The Spy Who (Kind of, Sort of, Maybe) Loved Me - Part Four
Masterpost
Part Three
“What about this one?” Brendon asks, his finger running gently over a dark, circular indentation just below Ryan’s right shoulder.
“Dubai, last August,” Ryan answers, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over Brendon’s hip. “I was running down a hall in some rundown building. Tried to free this family held hostage. They made it out, but the bullet went clear through my shoulder.” Ryan shifts so that Brendon can see the matching scar on his back.
It’s eleven o’clock, and they’re both wide-awake and lazy. Understandable, considering they fell asleep together just before seven once they had moved to Brendon’s bed. It had been nice, Brendon curling his lean body around Ryan’s thin frame and burying his face in the back of Ryan’s neck. Then Ryan woke up, unable to sleep any longer, and the soft kisses he pressed to Brendon’s shoulder couldn’t have been soft enough since they woke him. And then Brendon, no longer preoccupied by sex and desire, noticed the scars decorating Ryan’s body, and granted, he had a few himself, just not quite as many or as noticeable as Ryan’s. When he asked about the first one, he expected Ryan not to answer him, at least not completely, but Ryan has been patient and told the story about each one. In exchange, Brendon tells his own stories, and Ryan listens with shockingly no biting remarks.
There’s silence, and Brendon vaguely wonders when they’re going to get up to search for food because he’s starving and Ryan is bound to be hungry as well. But his thumb runs along the biggest, most noticeable scar, the one that caught his attention first. It is raised, stretching from Ryan’s waist and coming across to end above his navel, and an angry looking purple-red, indicating that it is from a fairly recent wound.
“And… this one?” Brendon croaks. It could be from anything, but Brendon has some idea.
Ryan’s expression changes. Not angry, but it’s obvious that this one has affected him. Ryan clears his throat and furrows his brow. “Uh, day three in Korea. I was tied to a chair, already weak from food and sleep deprivation and all the beatings, and the soldier sliced through me with a knife slowly. Threw a soft powder onto the wound, hurt like hell.”
It is a four-month-old reminder of a living nightmare. Ryan was tortured, and the color of the scar is evidence that it isn’t some distant memory but still rather fresh. Brendon finds himself pulling Ryan closer.
“It wasn’t the physical pain though,” Ryan whispers. “While I was living it, it was routine. Easy. I could get through it since I was trained to handle it, you know.” Brendon does know. He’d spent weeks going through capture scenarios and receiving psychological testing to see if he was “breakable”. They were those tests where passing was imperative in order to go on in the program.
“It was after,” he continues. “You’re close to Spencer, so you know. Brent and I had been close too, had saved each other countless times, and I got back to find out he was killed and all fingers were pointing at me.”
Ryan sighs. “I barely had anyone after that.” Brendon laces their fingers together, brushing his lips along Ryan’s knuckles. Ryan’s face softens at the gesture, and he says with a sad chuckle, “I never thought I’d talk to anyone about this. Alex and Greta have stopped trying to get me to talk about it. And here I am, spilling it all so easily to you.”
“Maybe… you’re healing. Maybe all this is helping you heal. You know, being able to do something about it?” Brendon offers.
Brendon is surprised to see a smile stretch across Ryan’s face, transforming him before Brendon’s eyes. “Yeah, maybe. And maybe you’re helping.” Ryan dips his head down and kisses him, and it’s the kind that makes Brendon feel like it’s less out of pure attraction and more out of feelings deeper than that. There’s no rush, just a soft, steady press of lips and the faintest nudge of the nose every once in a while.
---------------
This time, Brendon wakes up when Ryan moves. Still half asleep, he clutches Ryan to him more tightly. “No. No pushups,” Brendon mumbles, also making noises that aren’t actual words though the protesting tone is the same.
Brendon feels a kiss press to his temple and makes an approving noise, encouraging Ryan as the kisses travel to his cheek and then his jaw and finally land on his lips. They kiss like they have all the time in the world, like they don’t have important things to do later on, like Jon and Spencer aren’t supposed to be coming over soon. It’s still early in the morning so Brendon’s mind is in that slight haze where he hasn’t woken up properly, and kissing Ryan takes it a step further, his mind invaded by a dizzying, tingling buzz.
His fingers thumb over Ryan’s sharp hips, gripping firmly to keep him from leaving, and Ryan gnaws softly at Brendon’s bottom lip a little before pulling away. Ryan is grinning at him, and Brendon thinks, I put that there, and lets a chuckle escape out into the air between them.
“What’s funny?” Ryan says, still smiling while cocking his head to the side.
Brendon shakes his head. “Nothing,” he answers, lifting his hand and pausing before brushing aside a strand of Ryan’s hair. “I’m just glad that you seem…”
He wants to finish his sentence with “happy”, but he doesn’t want to jinx it or assume things. If he thinks Ryan is happy, he’s implying that he is the reason for it. Somewhere in the back of Brendon’s mind, he can’t help thinking that Ryan’s fickle, at least when it comes to Brendon. It’s been hate one minute and lust the next. Brendon can already feel himself getting attached, even though his head tells him that he shouldn’t.
“Brendon, what’s wrong?” Ryan asks, jolting Brendon back to reality. He looks up at Ryan, who has a truly concerned look on his face. Brendon doesn’t notice right away that his grin had slipped, though Ryan definitely does.
He tries to smile widely like before, adding a shrug in response, but the muscles in his face feel strained and Ryan definitely isn’t buying it.
Ryan shakes his head. “Don’t do that. Something changed. You’re all tense and awkward. What was it?”
Brendon sighs. How does he say it without seeming whiny or clingy? “I’m just… unsure of… whether to think this is one thing while in reality you think it’s something else,” he babbles.
“What do you mean?” Ryan asks, frowning.
And then Brendon thinks back to what he just went on about, and he laughs at himself. He sounds ridiculous.
“Look, it’s nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m just being dumb. Don’t worry about it.”
Ryan looks like he is about to object, but he lets it go in the end.
------------------
“So you two are…” Jon says, looking utterly perplexed while Spencer snickers into Jon’s shoulder.
“We’re fucking,” Brendon finishes for him, earning an “Ew!” from Spencer and a “Hey!” from Ryan. Jon just looks stunned. “What?” Brendon says when he turns to Ryan. “I’m using your words, remember?”
Ryan arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “When?”
Brendon crosses his arms and smiles playfully back. “When you were describing Spencer and Jon’s relationship. Remember, after you kicked me?”
Spencer looks smug now. “Yeah, so care to take that back?”
Ryan rolls his eyes and glances at Brendon, who just shrugs and waits. He feels pretty victorious at finding out Ryan thinks of them as more.
Finally, Ryan sighs. “Spencer and Jon are in a loving, mature relationship,” he says dully, almost as if a child would while reciting lines for a school play.
“Yes, we are,” Spencer says, placing a kiss on Jon’s cheek, bringing a faint flush to the man’s cheeks, and leads him into the kitchen.
Brendon is about to follow when Ryan places a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
He looks uncertain, and it’s still a strange look on him. “You don’t really think we’re just…?” Ryan looks almost uncomfortable at having to say it.
Brendon knows he shouldn’t answer, but he finds himself shaking his head before he realizes it. “I was kind of hoping…” He feels like an awkward teenager again, just one step away from kicking a nonexistent rock.
“Me too,” Ryan finishes, and then he laughs. “Shit, what are you doing to me, Brendon Urie?”
He loops an arm around Brendon’s waist, hugging him close and kissing his temple. Brendon almost doesn’t know what to do with a non-antagonizing Ryan. It’s nice, really nice actually, but unsettling all the same. No one changes like that.
Then Ryan bends his head down, looking mischievous, and says, “How about we make out in front of Spencer just to piss him off?”
Brendon bursts out laughing. “Oh, okay. So now that you’re not annoying the crap out of me 24/7, I’m supposed to annoy everyone else with you.”
Ryan nods. “That’s the general idea.”
“God, you are infuriating,” Brendon says, rolling his eyes
“And yet, you find me sexy and adorable and charming.” The smug yet playful smile on Ryan’s face is back.
While it is all pretty true, Brendon challenges him with, “I don’t know if I’d say that.”
Ryan scoffs. “Excuse me, but who kissed whom first?”
Obviously, he’d forgotten about their very first meeting when Ryan kissed him while Brendon was tied to a chair. But Brendon doesn’t bring it up. “Fine. I find you sexy and adorable and charming, and that makes me batshit crazy.”
“Hey!” Ryan protests.
“Are you guys coming or what?” Spencer yells from the kitchen.
Brendon sighs and shrugs. “We’ve got work to do,” he says and sets off for the kitchen, Ryan trailing behind him.
-----------------
Spencer and Brendon ride the elevator, but this time, to Brendon, it feels so different. This place, this organization, does not feel like the haven it once was to him. Now, he knows it’s being run by a traitor, someone using his power to fulfill his own agenda - whatever it may be - and not that of his country. He is pretty positive that Beckett’s death was not sanctioned by anyone higher than Wentz.
Or was it?
Before all of this, Brendon was sure whose side he was working for. All he knows is that he wants to be on the good side. What if Wentz was just following orders, just like Saporta? What if Wentz is not some evil bastard that does not need to be taken down? What if they’re just completely wrong about everything? He was wrong about Ryan, so he could be wrong about this as well.
He hasn’t been to headquarters during the day since he’d gotten the mission to track Ryan. They’d only stopped by in the middle of the night for a quick debrief after picking up Ryan. It feels so long ago, but it has only been about a week. His life has gone topsy-turvy: sleeping with the supposed enemy, hating his boss for what he is suspected of doing, not trusting his fellow CIA officers.
The mood at FBR420 headquarters just does not feel right to Brendon. It feels almost frantic and solemn, and Brendon wonders why.
Spencer checks his watch. “We’re twenty minutes early,” he says, glancing at the door of the main meeting room. It is shut, indicating that a different team is inside.
Brendon looks around, finally spotting the familiar trucker cap. “I’m going to go talk to Patrick. I’ll be right back,” he tells Spencer, who goes off towards Jon’s office.
“Hey, Trick,” Brendon says as brightly as he can.
Patrick looks up and gives him a weary smile. “Brendon! I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Yeah,” Brendon says. “Still on mission. Got a meeting with Wentz though.”
Brendon notices the line of Patrick’s mouth tighten at his last sentence. “Oh, well, of course.” There’s a biting tone to his words, and Brendon raises his eyebrows.
“What?” he asks, letting Patrick know that he’d picked up on an underlying meaning to his words.
Patrick sighs. “It’s just that… he’s been different lately. Ever since Mr. Beckett… was found.”
“Different how?” Brendon asks curiously.
“Well, he’s been sending agents out on missions a lot, one right after the other. They’ve hardly gotten a break. And I’ve heard a few of the agents questioning their missions. Apparently, some of them are spying on several CIA officers not in FBR420, plus a few politicians and bureaucrats, and a few of them think it’s unethical. But they do it because, well, Carden was disavowed and dismissed this week and they don’t want to be next,” Patrick says in a hushed tone, glancing around to make sure no one is listening.
“I don’t believe it,” Brendon says, completely shocked.
Patrick nods. “Believe it. Apparently, it didn’t sit well with him that he was doing surveillance on the CIA director.”
“But dismissals aren’t taken lightly. He shouldn’t have been gone so fast.”
“Well, he was,” Patrick says soberly.
Brendon is about to question Patrick further when he feels a hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to go in,” Spencer says, having appeared with Jon behind him.
“Okay,” Brendon says and turns to Patrick. “See you later?”
Patrick nods and smiles at him, going back to fiddling with the voice tone replicator he had been repairing.
