Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Who: Henley and Holt What: reunited and it feels so.. well.. not good, but not bad either! When: Tuesday, August 6 Where: Starting in Vegas, ending at S9 Rating: meh, bad language is about it, some mentions of their troubled past as well Status: incomplete/started in gdoc
Tim Mathis rolled out of bed and stretched. He was only slightly sore from the night before and he knew after some advil and food, he’d be brand new. He’d ‘entertained’ a couple of men from out east somewhere the night before and they were looking forward to spending more time with the young man again that evening. But Tim had time on his own to rejuvenate his body and collect his thoughts before going back for round two. It was only round two with these men. It was more like round ten thousand in his head.
But the money was good. And here in Vegas, money was king.
Pulling on a pair of clean shorts and a t-shirt, he looked very much the tourist. He finger combed his dark hair as he looked at himself in the mirror. Any bruising from the night before wouldn’t show up until later in the day. But the pain was good. There was a comfort in the pain.
Making his way to the lobby of the hotel, he crossed it and headed into the casino. Sometimes, on a slow day, he could get someone to work with him, teaching him the ins and outs of a particular game. Today, he was looking for a blackjack table. He knew the sort of person he was looking for by instinct. He’d get a feeling that the person wanted him to join in.
He’d play the part of an innocent young man just learning the game. He’d tell them he wasn’t much of a gambler, only played the penny slots, but cards were interesting to him. With just a suggestion the player would soon enough have Tim sit down, spot him some scratch and teach him the ropes. He’d give the original money back but keep any earnings he made, it was only fair.
Though it was all a lie. Tim Mathis didn’t exist in this form. It was how Henley Knox survived.
---
The moment Holton learned from the intel team that his brother had been located, he rushed to Kingsley’s office. He demanded that a team be assembled immediately and that he be a member of that team. It took some convincing, which led to one severely pissed off new agent, because Kingsley had sworn to him, when Holt agreed to join the agency, that they’d bring his brother in eventually. Henley would be safe here. Finally. Holton owed his brother.
Kingsley didn’t want to enrage his new agent. Plus, this would be a relatively simple mission. Henley couldn’t use his abilities against anyone on the team, and he was hardly a threat to the general public. He was just a kid on the run. So Kingsley arranged for Holton and a few other agents to travel to Las Vegas.
The other agents kept urging caution and patience. Those things were all well and good, and he’d take heed in the future, but not this time. He’d waited too long. They weren’t in Vegas to live it up at the clubs or whatever the fuck else his teammates had in mind. They were here to get Henley.
Holton spotted him across the room. It had been years, and Henley looked older, harder even, but he hadn’t changed so much that Holt didn’t recognize him immediately. His features softened, which was rare for Holt.
“Hold up, man,” Michael suggested, wanting to scope out the surroundings better. He tried to pull Holt back.
Holt broke free though and walked with purpose toward his baby brother. When he reached Henley, he smiled lightly. “Hey.”
---
Today’s player was a man from Ohio named Greg. Greg was over friendly and felt instantly comfortable enough with Henley that his hand that had been in his hair and on his shoulder, was now resting on his thigh. “So when I have two tens like this, I,” Henley paused already knowing the answer. “Double something,” he said with a hint of cluelessness in his voice, giving Greg his best doe eyes.
“Double down,” Greg said with a smile, giving Henley’s body a once over. The body that once belonged to a scrawny kid from some shit ass town in Louisiana was now well built and toned. Even though the shirt, Greg could tell Henley could hold his own.
“Double down, right,” Henley said pasting a smile on his face all for Greg. It had been so easy to work this one over. It was like Henley was barely trying and Greg was eating it up. He’d make a fast buck before supper.
Before he could bet his (well Greg’s technically) money, he heard the voice. The voice he’d never forget from his childhood. Henley stiffed as he turned to see Holton standing there looking at him with that smile on his face. What the fuck was he smiling about. “Hey,” Henley said before placing his bet.
---
Holton was too caught up in simply seeing his brother again, that he didn’t really notice what else was going on in this picture. He didn’t see the hand on the thigh. Didn’t pick up on Henley’s fake cluelessness. He just saw his baby brother.
