, the same type of glittering glass walls that have trapped his teammates begin to descend from the ceiling above him. Frantically, Jongdae turns his eyes back to the panel, poking at the colored boxes, trying to figure out why they look so familiar-
Of course.
It’s been a while since he’s had to do this, but Jongdae still remembers the basics of how to solve a Rubik’s Cube. The screen spends about ten seconds on each side of the cube before switching to display another side. Fighting for concentration against the alarm bells, distant gunfire, and heavy whirr of the walls descending around him like a cage, Jongdae slides colored blocks back and forth, watching one square go blank, then another, then another, then another, then another, and then-
With a clank, the walls around him pause, and then slowly begin to retract back into the ceiling. Jongdae heaves an enormous sigh of relief, and is about to turn around to see if the same thing has happened to the walls surrounding his teammates when a voice makes him stop dead.
“Well, Jongdae. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Jongdae whips around, gun pointed directly at Luhan’s head, but Luhan merely grins, standing there in the middle of the room, leaning almost calmly against the pillar atop of which rests the disk. The disk. The reason they’re all here.
“I’m technically unarmed,” Luhan says conversationally, picking up the disk and holding it up to the light, as a jeweler would check a gemstone for flaws. “But you should know that I built this room. It’s programmed to obey me. In fact, with the literal wink of an eye, I can make your friends over there-” and here Luhan blinks incredibly slowly, smiling at the look of confusion and dawning horror on Jongdae’s face, “-disappear.”
“The disk belongs to us, Luhan,” Jongdae spits, but Luhan merely pouts, twirling the disk between his slender fingers.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Luhan says. “This disk contains sensitive information about every possible national security threat known to the United States-names, pictures, criminal records, insider information. It obviously belongs with the NSA.”
“I notice you fail to mention that most of that so-called ‘sensitive information’ was collected by the CIA,” Jongdae replies coldly. “And therefore it belongs to us.”
“Oh, please,” Luhan giggles, and the oh-so-familiar sound freezes Jongdae’s blood. “The CIA couldn’t decode the secrets on that disk if they had a million years. Do you see what I’ve been able to build with the help of the NSA after just a few months? If you think we’re giving up this information than you’re crazy.”
“I’m not leaving without it,” Jongdae says heavily, taking a few careful steps forward. “So why don’t you make this easy and hand over the disk before anyone has to get hurt.”
“Oh, I think you are leaving without it,” Luhan says, and his eyes are cold, so cold and unfamiliar that Jongdae flinches involuntarily. He’s never had Luhan look at him like that before. “Or your friends will die.”
“You wouldn’t,” Jongdae retorts, voice hard. “You would be in too much trouble.”
“Oh, believe me, the NSA, much less the US government, doesn’t care about a few CIA agents more or less,” Luhan snorts. “You people are a dime a dozen. There will always be more college students with great reflexes and great memories tempted by the promise of power, of all the new gadgets, of secrets. But what am I saying, of course you would know all about that.”
“Luhan,” Jongdae says, barely managing to keep from shouting. “Give me the disk. Now.”
“You are going to turn around and walk out of this room in the next five seconds,” Luhan says, tone once again smooth, almost conversational. “Or everyone in that cage will die. There’s no way for you to stop me, Jongdae. Like I said, it’s coded to my movements. There’s no remote for you to break, no secret passcode for you to torture out of me. Funny, isn’t it, how all your little tricks seem to fail at the most desperate moment?”
“Luhan, please,” Jongdae pleads, because he suddenly realizes that there’s only one way this can end. He knows why Luhan is so certain Jongdae’s going to do exactly what he wants, and he knows what he’s going to have to do instead. “Please just give me the disk and no one has to get hurt.”
“You underestimate me, Jongdae,” Luhan says, crossing his arms thoughtfully across his chest. “You always have. Or perhaps ‘underestimate’ isn’t quite the right word. Don’t pretend like you didn’t spend all of senior year dying to fuck me, honestly I don’t know how many more hints I could have dropped to show that I wasn’t interested-”
“Shut up,” Jongdae hisses, and Luhan’s obnoxious laughter echoes in his head louder than any of the alarms or panicked shouts of his teammates as the floor below them begins to glow a strange golden color.
“Five,” Luhan spits, looking Jongdae right in the eye.
“Stop this,” Jongdae begs, and Luhan gives him a disgusted look.
“Really, Jongdae, I expected more of you. At least some last-minute expression of love in an attempt to warm my heart. If you keep this up, you only have a few seconds left to explain to your teammates why you’re going to let them die. Four.”