Brendon trails Spencer and Jon, so deep in thought that he doesn’t look where he is going and bumps into someone. “Oh, sorry,” he mutters, looking up and finding that he’d bumped into Mr. Saporta.
“Sorry, sir,” he says more clearly. The first thought that comes into mind is “murderer”, but then he really takes in the man’s appearance. He looks just plain burnt out. There are dark, heavy bags under his eyes that weren’t there before. Brendon imagines that his job had been stressful before, but now, something has changed within FBR420 to make his job almost unbearable. He guesses that killing such a good friend and following orders from an alleged psychopath may have something to do with it.
Saporta offers a tired smile, one similar to Patrick’s. “It’s alright, Agent Urie.”
Brendon nods awkwardly at the man and heads toward the door where Jon is waiting, Spencer having already gone inside.
-----------------
“That was close,” Spencer says when he and Brendon get back to the apartment.
“How did it go?” Ryan asks from the couch.
Brendon plops down next to him, swinging his legs up and over to lie down on the couch and not caring about wrinkling his suit. “We think Wentz bought it. Jon did a good job.”
“He was up all night, trying to get all the documentation in order,” Spencer says, rubbing his eyes and leaning back onto the couch.
“Well,” Ryan says, running a hand along Brendon’s leg resting in his lap, “the doctored manifests should have helped. They seemed pretty convincing to me.”
The story went something like this. Brendon and Spencer had tracked Ryan to New York. Brendon had fought and injured him when they cornered him in some building in Brooklyn, but Ryan had escaped, aided by an unidentified ally. Though not entirely certain, Jon, Brendon, and Spencer believe Ryan has left the country, most likely having gone to Europe. They are currently monitoring some of Ryan’s known former associates who operate abroad. They believe him to currently be in Amsterdam. He doesn’t think Wentz bought it too easily, but in the end, he seemed convinced that Jon, Spencer, and Brendon were doing everything in their power to track him down.
The door opens, and Jon and Greta stroll in, followed by Alex holding bags of food. Everyone greets each other, Ryan helping Greta with her computer bag and Brendon genially taking one of the bags of food from Alex and leading him to the kitchen.
“Thanks for all the food,” Brendon says politely, pulling out plates from cupboards.
“No problem. It’s the least I could do for you,” Alex replies, smiling.
“Me?”
He nods. “Yeah, Greta told me, and, I mean, look at him.”
Alex gestures for Brendon to look into the dining room, where Ryan is leaning in to talk to Greta who is setting up her equipment. Brendon feels a tug somewhere in his chest when he sees Ryan laugh at something she said. He watches as Ryan pulls impishly at one of her curls, and she bats his hand away.
When he looks back at Alex, Brendon finds him watching with an amused smile. “Greta told you what?” he says, hoping to divert Alex’s attention away from what is probably a completely smitten look on Brendon’s face. He doesn’t need Ryan’s ex to see just how bad he has it.
“That we’re getting the old Ryan back. Finally,” he says in a low voice, grabbing the food and walking towards the table. Brendon follows him with the stack of plates, and they let Spencer and Jon set the table around Ryan and Greta.
When they’re back in the kitchen, Brendon asks Alex to explain what he means. Alex stands a little closer as he helps Brendon get the glasses so he can speak more softly. “Ever since he’d been disavowed, Ryan’s been like… a robot. He never smiled, and when he spoke, he was just mean and unhappy. Then Spencer called him, and he was starting to get out of it, and then now… This Ryan that you see here, I haven’t seen him in four months.”
Brendon looks at Alex with wide eyes, and Alex just smiles and nods. He doesn’t have to say, “Because of you.” It’s implied.
“Come on,” Alex says, and they bring the rest to the table to join everyone.
The group digs into the wraps and chips that Alex had brought from his restaurant, Greta typing away on her computer as she eats. Jon talks to Alex, seemingly curious of how much he knows about FBR420 and their operations. Alex seems to know a lot and a little at the same time about the goings on of the agency, and Jon seems slightly unsettled. Meanwhile, Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon, though partially listening to the other conversation, discuss how the meeting with Wentz went and further strategies they could employ.
“Guys! I’ve got the coordinates for the origin of Wentz’s feed.” She’s still typing away, this time entering the coordinates in to look at a map and satellite images. Everyone gets up to crowd around her and the computer, watching the screen intently.
“Big Bear?” Brendon says. Though he’d recognize it more easily with snow, it is unmistakably Big Bear Lake that the house on the computer screen is by.
“I know this place,” Jon says in a tone that sounds as if he’s onto something. “I’ve been here before. The handlers had a meeting here once. It’s Wentz’s cabin.”
“Cabin” isn’t exactly the right word for it, considering the house has at least three stories from what Brendon can tell from the bird’s-eye images. It’s pretty huge and looks expensive, despite the effort to make it look like a somewhat modest cabin.
“So,” Spencer says thoughtfully, “what do you think? He’s hiding out in the middle of nowhere in a replica of his office and sending us on missions from there?”
“But why?” Ryan asks. “I mean, let’s say he is doing all this. We haven’t figured out his motivation yet.”
Brendon remembers his short conversation with Patrick earlier. “I don’t know why, but he’s been doing an awful lot of suspicious things.”
Jon cocks his head to the side. “What are you talking about Brendon?”
“The recent missions and Agent Carden’s dismissal.”
Jon’s face falls. “You think that’s suspicious too?”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Ryan asks, and Spencer nods, showing that he doesn’t know either. Brendon explains what Patrick had told him.
“And what’s more confusing,” Jon adds to Brendon’s story, “is that I didn’t even know he dismissed Carden until this afternoon. Found out from Saporta. An agent’s dismissal is usually discussed among the handlers as well, but Wentz had just gone and done it.”
Spencer shakes his head. “It’s like he just went crazy all of a sudden, forgetting about protocol and his own duty.”
“Maybe,” Jon says with a grave expression, “he’s gone rogue.”
“And he’s taking FBR420 with him,” Ryan finishes.
There’s silence as the words sink in. Brendon can see it. It could be the end of so many promising careers if Wentz isn’t stopped soon.
“You guys have to get him,” Greta pipes up, breaking the silence as the men look at her. Alex takes her hand, trying to still its shaking. She wasn’t trained as a field agent, so her fear is just written all over her face.
“We will,” Ryan says, confident and quiet.
Brendon believes him.
--------------------
Two days later, they drive up the mountain, twisting and turning every so often, and Brendon is glad that the ice has thawed. Still, they’ve been climbing for a while in the SUV, until Spencer turns down a road that one could’ve easily missed. Wentz’s cabin is deep in the wilderness, as far away from the resorts as possible.
Spencer turns off the road, and the ride gets bumpy, tossing the people in the vehicle around rather roughly. It doesn’t bother Brendon as much as it usually would have, since Ryan is sitting next to him and holding his hand. Finally, they park, and Spencer declares that it’s a good place to set up base camp since it is just beyond Wentz’s property and out of sight.
While Brendon and Jon set up camp, Ryan and Spencer backtrack a little on foot, clearing the path of any obvious tracks. It is nearing nightfall when the four of them are able to sit together and talk about their mission.
“I’ve had a third party up here doing recon for us,” Jon explains. “A man by the name of Tom Conrad. He is a trustworthy asset, loyal to me specifically. This is what he gathered for us.”
Jon rolls out a set of blueprints, obviously those for Wentz’s cabin. “We do not have visual confirmation of Wentz, though I suspect he wouldn’t leave much. There are lookouts stationed at the front door and the back, plus on the third story balcony.” He marks them on the blueprints as red X’s. “From the pictures Tom sent me, they are not FBR420 members, and facial recognition have gathered that they are not affiliated with any government agency.”
Brendon sighs in relief. He’d hate it if his fellow agents were in cahoots with Wentz.
“He may have other bodyguards or various lackeys in the house too,” Jon continues. “So when we go in, be on your guard at all times and neutralize them as quietly as you can.” Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon all nod. “I’d prefer it if you kept everyone alive and only kill if any one of us is in danger.” He looks pointedly at Ryan.
“Yeah, alright,” he responds with a roll of his eyes.
“Okay, so here is the plan…”
-------------------
It is late in the night - so late that it is arguably morning to some - when it is time for them to go. After getting their plans straight and pulling together all of their necessary gear, the four spend several hours in the dark, resting, meditating, making out - whatever they need to mentally prepare.
They get their gear on, and as Ryan pulls on a vest loaded with ammunition, weapons, and devices, Brendon chuckles.
“What’s so funny?” Ryan whispers as Brendon picks up his balaclava.
“When we first met,” Brendon says simply as he pulls the ski mask onto his head.
Ryan smiles, and it’s dark, but Brendon can see him step forward. Ryan pulls the ski mask down to expose Brendon’s lips and kisses him. “I’ll try not to knock you out this time,” he says with a wink.
When he tries to pull away, Brendon finds himself unable to let him go. “Wait.”
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asks, slight worry in his eyes.
“Just be careful,” Brendon whispers. Deep down, he is terrified something will happen to Ryan. He’s never realized just how dangerous his life - all of their lives - is. He’s never been afraid.
Ryan looks down and then back up again to look into Brendon’s eyes. “I will. And you too, okay? I don’t want you doing anything stupid for me. I’m not worth it.”
Brendon leans forward and kisses him again. “Don’t say that,” he says, his forehead leaning against Ryan’s.
“We’ll be fine,” Ryan says firmly, as if trying to convince himself a little.
Brendon pulls back and repeats, “We’ll be fine.”
“You guys ready?” Spencer says, and Brendon and Ryan back away from each other reluctantly.
“Yes,” Brendon says, tugging his balaclava up and affixing the night vision goggles (upgraded by Patrick to send video to Jon at base camp) to it.
Ryan pulls his own ski mask on and secures the goggles onto the clip. “All set here,” he says.
Jon comes up from behind Spencer. “Alright, guys. Time to head on out.”
“See you on the other side, Jon,” Brendon says, and Jon smiles and winks.
Brendon, Spencer, and Ryan take off in separate directions and stalk through the wilderness. Brendon’s footsteps are light as he takes care not to snap twigs or otherwise make noise. And then he is out of the woods, and he sees Wentz’s cabin.
There are no lights are on in the entire house, and he sees the guard at the backdoor that he is supposed to take out. He has to wait for Ryan though.
Because he knows to look for it and because he’s got night vision goggles on, he sees the small figure climbing up the high tree several yards away from the third story balcony. Brendon has great hearing, and he doesn’t pick up any sounds that Ryan could make no matter how much he strains. Ryan moves up fast, and though Brendon is sure he won’t fall, he still worries for Ryan’s safety. And then Ryan disappears all together in a thick batch of branches, and all Brendon can do is wait. He keeps his eyes on the guard sitting in the chair up on the balcony.
All of a sudden, the guard slumps over in his seat, head lolling to one side. Then, in his ear, he hears Ryan’s voice. “Balcony guard out.”
“Brendon, Spencer, are you in position?” Jon’s voice says.
“Affirmative,” Brendon says, and Spencer echoes his response.
“Alright, move in.”
Brendon moves to the side of the house stealthily, keeping light on his feet and pressing himself up against the wall. He creeps slowly to the edge and looks over his shoulder to see the guard at the backdoor. Brendon turns his head quickly so that he remains unseen, and he hears Ryan’s voice in his ear. “I’m going for the basement. I can get the window open.”
“Ryan, you’re supposed to go in with Brendon,” Jon reminds him firmly.
“He’ll be fine,” Ryan says quickly, and it brings Brendon back to the task at hand.