“That’s it?” he asked. Really? That was all Henley was going to offer in return? He’d barely glanced in Holt’s direction, and now was back to business. Holt put his hand on Henley’s shoulder. “I’m here.” Holton didn’t like physical closeness with other men. It made him nervous. But he was fine with affection when it came to his brother.
---
This wasn’t going to go away. Did he think he could just walk in here after all this fucking time and expect a warm welcome? Screw that. The dealer paused a moment to make sure nothing was going to happen before finishing the hand.
“Greg would you excuse me for just a moment,” Henley asked with another smile. Greg didn’t know that wasn’t sincere in the least. “Don’t you go anywhere. I’ll be back to finish up that lesson.” Greg could only nod in agreement. Fish in a barrel.
Henley slid out of his seat and turned to face Holton. “Mind if we take this over here?” Henley asked walking away from the table, not giving Holt much of a choice. If Holt messed Henley’s time with Greg, he was going to be pissed. He was sure Greg had money to burn.
“What are you doing here?” Henley hissed as he turned on his heels to face his brother. ---
Holton paid more attention now. It was like the fuzzy edges had started to come into focus. Holton recognized the dopey look on Greg’s face. He’d seen that look many times before. Henley was working this guy. Conning him.
“Seriously? I haven’t seen you in years.” All those years in prison, all those years training with Sector 9. Now Holton was here. He’d worked so very hard to get here, and Henley was put off by his presence? Where the fuck did he get off! “I’m here for you. Why the fuck else would I be here?”
---
“Now you come for me? How noble of you,” Henley said with a sneer. “It’s been over ten fucking years, Holton. Ten years! So good of you to show up now.” The past ten years of Henley’s life had been in a word terrible. There were things that happened to him that he’d never tell anyone; never repeat the trauma he was handed at the whim of his step-father. When Holt was in the house, there was a buffer. Once he left, there was nothing stopping Richard.
“And you just expect me to what? Be thankful as you sweep in here, six years after I got out of that fuckin’ place? Where were you then, Holt? Where were you? Nowhere, that’s where. Now piss off. I’ve got more cards to play,” he said as he tried to brush past his brother.
---
“Twelve,” Holton clarified. Hey, if they were gonna go after each other like this, they may as well get the facts straight. “This is the soonest I could come. I’ve fucking been locked up. And you’ve been here, using different identities, and cash.. always cash. It wasn’t easy finding you.” It had taken a team of very talented people to track down Henley.
When Henley tried to push past Holton, the older brother’s hand firmly grabbed hold of Henley’s forearm. “Don’t you fucking walk away from me.” It never occurred to Holt that he sounded a lot like his step father just then. Bad move.
--- Henley’s body went rigid feeling Holt’s hands on his arms. With an explosive move, he broke free and yelled, “Don’t touch me!” He shrunk away, all the bravado vanishing in an instant. Holt wasn’t the only one looking for Henley. In St. Louis, Henley managed to slip the grasp of a known associate of Richard’s, sent to find the youngest Knox boy. Henley had to keep moving, changing his names, never establishing a pattern or anything traceable.
And now, it was all flooding back. Had he wanted to, not that he would but had he wanted to, Holton could have beaten the crap out of Henley. He was bigger stronger and far more skilled in fighting. And Henley never fought back. He accepted many forms of abuse growing up.
“Get your hands off me,” he said, repeating he sentiment but this time, weaker and much more timidly.
----
Holt let go, horrified by what he’d done. Granted, he didn’t strike Henley or anything so horrible, but hearing the fear in his little brother’s voice made him realize he’d triggered flashbacks. Holt suffered from them too.
He released Henley’s arm, putting his hands up in apology, his face expressed the emotion as well. “I’m so sorry.” It happened sometimes. Holton couldn’t always control his aggression. He lashed out and heard Richard’s voice in his head.
--- Greg not able to see his new friend like that, hurried over to see if everything was ok. Henley gave him a pat on the arm and nodded. “I’ll meet up with you later,” he said with a reassuring smile. That was a lie as well. As soon as he could shake his brother, he’d be on the move again, burning this bridge as he’d done so many times before.
