Evenfall (134 page)

The chaos of the moment had made it too hectic, the jealousy had made him illogical. He'd stopped thinking like an Agent and had reacted like a jilted lover. If he'd been thinking clearly, he would have just waited a few minutes at Calle Treinta, not long enough for anyone to find him. When Sin had said he was stopping to get Jessica, he should have suggested that plan and given a time period he would leave by before he attempted to check back with Sin to verify their move to Plan B. If he'd done that, he would have known immediately something was wrong. If he'd done that, Sin wouldn't have...

He felt something go ice cold inside him. He was... He was such a fucking idiot...

In the brief silence of his revelation, he felt their twin gazes intensify on him, the scrutiny a constant pressure mixing with his exhaustion, with the shakiness inside of too much adrenaline and not enough sleep, and the fact it seemed every moment that passed he realized even more how much of a fucking idiot he was, how much he'd screwed up. He swallowed, trying not to let Connors' constant, astute questions dig too deep into him. "I--" he started to say, but Connors' words would not quite leave his mind. Better to save himself, leaving Sin there. He hadn't thought that, he'd just-- He'd been so angry, so stupidly angry... It hadn't... Between the two of them, he wouldn't have consciously chosen to save himself and yet that was exactly what he'd done.

"The situation was intense, sir," he said finally, trying to explain what had been going through his mind without making it into an excuse. The memory of the moment when he'd run away was in his thoughts; the sound of the static increasing, the disbelief in Sin's voice. He tried to ignore it but it was strong, vivid; despite that, his tone remained carefully calm, respectful. "I made a decision based upon my training and my understanding of the circumstances. We had the two plans already decided upon; in the chaos of the situation, to attempt to introduce a third scenario did not seem a good choice. We did not have much time and there was the very real possibility that any attempts to change the plan would result in miscommunication that could have led to neither of us understanding what was expected, possible endangerment of both of our locations, and ultimately a larger failure. Given the circumstances, and considering that the contingency plan had been created specifically for the type of situation we found ourselves in, it made the most sense to wait the two weeks. I made a decision I thought was right, sir. It appears that it was a poor one after all, but at the time it seemed the most logical, sir."

"'A poor one'," Connors repeated and his eyebrows rose once again as he flipped over a file in front of him. "I am willing to go out on a limb and assume that Agent Vega was apprehended in two possible ways. He was mentally unstable and not thinking straight or he was caught off guard somehow and outnumbered. Although I am not excusing his decision, since I am not one to excuse any unnecessary action the man takes, it is entirely possible that he would not have been captured had you been there as his partner." He tapped the file. "But you were not and now we have a crippled Agent who is most likely brain dead. Would you like me to read you the extent of his injuries?"

Boyd felt his throat go dry. The guilt of abandoning Sin rose again, a strong current of an emotion that moved through his body like his blood. 'As his partner.' The words reminded him of the conversation he'd had with Sin regarding his first partners, the people who left or used him, the people who hadn't treated him like a human being. The people who should have been there as an equal, a partner, but who weren't. Connors was right; Boyd had been hired for a single purpose and he'd betrayed that purpose, betrayed Sin and caused him a staggering amount of injuries, torture and agony simply because he hadn't felt like going back. Because he hadn't wanted to see Sin anywhere near Jessica. Because he'd been too fucking stupid to think of waiting. The knowledge that he could have destroyed Sin's life, that he put him in a position to be murdered only to be revived and probably never really live again, overwhelmed him so completely that it silenced any words that may have surfaced.

His gaze turned heavy and dropped. He wanted to say no; he didn't want to hear it, he didn't want to know about any of it in detail because it would just haunt him relentlessly. His imagination would put images and sounds to the words and he would obsess upon it, go repeatedly over his understanding of what had happened to Sin because in a large way, it was his fault. Because he should have been there to stop it. Because even if Janus had overpowered them both, at least Boyd would have known he'd tried, at least he would not have run away, leaving Sin to protect himself and a wounded civilian with no hope of backup in sight. But he didn't think Connors would take too kindly to him saying he didn't want to hear, and truthfully he felt like he didn't really have the right to avoid it since it was his fault. Sin certainly would never be able to ignore what happened so why should Boyd be able to? Feeling his stomach clench, he stared at his lap and stayed silent.

Connors took his silence as an assent, although he would have read the file regardless. "Apparently Janus had the mistaken idea that they could extract information from him with what appears to be medieval-style torture. However, what Janus does not know is that Agent Vega can withstand physical torture; his weakness is mental torture." The tone in which Connors said it clearly implied that he and others at the Agency were the only ones who could control Sin because they knew his weaknesses and because of that they were the only ones who had total power over him. It was almost smug, as if to say Sin was their tool alone, a special toy that could only be operated with directions they had. "They seemed to have used a method called stretching, a lovely technique developed in the Middle Ages by the Europeans, in which the victim's limbs are pulled away from the body, causing excruciating pain, dislocated body parts and destroyed tendons and ligaments." Connors did not look away from Boyd's closed off expression, even though he seemed to be reciting whatever lay in the pages of the report.

"In addition to that, he has a number of third degree burns which appear to have been made with a torch-like device, dozens of broken bones throughout his body, severe internal bleeding, an extensive loss of blood due to the various twin incisions that were made on his body most likely to ensure that he would bleed to death after they left him to die, a blood infection, massive head trauma and swelling to his brain." Connors continued to tap his fingers against the file. "I will be frank with you and tell you that the damage done to his limbs is easily reparable with reconstructive surgery however I am not sure it is even worth it to try. The damage done to his head, the fever caused by the blood infection, all make the possibility of him remaining in a coma or emerging with a severe case of brain damage extremely probable. There is also the possibility that it will have caused his mental condition to worsen or any number of unfortunate scenarios. Until we determine whether or not that will be the case, I do not see the need to waste more resources on an Agent who is most likely unsalvageable. It is because of this that the medical staff was informed not to attempt resuscitation if he flat-lines again."