Brendon takes out the tranquilizer gun and aims it around the corner, leaning forward to see so he can take the shot quickly. He pulls the trigger and hears a soft hiss, but he’s quick on his feet when he sees that the dart has hit right on target. The guard lands in Brendon’s arms, and Brendon sets him down gently on the floor to make sure he doesn’t make too much noise. He can just about make out the guy’s eyes slipping closed, limbs already having gone limp. Brendon flips the man onto his stomach and pulls his arms behind his back to secure them with a zip-tie that Brendon pulls out of his pocket. He does the same for the man’s legs and pushes him aside.
The door is open, and Brendon practically tiptoes into the house, walking into what is obviously the kitchen. In his ear, he hears Spencer’s voice. “Brendon, where are you?”
“Kitchen,” Brendon whispers.
“Ryan?” Spencer says and is met with the sound of dead air.
Jon pipes up, “Ryan, what is your location?”
Nothing. It’s Brendon’s turn to try. “Ryan, where are you?”
Still, silence. Brendon is getting worried. Last he heard, Ryan was heading for the basement and deviating from the plan.
“Brendon, leave it for now,” Jon says. “You need to get on with the mission, check out the first floor for signs of Wentz.”
“Copy that,” Brendon says, his hushed voice wavering. He can’t get over how worried he is for Ryan. Something could’ve happened to him. He could’ve been captured, could be hurt, could be lying on the floor, dying. Brendon shakes his head. He must focus.
He walks around the spacious first floor, encountering no one. There isn’t anyone patrolling the hallways, at least not on this floor. He checks the doors, all unlocked. There’s no one, just rooms and rooms of expensive-looking furniture and state of the art equipment. There’s one last door before he has to go up to the second floor. It was Ryan’s job to check that floor, but since he hasn’t answered, Brendon doesn’t know whether Ryan is on it or not.
When he opens the remaining door, he sees a set of stairs that go down. The basement. Where Ryan had gone.
He isn’t supposed to go down there. Brendon is supposed to remember his objective: capture Wentz. Everything else is secondary; it’s for the overall good of everyone. He can’t be selfish - not now - but Brendon feels a pull in his chest and finds himself descending the wooden stairs. Brendon goes quietly, and there seems to be some light so he removes his goggles and puts them in his pocket.
And then he hears voices. Very familiar ones.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Brendon would know Ryan’s voice anywhere. It has moaned his name, dripped sarcasm, and whispered apologies to him. And here it is, and with every word, Brendon feels fear consuming him.
Fear of betrayal.
“I’ll be fine,” comes a hoarse version of the voice belonging to one Mr. Peter Wentz. Brendon gets to the bottom of the stairs and looks around the corner, and sure enough, there is Ryan, helping Wentz instead of pointing a gun at him and taking him in. Ryan has his arm around Wentz to support him while he stands, and he walks gingerly with him, as if Wentz’s health is of the utmost concern. He recognizes him instantly, though Wentz looks much smaller than Brendon imagined. His hair is unkempt, and he has a bruise on his cheek. It barely occurs to Brendon to wonder about why Wentz is hurt; all Brendon can focus on is his own pain.
Brendon thinks he can hear his heart breaking, actually hear the chink as it first cracks in the middle and then spreads from there. He hadn’t realized his heart was that fragile until right then. Brendon always thought he was tough, protective of himself. And then he let Ryan Ross in. Of course, he played everyone, Brendon especially. Brendon doesn’t know why exactly he did, doesn’t know the whole story. But he always couldn’t quite believe Ryan genuinely cared about him like he’d made it seem; this makes sense now. He got close to Brendon just to betray him.
He presses himself up to the wall, only half-listening to Ryan asking worried questions. Instead, he fingers the gun at his holster, pulling it out slowly. It is there he notices a large man on the floor under the stairway, feet and hands bound with zip-ties. He takes a breath to calm himself and shuts his eyes for a moment to focus. And then he hardens his face, attempting to look cold and unaffected. The last thing he wants is for Ryan to know he hurt him.
Brendon whips around the corner and points his gun at the two across the room. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, voice like ice.
Ryan freezes and looks up, eyes wide, and so does Wentz. “Brendon, it’s not-”
“Shut the fuck up,” Brendon interrupts and feels victorious at the sight of Ryan’s shock. “From now on, you will shut up and do as I say or I’ll shoot you dead, no hesitation.”
Ryan’s exhale sounds a lot like “Brendon”, but he’ll let it go for now, though Brendon doesn’t think that Ryan has the right to look at him like he is, with glistening eyes and a scared, sad expression.
“Now, Agent Urie,” Wentz says, voice out of breath, “put the gun down.”
Brendon runs his thumb over the hammer to cock it without flinching. “I told you to shut the hell up. You’re coming with me. You too, Ross.” He does his best to keep the hurt out of his voice as he says it.
Ryan winces. “Brendon, come on-” But then he stops, and his eyes widen.
When Ryan lunges forward, Brendon is caught off guard, and he hears a gunshot right as Ryan tackles him to the ground. Brendon feels dazed as his head smacks the floor, not understanding how there could be a gunshot when he hasn’t pulled the trigger yet.
Ryan groans in pain, still hovering above Brendon, who feels warmth spread across his shoulder. Brendon blinks his eyes into focus and sees that Ryan is bleeding from an obvious gunshot wound to the shoulder, wondering how it got there. Ryan clings to Brendon, still groaning, and Brendon looks up as he notices a shadow fall on the two of them.
He recognizes that face, those sharply sculpted cheekbones, though the smirk is foreign. He feels like he’s seen a ghost, and it’s understandable because he has.
Brendon blinks again, focusing for a second, and he knows that what he’s seeing looks very solid and real. Things aren’t all falling into place like they should, though enough is pieced together for Brendon to get the picture.
“Motherfucker,” Brendon mutters, and Ryan slumps away from him.
“Hi,” Beckett says brightly and aims a kick at Brendon’s head.
Everything goes black.
------------------
Brendon rouses on his own. He can’t move anything but his head, which hurts something horrible. He pries an eye open, and sure enough, he is bound to a chair. Again.
But this time, he has companions. “Jon! Spencer!” Brendon exclaims hoarsely.
His two colleagues stir, and Brendon notices blood trickling from Spencer’s temple and the cut on Jon’s bottom lip.
“Brendon,” Spencer sighs.
“How did he get you?” Brendon asks in a hushed voice as he looks around. They appear to be in an office, with their chairs and their bodies tied to them facing the desk. Actually, it looks an awful lot like Wentz’s office. Brendon looks behind him and sees a camera on a tripod off against the wall.
“I was taken by surprise,” Jon says, breathing deeply as if trying to catch his breath. “In the woods, right after you guys had gone in. One second, I’m feeling a twinge on my arm while someone had a hold of me; the next, I’m waking up here. Threw a few punches while I was going down though. Got hit a few times, as well.” Yeah, Brendon can see that.
“He ambushed me right when I’d gotten to the third floor. Pushed me down the stairs. Beckett, that is,” Spencer explains, wincing at the pain he is undoubtedly feeling.
“Wait, Beckett?” Jon says. “How can that be?”
“I have no idea, but there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s him,” Spencer says firmly.
“It is him. He kicked me in the head right after… right after he shot Ryan.” When the words spill from his lips, he feels his stomach drop. “Fuck,” he whispers. He doesn’t know what to think anymore. Did Ryan betray him or not? He was trying to save Wentz, but Wentz obviously hadn’t killed Beckett. And Ryan saved him. That bullet was obviously meant for Brendon, a shot right in the back.
“Where’s Ryan?” Spencer asks.
Brendon shakes his head, but when he opens his mouth to speak, he’s interrupted.
“Ryan is in a safe place, don’t you worry.” Brendon looks over his shoulder to find the source of the voice, and it’s Beckett entering the room, strutting in with a smirk on his face. He walks around to the front of the desk and sits on top of it.
“What do you mean, ‘in a safe place’?” Brendon asks, voice full of venom.
“Well, he could be bleeding to death in the room I locked him and Wentz in. But it’s not my fault he wouldn’t let me take the bullet out of him. It’s not like I meant to shoot him. Idiot got in the way.” Beckett rolls his eyes.
“He didn’t ‘get in the way’,” Brendon snaps at him. “He saved me from you.”
Beckett picks a piece of lint off his shoulder, only mildly interested in what Brendon has to say. “And why he did that, I’ll never understand. It’s like he doesn’t trust that what I’m doing is what’s best for him. He’s been under my wing for years, for God’s sake.”
“You’re supposed to be dead, you jerk-off.” It’s pretty obvious to Brendon that this guy is a total nut-job.
“Speaking of,” Jon says, cutting in, “how the hell are you alive? I saw your dead body with my own two eyes.”
A devious grin stretches across Beckett’s face, looking more maniacal than before. “Convenient, isn’t it? Having a twin beats taking some deadbeat off the street and putting him through plastic surgery.”
A twin. Brendon remembers mentions of a brother from the brief glance at Beckett’s profile. He hadn’t known they were twins though. And, apparently, identical ones if he fooled everyone.
“You killed your own brother?” Spencer asks disbelievingly.
Beckett’s face hardens in an instant. “He was nothing. A criminal, a junkie, a lowlife. If only my parents had lived to see what their favorite child had become,” he comments bitterly. “Besides, it’s not like I killed him. Gabriel was more than willing to kill him for me. His silly little crush has some advantage.”
Jon blinks. “Gabe is guilt-ridden, Bill. You have to stop what you’re doing. Now.”
“I have to do what’s best for the agency!” Beckett shouts, pounding the desk with his fist.
“How is all this what’s best for the agency?” Jon shouts back.
“How can you not see it? Pete does not deserve control of FBR420. He doesn’t live for it like we do. He hasn’t been with these agents every step of the way. He hasn’t been a real CIA officer for years,” Beckett justifies.
“How is that your decision?” Jon asks.
“FBR420 is my life! He has never stepped foot in it. Wentz is at the mercy of corrupt politicians and bureaucrats with their own agendas. They don’t care about the safety of the country, just their own personal gain. Wentz has abused his power over the agency. FBR420 must be out of his hands,” Beckett says resolutely. Mostly, the thought that runs through Brendon’s mind is, “This guy is crazy.”
“So you’re stealing it from him.” Jon concludes. “Slowly. Until you can wrench it away from the government. Go rogue. That’s treason.”
“But how does Wentz fit into this? How are you able to control him?” Spencer cuts in.
Beckett grins again, reminding everyone in the room of his insanity. “I’m not controlling him, just keeping him alive because I need DNA samples to disguise myself. It’s been me on the video feed the entire time.”
Brendon frowns as realization takes over. “You’ve been using Patrick’s New Face Cream.”
Beckett nods. “Of course. That and a voice replicator. Patrick just had a sample lying around, and I took it. He really is a genius, but an absentminded one.”
Then Brendon gets it. “All those missions you’ve been sending agents out on, to spy on CIA officials and politicians. You’re framing Wentz.” And then he remembers Carden’s firing. “And you’re getting rid of dissenting agents so it’s easier to take the agency.”
Beckett raises an eyebrow. “You’re smart, Urie. I have to admit that I underestimated you greatly, despite the fact that you and your team were entirely too easy to catch.”
“There’s one thing I don’t get, though,” Brendon says. “Why did you have us search for Ryan?”
“Because he needs me,” Ryan’s voice cuts through the room, and every single head swings to the door. One of Ryan’s hands is pressing a cloth soaked in blood to his shoulder, while the other hand is pointing a gun at Beckett, and Brendon thinks Ryan is looking a little pale. “You should’ve known I’d escape, Bill. It was stupid to leave me alone.”
