And the Truth Shall Make You Free (3/3)
[1] [2]
The next day, at exactly 5pm, Jongdae opens his door to Baekhyun’s insistent knocking.
“I promised I’d play nice,” Jongdae says sarcastically, but Baekhyun waves away his comment.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you will, it’s your job,” Baekhyun says. “What I really wanted to do is just remind you of the importance of your job here. You’re going to be actually at the dinner, being introduced by Suho as a promising young investor. Talk to a few people, charm them in that way you’ve got, and see if you can any information. If we can narrow the list of suspects down even a little, it will save us a lot of time chasing every CEO with a small bladder or an illicit mistress.”
“Investor, charm, I think I can handle that,” Jongdae says, giving in and smiling at Baekhyun’s nervous fluttering.
“Okay, so just remember that this dinner is going to be big,” Baekhyun repeats as he turns and prepares to leave. “Like, huge. Like, the head of every billion-dollar corporation is going to be there, from electronics to entertainment to news, along with some of their constituents. There’s going to be pop stars like that Zitao character, probably a few politicians and diplomats, some famous reporters, several researchers-”
“Wait, did you just say Zitao is going to be there?” Jongdae asks in disbelief.
“So we’ve been told, according to the official guest list. It makes sense, he’s SM’s top moneymaker right now, actually one of the top artists in all of Asia-”
“Baekhyun. Do you not understand what this means? There’s no way I can do this! He’ll recognize me right away!”
“No, he won’t.”
“And how can you possibly know that? What, did you people poison him or give him amnesia or something-”
“I know that,” Baekhyun cuts in over Jongdae’s frantic chatter. “Because you’re not going to be yourself. Now get down to Sehun’s room. ”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Jongdae asks skeptically as he watches Sehun approach with an armful of makeup products.
“Trust me, I’m a pro,” Sehun scoffs, dumping the various bottles and tubes down on the table, then leaning back to examine Jongdae’s face. “I am going to make you look absolutely fabulous. So, in other words, completely unlike yourself.”
“Hey!” Jongdae protests, but then Sehun is swooping down, grabbing a bottle of some brownish liquid, and Jongdae resigns himself to his fate.
“Wow,” Chanyeol says when Jongdae steps out into the hallway. “You look really…”
“Fabulous?” Sehun suggests, turning to survey his work.
“Well, I was going to go with different, but yeah, fabulous definitely applies too,” Chanyeol says and Jongdae glares at both of them.
“What you were supposed to say, Chanyeol,” he growls, “is ‘Wow, Chen! You look terrible! What has that demon Sehun done to you?’”
Sehun cackles unrepentantly, and Jongdae sighs, staring at himself in the hallway mirror. Sehun’s managed to subtly change his skin color so it looks closer to Jongin’s golden brown than Jongdae’s milky white. He’d managed to fight his way out of wearing an awful reddish-brown wig, but Jongdae is still a little in awe of how different he looks now that Sehun’s given him a windswept hairstyle reminiscent of Junmyeon’s. Jongdae’s eyebrows also look different-darker and more defined than he’s used to, and Sehun’s done something to slightly emphasize his cheekbones. His eyes look brighter and more hollow than usual, and Jongdae marvels at the way it makes him look ten times more mature, more…dangerous.
“Well, if you’re all done admiring Sehun’s new doll,” Jongin snorts, suddenly appearing at Chanyeol’s elbow. “You might be interested to know that I finished installing cameras at each of the ballroom doors. If any registered guest tries to leave during the dinner, we’ll all know, and we’ll also know which door they left out of.”
“Good work, Kai,” Chanyeol says, and then motions to Sehun. “We should probably go get dressed. See you inside, Chen!”
As Jongdae watches the three of them depart, he feels a sudden burning anxiety in his stomach. He’s going to have to spend an entire evening crossing paths with Yixing, and if the number of times he woke up screaming last night is any indication, it’s not going to be pleasant. Taking a deep breath, Jongdae tries to push all Luhan-related thoughts out of his head, and focus solely on his task. Investor. Charming. Go.
Holding his head high, a lazy and slightly disinterested look on his face, Jongdae walks through the ballroom doors, taking in the strange sight of many of the world’s most influential people mixing and mingling among tables laid with fine china beneath two enormous crystal chandeliers.
Jongdae starts when he sees a man winking at him from a few tables over, but then realizes it’s only D.O., Zitao’s bodyguard. Jongdae smiles back, then turns away quickly before Zitao, who’s currently conversing with a very attractive young diplomat who seems to be feeling the need to adjust his tie obsessively, can see him.
“Ah, here he is!” he hears Junmyeon shout happily, and suddenly Junmyeon’s arm is around his shoulders, pulling him over into a group of chattering businessmen.
“Chen, I’d like you to meet my father,” Junmyeon says, and Jongdae bows to the rather formidable-looking man smiling fondly at his son.
“It’s always nice to meet a friend of my son’s,” Mr. Kim says, voice deep and commanding. “Sometimes I worry that I’m working him too hard and he doesn’t get to know enough people his own age.”
“Chen here is an investor,” Junmyeon says quickly, and Jongdae almost thinks he sees a blush spreading across his cheeks before Junmyeon turns away.
“Ah, so you’re here sizing up the offerings, huh?” a round man standing on Jongdae’s left laughs. His face looks vaguely familiar-probably from some article in one of the many business magazines Jongdae skimmed through to prepare for this mission.
