Someone you might have been (j2 au, 5/39)
Erm, yes. more spy-fic. Also, all hail rivers_bend who has bravely taken on the role of cheerleader for this verse. Send her good thoughts, for she will be battling my paranoia and indecisiveness and the cruel whims of my writerly imagination. ♥
Someone you might have been
Secret agent!Jared/handler!Jensen. Yay! A kind of plot-dominated chapter... in which not much happens.
part four
The name on Jensen's security pass is 'Jensen Teague'. Of course, the majority of the official records regarding Jared list his name as 'Jared Forrester', so it's not exactly like Jared's finally broken the mystery of Jensen. But he likes having that little part of him, likes being close enough to know even that much. It may not be the truth, but he's kind of used to that, and willingly takes the constructed truth.
There's no name on Jared's security pass. No picture. Just his retinal scan on a chip embedded in the card. Everyone prefers a certain anonymity when it comes to exceptionally well-trained agents who are probably capable of single-handedly bringing down the government of a small country.
In honour of being summoned to a meeting with one of the branch executives, Jensen is wearing a suit today. He looks immaculate and in serious need of rumpling. In contrast, Jared is wearing jeans, a t-shirt that could only be more creased if it had been used as a rug by a herd of excitable bison, and flip-flops, because this is New Mexico and he doesn’t care about the high regard in which Jensen holds his superiors, Jared's not getting dressed up.
Still, judging by the frown Jensen directs at Jared's t-shirt, it looks like Jensen was expecting him to make an effort.
"Dude, it's not like they've hired me for my fashion sense," Jared tells him.
"No, they didn't," Jensen agrees, still staring at Jared's t-shirt with a mildly distracted look of distaste on his face. "Which was probably a very good call."
"So long as I follow orders, I can turn up here butt-naked and it's not gonna matter."
Jensen's expression takes on a slightly pained aspect for a second, but then his entire face blanks. He keys in a number at one of the security pads and ushers Jared into a briefing room, which is dimly lit and has a low ceiling.
"I wouldn't suggest you try it. The furniture is metal and it gets pretty hot down here."
"Also, where would I stick my gun?" Jared says. He flashes Jensen a charming grin and bats his lashes at him. "Would it be your job to hold my gun for me if I turned up naked to one of these things? You know, your job as the guy handling me? Would it be your job to take care of my gun if I was naked?"
There's that pained look on Jensen's face again, and it's not going away this time. Staring fixedly at the far wall, Jensen says, "No. And don't talk to me."
With a sigh, Jared pulls out one of the chairs from the round table that dominates the room and slumps down in it. Now that Jensen has effectively shut down the ever-stimulating entertainment of flirting with him, Jared has nothing to do but wait in silence.
After ten minutes of Jared being very bored, the door opens and a man walks in. He's in his late fifties, with cropped, curly dark hair, and a long patrician nose. His suit is black and in the same pristine state as Jensen's. Jared's guess is he's come up via the CIA, definitely not through the military.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Thank you for coming in." He flicks a glance at Jensen, and adds, "I take it you haven't told Jared why he's here?"
"No, sir," says Jensen. "I wasn't sure I had permission to do so."
There's a quick spike of irritated hurt in Jared's chest that Jensen knew what was happening and hadn't told Jared. It's stupid and inexplicable because Jared knows that information isn't something that can be just freely passed around like party favours. But still, Jensen's his handler, and Jensen hadn't told him.
"But I'm here now," Jared says brightly. "So feel free to let me know what you want."
If Jensen catches the snark in Jared's tone, it doesn't register on his face.
"My name's Glover," the man says, offering Jared his hand. The handshake is strong but brief. "I and my fellow branch executives feel that it might be beneficial for you to understand the context of some of your assignments with us."
Which is kind of nice of them, Jared supposes. Not everyone figures he needs to know the whys and becauses. They prefer him blind, presumably because they're concerned he might form his own opinions and start playing things his own way. Of course, seeing as Jared's never yet really disagreed with the way they want him to handle things, he can't say for sure that they're wrong.
Glover doesn't sit down but gestures for Jensen to, and once Jensen's obeyed, Glover ignores him completely in favour of Jared. He stands at the front of the room, hands clasped together, and his tone is that of a college professor.
"Our ongoing concern here at the ISA is primarily a terrorist network that calls itself the Coalition for World Freedom. They're a homegrown group but they're heavily funded by a number of unfriendly foreign agencies and some major crime syndicates, both here and abroad. Fundamentally, they're nothing short of agents for chaos."
Glover smiles and spreads his hands. "Imagine religious fanatics working side by side with mercenaries, foreign terrorist cells, corrupt CEOs, survivalists, and bored college kids. All with the shared purpose of bringing down organised government around the globe, starting with the US. They're disorganised but due to the diverse backgrounds of their agents, their scope of influence is immense."