“Luhan-”
“Three.”
“Luhan, please, don’t do this-”
“Honestly, Jongdae, time is running out. Just put down the gun. Put down the gun and this will all be over.”
“It doesn’t have to end like this-”
“Maybe it’s an end for you,” Luhan shrugs, fiddling absentmindedly with the disk in his hands. “For me, this is the beginning of a long and illustrious career. Two.”
“I’m sorry,” Jongdae gasps, and Luhan gives him a strange look before his mouth twists into a sneer.
“Well, looks like time’s up for you and your little friends.”
“Luhan, I’m so sorry,” Jongdae breathes.
“One.”
And Jongdae fires.
Everything seems to happen in slow motion. The look of utter shock on Luhan’s face as he falls backwards, a bloody flower blooming across the front of his white shirt. The way the walls surrounding his teammates begin to shudder, and then to retract, Jia and Taemin sliding out from underneath them as soon as they can fit, helping pull the others under.
“Chen, let’s get out of here, this whole place is about to go up!” Tiffany screams, but Jongdae feels frozen in place, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think.
Luhan looks so beautiful-wide, glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling, reflected flames dancing in them as sparks begin to fall like stars. The gun he had been in the process of drawing is lying half a meter away, gleaming in the bright lights, dark surface reflecting the red and white of Luhan’s shirt, the paleness of his skin, the golden shimmer of his hair. On the ground by Jongdae’s feet lies the small disk. Stunned, he bends down and slips it into his pocket, his eyes still on Luhan.
“Chen, snap out of it!” And Ryeowook’s hand is closing like a vice around his arm, dragging him backwards, but Jongdae can’t look away, can’t do anything but watch. Luhan looks so beautiful. So beautiful.
“Chen!”
And then the gun is slipping out of Jongdae’s limp grasp and the heavy vault door is slamming closed but Luhan’s still in there, Luhan’s still trapped, and Jongdae’s screaming and fighting the hands holding him back because Luhan is in there, he needs to help him, he needs to-he needs-
And then everything goes red, and then black, and then silent.
---
It’s been almost a month since Jongdae returned from Korea, since the nightmares started again. He knows it’s getting bad when even Minseok starts asking him if he’s getting enough sleep. He tells everyone that he gets to bed on time, which for once isn’t a lie, and he knows no one believes him. Not that he can blame them. He wouldn’t believe himself either, especially as the dark circles under his eyes grow more pronounced with each passing day.
It’s all Junmyeon’s fault, Jongdae decides. He hasn’t had these familiar nightmares for nearly a year, and then suddenly stupid Junmyeon shows up and they return in full force. Jongdae tries everything-sleeping pills, soothing drinks, soft music. But nothing helps-he still finds himself unable to sleep for more than a few hours before jerking awake, panting and sweating, his hand still heavy with the imagined weight of a gun. He has to start leaving his real gun on the bedside table instead of under his pillow in case one night he accidently starts shooting at the wall.
And all this is why he’s terribly grateful when he gets the call from Command. They need him to come in.
“Let me just say, again, that you look terrible,” Minseok says as Jongdae strolls through the wide glass doors.
“Good morning to you too, Minseok,” Jongdae says, passing a hand across his face wearily.
“Wait, your name is Minseok?” Wu Fan gasps from behind Jongdae. Jongdae turns to see him frozen in place, a pile of paperwork in his arms, lips stretching into a wide grin. “I knew it! I knew you weren’t actually Chinese!”
“Yeah, well, took you long enough,” Minseok grumbles, searching around his desk for something to throw. Wu Fan, getting the hint, hurries away, leaving Jongdae to smile weakly at Minseok’s annoyed look.
“Sorry?” he tries.
“I suppose I won’t kill you for that,” Minseok sighs. “He was bound to find out sometime. Xiumin just sounds so much cooler, you know?”
“Yeah, not sure if I should voice my opinion on that,” Jongdae says quickly, dropping his eyes to avoid Minseok’s suspicious glance.
“Tell me Kris’s real name?” Minseok tries, giving Jongdae an innocent smile.
“Yeah, not happening,” Jongdae snorts. “Just give me the room.”
“The usual, 14,” Minseok says. “But seriously, you better hope no one makes you take a physical before sending you out because I’m pretty sure you would fail miserably.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine,” Jongdae says, waving a hand vaguely. “See you later.”
Stifling a yawn, Jongdae makes his way down the hall, pausing in front of the door to try to wipe his eyes and make himself look a bit more awake. It’s a shame he hadn’t had time to stop for coffee this morning. That might have helped a little.