“More information is always a good thing,” Jongdae says with a small smile, gazing around the circle to look for any more familiar faces. He recognizes the Japanese ambassador to the US, as well as the head of an influential car manufacturer, but the others are a mystery. This is going to be a long night.
“Very wisely spoken for such a young person,” a tall, thin man across the circle says, looking at Jongdae with a thoughtful expression.
“Wise indeed!” the round man laughs, clapping Jongdae heavily on the back. “Here-Chen, was it?-come have a drink with us, we’ll introduce you to some of our competitors and show you exactly why they don’t deserve your money.”
As Jongdae lets himself be led away, he finally begins to locate some of the NSA operatives around him. Minzy, looking stunning in a tight-fitting red dress, is smiling indulgently at a nervous young businessman, while Yixing is standing at one of the doors accepting people’s coats, hats, and other possessions.
“Less staring, more charming,” Chanyeol whispers, sweeping up to Jongdae and offering him a glass of champagne from the tray balanced on his hand.
“Yeah, yeah, if I wanted advice from some nosy waiter, I’d have asked for it,” Jongdae whispers back, but he accepts the champagne gratefully. Jongdae makes it a policy never to drink while on missions, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to be holding a glass in his hand to help him blend in.
He’s in the middle of an extremely boring discussion with the CEOs of several personal electronics companies when the first alarm goes off in his ear.
“Back of the ballroom, one Mark Thompson, CEO of the New York Times,” Jongin reports.
“I’m on it,” Jongdae hears Donghae’s steady voice reply, and when he glances off towards the back of the room, he can see Donghae moving quickly through the crowd, removing his suit jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair so he’s left in the same attire as the waiters.
After that, there’s a steady stream of alarms going off as more and more people filter in and out. Jongdae takes charge of a few of them, excusing himself from discussions of stocks and millions of units sold to duck into the winding hotel hallways. One of Korea’s most prominent journalists simply needs to use the bathroom, the US ambassador to England stands in the hall outside his hotel room having a very loud argument with his wife on the phone, and the CEO of BMW takes a quick stroll through the hallways, muttering angrily to himself in German about what Jongdae pieces together is the idiocy of Japanese auto makers.
“There has got to be a more efficient way to do this,” Sungmin groans over the comm line. “I’ve spent nearly an hour following this one guy back and forth to his room because apparently bringing all of his possessions with him at one time isn’t a thing he can do.”
“Don’t complain,” Chanyeol whines. “I just had some drunk journalist try to kiss me because she thought I was her son.”
Jongdae snorts, and he hears several other amused noises before everyone realizes who they’re talking to and instantly goes silent.
“Okay, there’s someone leaving through the door closest to you, Chen,” Jongin mutters. “You might want to take someone else with you, this guy looks a bit sketchy.”
“I’ll come,” Jongdae hears Junmyeon’s smooth voice say over the line, and he looks up to see his wading through the crowded aisles. Jongdae hurries out the door, instantly spying the man Jongin had mentioned. He does look quite suspicious, eyes darting back and forth rapidly, checking the hallway several times before opening his hotel room door with shaky hands.
“Ready?” Junmyeon breathes in Jongdae’s ear, and Jongdae just manages to stop himself from flinching.
“Let’s check it out,” he says.
Walking up to the door, he knocks loudly and yells, “room service!” There’s a loud shuffling sound and a low grunt followed by some hurried whispering. Promising.
“I didn’t order anything!” the man’s shaky voice calls from inside, but Jongdae is already slipping his master key, courtesy of Baekhyun and Sunggyu, into the lock and turning.
“CIA, drop your weapons!” Jongdae shouts, throwing open the door and jumping inside. The scene before him is chaotic-the man Jongdae followed is pressed against the wall looking terrified, and directly in front of him are three burly men pointing guns directly at Jongdae’s head.
“We’re not dropping anything,” one of the men says loudly, though he jumps when Junmyeon enters the room, pistol also raised.
“You might want to do what he says,” Junmyeon says slowly. “Just put down your weapons and we promise this can all be solved rationally.”
“Like hell it can! I’m getting out of here!” the same man says, and then he starts firing.
“Junmyeon, get DOWN!” Jongdae yells as he jumps behind a sofa. His first shot hits one of the men squarely in the shoulder, and he yells in pain, dropping his gun. The other two men, seeing their fallen comrade, turn and throw themselves out the open window. Jongdae races over, but the men have already recovered from their two-story fall and are stumbling into a waiting car. Jongdae manages to take a picture of the license plate before it speeds off, and then he turns to survey the rest of the room.
His makeup is running, dripping into his eyes, and Jongdae rushes into the bathroom, scrubbing angrily at his face in the sink until everything is gone, skin a bit pink with the rough motion. He sighs, a bit sorry at having destroyed all of Sehun’s hard work, but the last thing Jongdae needs in his life is more lies.
By the time he’s finished, Junmyeon has picked up the injured thug and is handing him off to D.O., who Jongdae supposes must be acting as backup for them as well as protecting Zitao. The man who led them to the room is still cowering by the wall, and he whimpers when Jongdae walks slowly up to him.
“Can you explain to me what was happening in here?” Jongdae asks authoritatively.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen!” the man yells. “I just got caught up in this thing, and then they told me they would ruin me if I stopped and then-”
Sighing in disgust, Jongdae leaves the man to his babbling and turns to the large suitcase still sitting by the window. He unlatches it, and snorts as hundreds of sealed bags of a green substance spill softly over onto his feet.