Jared's heard rumours about the existence of the Coalition. But these days there are so many different terrorist groups looking for their share of the headlines that he's never investigated the details. His overwhelming impression of the Coalition was that it comprised a lot of people who were at varying degrees of insanity.
Still, crazy determined people are more of a threat than the regular kind, he figures.
"It was our opinion," says Glover, "that, in this situation, you needed to know precisely what you were dealing with. Their reach is extending and we cannot afford to allow any information regarding their affiliates and activities to slip by us. Don't be fooled by their poor organisation, they can be deadly effective. Beyond the risk to global security, the Coalition has already been directly responsible for the murder of eight of our agents."
And Glover looks right at Jensen as he says it. While storing away the obvious implication for future reference, Jared notes that Jensen is as adept at ignoring Glover as he is Jared's persistent flirting. Jared stifles a smug little smile at that.
"Teague will remain your primary point of contact," Glover continues, "and you may pass all information through him. However, we want to make sure you have several channels of communication with us, so we're going to be in pretty close contact with you."
Jared doesn't exactly like the sound of that but he can play along, especially if he's still going to be working with Jensen.
Before he leaves, Glover shakes Jared's hand again, tells him how impressed they all are with Jared's work so far. There's a brief conversation between Glover and Jensen about, as far as Jared can make out, some further meeting Jensen has to have with the other ISA executives. No explicit details are mentioned, of course, because Jared may be one of their agents, but he's not one of them. Not like Jensen is. Give it thirty years, and Jensen will be Glover: cool, detached, and living for nothing but the international game of chess he's playing.
After Glover's gone, Jensen turns to Jared and says, "I need you to come with me."
They don't pass anyone as they walk deeper into the military base. Their footfall sounds loud on the metal grating floor. Jensen leads Jared into an elevator and they descend a further six floors, which Jared estimates should bring them a good forty feet below ground level.
There's another security checkpoint to get through, and then Jensen opens the door onto a spacious hangar. The lighting snaps on, illuminating the whole length of the room in a rapid succession of strips.
"I've been going over your service records," Jensen says, as he makes his way to one of the huge lockers. He keys in a security number and opens it up. "I've noted you have a preference for eliminating unfriendlies from a distance."
"Hey, I'm pretty flexible in my preferences," Jared says with a grin. "Sometimes it's nice to get up-close and personal, y'know?"
Jensen twitches irritably and sets a black case down more heavily in front of Jared than perhaps he intended to. His fingers move in jerky little snaps as he undoes the clasps and opens the case. It's a sniper rifle inside, each component neatly packed in foam.
"It's an advanced model, using the Barrett XM109 as a platform. It has an effective range of 4000 metres, it's substantially lighter than anything else that's available, and it has barrel modifications to accommodate a sound suppressor. I thought you might find it useful."
As he talks, Jensen assembles the rifle, and it's kind of surreal to see the ease with which he handles it. Handlers are trained in self-defence and basic combat, but Jared really isn't used to thinking of Jensen as capable of deadly force. He knows Jensen is anything but helpless, but that doesn't mean it doesn’t still get to him how obviously Jensen knows his way around a gun.
It's weirdly unsettling. Jared doesn't want Jensen having to get involved in that side of things. His hands look out of place - wrong - on the gun.
Once it's assembled, Jensen passes it to him, and Jared is distracted from the bizarreness of combining Jensen with guns by his professional appreciation of the sniper rifle. It's a very nice piece and that tiny psychotic voice in Jared's head says how eager it is about getting a chance to try the rifle out.
"How many of those eight dead agents were you handling?"
Jared hadn't even realised he was thinking it until he says it. Guiltily, he looks up at Jensen to see how badly he's taken it, but Jensen doesn't seem offended or upset about the question.
"Just the one," he says.
What happened? is the obvious next question, but Jared is a fairly sensitive guy, he likes to think, and that's clearly off-limits.
Instead, he goes for, "Did you like them?"
"He was a very capable agent," Jensen says.
"Yeah, but did you like him?"
A frown appears on Jensen's brow, as if this is something new, something he hasn't had to consider before. He's quiet for a long moment, then he shrugs.
"He didn't give me any reason to dislike him."
Jared can't help a laugh. Giving the rifle an appreciative nod, he starts to disassemble it, getting used to how it feels in his hands. Jensen doesn't make any move to help or to leave, just stands there.
"Tell me," Jared says conversationally, as he fits the rifle pieces back in their case, "if my next assignment gets fucked, would you have anything else to say about me than 'He didn't give me any reason to dislike him'?"
When Jensen doesn't answer, even after a long silence, Jared glances up at him. Jensen's gaze instantly flickers away to a distant point somewhere to the left of Jared's head.