Beckett doesn’t seem even a bit worried about the gun pointed at him. In fact, he seems amused. “Oh Ryan, put that down. And you’re right. I do need you. You are the brightest agent I’ve ever come to know. I can only pull this off with you at my side.”
Ryan doesn’t relent, walking closer to Beckett as he holds the gun steadily. “You have no idea what you’re talking about Beckett. You’ll never get the agents to do your bidding against the government.”
“They won’t know a thing,” Beckett responds, demeanor switching almost instantaneously. “They’ll follow orders unquestioningly. You did.”
Ryan’s mouth drops open. “You. You were the one who set me up. You’re the one who got Brent killed.”
The corners of Beckett’s mouth curls upward. “I had to show you. FBR420 is in the hands of people you can’t trust. They don’t care what happens to its agents.”
“But it wasn’t them. They weren’t the ones who screwed me over. It was you. You have your own agenda so you fucked me over and didn’t think about the fact that I’d choose FBR420 over you.”
Again, Beckett’s face changes. “I had such high hopes for you. I knew I’d be able to find you again. You just needed to be out of Wentz’s clutches. Don’t you see?”
“I do see,” Ryan says. “I see that you should be locked up in a padded cell. You’re completely and totally delusional.”
“What are you going to do?” Beckett asks. “Kill me?”
“If I have to,” Ryan answers in a low voice.
Beckett sighs. “What a shame.”
And then, almost out of nowhere, a throwing star flies through the air, coming from some concealed pocket in Beckett’s jacket, and Ryan dodges it while pulling the trigger, completely missing Beckett and breaking the window behind him. Beckett moves quickly behind the desk for cover, and Ryan ducks down, ending up at Brendon’s side.
“Ryan!” Brendon hisses. “Get me loose.”
Ryan quickly whips out a knife and cuts through the ropes binding Brendon’s legs and arms to the chair. He gets up as soon as he’s free and moves to free Spencer while Ryan slashes through Jon’s bindings.
“Come out, Bill. Give it up,” Ryan says as they all duck behind the chairs in case Beckett throws more shuriken.
When they’re met with silence, they realize that something’s wrong. Beckett hasn’t been silent up until then. Jon leads the slow, stealthy approach to Beckett’s desk and cranes his neck around to look behind it.
“You guys,” Jon says, and he comes back around, “he’s escaped.”
When Brendon looks, he sees an open trap door under the desk, leading somewhere on the second level. Without hesitating, he leaps down it. He appears to be in a large walk-in closet of some kind, and he bursts through it and heads for the open door across the bedroom he is in.
When Brendon reaches the door and looks out into the hallway, he spots Beckett at the top of the stairs. “You are not getting away that easily!” he shouts, heading straight for him.
Beckett’s face is set, and he launches a throwing star at Brendon. To dodge it, he dives and rolls, springing to his feet and ending in a lunge right at Beckett’s midsection. Beckett groans as Brendon tackles him against the wall as the air is knocked out of him. Brendon suddenly feels a sharp pain as Beckett digs his fingers into a pressure point, and he can’t help but let go. He is quick to block a high kick and the strikes that follow. However, Beckett manages to block Brendon’s own kicks and strikes and throws Brendon up against a wall, knocking over everything sitting on an end table next to him. He recovers quickly and goes after Beckett, but he is ready for Brendon and gets him in a hold, using leverage and all his strength to flip him over and down the stairs to the first landing.
Beckett takes off, going halfway down the first flight and hopping over the railing to avoid Brendon who is recovering and scrambling to his feet. Brendon is quick, though, once he stands, and he runs as fast as he can after Beckett.
The front door is wide open, and Brendon pats himself down as he heads toward it, checking to see if maybe Beckett hadn’t gotten rid of all of his weapons. Thankfully, he finds that the gun at his ankle is still there, probably because Beckett must have been in some kind of hurry to tie him up before he’d regained consciousness.
When he gets outside, he has Beckett in sight, running towards a helicopter that hadn’t been there before, with blades rotating in the clearing. Beckett must have called for back up while everyone had been incapacitated. Brendon raises his gun and shoots once, misses, and shoots again, getting Beckett in the leg. Beckett stumbles but recovers amazingly, and he makes it to the helicopter, someone inside it pulling him up and onto the aircraft. The helicopter is in the air in an instant and flies off as Brendon half-heartedly shoots at it.
“Shit,” Brendon says and heads back into the house. When he walks inside, Ryan is heading down the stairs but stops when he sees Brendon. Brendon can’t get over how pale Ryan looks, and fuck, he still has that bullet in him. He rushes over to Ryan. “Sit down,” he says when he gets to him, pointing at the stair beneath him.
Brendon helps him down onto it and pushes Ryan’s hand away from the cloth at his shoulder, and all the while, Ryan is looking at him, a million thoughts and questions in his eyes. “I’d never cross you, I swear,” Ryan whispers.
“You need someone to look at this soon,” Brendon says, avoiding Ryan’s statement. Really, it’s not a fatal wound in the slightest, but Ryan is losing blood.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Ryan’s voice sounds a bit desperate this time.
Brendon’s face softens. “Yes. And I believe you,” he answers softly.
Ryan’s face relaxes, a huge weight having lifted from him. “Good. When I escaped, I had Pete call the agency for backup. They should be arriving soon.” He winces as Brendon gently pulls Ryan’s shirt away from the wound, taking a knife out and ripping at the shirt to clear the cloth from it.
“How did you escape?”
Ryan shrugs his good shoulder. “Picked the lock. Wasn’t hard. Bill was pretty sloppy tonight. I’m pretty sure we actually did catch him off guard.”
Brendon smiles. “Well, that’s good. Except we were totally aiming for someone else.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know until I was approaching the house and heard Wentz calling for help from the basement window. I got in no problem, and he told me that William had snatched him from Bora Bora weeks ago. He’s been held hostage here the whole time. Bill has been impersonating him ever since, though I feel like we should’ve caught on since their body types are nothing alike, besides the whole skinny thing,” Ryan explains.
“It sucks that Beckett got away,” Brendon mumbles.
“We’ll get him,” Ryan assures. “And we’ll have all of FBR420 at our disposal this time.”
Brendon nods. “You’re right about that.”
It gets quiet as Brendon is just about done fussing with Ryan’s gunshot wound. Brendon should be going upstairs and helping Spencer, Jon, and Wentz collect evidence, but he just can’t seem to budge.
“Brendon,” Ryan whispers, and he looks up. Ryan raises his hand, his fingertips grazing Brendon’s cheek, and Brendon closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them, he sees tenderness in Ryan, and he leans forward and kisses the man. Even though they are nowhere near a mission accomplished, he feels relief as tension just melts away, slipping out of him through his fingertips as their lips meld together.
When their lips finally detach, Ryan whispers, “I thought I lost you.”
“I thought I lost you. You could have died.”
“I’d take that bullet again, no question,” Ryan says. “I love you.”
Brendon feels his heart leap at Ryan’s words, and he is so happy that he almost doesn’t remember to say anything back. But he does remember, so he blushes and stutters, “I love you too.” Ryan grins at him, and they kiss again. Brendon can feel the love radiating between them, and they don’t even hear the rotor blades of a helicopter landing in the yard.
---------------
In the end, it’s the Alexes that come to retrieve them from Mr. Wentz’s cabin. Brendon thinks that, for a bunch of rookies, they’re alright.
Ryan is taken quickly to get the bullet removed from his shoulder, and Brendon can’t help feeling anxious, even though it’s pretty routine. Brendon gets looked at by a doctor, and yes, he is a bit concussed but he’s gone through worse. Spencer has a concussion as well along with a broken rib, and Jon is fine despite the bruises and the busted lip. Mr. Wentz (or Pete as he insisted Brendon call him) is on the verge of malnourishment and dehydration, so they get him on an I.V. as soon as they can; otherwise, he isn’t harmed.
It feels like days, although it’s probably actually only one or two at the most, until they are all in the conference room. But for the first time, Pete Wentz is there in person. And though Ryan, Brendon, Jon, and Spencer are all a bit battered, they’re somewhat content.
“I have some news for you,” Pete addresses them. “When I called the agency, I got in contact with Gabe. When he heard all that I had to tell him, he left the agency immediately. No one knew where he was going, and he had pretty much disappeared. An hour ago, he was apprehended by FBR420 agents. And they have also recovered… William Beckett’s body.”
Brendon’s eyes widen. “Beckett’s dead?”
“Yes, Brendon. Mr. Saporta tracked him down and shot and killed him in what I believe to be a fit of rage. He obviously didn’t like being used. He’s being sent to a psychiatric facility to be evaluated, and we’ll go from there on deciding what actions we’ll take. I’m planning on being lenient with him,” Pete explains.
“As for you four…” he says, opening his arms to gesture at them. “Ryan,” he starts off, “if you would like, I’d be more than glad to have you back at FBR420. You are obviously no longer implicated in Agent Wilson’s death, and you are truly one of the best agents we’ve ever had. In fact, if you come back, you would be promoted to handler.”
Ryan smiles. “I’d like that very much, sir.”
Pete nods. “As for you, Spencer and Brendon, I’d be very happy if you’d join Ryan as handlers as well. After all this, you two deserve promotions.”
They both look at each other, grinning stupidly. “Thank you, Pete,” Brendon replies.
“Seriously, thanks,” Spencer echoes.
“Great,” Pete says, smiling. “And Jon, I’ve decided that I need help running this operation. FBR420 is a highly complex organization, with so many people to oversee. I’ve talked to the higher-ups over at Langley, and we all agree that you’d be a prime candidate as my partner.”
Jon’s mouth drops open. “Are you sure? Running FBR420…”
“I’ll still be based at the federal building, so I need someone to look over the goings-on at headquarters,” Pete explains.
“Well, of course I’ll take the job!” Jon exclaims, smiling widely.
“Good,” Pete replies, nodding. “That’s good. I think that’s it. And thank God, because I’m about to collapse right now.”
They all laugh, knowing the feeling all too well. As they get up, they wait to shake hands with Pete.
“Oh wait, one more thing,” Pete says. “Normally, I’d discourage intra-office relationships,” he begins, glancing at the way Jon’s arm is around Spencer and at Brendon and Ryan’s clasped hands, “but as long as you don’t let it affect your work, I’ll pretend I don’t know a thing about it.” He winks at them and exits the room, leaving the four of them stunned.
-----------------
Having already dropped off Spencer and Jon at Spencer’s place, the driver says that he’s heading to Ryan’s house next, and Ryan stops him. “Actually, you can go to Brendon’s.”
The driver nods and turns at the next street, and Ryan leans his head onto Brendon’s shoulder, tightening the hand around Brendon’s. “I really do love you, you know,” Ryan says quietly.
“I know,” Brendon assures.
“Well, you never seem to believe me so…” Ryan says, a little hurt in his voice.
Brendon moves, and Ryan lifts his head off his shoulder. Brendon kisses him, because he wants to kiss away the hurt feelings so there isn’t a trace of them left. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Ryan’s skin and pulls away to hug Ryan close to him. “Sometimes I wonder why you’d even…”
“Brendon,” Ryan says firmly, “you are far more extraordinary than you give yourself credit for.”
Ryan never ceases to catch him off guard and throw him a curveball comment he’d never expect. “God, I love you,” Brendon says, laughing out of happiness.
He clears his throat and looks mischievously at Ryan. “So, I was wondering… how injured are you?”
Ryan catches on and smirks. “I’m not that injured.”
“Well, I say we take a nap when we get back to my place and then… let things go from there.” Brendon wiggles his eyebrows for effect and Ryan laughs.