“What is it?” Junmyeon asks, helping the shivering man in the corner to his feet and handing him off to D.O., who smiles kindly before pulling him off down the hallway.
“Minor league drug dealing,” Jongdae says, shoving the bags back into the suitcase and latching it again. “Not what we’re looking for.”
He stands up, preparing to go back to the party, when he sees Junmyeon standing perfectly still in the middle of the room, watching him.
“What?” Jongdae asks.
“You never shoot to kill,” Junmyeon says simply, and Jongdae feels the blood drain from his face before he can compose himself.
“Well, they try to discourage that,” Jongdae says with a short laugh. “The fewer casualties the better. Less chance for lawsuits or mistakes.”
“Chen,” Junmyeon says and his eyes are soft and Jongdae hates the way it makes his stomach flip-flop. “You never shoot to kill.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jongdae says firmly, widening his eyes into an expression of confusion and mild concern.
“And if I were anyone else, I would probably believe you,” Junmyeon replies, moving closer to Jongdae until they’re standing only a few paces apart. “But I know you’re lying, Chen. All of my instincts are saying you’re telling the truth, but I know that you’re lying.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jongdae snorts, trying to push past Junmyeon and out into the hallway, but Junmyeon’s hand latches onto his arm, yanking him backwards.
“Chen, look at me,” Junmyeon insists, and Jongdae grudgingly turns around, deciding that the consequences of breaking Junmyeon’s arm aren’t worth getting out of this conversation.
“There’s nothing to say,” Jongdae says, looking Junmyeon straight in the eye. Never look away first, it makes you weak. Never tell anyone how you feel. Lying is always better than telling the truth.
“Oh, I think there is,” Junmyeon says. “And I think it has something to do with Lay-”
“Yixing,” Jongdae corrects before he can stop himself. Junmyeon’s staring at him with those dark eyes and all Jongdae wants to do is get away, to leave so he can push down these feelings bubbling up inside of him.
“Yixing, then,” Junmyeon continues. “I did some research after your little stand-off at the meeting the other day. Turns out you went to the same college? You were recruited to the CIA at the same time he and this other boy were recruited by the NSA.”
“His name was Luhan,” Jongdae snarls, and he pretends not to notice the way Junmyeon’s eyes widen at the sound. Jongdae’s not sure what emotions are coming through in his voice-hurt, anger, maybe sadness-but he’s sure Junmyeon can tell he’s struck a nerve.
“Luhan,” Junmyeon says softly, as if testing out the name. “Wait, is that the same Luhan that stole the disk from the CIA and almost killed all those agents before-”
“We’re finished here,” Jongdae snaps, yanking his arm out of Junmyeon’s grasp and stalking towards the door, only to find himself stopped once again when Junmyeon grabs the back of his collar.
“You can’t just ignore this, Chen,” Junmyeon says angrily, but all Jongdae can think about is how much he needs to get out of this place. Perhaps this distraction explains what he says next.
“My name is Jongdae,” Jongdae spits, and he smiles viciously at the way the words freeze Junmyeon in place.
“Jongdae,” Junmyeon whispers, so softly and reverently that Jongdae can feel the sound reverberating in his bones. He can’t take this anymore. Tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, Jongdae’s hand is already on the doorknob when he hears Junmyeon begin to speak again.
“You cared about Luhan, didn’t you,” Junmyeon says quietly. Sighing heavily, Jongdae turns around to face him, back pressed against the door like a caged animal.
“I was only in love with him for three years, if that counts as ‘caring’ then yes, I cared about him,” Jongdae snarls. “But I didn’t let my feelings get in the way of my mission, and I don’t regret that.”
“You don’t regret it, and yet ever since that day you haven’t been able to kill anyone,” Junmyeon states, and Jongdae wants to hurt him, threaten him, anything to get that soft, pitying look off his face.
“You breathe a word of this to anyone, and I can make things very unpleasant for you,” Jongdae sneers. Junmyeon doesn’t rise to the bait, face remaining smooth and impassive.
“How did you get past the yearly psych evaluations?” he asks lightly, as if inquiring about Jongdae’s favorite restaurant.
“How do you think?” Jongdae laughs, and the sound is like sandpaper scraping against skin. “I hacked into the database and wrote my own psych evaluation. For an intelligence agency, they’re terrible at protecting agent information profiles, at least for us field operatives. I guess we’re just more expendable than you strategists.”
Junmyeon flinches at Jongdae’s words and Jongdae wonders why he doesn’t feel happier about finally getting a reaction out of him.
“Jongdae, you know that’s not-” Junmyeon starts to say, but Jongdae cuts him off, ignoring the warm swooping sensation in his stomach when Junmyeon says his name.
“You’ve seen me on missions, it’s not like it’s a liability,” he says quickly, suddenly worried that this could be the end of everything-all Junmyeon has to do is send in a short anonymous memo recommending Jongdae for a real psych test and everything he’s worked for will disappear. “I would never keep letting them put me out in the field if I thought I was a danger to anyone. You have to believe me, Junmyeon, I would never-”
“You said my name,” Junmyeon says, voice a bit shaky, and Jongdae glances up at him, confused.
“What are you-”
“Earlier. When the shooting started. You said my name,” Junmyeon says softly.