"It's not relevant," Jensen says at last. "I haven't lost an agent since, and I don't intend to start now. Unless, of course, you intend to continue responding to pretty much everything I say with innuendo. In which case, you don't wanna know what I'm going to be saying to people once you're dead."
part six
:::
Someone you might have been
Secret agent!Jared/handler!Jensen. Yay! A kind of plot-dominated chapter... in which not much happens.
part four
The name on Jensen's security pass is 'Jensen Teague'. Of course, the majority of the official records regarding Jared list his name as 'Jared Forrester', so it's not exactly like Jared's finally broken the mystery of Jensen. But he likes having that little part of him, likes being close enough to know even that much. It may not be the truth, but he's kind of used to that, and willingly takes the constructed truth.
There's no name on Jared's security pass. No picture. Just his retinal scan on a chip embedded in the card. Everyone prefers a certain anonymity when it comes to exceptionally well-trained agents who are probably capable of single-handedly bringing down the government of a small country.
In honour of being summoned to a meeting with one of the branch executives, Jensen is wearing a suit today. He looks immaculate and in serious need of rumpling. In contrast, Jared is wearing jeans, a t-shirt that could only be more creased if it had been used as a rug by a herd of excitable bison, and flip-flops, because this is New Mexico and he doesn’t care about the high regard in which Jensen holds his superiors, Jared's not getting dressed up.
Still, judging by the frown Jensen directs at Jared's t-shirt, it looks like Jensen was expecting him to make an effort.
"Dude, it's not like they've hired me for my fashion sense," Jared tells him.
"No, they didn't," Jensen agrees, still staring at Jared's t-shirt with a mildly distracted look of distaste on his face. "Which was probably a very good call."
"So long as I follow orders, I can turn up here butt-naked and it's not gonna matter."
Jensen's expression takes on a slightly pained aspect for a second, but then his entire face blanks. He keys in a number at one of the security pads and ushers Jared into a briefing room, which is dimly lit and has a low ceiling.
"I wouldn't suggest you try it. The furniture is metal and it gets pretty hot down here."
"Also, where would I stick my gun?" Jared says. He flashes Jensen a charming grin and bats his lashes at him. "Would it be your job to hold my gun for me if I turned up naked to one of these things? You know, your job as the guy handling me? Would it be your job to take care of my gun if I was naked?"
There's that pained look on Jensen's face again, and it's not going away this time. Staring fixedly at the far wall, Jensen says, "No. And don't talk to me."
With a sigh, Jared pulls out one of the chairs from the round table that dominates the room and slumps down in it. Now that Jensen has effectively shut down the ever-stimulating entertainment of flirting with him, Jared has nothing to do but wait in silence.
After ten minutes of Jared being very bored, the door opens and a man walks in. He's in his late fifties, with cropped, curly dark hair, and a long patrician nose. His suit is black and in the same pristine state as Jensen's. Jared's guess is he's come up via the CIA, definitely not through the military.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Thank you for coming in." He flicks a glance at Jensen, and adds, "I take it you haven't told Jared why he's here?"
"No, sir," says Jensen. "I wasn't sure I had permission to do so."
There's a quick spike of irritated hurt in Jared's chest that Jensen knew what was happening and hadn't told Jared. It's stupid and inexplicable because Jared knows that information isn't something that can be just freely passed around like party favours. But still, Jensen's his handler, and Jensen hadn't told him.
"But I'm here now," Jared says brightly. "So feel free to let me know what you want."
If Jensen catches the snark in Jared's tone, it doesn't register on his face.
"My name's Glover," the man says, offering Jared his hand. The handshake is strong but brief. "I and my fellow branch executives feel that it might be beneficial for you to understand the context of some of your assignments with us."
Which is kind of nice of them, Jared supposes. Not everyone figures he needs to know the whys and becauses. They prefer him blind, presumably because they're concerned he might form his own opinions and start playing things his own way. Of course, seeing as Jared's never yet really disagreed with the way they want him to handle things, he can't say for sure that they're wrong.
Glover doesn't sit down but gestures for Jensen to, and once Jensen's obeyed, Glover ignores him completely in favour of Jared. He stands at the front of the room, hands clasped together, and his tone is that of a college professor.
"Our ongoing concern here at the ISA is primarily a terrorist network that calls itself the Coalition for World Freedom. They're a homegrown group but they're heavily funded by a number of unfriendly foreign agencies and some major crime syndicates, both here and abroad. Fundamentally, they're nothing short of agents for chaos."
Glover smiles and spreads his hands. "Imagine religious fanatics working side by side with mercenaries, foreign terrorist cells, corrupt CEOs, survivalists, and bored college kids. All with the shared purpose of bringing down organised government around the globe, starting with the US. They're disorganised but due to the diverse backgrounds of their agents, their scope of influence is immense."
Jared's heard rumours about the existence of the Coalition. But these days there are so many different terrorist groups looking for their share of the headlines that he's never investigated the details. His overwhelming impression of the Coalition was that it comprised a lot of people who were at varying degrees of insanity.