“Sounds like an excellent plan.”
The End
Part Three
“What about this one?” Brendon asks, his finger running gently over a dark, circular indentation just below Ryan’s right shoulder.
“Dubai, last August,” Ryan answers, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over Brendon’s hip. “I was running down a hall in some rundown building. Tried to free this family held hostage. They made it out, but the bullet went clear through my shoulder.” Ryan shifts so that Brendon can see the matching scar on his back.
It’s eleven o’clock, and they’re both wide-awake and lazy. Understandable, considering they fell asleep together just before seven once they had moved to Brendon’s bed. It had been nice, Brendon curling his lean body around Ryan’s thin frame and burying his face in the back of Ryan’s neck. Then Ryan woke up, unable to sleep any longer, and the soft kisses he pressed to Brendon’s shoulder couldn’t have been soft enough since they woke him. And then Brendon, no longer preoccupied by sex and desire, noticed the scars decorating Ryan’s body, and granted, he had a few himself, just not quite as many or as noticeable as Ryan’s. When he asked about the first one, he expected Ryan not to answer him, at least not completely, but Ryan has been patient and told the story about each one. In exchange, Brendon tells his own stories, and Ryan listens with shockingly no biting remarks.
There’s silence, and Brendon vaguely wonders when they’re going to get up to search for food because he’s starving and Ryan is bound to be hungry as well. But his thumb runs along the biggest, most noticeable scar, the one that caught his attention first. It is raised, stretching from Ryan’s waist and coming across to end above his navel, and an angry looking purple-red, indicating that it is from a fairly recent wound.
“And… this one?” Brendon croaks. It could be from anything, but Brendon has some idea.
Ryan’s expression changes. Not angry, but it’s obvious that this one has affected him. Ryan clears his throat and furrows his brow. “Uh, day three in Korea. I was tied to a chair, already weak from food and sleep deprivation and all the beatings, and the soldier sliced through me with a knife slowly. Threw a soft powder onto the wound, hurt like hell.”
It is a four-month-old reminder of a living nightmare. Ryan was tortured, and the color of the scar is evidence that it isn’t some distant memory but still rather fresh. Brendon finds himself pulling Ryan closer.
“It wasn’t the physical pain though,” Ryan whispers. “While I was living it, it was routine. Easy. I could get through it since I was trained to handle it, you know.” Brendon does know. He’d spent weeks going through capture scenarios and receiving psychological testing to see if he was “breakable”. They were those tests where passing was imperative in order to go on in the program.
“It was after,” he continues. “You’re close to Spencer, so you know. Brent and I had been close too, had saved each other countless times, and I got back to find out he was killed and all fingers were pointing at me.”
Ryan sighs. “I barely had anyone after that.” Brendon laces their fingers together, brushing his lips along Ryan’s knuckles. Ryan’s face softens at the gesture, and he says with a sad chuckle, “I never thought I’d talk to anyone about this. Alex and Greta have stopped trying to get me to talk about it. And here I am, spilling it all so easily to you.”
“Maybe… you’re healing. Maybe all this is helping you heal. You know, being able to do something about it?” Brendon offers.
Brendon is surprised to see a smile stretch across Ryan’s face, transforming him before Brendon’s eyes. “Yeah, maybe. And maybe you’re helping.” Ryan dips his head down and kisses him, and it’s the kind that makes Brendon feel like it’s less out of pure attraction and more out of feelings deeper than that. There’s no rush, just a soft, steady press of lips and the faintest nudge of the nose every once in a while.
---------------
This time, Brendon wakes up when Ryan moves. Still half asleep, he clutches Ryan to him more tightly. “No. No pushups,” Brendon mumbles, also making noises that aren’t actual words though the protesting tone is the same.
Brendon feels a kiss press to his temple and makes an approving noise, encouraging Ryan as the kisses travel to his cheek and then his jaw and finally land on his lips. They kiss like they have all the time in the world, like they don’t have important things to do later on, like Jon and Spencer aren’t supposed to be coming over soon. It’s still early in the morning so Brendon’s mind is in that slight haze where he hasn’t woken up properly, and kissing Ryan takes it a step further, his mind invaded by a dizzying, tingling buzz.
His fingers thumb over Ryan’s sharp hips, gripping firmly to keep him from leaving, and Ryan gnaws softly at Brendon’s bottom lip a little before pulling away. Ryan is grinning at him, and Brendon thinks, I put that there, and lets a chuckle escape out into the air between them.
“What’s funny?” Ryan says, still smiling while cocking his head to the side.
Brendon shakes his head. “Nothing,” he answers, lifting his hand and pausing before brushing aside a strand of Ryan’s hair. “I’m just glad that you seem…”
He wants to finish his sentence with “happy”, but he doesn’t want to jinx it or assume things. If he thinks Ryan is happy, he’s implying that he is the reason for it. Somewhere in the back of Brendon’s mind, he can’t help thinking that Ryan’s fickle, at least when it comes to Brendon. It’s been hate one minute and lust the next. Brendon can already feel himself getting attached, even though his head tells him that he shouldn’t.
“Brendon, what’s wrong?” Ryan asks, jolting Brendon back to reality. He looks up at Ryan, who has a truly concerned look on his face. Brendon doesn’t notice right away that his grin had slipped, though Ryan definitely does.
He tries to smile widely like before, adding a shrug in response, but the muscles in his face feel strained and Ryan definitely isn’t buying it.
Ryan shakes his head. “Don’t do that. Something changed. You’re all tense and awkward. What was it?”
Brendon sighs. How does he say it without seeming whiny or clingy? “I’m just… unsure of… whether to think this is one thing while in reality you think it’s something else,” he babbles.
“What do you mean?” Ryan asks, frowning.
And then Brendon thinks back to what he just went on about, and he laughs at himself. He sounds ridiculous.
“Look, it’s nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m just being dumb. Don’t worry about it.”
Ryan looks like he is about to object, but he lets it go in the end.
------------------
“So you two are…” Jon says, looking utterly perplexed while Spencer snickers into Jon’s shoulder.
“We’re fucking,” Brendon finishes for him, earning an “Ew!” from Spencer and a “Hey!” from Ryan. Jon just looks stunned. “What?” Brendon says when he turns to Ryan. “I’m using your words, remember?”
Ryan arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “When?”
Brendon crosses his arms and smiles playfully back. “When you were describing Spencer and Jon’s relationship. Remember, after you kicked me?”
Spencer looks smug now. “Yeah, so care to take that back?”
Ryan rolls his eyes and glances at Brendon, who just shrugs and waits. He feels pretty victorious at finding out Ryan thinks of them as more.
Finally, Ryan sighs. “Spencer and Jon are in a loving, mature relationship,” he says dully, almost as if a child would while reciting lines for a school play.
“Yes, we are,” Spencer says, placing a kiss on Jon’s cheek, bringing a faint flush to the man’s cheeks, and leads him into the kitchen.
Brendon is about to follow when Ryan places a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
He looks uncertain, and it’s still a strange look on him. “You don’t really think we’re just…?” Ryan looks almost uncomfortable at having to say it.
Brendon knows he shouldn’t answer, but he finds himself shaking his head before he realizes it. “I was kind of hoping…” He feels like an awkward teenager again, just one step away from kicking a nonexistent rock.
“Me too,” Ryan finishes, and then he laughs. “Shit, what are you doing to me, Brendon Urie?”
He loops an arm around Brendon’s waist, hugging him close and kissing his temple. Brendon almost doesn’t know what to do with a non-antagonizing Ryan. It’s nice, really nice actually, but unsettling all the same. No one changes like that.
Then Ryan bends his head down, looking mischievous, and says, “How about we make out in front of Spencer just to piss him off?”
Brendon bursts out laughing. “Oh, okay. So now that you’re not annoying the crap out of me 24/7, I’m supposed to annoy everyone else with you.”
Ryan nods. “That’s the general idea.”
“God, you are infuriating,” Brendon says, rolling his eyes
“And yet, you find me sexy and adorable and charming.” The smug yet playful smile on Ryan’s face is back.
While it is all pretty true, Brendon challenges him with, “I don’t know if I’d say that.”
Ryan scoffs. “Excuse me, but who kissed whom first?”
Obviously, he’d forgotten about their very first meeting when Ryan kissed him while Brendon was tied to a chair. But Brendon doesn’t bring it up. “Fine. I find you sexy and adorable and charming, and that makes me batshit crazy.”
“Hey!” Ryan protests.
“Are you guys coming or what?” Spencer yells from the kitchen.
Brendon sighs and shrugs. “We’ve got work to do,” he says and sets off for the kitchen, Ryan trailing behind him.
-----------------
Spencer and Brendon ride the elevator, but this time, to Brendon, it feels so different. This place, this organization, does not feel like the haven it once was to him. Now, he knows it’s being run by a traitor, someone using his power to fulfill his own agenda - whatever it may be - and not that of his country. He is pretty positive that Beckett’s death was not sanctioned by anyone higher than Wentz.
Or was it?
Before all of this, Brendon was sure whose side he was working for. All he knows is that he wants to be on the good side. What if Wentz was just following orders, just like Saporta? What if Wentz is not some evil bastard that does not need to be taken down? What if they’re just completely wrong about everything? He was wrong about Ryan, so he could be wrong about this as well.
He hasn’t been to headquarters during the day since he’d gotten the mission to track Ryan. They’d only stopped by in the middle of the night for a quick debrief after picking up Ryan. It feels so long ago, but it has only been about a week. His life has gone topsy-turvy: sleeping with the supposed enemy, hating his boss for what he is suspected of doing, not trusting his fellow CIA officers.
The mood at FBR420 headquarters just does not feel right to Brendon. It feels almost frantic and solemn, and Brendon wonders why.
Spencer checks his watch. “We’re twenty minutes early,” he says, glancing at the door of the main meeting room. It is shut, indicating that a different team is inside.
Brendon looks around, finally spotting the familiar trucker cap. “I’m going to go talk to Patrick. I’ll be right back,” he tells Spencer, who goes off towards Jon’s office.
“Hey, Trick,” Brendon says as brightly as he can.
Patrick looks up and gives him a weary smile. “Brendon! I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Yeah,” Brendon says. “Still on mission. Got a meeting with Wentz though.”
Brendon notices the line of Patrick’s mouth tighten at his last sentence. “Oh, well, of course.” There’s a biting tone to his words, and Brendon raises his eyebrows.
“What?” he asks, letting Patrick know that he’d picked up on an underlying meaning to his words.
Patrick sighs. “It’s just that… he’s been different lately. Ever since Mr. Beckett… was found.”
“Different how?” Brendon asks curiously.
“Well, he’s been sending agents out on missions a lot, one right after the other. They’ve hardly gotten a break. And I’ve heard a few of the agents questioning their missions. Apparently, some of them are spying on several CIA officers not in FBR420, plus a few politicians and bureaucrats, and a few of them think it’s unethical. But they do it because, well, Carden was disavowed and dismissed this week and they don’t want to be next,” Patrick says in a hushed tone, glancing around to make sure no one is listening.
“I don’t believe it,” Brendon says, completely shocked.
Patrick nods. “Believe it. Apparently, it didn’t sit well with him that he was doing surveillance on the CIA director.”
“But dismissals aren’t taken lightly. He shouldn’t have been gone so fast.”
“Well, he was,” Patrick says soberly.
Brendon is about to question Patrick further when he feels a hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to go in,” Spencer says, having appeared with Jon behind him.
“Okay,” Brendon says and turns to Patrick. “See you later?”
Patrick nods and smiles at him, going back to fiddling with the voice tone replicator he had been repairing.