“Look, I’m sorry about that,” Jongdae apologizes, wondering how angry Junmyeon is about Jongdae’s slip, admittedly it was a fairly amateur mistake that should never have happened but Jongdae hadn’t been thinking-
But Jongdae’s thoughts are abruptly silenced when Junmyeon suddenly closes the distance between them, hands coming up to cradle Jongdae’s face, and then Junmyeon is kissing him and Jongdae feels like his heart might beat right out of his chest.
Junmyeon, feeling Jongdae’s stillness, immediately pulls back, staring at his feet.
“Jongdae-Chen-I am so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, you’re right, let’s just go back to the party, this isn’t helping anything-”
But Jongdae is already reaching up to grab Junmyeon’s lapels and pull him forward, and Junmyeon’s lips are soft and yielding under Jongdae’s touch. Jongdae twines his fingers in Junmyeon’s hair, slotting their lips more tightly together, and swallows all of the little sounds Junmyeon makes, reveling in the way they taste on his tongue.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Junmyeon gasps when they finally part, and Jongdae marvels at the way he looks so uncontrolled. His hair is rumpled, shirt creased and wrinkled, his lips are pink, slightly swollen and glistening, and his eyes are dark with want. Jongdae did that. He made Junmyeon look like that. The thought sends a strange warmth shooting through his chest.
“I really don’t know why you waited,” Jongdae says.
“I suppose we should get back to the party,” Junmyeon mutters, voice low and enticing, and all Jongdae wants is to kiss him, again and again until every bit of Junmyeon’s carefully constructed façade is coming apart under his fingers. But he knows Junmyeon is right.
“We really should,” he whispers, pulling Junmyeon in for a final swift kiss before yanking open the door and walking out into the hallway.
The instant he does, he’s met by a barrage of voices yelling in his ear. He hears his and Junmyeon’s names several times, generally accompanied by a lot of swearing, and it’s several moments before he recovers enough to say anything.
“What? What’s going on?” he whispers harshly.
“Oh, finally,” he hears Wu Fan groan. “We’ve been trying to contact you two for the past ten minutes! You went into some kind of dead zone and we couldn’t get in touch-what happened?”
“We were following a lead, but it turned out to be a dud,” Junmyeon explains, and Jongdae admires the way his voice stays so calm.
“Okay, well you better hurry up and get over to the parking structure. There’s someone heading over there and we’re 99% sure he’s our terrorist sympathizer.”
Junmyeon and Jongdae exchange a look, and then they both start sprinting down the hallway towards the stairwell.
“Talk to me, Chanyeol,” he hears Yesung shout through the comm line. “I can see you circling around the other side of the garage but I’ve lost track of our man. Do you have a sight on him?”
“I did,” Chanyeol grunts, “up until a few seconds ago. Then he disappeared. I think he might have gotten in a car?”
“He’s on the move!” Minzy’s voice cuts through the background chatter. “Black corvette, heading down the ramp to the third level. I’m still on the fifth level, it’s going to take me a few minutes to get down there, are any of you closer?”
“I am,” Jongdae gasps, then turns to Junmyeon. “He’s trying to leave the parking structure. You go wait at the exit on the first level and I’ll meet him on the second level and try to cut him off.”
Junmyeon gives him a curt nod and then they’re running in opposite directions, blood pumping through Jongdae’s veins almost louder than the voices in his ear. Finally, he reaches the door leading from the hotel to the parking structure and slams through it, gun at the ready, turning slowly in circles as he watches for the car.
“Minzy?” he asks. “Sehun? Does anyone know where the car went?”
“It just went down the ramp leading to the second level,” Sehun reports, breathing ragged. “I’m not sure why you’re not seeing it-”
But then Jongdae hears the screeching of tires and he whips around just in time to see the car careening around the corner of the garage, headed straight for him. As he leaps out of the way, landing hard on the concrete floor, he hears a gunshot, and sees the car begin to spin wildly out of control, one of its tires flattened. Taking aim, he blows out another tire, sending the car smashing into one of the garage’s support pillars. Just before the impact, he sees a dark shape throw itself out of the driver’s side door.
“You all right?” Minzy asks shortly as she passes him, advancing towards the person lying on the ground next to the smoking wreck. Not bothering to respond, Jongdae peels himself off the ground, wincing at a blazing pain in his side. There’s a bit of blood leaking onto his shirt, but Jongdae ignores it, following Minzy towards the remains of the car, gun raised cautiously.
As Minzy inspects the man lying on the ground, Jongdae slips around to the other side of the car, looking in the windows, checking for any hints as to what the people inside had been doing.
“He’s alive,” Minzy announces, just as Chanyeol, Wu Fan, Sungmin, and Yesung race into view, forming a circle around the wreckage. “And we definitely have our man. I recognize this guy. One of the leaders of the North Korean terrorist cell. Excellent.”
“Unfortunately,” Jongdae says loudly, and all eyes shift to where he’s standing by the passenger side of the car, “our sympathizer here didn’t fare so well.”
“Yuck,” Sehun says, coming up behind Jongdae and wincing at the body in the passenger seat. “Poor guy.”
“Well, I don’t know how sorry you can feel for him,” Donghae observes, lowering his gun when he sees that the rest of them have everything under control. “He did just try to sell out his country.”
“I just alerted the FBI,” Junmyeon says, suddenly appearing behind Jongdae’s shoulder. Jongdae starts, but when he turns around he sees Junmyeon giving him a lopsided smile. “They should be here soon to collect the terrorist agent. And what’s left of our friend here.”