Still, crazy determined people are more of a threat than the regular kind, he figures.
"It was our opinion," says Glover, "that, in this situation, you needed to know precisely what you were dealing with. Their reach is extending and we cannot afford to allow any information regarding their affiliates and activities to slip by us. Don't be fooled by their poor organisation, they can be deadly effective. Beyond the risk to global security, the Coalition has already been directly responsible for the murder of eight of our agents."
And Glover looks right at Jensen as he says it. While storing away the obvious implication for future reference, Jared notes that Jensen is as adept at ignoring Glover as he is Jared's persistent flirting. Jared stifles a smug little smile at that.
"Teague will remain your primary point of contact," Glover continues, "and you may pass all information through him. However, we want to make sure you have several channels of communication with us, so we're going to be in pretty close contact with you."
Jared doesn't exactly like the sound of that but he can play along, especially if he's still going to be working with Jensen.
Before he leaves, Glover shakes Jared's hand again, tells him how impressed they all are with Jared's work so far. There's a brief conversation between Glover and Jensen about, as far as Jared can make out, some further meeting Jensen has to have with the other ISA executives. No explicit details are mentioned, of course, because Jared may be one of their agents, but he's not one of them. Not like Jensen is. Give it thirty years, and Jensen will be Glover: cool, detached, and living for nothing but the international game of chess he's playing.
After Glover's gone, Jensen turns to Jared and says, "I need you to come with me."
They don't pass anyone as they walk deeper into the military base. Their footfall sounds loud on the metal grating floor. Jensen leads Jared into an elevator and they descend a further six floors, which Jared estimates should bring them a good forty feet below ground level.
There's another security checkpoint to get through, and then Jensen opens the door onto a spacious hangar. The lighting snaps on, illuminating the whole length of the room in a rapid succession of strips.
"I've been going over your service records," Jensen says, as he makes his way to one of the huge lockers. He keys in a security number and opens it up. "I've noted you have a preference for eliminating unfriendlies from a distance."
"Hey, I'm pretty flexible in my preferences," Jared says with a grin. "Sometimes it's nice to get up-close and personal, y'know?"
Jensen twitches irritably and sets a black case down more heavily in front of Jared than perhaps he intended to. His fingers move in jerky little snaps as he undoes the clasps and opens the case. It's a sniper rifle inside, each component neatly packed in foam.
"It's an advanced model, using the Barrett XM109 as a platform. It has an effective range of 4000 metres, it's substantially lighter than anything else that's available, and it has barrel modifications to accommodate a sound suppressor. I thought you might find it useful."
As he talks, Jensen assembles the rifle, and it's kind of surreal to see the ease with which he handles it. Handlers are trained in self-defence and basic combat, but Jared really isn't used to thinking of Jensen as capable of deadly force. He knows Jensen is anything but helpless, but that doesn't mean it doesn’t still get to him how obviously Jensen knows his way around a gun.
It's weirdly unsettling. Jared doesn't want Jensen having to get involved in that side of things. His hands look out of place - wrong - on the gun.
Once it's assembled, Jensen passes it to him, and Jared is distracted from the bizarreness of combining Jensen with guns by his professional appreciation of the sniper rifle. It's a very nice piece and that tiny psychotic voice in Jared's head says how eager it is about getting a chance to try the rifle out.
"How many of those eight dead agents were you handling?"
Jared hadn't even realised he was thinking it until he says it. Guiltily, he looks up at Jensen to see how badly he's taken it, but Jensen doesn't seem offended or upset about the question.
"Just the one," he says.
What happened? is the obvious next question, but Jared is a fairly sensitive guy, he likes to think, and that's clearly off-limits.
Instead, he goes for, "Did you like them?"
"He was a very capable agent," Jensen says.
"Yeah, but did you like him?"
A frown appears on Jensen's brow, as if this is something new, something he hasn't had to consider before. He's quiet for a long moment, then he shrugs.
"He didn't give me any reason to dislike him."
Jared can't help a laugh. Giving the rifle an appreciative nod, he starts to disassemble it, getting used to how it feels in his hands. Jensen doesn't make any move to help or to leave, just stands there.
"Tell me," Jared says conversationally, as he fits the rifle pieces back in their case, "if my next assignment gets fucked, would you have anything else to say about me than 'He didn't give me any reason to dislike him'?"
When Jensen doesn't answer, even after a long silence, Jared glances up at him. Jensen's gaze instantly flickers away to a distant point somewhere to the left of Jared's head.
"It's not relevant," Jensen says at last. "I haven't lost an agent since, and I don't intend to start now. Unless, of course, you intend to continue responding to pretty much everything I say with innuendo. In which case, you don't wanna know what I'm going to be saying to people once you're dead."
part six
:::