Brendon trails Spencer and Jon, so deep in thought that he doesn’t look where he is going and bumps into someone. “Oh, sorry,” he mutters, looking up and finding that he’d bumped into Mr. Saporta.
“Sorry, sir,” he says more clearly. The first thought that comes into mind is “murderer”, but then he really takes in the man’s appearance. He looks just plain burnt out. There are dark, heavy bags under his eyes that weren’t there before. Brendon imagines that his job had been stressful before, but now, something has changed within FBR420 to make his job almost unbearable. He guesses that killing such a good friend and following orders from an alleged psychopath may have something to do with it.
Saporta offers a tired smile, one similar to Patrick’s. “It’s alright, Agent Urie.”
Brendon nods awkwardly at the man and heads toward the door where Jon is waiting, Spencer having already gone inside.
-----------------
“That was close,” Spencer says when he and Brendon get back to the apartment.
“How did it go?” Ryan asks from the couch.
Brendon plops down next to him, swinging his legs up and over to lie down on the couch and not caring about wrinkling his suit. “We think Wentz bought it. Jon did a good job.”
“He was up all night, trying to get all the documentation in order,” Spencer says, rubbing his eyes and leaning back onto the couch.
“Well,” Ryan says, running a hand along Brendon’s leg resting in his lap, “the doctored manifests should have helped. They seemed pretty convincing to me.”
The story went something like this. Brendon and Spencer had tracked Ryan to New York. Brendon had fought and injured him when they cornered him in some building in Brooklyn, but Ryan had escaped, aided by an unidentified ally. Though not entirely certain, Jon, Brendon, and Spencer believe Ryan has left the country, most likely having gone to Europe. They are currently monitoring some of Ryan’s known former associates who operate abroad. They believe him to currently be in Amsterdam. He doesn’t think Wentz bought it too easily, but in the end, he seemed convinced that Jon, Spencer, and Brendon were doing everything in their power to track him down.
The door opens, and Jon and Greta stroll in, followed by Alex holding bags of food. Everyone greets each other, Ryan helping Greta with her computer bag and Brendon genially taking one of the bags of food from Alex and leading him to the kitchen.
“Thanks for all the food,” Brendon says politely, pulling out plates from cupboards.
“No problem. It’s the least I could do for you,” Alex replies, smiling.
“Me?”
He nods. “Yeah, Greta told me, and, I mean, look at him.”
Alex gestures for Brendon to look into the dining room, where Ryan is leaning in to talk to Greta who is setting up her equipment. Brendon feels a tug somewhere in his chest when he sees Ryan laugh at something she said. He watches as Ryan pulls impishly at one of her curls, and she bats his hand away.
When he looks back at Alex, Brendon finds him watching with an amused smile. “Greta told you what?” he says, hoping to divert Alex’s attention away from what is probably a completely smitten look on Brendon’s face. He doesn’t need Ryan’s ex to see just how bad he has it.
“That we’re getting the old Ryan back. Finally,” he says in a low voice, grabbing the food and walking towards the table. Brendon follows him with the stack of plates, and they let Spencer and Jon set the table around Ryan and Greta.
When they’re back in the kitchen, Brendon asks Alex to explain what he means. Alex stands a little closer as he helps Brendon get the glasses so he can speak more softly. “Ever since he’d been disavowed, Ryan’s been like… a robot. He never smiled, and when he spoke, he was just mean and unhappy. Then Spencer called him, and he was starting to get out of it, and then now… This Ryan that you see here, I haven’t seen him in four months.”
Brendon looks at Alex with wide eyes, and Alex just smiles and nods. He doesn’t have to say, “Because of you.” It’s implied.
“Come on,” Alex says, and they bring the rest to the table to join everyone.
The group digs into the wraps and chips that Alex had brought from his restaurant, Greta typing away on her computer as she eats. Jon talks to Alex, seemingly curious of how much he knows about FBR420 and their operations. Alex seems to know a lot and a little at the same time about the goings on of the agency, and Jon seems slightly unsettled. Meanwhile, Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon, though partially listening to the other conversation, discuss how the meeting with Wentz went and further strategies they could employ.
“Guys! I’ve got the coordinates for the origin of Wentz’s feed.” She’s still typing away, this time entering the coordinates in to look at a map and satellite images. Everyone gets up to crowd around her and the computer, watching the screen intently.
“Big Bear?” Brendon says. Though he’d recognize it more easily with snow, it is unmistakably Big Bear Lake that the house on the computer screen is by.
“I know this place,” Jon says in a tone that sounds as if he’s onto something. “I’ve been here before. The handlers had a meeting here once. It’s Wentz’s cabin.”
“Cabin” isn’t exactly the right word for it, considering the house has at least three stories from what Brendon can tell from the bird’s-eye images. It’s pretty huge and looks expensive, despite the effort to make it look like a somewhat modest cabin.
“So,” Spencer says thoughtfully, “what do you think? He’s hiding out in the middle of nowhere in a replica of his office and sending us on missions from there?”
“But why?” Ryan asks. “I mean, let’s say he is doing all this. We haven’t figured out his motivation yet.”
Brendon remembers his short conversation with Patrick earlier. “I don’t know why, but he’s been doing an awful lot of suspicious things.”
Jon cocks his head to the side. “What are you talking about Brendon?”
“The recent missions and Agent Carden’s dismissal.”
Jon’s face falls. “You think that’s suspicious too?”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Ryan asks, and Spencer nods, showing that he doesn’t know either. Brendon explains what Patrick had told him.
“And what’s more confusing,” Jon adds to Brendon’s story, “is that I didn’t even know he dismissed Carden until this afternoon. Found out from Saporta. An agent’s dismissal is usually discussed among the handlers as well, but Wentz had just gone and done it.”
Spencer shakes his head. “It’s like he just went crazy all of a sudden, forgetting about protocol and his own duty.”
“Maybe,” Jon says with a grave expression, “he’s gone rogue.”
“And he’s taking FBR420 with him,” Ryan finishes.
There’s silence as the words sink in. Brendon can see it. It could be the end of so many promising careers if Wentz isn’t stopped soon.
“You guys have to get him,” Greta pipes up, breaking the silence as the men look at her. Alex takes her hand, trying to still its shaking. She wasn’t trained as a field agent, so her fear is just written all over her face.
“We will,” Ryan says, confident and quiet.
Brendon believes him.
--------------------
Two days later, they drive up the mountain, twisting and turning every so often, and Brendon is glad that the ice has thawed. Still, they’ve been climbing for a while in the SUV, until Spencer turns down a road that one could’ve easily missed. Wentz’s cabin is deep in the wilderness, as far away from the resorts as possible.
Spencer turns off the road, and the ride gets bumpy, tossing the people in the vehicle around rather roughly. It doesn’t bother Brendon as much as it usually would have, since Ryan is sitting next to him and holding his hand. Finally, they park, and Spencer declares that it’s a good place to set up base camp since it is just beyond Wentz’s property and out of sight.
While Brendon and Jon set up camp, Ryan and Spencer backtrack a little on foot, clearing the path of any obvious tracks. It is nearing nightfall when the four of them are able to sit together and talk about their mission.
“I’ve had a third party up here doing recon for us,” Jon explains. “A man by the name of Tom Conrad. He is a trustworthy asset, loyal to me specifically. This is what he gathered for us.”
Jon rolls out a set of blueprints, obviously those for Wentz’s cabin. “We do not have visual confirmation of Wentz, though I suspect he wouldn’t leave much. There are lookouts stationed at the front door and the back, plus on the third story balcony.” He marks them on the blueprints as red X’s. “From the pictures Tom sent me, they are not FBR420 members, and facial recognition have gathered that they are not affiliated with any government agency.”
Brendon sighs in relief. He’d hate it if his fellow agents were in cahoots with Wentz.
“He may have other bodyguards or various lackeys in the house too,” Jon continues. “So when we go in, be on your guard at all times and neutralize them as quietly as you can.” Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon all nod. “I’d prefer it if you kept everyone alive and only kill if any one of us is in danger.” He looks pointedly at Ryan.
“Yeah, alright,” he responds with a roll of his eyes.
“Okay, so here is the plan…”
-------------------
It is late in the night - so late that it is arguably morning to some - when it is time for them to go. After getting their plans straight and pulling together all of their necessary gear, the four spend several hours in the dark, resting, meditating, making out - whatever they need to mentally prepare.
They get their gear on, and as Ryan pulls on a vest loaded with ammunition, weapons, and devices, Brendon chuckles.
“What’s so funny?” Ryan whispers as Brendon picks up his balaclava.
“When we first met,” Brendon says simply as he pulls the ski mask onto his head.
Ryan smiles, and it’s dark, but Brendon can see him step forward. Ryan pulls the ski mask down to expose Brendon’s lips and kisses him. “I’ll try not to knock you out this time,” he says with a wink.
When he tries to pull away, Brendon finds himself unable to let him go. “Wait.”
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asks, slight worry in his eyes.
“Just be careful,” Brendon whispers. Deep down, he is terrified something will happen to Ryan. He’s never realized just how dangerous his life - all of their lives - is. He’s never been afraid.
Ryan looks down and then back up again to look into Brendon’s eyes. “I will. And you too, okay? I don’t want you doing anything stupid for me. I’m not worth it.”
Brendon leans forward and kisses him again. “Don’t say that,” he says, his forehead leaning against Ryan’s.
“We’ll be fine,” Ryan says firmly, as if trying to convince himself a little.
Brendon pulls back and repeats, “We’ll be fine.”
“You guys ready?” Spencer says, and Brendon and Ryan back away from each other reluctantly.
“Yes,” Brendon says, tugging his balaclava up and affixing the night vision goggles (upgraded by Patrick to send video to Jon at base camp) to it.
Ryan pulls his own ski mask on and secures the goggles onto the clip. “All set here,” he says.
Jon comes up from behind Spencer. “Alright, guys. Time to head on out.”
“See you on the other side, Jon,” Brendon says, and Jon smiles and winks.
Brendon, Spencer, and Ryan take off in separate directions and stalk through the wilderness. Brendon’s footsteps are light as he takes care not to snap twigs or otherwise make noise. And then he is out of the woods, and he sees Wentz’s cabin.
There are no lights are on in the entire house, and he sees the guard at the backdoor that he is supposed to take out. He has to wait for Ryan though.
Because he knows to look for it and because he’s got night vision goggles on, he sees the small figure climbing up the high tree several yards away from the third story balcony. Brendon has great hearing, and he doesn’t pick up any sounds that Ryan could make no matter how much he strains. Ryan moves up fast, and though Brendon is sure he won’t fall, he still worries for Ryan’s safety. And then Ryan disappears all together in a thick batch of branches, and all Brendon can do is wait. He keeps his eyes on the guard sitting in the chair up on the balcony.
All of a sudden, the guard slumps over in his seat, head lolling to one side. Then, in his ear, he hears Ryan’s voice. “Balcony guard out.”
“Brendon, Spencer, are you in position?” Jon’s voice says.
“Affirmative,” Brendon says, and Spencer echoes his response.
“Alright, move in.”
Brendon moves to the side of the house stealthily, keeping light on his feet and pressing himself up against the wall. He creeps slowly to the edge and looks over his shoulder to see the guard at the backdoor. Brendon turns his head quickly so that he remains unseen, and he hears Ryan’s voice in his ear. “I’m going for the basement. I can get the window open.”
“Ryan, you’re supposed to go in with Brendon,” Jon reminds him firmly.
“He’ll be fine,” Ryan says quickly, and it brings Brendon back to the task at hand.