“I think he was one of the news people?” Yesung says slowly, scratching his head with the butt of his pistol. “He owned some news corporation.”
“Actually, he owned several news corporations,” Jongin says helpfully in their ears, and Jongdae sighs. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off he suddenly feels deathly tired.
“News from the top,” Jongin reports smugly as they begin to hear sirens nearby. “Bring it in. Regroup at your respective hotels. Mission accomplished.”
Slowly the two groups begin to split apart, everyone worn out but smiling happily at a job well done, and Jongdae doesn’t even flinch when Junmyeon drapes an arm over his shoulders.
“You were amazing,” Junmyeon whispers in his ear, then laughs at the way Jongdae’s eyes dart to the side to see if anyone’s watching them.
“Whoo! That was fun!” Chanyeol yells, heartily slapping Jongdae on the back. Jongdae looks up at him with a grin, and for the first time in a long time he thinks that what he’s feeling is happiness. Pure and simple.
“I can’t believe you annihilated all of my hard work!” Sehun moans as he skips up to walk with Chanyeol and Wu Fan and sees Jongdae’s face. “Have you no heart?”
And, as the warmth of Junmyeon’s side seeps through Jongdae’s shirt, and Sehun continues his diatribe against ungrateful agents, Jongdae thinks that this feeling is definitely happiness. And he likes it.
---
He’s a bit surprised when Baekhyun calls a team meeting the next day. But Jongdae supposes he doesn’t mind all that much since he hears the news from Junmyeon, who comes to his room that morning and backs him up against the wall, kissing him long and slow until Jongdae feels slightly lightheaded.
He’s even more surprised to see Baekhyun looking so serious when he walks into the conference room. Taking the open seat next to Chanyeol, Jongdae tries to avoid smiling every time he glances over at Junmyeon across the table.
“Okay, so first of all, great job yesterday,” Baekhyun says with an indulgent grin, and the table erupts in triumphant exclamations and spontaneous high-fives. “But there’s still one more thing left to do. As someone not-so-subtly pointed out to me the other day, the NSA never does something for nothing.”
“Uh-oh,” Wu Fan mutters.
“And what we agreed upon was that, in exchange for their help in this and future operations,” Baekhyun continues. “We would give them this.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, shiny disk, and Jongdae stills, his breath caught in his throat. The table around him explodes again, but this time into a flurry of angry disbelief. Jongdae is silent. He’d expected something like this to happen, but seeing the disk in Baekhyun’s hand suddenly makes the whole thing so real. He can remember the exact weight of that disk in his hand. He can remember the exact color of the reflected flames in its shining surface.
“I know what you’re all thinking,” Baekhyun begins, only to be immediately interrupted.
“That this is a terrible idea and that getting that disk almost cost us some of our best operatives, including Chen, and now we’re just going to give it away?” Chanyeol growls. Baekhyun shoots him an annoyed glance and Chanyeol immediately quiets, dropping his eyes to the floor.
“Well, unfortunately, Command doesn’t really care about the opinions of its field operatives,” Baekhyun says coldly. “So this is happening whether you people like it or not. We’ve already copied all the information off the disk, and people are working around the clock to try to decode it. Letting the NSA try their hand at it won’t be doing us any major disservice. We’ve already set up the transfer with Agent Lay-”
“What did you say?” Jongdae suddenly asks, staring hard at Baekhyun even as everyone at the table turns to look at him.
“About what?” Baekhyun asks in confusion. “About setting up the transfer with Agent Lay?”
“I have to do it,” Jongdae says firmly. “It has to be me that makes the exchange. It could be dangerous and I know Lay. It only makes sense for it to be me.”
“Well, erm,” Baekhyun says, eyes sliding over to meet Junmyeon’s. “Suho and I already agreed that it makes more sense for him to complete the transfer. Since he’s a fairly prominent public figure, it will be less likely that the NSA will be able to pull a disappearing act without going to a lot of trouble to pass it off as an accident.”
Jongdae, unable to believe his ears, falls silent, but his thoughts are spinning out of control. Yixing had been Luhan’s partner at the time of that mission. He was one of the first people who would have been told about Luhan’s death. And Jongdae needs to explain, he needs to try to make things right. Or not really right, because Jongdae and Luhan chose their paths, but he at least owes Yixing an explanation after all the years they spent together…
“Well, that’s all for now,” Baekhyun’s saying. “To recap, the exchange will happen tomorrow morning. Chanyeol and Kris, you’ll be Suho’s back-up, even though he’ll technically be ‘alone.’ If this all goes well, you all should be on a plane home by this time tomorrow.”
When Baekhyun finishes, everyone rises and, amid the general shuffle and grumbling, Jongdae sees Baekhyun pass Junmyeon the disk, which he promptly slips into his pocket. As Junmyeon tries to slip past Jongdae out into the hallway, Jongdae grabs his arm and pulls him back.
“Jongdae, look, I know what you’re going to say-” Junmyeon begins with a sigh, but Jongdae cuts him off angrily.
“If you know what I’m going to say then why did you let Baekhyun assign you the mission?” Jongdae asks, and no, his throat is not getting tight, it’s not.
“Because of exactly this,” Junmyeon says, eyes sweeping down Jongdae’s body as if to encompass his entire existence. “You’re too invested in this. And Lay was Luhan’s partner when you…Does it not occur to you that he might want revenge for the death of his closest friend?”