“Come in,” Baekhyun says in response to Jongdae’s knock, and Jongdae just manages to hold back an exasperated sigh when he sees Junmyeon sitting to Baekhyun’s right.
“Agent Chen,” Junmyeon says, inclining his head respectfully. Jongdae reminds himself that he wants this mission, and turning around and walking out of the room will not help him get it.
“Agent Suho,” Jongdae says instead, sitting down in the chair on Baekhyun’s other side and turning slightly so he doesn’t have to look right at Junmyeon. “Well, Baekhyun? What’s my next mission?”
“This one is a really good one,” Baekhyun says, rubbing his hands together happily. “We’re bringing in almost all of the agents at this base.”
“Wow, that big a mission, huh?” Jongdae asks, intrigued. The last time he had a team larger than two or three was…That Mission Almost Two Years Ago. Jongdae shakes his head angrily to clear the thought from his head.
“It’s important. And we especially need you because you’ve already had a part in it.”
“What?” Jongdae asks, confused. “What do you mean?”
“The whole thing with that idol and his manager?” Baekhyun says, handing Jongdae a sheet of paper. It’s the mission report-Jongdae’s mission report-so Jongdae merely glances over it before placing it on the table.
“Okay, what about it?”
“Well, it turns out that the terrorist group controlling the manager and the man who nearly blew you two up has a larger network than we hoped,” Baekhyun says, pulling some more pieces of paper out of the folder in front of him. “We recently intercepted information connecting one of the world’s top business executives to the exact same terrorist cell. The information we received references a summit many of these executives are going to be attending next weekend. We need you all to go in and figure out which of them is working with the terrorists.”
“A fancy dinner with a bunch of executives?” Jongdae asks, flipping through schematics of a ballroom, a large hotel, a few different types of private jets. “How are we supposed to figure out which one has terrorist sympathies?”
“Well, according to our information, the terrorists are going to use the summit as a cover for an exchange of some sort. So you just need to follow anyone who leaves the dinner, and they should lead you to our terrorists.”
Jongdae nods thoughtfully, allowing himself a glance at Junmyeon, but Junmyeon’s eyes are fixed on a piece of paper Baekhyun’s just handed him-it looks like some kind of guest list.
“Here’s your team,” Baekhyun says, and Jongdae examines the headshots. It’s the usual suspects. “We’re sending in Kris as our demolitions expert, Kai as our hacker, and Sehun and Chanyeol to help you blend in and get you in. Once you’re inside, you’ll have to coordinate with Suho and get his help in finding the man we’re looking for.”
“When do we leave?” Jongdae asks, stacking the papers in front of him into a neat pile. He can already feel the tiredness draining out of him, replaced by an intoxicating sense of purpose.
“Friday,” Baekhyun says, handing Jongdae and Junmyeon sets of plane tickets. “We’ve split all of you up onto different flights, obviously, but you should all get to Washington D.C. sometime between 3 and 6pm. Hotel information is in that packet as well, we did end up putting you all in the same hotel, we decided convenience was more important than any possible security risk-”
“My father’s on this list,” Junmyeon says suddenly, and when Jongdae looks up he sees Junmyeon still clutching the guest list, knuckles turning a bit white as the flimsy paper crumples in his hands.
“Mmm?” Baekhyun hums, obviously annoyed at being interrupted.
“My father,” Junmyeon says again, slowly, as if trying to make the words sink in. “He’s on this list. My father is suspected of being a terrorist sympathizer.”
“Suho,” Jongdae says quietly, more than a little concerned at the way all the blood is draining from Junmyeon’s face. “There are nearly a hundred people on that list. Only one of them is our sympathizer. Those are pretty good odds for your father.”
“Of course,” Junmyeon mutters, dropping the paper abruptly. “Please continue, Baekhyun, I’m sorry about the interruption.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Baekhyun says happily, speeding back into a monologue about weapons, security, uniforms, waiters, backup.
Jongdae thinks he hears as little of it as Junmyeon does, too busy watching the strange way Junmyeon’s face seems to have crumpled. When Baekhyun’s finished, he stands up quickly and sweeps out of the room, leaving Jongdae and Junmyeon sitting silently at the table.
“I’ve told you before, I don’t belong out there in the field with you, Jongdae,” Junmyeon says suddenly, eyes fixed on the piece of paper lying damp and crumpled on the table in front of him. “I belong here at base, planning the missions that people like you go on.”