Brendon takes out the tranquilizer gun and aims it around the corner, leaning forward to see so he can take the shot quickly. He pulls the trigger and hears a soft hiss, but he’s quick on his feet when he sees that the dart has hit right on target. The guard lands in Brendon’s arms, and Brendon sets him down gently on the floor to make sure he doesn’t make too much noise. He can just about make out the guy’s eyes slipping closed, limbs already having gone limp. Brendon flips the man onto his stomach and pulls his arms behind his back to secure them with a zip-tie that Brendon pulls out of his pocket. He does the same for the man’s legs and pushes him aside.
The door is open, and Brendon practically tiptoes into the house, walking into what is obviously the kitchen. In his ear, he hears Spencer’s voice. “Brendon, where are you?”
“Kitchen,” Brendon whispers.
“Ryan?” Spencer says and is met with the sound of dead air.
Jon pipes up, “Ryan, what is your location?”
Nothing. It’s Brendon’s turn to try. “Ryan, where are you?”
Still, silence. Brendon is getting worried. Last he heard, Ryan was heading for the basement and deviating from the plan.
“Brendon, leave it for now,” Jon says. “You need to get on with the mission, check out the first floor for signs of Wentz.”
“Copy that,” Brendon says, his hushed voice wavering. He can’t get over how worried he is for Ryan. Something could’ve happened to him. He could’ve been captured, could be hurt, could be lying on the floor, dying. Brendon shakes his head. He must focus.
He walks around the spacious first floor, encountering no one. There isn’t anyone patrolling the hallways, at least not on this floor. He checks the doors, all unlocked. There’s no one, just rooms and rooms of expensive-looking furniture and state of the art equipment. There’s one last door before he has to go up to the second floor. It was Ryan’s job to check that floor, but since he hasn’t answered, Brendon doesn’t know whether Ryan is on it or not.
When he opens the remaining door, he sees a set of stairs that go down. The basement. Where Ryan had gone.
He isn’t supposed to go down there. Brendon is supposed to remember his objective: capture Wentz. Everything else is secondary; it’s for the overall good of everyone. He can’t be selfish - not now - but Brendon feels a pull in his chest and finds himself descending the wooden stairs. Brendon goes quietly, and there seems to be some light so he removes his goggles and puts them in his pocket.
And then he hears voices. Very familiar ones.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Brendon would know Ryan’s voice anywhere. It has moaned his name, dripped sarcasm, and whispered apologies to him. And here it is, and with every word, Brendon feels fear consuming him.
Fear of betrayal.
“I’ll be fine,” comes a hoarse version of the voice belonging to one Mr. Peter Wentz. Brendon gets to the bottom of the stairs and looks around the corner, and sure enough, there is Ryan, helping Wentz instead of pointing a gun at him and taking him in. Ryan has his arm around Wentz to support him while he stands, and he walks gingerly with him, as if Wentz’s health is of the utmost concern. He recognizes him instantly, though Wentz looks much smaller than Brendon imagined. His hair is unkempt, and he has a bruise on his cheek. It barely occurs to Brendon to wonder about why Wentz is hurt; all Brendon can focus on is his own pain.
Brendon thinks he can hear his heart breaking, actually hear the chink as it first cracks in the middle and then spreads from there. He hadn’t realized his heart was that fragile until right then. Brendon always thought he was tough, protective of himself. And then he let Ryan Ross in. Of course, he played everyone, Brendon especially. Brendon doesn’t know why exactly he did, doesn’t know the whole story. But he always couldn’t quite believe Ryan genuinely cared about him like he’d made it seem; this makes sense now. He got close to Brendon just to betray him.
He presses himself up to the wall, only half-listening to Ryan asking worried questions. Instead, he fingers the gun at his holster, pulling it out slowly. It is there he notices a large man on the floor under the stairway, feet and hands bound with zip-ties. He takes a breath to calm himself and shuts his eyes for a moment to focus. And then he hardens his face, attempting to look cold and unaffected. The last thing he wants is for Ryan to know he hurt him.
Brendon whips around the corner and points his gun at the two across the room. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, voice like ice.
Ryan freezes and looks up, eyes wide, and so does Wentz. “Brendon, it’s not-”
“Shut the fuck up,” Brendon interrupts and feels victorious at the sight of Ryan’s shock. “From now on, you will shut up and do as I say or I’ll shoot you dead, no hesitation.”
Ryan’s exhale sounds a lot like “Brendon”, but he’ll let it go for now, though Brendon doesn’t think that Ryan has the right to look at him like he is, with glistening eyes and a scared, sad expression.
“Now, Agent Urie,” Wentz says, voice out of breath, “put the gun down.”
Brendon runs his thumb over the hammer to cock it without flinching. “I told you to shut the hell up. You’re coming with me. You too, Ross.” He does his best to keep the hurt out of his voice as he says it.
Ryan winces. “Brendon, come on-” But then he stops, and his eyes widen.
When Ryan lunges forward, Brendon is caught off guard, and he hears a gunshot right as Ryan tackles him to the ground. Brendon feels dazed as his head smacks the floor, not understanding how there could be a gunshot when he hasn’t pulled the trigger yet.
Ryan groans in pain, still hovering above Brendon, who feels warmth spread across his shoulder. Brendon blinks his eyes into focus and sees that Ryan is bleeding from an obvious gunshot wound to the shoulder, wondering how it got there. Ryan clings to Brendon, still groaning, and Brendon looks up as he notices a shadow fall on the two of them.
He recognizes that face, those sharply sculpted cheekbones, though the smirk is foreign. He feels like he’s seen a ghost, and it’s understandable because he has.
Brendon blinks again, focusing for a second, and he knows that what he’s seeing looks very solid and real. Things aren’t all falling into place like they should, though enough is pieced together for Brendon to get the picture.
“Motherfucker,” Brendon mutters, and Ryan slumps away from him.
“Hi,” Beckett says brightly and aims a kick at Brendon’s head.
Everything goes black.
------------------
Brendon rouses on his own. He can’t move anything but his head, which hurts something horrible. He pries an eye open, and sure enough, he is bound to a chair. Again.
But this time, he has companions. “Jon! Spencer!” Brendon exclaims hoarsely.
His two colleagues stir, and Brendon notices blood trickling from Spencer’s temple and the cut on Jon’s bottom lip.
“Brendon,” Spencer sighs.
“How did he get you?” Brendon asks in a hushed voice as he looks around. They appear to be in an office, with their chairs and their bodies tied to them facing the desk. Actually, it looks an awful lot like Wentz’s office. Brendon looks behind him and sees a camera on a tripod off against the wall.
“I was taken by surprise,” Jon says, breathing deeply as if trying to catch his breath. “In the woods, right after you guys had gone in. One second, I’m feeling a twinge on my arm while someone had a hold of me; the next, I’m waking up here. Threw a few punches while I was going down though. Got hit a few times, as well.” Yeah, Brendon can see that.
“He ambushed me right when I’d gotten to the third floor. Pushed me down the stairs. Beckett, that is,” Spencer explains, wincing at the pain he is undoubtedly feeling.
“Wait, Beckett?” Jon says. “How can that be?”
“I have no idea, but there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s him,” Spencer says firmly.
“It is him. He kicked me in the head right after… right after he shot Ryan.” When the words spill from his lips, he feels his stomach drop. “Fuck,” he whispers. He doesn’t know what to think anymore. Did Ryan betray him or not? He was trying to save Wentz, but Wentz obviously hadn’t killed Beckett. And Ryan saved him. That bullet was obviously meant for Brendon, a shot right in the back.
“Where’s Ryan?” Spencer asks.
Brendon shakes his head, but when he opens his mouth to speak, he’s interrupted.
“Ryan is in a safe place, don’t you worry.” Brendon looks over his shoulder to find the source of the voice, and it’s Beckett entering the room, strutting in with a smirk on his face. He walks around to the front of the desk and sits on top of it.
“What do you mean, ‘in a safe place’?” Brendon asks, voice full of venom.
“Well, he could be bleeding to death in the room I locked him and Wentz in. But it’s not my fault he wouldn’t let me take the bullet out of him. It’s not like I meant to shoot him. Idiot got in the way.” Beckett rolls his eyes.
“He didn’t ‘get in the way’,” Brendon snaps at him. “He saved me from you.”
Beckett picks a piece of lint off his shoulder, only mildly interested in what Brendon has to say. “And why he did that, I’ll never understand. It’s like he doesn’t trust that what I’m doing is what’s best for him. He’s been under my wing for years, for God’s sake.”
“You’re supposed to be dead, you jerk-off.” It’s pretty obvious to Brendon that this guy is a total nut-job.
“Speaking of,” Jon says, cutting in, “how the hell are you alive? I saw your dead body with my own two eyes.”
A devious grin stretches across Beckett’s face, looking more maniacal than before. “Convenient, isn’t it? Having a twin beats taking some deadbeat off the street and putting him through plastic surgery.”
A twin. Brendon remembers mentions of a brother from the brief glance at Beckett’s profile. He hadn’t known they were twins though. And, apparently, identical ones if he fooled everyone.
“You killed your own brother?” Spencer asks disbelievingly.
Beckett’s face hardens in an instant. “He was nothing. A criminal, a junkie, a lowlife. If only my parents had lived to see what their favorite child had become,” he comments bitterly. “Besides, it’s not like I killed him. Gabriel was more than willing to kill him for me. His silly little crush has some advantage.”
Jon blinks. “Gabe is guilt-ridden, Bill. You have to stop what you’re doing. Now.”
“I have to do what’s best for the agency!” Beckett shouts, pounding the desk with his fist.
“How is all this what’s best for the agency?” Jon shouts back.
“How can you not see it? Pete does not deserve control of FBR420. He doesn’t live for it like we do. He hasn’t been with these agents every step of the way. He hasn’t been a real CIA officer for years,” Beckett justifies.
“How is that your decision?” Jon asks.
“FBR420 is my life! He has never stepped foot in it. Wentz is at the mercy of corrupt politicians and bureaucrats with their own agendas. They don’t care about the safety of the country, just their own personal gain. Wentz has abused his power over the agency. FBR420 must be out of his hands,” Beckett says resolutely. Mostly, the thought that runs through Brendon’s mind is, “This guy is crazy.”
“So you’re stealing it from him.” Jon concludes. “Slowly. Until you can wrench it away from the government. Go rogue. That’s treason.”
“But how does Wentz fit into this? How are you able to control him?” Spencer cuts in.
Beckett grins again, reminding everyone in the room of his insanity. “I’m not controlling him, just keeping him alive because I need DNA samples to disguise myself. It’s been me on the video feed the entire time.”
Brendon frowns as realization takes over. “You’ve been using Patrick’s New Face Cream.”
Beckett nods. “Of course. That and a voice replicator. Patrick just had a sample lying around, and I took it. He really is a genius, but an absentminded one.”
Then Brendon gets it. “All those missions you’ve been sending agents out on, to spy on CIA officials and politicians. You’re framing Wentz.” And then he remembers Carden’s firing. “And you’re getting rid of dissenting agents so it’s easier to take the agency.”
Beckett raises an eyebrow. “You’re smart, Urie. I have to admit that I underestimated you greatly, despite the fact that you and your team were entirely too easy to catch.”
“There’s one thing I don’t get, though,” Brendon says. “Why did you have us search for Ryan?”
“Because he needs me,” Ryan’s voice cuts through the room, and every single head swings to the door. One of Ryan’s hands is pressing a cloth soaked in blood to his shoulder, while the other hand is pointing a gun at Beckett, and Brendon thinks Ryan is looking a little pale. “You should’ve known I’d escape, Bill. It was stupid to leave me alone.”