“No, you don’t understand,” Jongdae says loudly, pretending he doesn’t notice the sudden wobble in his voice. “That’s exactly why it has to be me that makes the exchange. I need a chance to explain…to try to do…something.”
“There’s nothing you can do,” Junmyeon says, placing his hands on Jongdae’s shoulders comfortingly. “And these are the missions that agents like you die on, you told me that yourself. I can’t lose you, Jongdae.”
“Well, if you don’t let me go you might as well have killed me,” Jongdae shoots back coldly. “This is my last chance, Junmyeon, don’t you understand that? After this I’m out of time and out of options. The chances of me ever seeing Yixing again…”
Junmyeon says nothing, simply staring at Jongdae with those dark, impassive eyes that Jongdae can’t help but lose himself in.
“Please, just let me go,” he tries one last time, hating the desperation palpable in the request.
“I’m sorry, Jongdae,” Junmyeon says. “This is just something I have to do.”
“And this is something I have to do,” Jongdae whispers, as Junmyeon brushes past him and walks out the door.
He looks down at the disk clutched in his fist, still warm after being lifted from Junmyeon’s pocket. Pulling out his cellphone, he dials a number Baekhyun had given him for emergencies. It only takes a few seconds to make a connection once he lists the reason for his call.
“Hello?”
“Yixing. Meet me on the third floor of the parking garage by the hotel where the dinner was held. We’re making the exchange at 11pm tonight.”
“Excellent.”
---
It’s a simple matter for Jongdae to sneak out of the hotel and out into the night. He makes sure to leave a curt voicemail for Junmyeon about wanting to be left alone-hopefully by the time he begins to analyze what that means it will be too late for him to stop Jongdae.
The parking structure is empty and dark when Jongdae reaches it, ducking under the police tape on the second floor to make his way up to the third level. Yixing isn’t there when he arrives, so Jongdae wanders over to an opening in the wall and lets the night breeze waft across his face. The moon is bright and round in the sky, though little of its light spills over into the darkness of the garage. Then Jongdae hears a rustle behind him and without even looking, points his gun behind him in the direction of the sound.
“Not a very nice greeting for an old friend,” Yixing says loudly, rough voice slicing through the thick silence. When Jongdae finally turns away from the view outside, he sees Yixing standing a few meters away, gun also raised.
“Well, at least we’re still friends,” Jongdae says conversationally, taking a few steps forward to narrow the gap between them. “I was beginning to think you didn’t think so.”
“And what would have made you think that?” Yixing laughs, his eyes shining a sharp silver in the dim light. “Maybe the part where you killed my best friend, the person I was so sure you were in love with? But maybe I was just mistaken about that last bit.”
“Yixing, I didn’t have a choice,” Jongdae says, voice hard. “You would have killed me if it had been your whole team in danger.”
“Oh, so I was definitely wrong about that last bit,” Yixing says. “It’s not that you weren’t in love with Luhan, it’s that you don’t have any feelings at all. Is that why they sent you here to give me the disk? They knew you wouldn’t have any problem killing yet another expendable old friend?”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jongdae spits, frustrated at the way Yixing seems so at ease, so relaxed. “I did what I had to do. But there’s not a second of my life that I don’t regret it.”
“Oh, regret, how adorable,” Yixing laughs, and the raw sound makes Jongdae shiver. “Well, if you regret it, then how can I hold you accountable?”
“You have no idea how hard it was for me,” Jongdae snarls. “You don’t know what I’ve been through these past two years.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Yixing sneers mockingly. “Was it worse than being told that your partner was dead and that the person who killed him was someone you thought was a good person? When did the CIA even get to you, Jongdae? Was everything we went through together just a way for you to gather information, a way to practice lying and deceiving anyone who tries to get close to you? Because that’s all our lives are now, isn’t it? There is no truth anymore.”
“Don’t pretend that the NSA didn’t start talking to you at the same time the CIA was talking to me,” Jongdae says, some of Yixing’s derisive tone seeping into his own voice. “Looking back, I should have known-you and Luhan always sneaking off together, always shutting up as soon as I came over, as if you both knew some secret I wasn’t allowed to know. At the time I thought-”
“Oh, Jongdae,” Yixing says, voice twisted into a poisonous replica of pity, “I know what you thought. Back then, you couldn’t fool anyone. Now, I hear you can fool a lie detector without a second thought. And what if I were to tell you that you were right? What if I told that all those times we snuck off together, we were doing exactly what you thought we were doing?”
“I would say you’re lying,” Jongdae says, but he can feel heat rising in his face and he can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. “That’s what people like us do, we lie. I don’t see why this would be any different.”
“We always promised each other it would be different,” Yixing says, and Jongdae can see even in the dim light that his fingers wrapped around the gun are trembling slightly. “Do you remember? It was Luhan who said that. The day that he got pushed down that staircase because of those stupid rumors about him and I. Do you remember that? When we were in the hospital and he said that we would be different, that we’d never have to lie to each other-”
“Stop it,” Jongdae says sharply.
“Ah, so you do remember,” Yixing breathes. “I wonder what happened to us. When did all the lying start? When did we let you go so completely that you didn’t think twice about killing Luhan-”
“You don’t know what that was like!” Jongdae screams, his voice echoing around the empty garage. “How can you think even for a second that I didn’t care? How can you think even for a second that I don’t relive that moment nearly every day and every day I almost wish I had let him shoot me, let him kill my teammates-my friends-just so I wouldn’t have to see that look on his face every time I go to sleep?”