Boyd's eyes snapped up to Connors, a flash of surprise and alarm not hidden quite quick enough before he was able to smooth his expression again. "But-- Sir," he said, unable to keep a hint of urgency out of his tone, "he's an extremely valuable resource to the Agency and he's already made it through at least two flat-lines; with those odds, it seems probable he could pull through again."

"What is the point if he is not functional?" Connors countered coldly, speaking of Sin as though he were a computer that was no longer up to par with his needs.

Vivienne's stare seemed to intensify on Boyd but her expression did not change, nor did she say anything. He barely noticed her in his alarm at the idea of what Connors was suggesting.

"If he can live through that torture, flat-lining, and a coma, how do you know he won't have the fortitude to become 'functional' again?" Boyd insisted, hating that he was having to talk about Sin as if he was simply a machine or tool, but he believed it was the best way to get his point across to Connors. "You won't know until that point, sir, and in the meantime if you give up on him too early then you don't have a suitable replacement. You probably won't ever have another Agent that is quite like him. For... unique resources, isn't it worth it to try a little longer?"

Connors said nothing for a long moment and then, in the same flat tone, he asked, "Is your sexual relationship with Agent Vega adding to your motivation to plea for his life?"

Vivienne shifted, just a shade of movement but it was enough that it caught Boyd's attention. He didn't look over, though, nor pay heed to the fact that in his peripheral vision he could tell her expression had changed slightly. Instead, he stared at Connors, inwardly shocked as he wondered if he'd heard correctly. "My-- What?"

"Because one would assume," Connors continued as though Boyd had not asked a question, "that if that were the case, you would have put more effort into playing your role as partner."

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about," Boyd said after a moment, keeping his expression and tone even. He couldn't figure out why the hell Connors would say that, why he would
know
that. He could only assume it was one of a number of choices; Connors was hazarding a guess and was hoping to catch him in some trap, someone from Kassian's team had somehow managed to send a note ahead regarding how he'd been acting, or the Agency had been spying on them in Monterrey after all. Of the three choices, he thought it most likely that Connors was just expanding on his theory from when he'd saved Sin from the box, that there was something happening between them. "It is simply that, as you've pointed out, this result is largely due to my decisions, so I feel responsible. Despite my inexcusable lapse in my duties in Monterrey, my job is still to be Agent Vega's partner. I feel that his usefulness should not be given up on too quickly, as well as the fact that he is a valuable resource for the Agency."

Connors flicked his hand dismissively. "I am done speaking with you. Officer Brians will escort you to the next stage of debriefing." There was a pause and then he added coolly. "Happy birthday, by the way."

Boyd stared at him in surprise for a moment, reeling from the entire conversation, the abrupt dismissal, and the random comment at the end. In everything that had occurred, he'd forgotten that it was his birthday, not that it mattered. He hesitated just briefly and finally glanced at his mother.

Her expression was extremely disapproving but there was something about it that was off; she seemed angry, but for some reason he didn't think it was solely focused on him. She was probably angry that Connors had made such a comment about a sexual relationship with Sin, that her family was in any way being linked to something she disapproved of, but even so that didn't seem quite right. It was almost as if... she was angry with Connors himself, for some other reason. He couldn't even fathom what was going on between the two of them and he realized that in his surprise he'd stayed seated just long enough for Connors to give him a flat look as if wondering why he was still there.

"Ah-- Yes, sir," he said finally, feeling off balance and confused, and stood to head toward the door.

Brians, the guard, was waiting for him outside and surveyed him seriously before turning and walking purposefully down the hall. Boyd automatically followed him, trying to comprehend everything that had happened, trying not to think about what Connors had said, about how such a stupid mistake on his part could snowball so quickly into something so horrendous, and he was especially trying not to put images to the description of the torture.

They hadn't even made it to the next hallway when he heard his mother suddenly say, "Boyd."

He stopped in surprise and turned, thinking for a moment he could not possibly have heard that because it implied his mother, for probably the first time in his life, had come after him following a dismissal. But it was true; she stood just outside the closed door to 5F and, watching him with an utterly unreadable expression, she strode toward them. Brians stepped to the side but when she came and stopped in front of Boyd, she flicked a cool gaze at him and said curtly, "I will have a word with the child alone."

The words were ominous and made Boyd want to step away from her; was she actually so angry with him that she followed him out, that she felt the need to say more to him after everything else already said? He knew he was a fuck-up, he knew he'd abandoned his job position, he knew he'd made serious mistakes and he knew he had no proper excuses. What else could she possibly want to hear from him?

Brians nodded and stepped down the hall, watching Boyd closely but keeping enough distance that he was not intruding upon their privacy.

Vivienne looked at Brians with approval then returned her ice blue eyes to Boyd, who stared at her in growing paranoia. She studied him for a moment, almost as if he were a bug beneath a microscope, before she raised her eyebrows coolly. "In this profession, it is imperative that you learn your lessons thoroughly the first time; that you do not make the same mistake twice. I would have assumed you would understand this, yet I am apparently mistaken."

"Mother, I--" Boyd started to say, hoping to appease her quickly before she could add anything more to his overtaxed mind, before she could make it impossible for him to feel like he could properly function at all. But she raised one hand in warning and that was all it took for the words to die in his throat. She gave him a scrutinizing look, as if deciding whether she needed to impress upon him with words that she was not interested in his response at the moment or if he would stay quiet. When he said nothing, she nodded once in curt approval.