“You mean the missions that people like me die on,” Jongdae says shortly, and Junmyeon’s head snaps up so fast Jongdae’s afraid he’s hurt his neck. “Look, Suho, it’s going to be all right. If you think your father is a good man, then he probably is. You’re a good judge of character. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
“You do realize how ridiculous that last sentence sounds,” Junmyeon says, giving Jongdae a weak smile.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jongdae says, smiling back. “But I mean it anyway. Nothing bad is going to happen. Trust me.”
“I suppose I can give that a shot,” Junmyeon says, standing up.
“That’s the most anyone can do,” Jongdae replies, standing as well and holding open the door for Junmyeon to exit. “Everything we accomplish here happens because we decided to just give it a shot.”
---
Jongdae ends up on one of the later flights, and as a result he barely has time to check into his hotel room before he’s supposed to report to a nearby hotel for a briefing. Flinging his briefcase onto the table, Jongdae sighs wistfully at the sight of the bed. But he knows Baekhyun will kill him if he’s late for this meeting, so he rushes out again, catching a taxi to the hotel and arriving just in time.
“Sorry I’m a few minutes late,” he babbles, straightening his tie as he walks through the door of the assigned conference room. Then he looks up and stills. He feels like his stomach has dropped through the bottom of his feet and he suddenly feels very, very cold.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Baekhyun says, hurrying over to Jongdae and guiding him into a seat on one end of the left-hand side of the table. “I guess we’ll start with some introductions.”
“Yes,” Jongdae hisses, shooting Baekhyun his most venomous look. “Why don’t we.”
Baekhyun gives him a look that clearly means “Behave!” but Jongdae ignores him, instead turning to look at the man sitting across from him, smiling a bit too widely to seem friendly. Jongdae glances down his side of the table and sees that none of his fellow agents look particularly pleased either. Sehun’s mouth is pressed into a line so thin it threatens to disappear, and even Chanyeol looks a bit annoyed. Only Jongin looks completely bored.
“So, this is our team,” Baekhyun says quickly, motioning to each person as he calls out their name. “Agents Chen, Kris, Sehun, Kai, Chanyeol, and Suho. And I, as I said earlier, am Baekhyun, CIA handler.”
“Agents Minzy, Yesung, Sungmin, Donghae, and Lay,” a man standing at the opposite end of the table says shortly. “I’m Sunggyu, NSA handler.”
“It’s nice to see you again, Chen,” Yixing says, leaning forward across the table, and Jongdae gives him a cold look.
“Baekhyun?” Jongdae asks loudly, and Baekhyun gives him a cautionary glare. “Could I talk to you outside for a moment?”
“I don’t remember that being part of the plan,” Sungmin drawls. “Shouldn’t one of us accompany you to make sure nothing…unexpected…happens?”
“You try it and it’ll be the last thing you ever do,” Chanyeol spits, fixing Sungmin with a dark glare. Sungmin rolls his eyes but falls silent.
“Okay, fine, but make it quick,” Baekhyun sighs, hurrying out into the hallway. Jongdae tries to ignore the way he can feel Yixing’s eyes burning holes in his back as he follows Baekhyun out the door.
As soon as they’re in the hallway, Jongdae whirls around.
“What the hell are they doing here?” he hisses, and at least Baekhyun has the decency to look a bit sheepish.
“I may have…neglected to mention this earlier,” he whispers. “But this mission is too big for the CIA to handle alone, so we’ve decided to partner with the NSA-”
“The last time I saw any of those people, they were trying to kill me,” Jongdae growls.
“Oh, come on,” Baekhyun says, a hint of disgust in his voice. “You’re supposed to be a professional, Chen. I’m not asking you to partner up with them and become best friends. You’ll barely have to talk to them, since you’ll be covering different parts of the building during the actual meeting.”
“What did you have to give them, to get them here,” Jongdae says angrily. “There’s no way the NSA decided to help us out of the goodness of their hearts-”
“Are you going to be able to go back in there and be civil,” Baekhyun asks, cutting Jongdae off, “or should I recommend you be sent back to Command because you can’t pull yourself together?”
Jongdae doesn’t dignify that with a reply, instead turning on his heel and yanking open the door to the conference room. Yixing gives him another of those wolf-like smiles, but Jongdae ignores him, keeping his eyes fixed on Baekhyun’s back as he walks over to join Sunggyu at the head of the table.
“So I know you’ve all read through the mission brief,” Sunggyu says, which elicits a chorus of snorts from both sides of the table.
Jongdae’s careful not to look at Yixing for the remainder of the meeting. But something tells him he’s not going to be getting much sleep tonight.
[3]