“Where’s the disk?” Yixing asks after a long pause. Their heavy breathing is the only sound in the dark garage. “Just give me the disk and let me leave.”
“Show of good faith,” Jongdae hisses. “Put down your gun and I’ll put down mine and then I’ll give you the disk.”
“I’m not you, Jongdae,” Yixing says softly, and the words cut deep into Jongdae’s chest, burying themselves in his heart. “I’m not going to shoot you.”
“Put down the gun,” is all Jongdae says in reply, slowly lowering his arms to his sides. After a tense moment, Yixing does the same. He takes a few steps forward, as does Jongdae, and then they’re standing so close Jongdae can see the pain and anger written in every line of Yixing’s face. He’d never been as good of a liar as Jongdae.
“Here,” Jongdae says, holding out the disk. Yixing reaches out to grab it, flinching when their hands touch. Jongdae tries to pretend the motion doesn’t send a bolt of hurt stabbing through him.
“I’m going to leave now,” Yixing says, taking several quick steps backwards, gun already raised. “And you are going to wait here for five minutes until I do. Try not to let your finger slip on the trigger when I turn around.”
And then he’s running, pale shape fading quickly into the grey-black background of the garage, and the night beyond. Jongdae is shaking, sweat trickling into his eyes, and he feels like he’s just awoken from one of his nightmares except this is real life, the gun smooth and heavy in his hand, the moonlight bright against his skin.
When he hears the soft tapping of feet against concrete, he whips around, wildly hoping the salt in his eyes doesn’t blur his vision too much for him to get off a clean shot. But, to his amazement, it’s Junmyeon who appears out of the darkness, flanked by a grinning Chanyeol and an amused-looking Wu Fan.
“That was fantastic!” Chanyeol yells, bounding over to pull Jongdae into a tight hug. “You did so, so well. And now Kris owes me ten dollars, because we didn’t even have to fire a shot.”
“Beginner’s luck,” Wu Fan snorts, but Chanyeol just sniffs.
“No, I just know Chen,” he says, pulling back and examining Jongdae’s face. “Hey, are you all right?”
“No, I am not all right,” Jongdae yells, and Chanyeol jumps backward, a surprised look on his face. “What the hell is going on here?”
“The NSA has suspected Agent Lay of having some covert side activities with unsavory characters for quite a while now. Ever since you recovered the disk from the NSA compound, actually,” Junmyeon says quickly, stepping forward so his face is bathed in the moonlight now streaming through the opening in the garage wall. “But there was never a good chance to prove it until now. As we speak, Lay is being tracked, and the other members of his team are watching to see if he meets up with anyone to sell the fake disk. You’ve been invaluable.”
“The disk was a fake?” Jongdae asks, the words tumbling around in his head, mixing and sloshing until they don’t make any sense. “But why did you let me give the disk to Yixing?”
“Because we had to make him believe it was real. If it had been anyone with a less personal connection to the case, Agent Lay would have insisted on testing the disk, or something else to prove its authenticity. But with you being so desperate to protect it, there was no way he would think it was a fake. You make people want to believe you, Jongdae. Without that skill, this mission would never have been such a success.”
“I know we should probably have told you,” Chanyeol says, his eyes bright and apologetic. “But we didn’t know if you’d have been able to put on such a completely convincing performance if you knew. So we had to let you believe Suho didn’t want you to be the one making the exchange.”
“Well, he did a great job,” Jongdae spits, purposefully avoiding Junmyeon’s eyes. “I never suspected a thing.”
Then, turning on his heel, he sprints off in the same direction Yixing had taken, ignoring the confused yelling from behind him. He’s definitely crying now, tears mixing with quickly cooling sweat, leaving him shuddering as he watches darkened office buildings and empty parks slide by. He’s not quite sure how, but he manages to make it back to his hotel room where, after slamming the door, locking it, and shoving a chair under the handle, he throws himself down on the bed and wonders when everything in his life started going so terribly wrong.
---
He’s been hanging around Command a lot ever since he got back, begging Minseok to stop playing solitaire and recommend him for a new assignment, asking Sehun if he can join his team on that drug bust or whatever it is.
Jongdae doesn’t care anymore as long as it gets him out of his small apartment, out of Command, and out of the way of Kim Junmyeon.
“For the last time, would you stop?” Minseok asks when he sees Jongdae approaching his desk. “The higher-ups think you need a break after that whole big, important, potentially emotionally traumatizing mission, and it’s only been a week and a half! I mean, I knew you were one of the more impatient, adrenaline-addicted agents around here but seriously, what is wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me,” Jongdae sniffs, leaning against Minseok’s desk. “Solitaire? Again? What are you even getting paid for?”
“I may be retired from the whole international hired assassin thing,” Minseok says, giving Jongdae a dark look. “But that doesn’t mean I still can’t kill you in under ten seconds.”
“Ha! I’d like to see you try,” Jongdae laughs, but he steps back from the receptionist desk just in case. That’s not exactly the type of adrenaline rush he’s looking for. He’s just about to wander off to try to bother Wu Fan when he hears Minseok calling him back.
“Oh, wait, Jongdae!” Minseok says, waving a hand in his direction. “Looks like it’s your lucky day. Baekhyun wants to see you in 3B.”
“Excellent,” Jongdae says, punching the air in triumph. “I knew pestering you would pay off!”