Beckett doesn’t seem even a bit worried about the gun pointed at him. In fact, he seems amused. “Oh Ryan, put that down. And you’re right. I do need you. You are the brightest agent I’ve ever come to know. I can only pull this off with you at my side.”
Ryan doesn’t relent, walking closer to Beckett as he holds the gun steadily. “You have no idea what you’re talking about Beckett. You’ll never get the agents to do your bidding against the government.”
“They won’t know a thing,” Beckett responds, demeanor switching almost instantaneously. “They’ll follow orders unquestioningly. You did.”
Ryan’s mouth drops open. “You. You were the one who set me up. You’re the one who got Brent killed.”
The corners of Beckett’s mouth curls upward. “I had to show you. FBR420 is in the hands of people you can’t trust. They don’t care what happens to its agents.”
“But it wasn’t them. They weren’t the ones who screwed me over. It was you. You have your own agenda so you fucked me over and didn’t think about the fact that I’d choose FBR420 over you.”
Again, Beckett’s face changes. “I had such high hopes for you. I knew I’d be able to find you again. You just needed to be out of Wentz’s clutches. Don’t you see?”
“I do see,” Ryan says. “I see that you should be locked up in a padded cell. You’re completely and totally delusional.”
“What are you going to do?” Beckett asks. “Kill me?”
“If I have to,” Ryan answers in a low voice.
Beckett sighs. “What a shame.”
And then, almost out of nowhere, a throwing star flies through the air, coming from some concealed pocket in Beckett’s jacket, and Ryan dodges it while pulling the trigger, completely missing Beckett and breaking the window behind him. Beckett moves quickly behind the desk for cover, and Ryan ducks down, ending up at Brendon’s side.
“Ryan!” Brendon hisses. “Get me loose.”
Ryan quickly whips out a knife and cuts through the ropes binding Brendon’s legs and arms to the chair. He gets up as soon as he’s free and moves to free Spencer while Ryan slashes through Jon’s bindings.
“Come out, Bill. Give it up,” Ryan says as they all duck behind the chairs in case Beckett throws more shuriken.
When they’re met with silence, they realize that something’s wrong. Beckett hasn’t been silent up until then. Jon leads the slow, stealthy approach to Beckett’s desk and cranes his neck around to look behind it.
“You guys,” Jon says, and he comes back around, “he’s escaped.”
When Brendon looks, he sees an open trap door under the desk, leading somewhere on the second level. Without hesitating, he leaps down it. He appears to be in a large walk-in closet of some kind, and he bursts through it and heads for the open door across the bedroom he is in.
When Brendon reaches the door and looks out into the hallway, he spots Beckett at the top of the stairs. “You are not getting away that easily!” he shouts, heading straight for him.
Beckett’s face is set, and he launches a throwing star at Brendon. To dodge it, he dives and rolls, springing to his feet and ending in a lunge right at Beckett’s midsection. Beckett groans as Brendon tackles him against the wall as the air is knocked out of him. Brendon suddenly feels a sharp pain as Beckett digs his fingers into a pressure point, and he can’t help but let go. He is quick to block a high kick and the strikes that follow. However, Beckett manages to block Brendon’s own kicks and strikes and throws Brendon up against a wall, knocking over everything sitting on an end table next to him. He recovers quickly and goes after Beckett, but he is ready for Brendon and gets him in a hold, using leverage and all his strength to flip him over and down the stairs to the first landing.
Beckett takes off, going halfway down the first flight and hopping over the railing to avoid Brendon who is recovering and scrambling to his feet. Brendon is quick, though, once he stands, and he runs as fast as he can after Beckett.
The front door is wide open, and Brendon pats himself down as he heads toward it, checking to see if maybe Beckett hadn’t gotten rid of all of his weapons. Thankfully, he finds that the gun at his ankle is still there, probably because Beckett must have been in some kind of hurry to tie him up before he’d regained consciousness.
When he gets outside, he has Beckett in sight, running towards a helicopter that hadn’t been there before, with blades rotating in the clearing. Beckett must have called for back up while everyone had been incapacitated. Brendon raises his gun and shoots once, misses, and shoots again, getting Beckett in the leg. Beckett stumbles but recovers amazingly, and he makes it to the helicopter, someone inside it pulling him up and onto the aircraft. The helicopter is in the air in an instant and flies off as Brendon half-heartedly shoots at it.
“Shit,” Brendon says and heads back into the house. When he walks inside, Ryan is heading down the stairs but stops when he sees Brendon. Brendon can’t get over how pale Ryan looks, and fuck, he still has that bullet in him. He rushes over to Ryan. “Sit down,” he says when he gets to him, pointing at the stair beneath him.
Brendon helps him down onto it and pushes Ryan’s hand away from the cloth at his shoulder, and all the while, Ryan is looking at him, a million thoughts and questions in his eyes. “I’d never cross you, I swear,” Ryan whispers.
“You need someone to look at this soon,” Brendon says, avoiding Ryan’s statement. Really, it’s not a fatal wound in the slightest, but Ryan is losing blood.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Ryan’s voice sounds a bit desperate this time.
Brendon’s face softens. “Yes. And I believe you,” he answers softly.
Ryan’s face relaxes, a huge weight having lifted from him. “Good. When I escaped, I had Pete call the agency for backup. They should be arriving soon.” He winces as Brendon gently pulls Ryan’s shirt away from the wound, taking a knife out and ripping at the shirt to clear the cloth from it.
“How did you escape?”
Ryan shrugs his good shoulder. “Picked the lock. Wasn’t hard. Bill was pretty sloppy tonight. I’m pretty sure we actually did catch him off guard.”
Brendon smiles. “Well, that’s good. Except we were totally aiming for someone else.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know until I was approaching the house and heard Wentz calling for help from the basement window. I got in no problem, and he told me that William had snatched him from Bora Bora weeks ago. He’s been held hostage here the whole time. Bill has been impersonating him ever since, though I feel like we should’ve caught on since their body types are nothing alike, besides the whole skinny thing,” Ryan explains.
“It sucks that Beckett got away,” Brendon mumbles.
“We’ll get him,” Ryan assures. “And we’ll have all of FBR420 at our disposal this time.”
Brendon nods. “You’re right about that.”
It gets quiet as Brendon is just about done fussing with Ryan’s gunshot wound. Brendon should be going upstairs and helping Spencer, Jon, and Wentz collect evidence, but he just can’t seem to budge.
“Brendon,” Ryan whispers, and he looks up. Ryan raises his hand, his fingertips grazing Brendon’s cheek, and Brendon closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them, he sees tenderness in Ryan, and he leans forward and kisses the man. Even though they are nowhere near a mission accomplished, he feels relief as tension just melts away, slipping out of him through his fingertips as their lips meld together.
When their lips finally detach, Ryan whispers, “I thought I lost you.”
“I thought I lost you. You could have died.”
“I’d take that bullet again, no question,” Ryan says. “I love you.”
Brendon feels his heart leap at Ryan’s words, and he is so happy that he almost doesn’t remember to say anything back. But he does remember, so he blushes and stutters, “I love you too.” Ryan grins at him, and they kiss again. Brendon can feel the love radiating between them, and they don’t even hear the rotor blades of a helicopter landing in the yard.
---------------
In the end, it’s the Alexes that come to retrieve them from Mr. Wentz’s cabin. Brendon thinks that, for a bunch of rookies, they’re alright.
Ryan is taken quickly to get the bullet removed from his shoulder, and Brendon can’t help feeling anxious, even though it’s pretty routine. Brendon gets looked at by a doctor, and yes, he is a bit concussed but he’s gone through worse. Spencer has a concussion as well along with a broken rib, and Jon is fine despite the bruises and the busted lip. Mr. Wentz (or Pete as he insisted Brendon call him) is on the verge of malnourishment and dehydration, so they get him on an I.V. as soon as they can; otherwise, he isn’t harmed.
It feels like days, although it’s probably actually only one or two at the most, until they are all in the conference room. But for the first time, Pete Wentz is there in person. And though Ryan, Brendon, Jon, and Spencer are all a bit battered, they’re somewhat content.
“I have some news for you,” Pete addresses them. “When I called the agency, I got in contact with Gabe. When he heard all that I had to tell him, he left the agency immediately. No one knew where he was going, and he had pretty much disappeared. An hour ago, he was apprehended by FBR420 agents. And they have also recovered… William Beckett’s body.”
Brendon’s eyes widen. “Beckett’s dead?”
“Yes, Brendon. Mr. Saporta tracked him down and shot and killed him in what I believe to be a fit of rage. He obviously didn’t like being used. He’s being sent to a psychiatric facility to be evaluated, and we’ll go from there on deciding what actions we’ll take. I’m planning on being lenient with him,” Pete explains.
“As for you four…” he says, opening his arms to gesture at them. “Ryan,” he starts off, “if you would like, I’d be more than glad to have you back at FBR420. You are obviously no longer implicated in Agent Wilson’s death, and you are truly one of the best agents we’ve ever had. In fact, if you come back, you would be promoted to handler.”
Ryan smiles. “I’d like that very much, sir.”
Pete nods. “As for you, Spencer and Brendon, I’d be very happy if you’d join Ryan as handlers as well. After all this, you two deserve promotions.”
They both look at each other, grinning stupidly. “Thank you, Pete,” Brendon replies.
“Seriously, thanks,” Spencer echoes.
“Great,” Pete says, smiling. “And Jon, I’ve decided that I need help running this operation. FBR420 is a highly complex organization, with so many people to oversee. I’ve talked to the higher-ups over at Langley, and we all agree that you’d be a prime candidate as my partner.”
Jon’s mouth drops open. “Are you sure? Running FBR420…”
“I’ll still be based at the federal building, so I need someone to look over the goings-on at headquarters,” Pete explains.
“Well, of course I’ll take the job!” Jon exclaims, smiling widely.
“Good,” Pete replies, nodding. “That’s good. I think that’s it. And thank God, because I’m about to collapse right now.”
They all laugh, knowing the feeling all too well. As they get up, they wait to shake hands with Pete.
“Oh wait, one more thing,” Pete says. “Normally, I’d discourage intra-office relationships,” he begins, glancing at the way Jon’s arm is around Spencer and at Brendon and Ryan’s clasped hands, “but as long as you don’t let it affect your work, I’ll pretend I don’t know a thing about it.” He winks at them and exits the room, leaving the four of them stunned.
-----------------
Having already dropped off Spencer and Jon at Spencer’s place, the driver says that he’s heading to Ryan’s house next, and Ryan stops him. “Actually, you can go to Brendon’s.”
The driver nods and turns at the next street, and Ryan leans his head onto Brendon’s shoulder, tightening the hand around Brendon’s. “I really do love you, you know,” Ryan says quietly.
“I know,” Brendon assures.
“Well, you never seem to believe me so…” Ryan says, a little hurt in his voice.
Brendon moves, and Ryan lifts his head off his shoulder. Brendon kisses him, because he wants to kiss away the hurt feelings so there isn’t a trace of them left. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Ryan’s skin and pulls away to hug Ryan close to him. “Sometimes I wonder why you’d even…”
“Brendon,” Ryan says firmly, “you are far more extraordinary than you give yourself credit for.”
Ryan never ceases to catch him off guard and throw him a curveball comment he’d never expect. “God, I love you,” Brendon says, laughing out of happiness.
He clears his throat and looks mischievously at Ryan. “So, I was wondering… how injured are you?”
Ryan catches on and smirks. “I’m not that injured.”
“Well, I say we take a nap when we get back to my place and then… let things go from there.” Brendon wiggles his eyebrows for effect and Ryan laughs.
“Sounds like an excellent plan.”
The End