“Let it be known that I had absolutely nothing to do with this, and if it were up to me you would be forced into a desk job and chained here in Command until you rotted,” Minseok yells at Jongdae’s retreating back. Jongdae simply smiles. He’s just about out of ideas for ways to get the past out of his mind, and the only thing left is to try to get himself put in a situation so dangerous he won’t have time to think about it anymore. Won’t have time to think about Junmyeon anymore.
“Hello?” Jongdae says, knocking on the door.
“Come in,” he hears Baekhyun say, and Jongdae thinks his voice sounds a bit strangely high-pitched. When he opens the door, he finds out why.
“I’m sorry, Chen, I was put up to this, I swear! I was bribed with the promise of a CIA-paid-for date at this lovely little restaurant by the river and Chanyeol’s really excited about it, it’s not my fault!” Baekhyun babbles as he pushes past Jongdae and out the door, slamming it behind him. Jongdae hears the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock.
“You know I could pick that lock in a matter of minutes,” Jongdae says.
“I was hoping that you didn’t want to get away from me quite that badly,” Junmyeon says. “But if I was wrong, by all means, go ahead. I’ll just be here.”
“I didn’t even know Baekhyun and Chanyeol were dating.”
“All I want is to talk.”
“Fine,” Jongdae huffs, throwing himself down into the chair directly across from Junmyeon. “Let’s talk.”
“Okay. Good. So, I can see why you’re upset,” Junmyeon begins tentatively, obviously expecting Jongdae to cut him off, which he promptly does.
“Upset about what, exactly?” Jongdae asks airily. “The fact that you let me unknowingly sell out someone who was one of my best friend-something that became necessary only because I killed his partner and probably sent him into some terrible spiral of disillusionment-or the fact that you lied to me about absolutely everything?”
“Okay, Jongdae, what else was I-”
“And to think I believed you,” Jongdae says disgustedly. “Even after you’d shown me that picture of your fiancée, I have no idea how I could have been so deluded as to think you’d ever want…”
“Want what, Jongdae?” Junmyeon asks, and his eyes are a bit bright but maybe it’s just Jongdae’s imagination. His stupid, stupid imagination that forces him to relive one of the worst days of his life nearly every night, that let him believe that Junmyeon could ever fall in love with someone like him.
“You know what, I’m done with this,” Jongdae scoffs, pushing himself out of his chair and turning towards the door so Junmyeon can’t see his face. He’s worried about what might be written there. Junmyeon seems to have the uncanny ability to see through Jongdae’s carefully constructed façade and he hates it. He hates how weak and vulnerable it makes him feel. “I have to say, it was pretty hypocritical of you to lecture me about the way I treated Zitao when you were planning on doing the exact same thing.”
His hand is already on the doorknob when he hears Junmyeon sigh behind him.
“If I told you that part wasn’t a lie,” he says softly, and Jongdae gulps, thoughts flashing back to Yixing’s words last night. “If I told you that, despite every tragic story I’ve ever heard and every warning I’ve ever been given, I fell in love with you. What would you say?”
“I would say you’re lying,” Jongdae says harshly, just as he had to Yixing. “That’s what people like us do, after all. There’s no reason this would be any different.”
He’s turned back to the door and is twisting the handle, trying to jiggle it open, when suddenly there’s a hand next to his, and then Junmyeon’s arms are wrapped around him, his lips crushed against Jongdae’s. Jongdae stays perfectly still for several moments, even as Junmyeon winds his fingers in his hair, warm lips slanting across Jongdae’s in a way that makes Jongdae’s insides feel traitorously light. But eventually Jongdae relaxes into the kiss, and the second he does Junmyeon is licking into his mouth, smiling at each of Jongdae’s soft moans, Jongdae shivering at the way he can feel those smiles against his skin. When Junmyeon finally pulls away, Jongdae swallows back a whine at the loss of contact and settles for staring deep into Junmyeon’s dark, velvety eyes.
“Do you believe me now?” Junmyeon whispers, hair mussed, lips pink and shiny, and Jongdae melts.
“I think I might need a little more convincing,” he says, reaching up to pull Junmyeon closer, and he doesn’t think once about Luhan, or Yixing, or broken promises, or nightmares. The world narrows to Junmyeon’s hair, Junmyeon’s lips, Junmyeon’s broken sighs when Jongdae kisses him again and again.
And Jongdae thinks that maybe this is what he’s needed all along-someone to make his world just a little bit smaller, just a little bit warmer and kinder and more…well, more Junmyeon.
“You know I’m still going to be going on missions,” Jongdae says against Junmyeon’s lips, and Junmyeon pulls back to examine his face for any signs of emotion. It’s going against everything Jongdae’s trained for but he tries to let himself relax, because Junmyeon is looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world and for once he doesn’t need to lie.
“I know,” Junmyeon says with a grin, and Jongdae lets himself get lost in the way Junmyeon’s eyes absorb the light, sending back glimmers of reflected gold. “And as long as you always stick to my plans, I think we’ll be just fine.”
And as they kiss, Jongdae realizes he didn’t even notice who was the first to look away. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter.
Jongdae feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Junmyeon’s hands tighten around his waist, as if he’s worried Jongdae might try to escape, and Jongdae wonders if it’s possible for a human to spontaneously lose ten pounds of worries and sadness and memories. He wonders if Junmyeon would mind very much if they just stayed like this forever. Unless Jongdae’s very much mistaken, this is what love feels like. He is in love with Kim Junmyeon.
And that, Jongdae knows, is the truth.
END