Turning to look at Holt again, Henley softened. It was his brother. And while it had taken him years, he was here, looking for Henley. It was hard for Henley to process it all. He’d grown up thinking he was unwanted and useless and now his brother was here.
With friends who didn’t look so friendly.
“Who are they?” Henley asked his brother pointing to the team closing in on them. ---
Holt turned around and glared hard at the men, especially Michael. He raised his hand to them, insisting they stay back. He had this under control. He wasn’t going to let them storm in and scare Henley. “It’s complicated,” he said as he turned back toward Henley.
“They look worse than they really are.” Not entirely true. Michael could be ruthless from what Holton had heard. He was a vampire who really enjoyed his work. “I need you to come with me, Henley.”
---
Henley had already figured out three escape routes. Why did Holt want him to come with him? He studied his brother for any sign. Was Holt being forced to do this? What was complicated? Henley took a few steps backwards. He just needed to clear the table to his right and he could get lost in the crowd easily enough and no one would be able to say which direction he’d gone. It was what he did in St. Louis and he could sure as hell do it here - this was bigger than that hick bar.
“I don’t like it, Holt,” Henley said finally. He was so close to the table edge. Just a few more steps. “Who are they?”
----
Holton felt the urge to reach out and grab hold of his brother again, but didn’t want to scare him. Still, he could see the wheels turning in Henley’s mind. “Don’t run away, okay? I’ll explain, but it’s not simple, and it’s not a conversation for... this place.” He glanced around them. “I’ll make the guys leave, and you and I can talk privately. Okay? Please. Just trust me.” Henley had to trust him.
--- He was now free of the table and he had a choice to make. The big guy behind Holt was twitchy and seemed to know what Henley was thinking as he looked at the table and shook his head slowly. Henley looked at the table and though there was no way he’d be caught but there was something about the way the other man looked at Henley, like a challenge.
There were still two ways left if his original plan was truly in the shitter. He looked at Holt again, not stopping, but not making the same backward progress. A server walked between the brothers and Henley thought that was his chance but his eyes never left Holt’s. “Why should I stay?” he challenged. “What are they going to do to me?”
---
“Because I’m not in charge here. They are. And if you don’t listen to me, they sure as fuck won’t.” It was honest. Holt couldn’t lie to his brother. “They’re stronger and faster than they look.” As if on cue, Michael smiled, showing off his fangs.
“Can we please just talk?” he asked. Holt’s tone was begging. The agents had their orders, and they rarely failed when given a mission. Kingsley was not a man you wanted to disappoint. If Henley didn’t come willingly, then he would be dragged in kicking and screaming. Or unconscious. Either way, he was getting his ass hauled back to Sector 9.
---
Henley glanced at his second path which was now covered by a second equally large guy who came with Holt. “You gonna tell your goons to back the fuck off?” he said to Holt, not caring who in the casino he offended. Polite to strangers who had nothing to offer was a waste of energy. He got a look from a blue hair lady to which Henly hissed, “Mind your own.” She obediently turned back to her slot machine.
In his head there was a quiet voice inside his head whispering there isn’t any escape, you little shit and he knew the voice was right. “I’ll talk to you but your friends can piss off.” ---
Holt turned to look at the men he was with in turn. He glared at them, wishing he could compel them to do as he wanted. They’d just have to trust him. Michael signaled the rest of the men and took a few steps back. He’d give Holton a chance. One chance.
“Come here,” Holton said, motioning for Henley to follow him toward a bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty. There was no escape from in there, but it was private, and maybe Henley would be more willing to listen.
“The goons aren’t mine. They sure as fuck don’t work for me. They work for someone named Kingsley. I work for him too. Sorta.” He was doing a shit job of explaining this. “It’s a secret agency, and it’s where I’ve been since leaving prison. I didn’t know where you were when I got out, and they promised to help me find you and kill Richard if I joined them.”
---
Henley gave Holt a wide birth as they headed away from the casino floor. Should anyone come in, either Knox boy could make them change their minds. He didn’t like that his only exit was blocked by his larger brother, but was willing to listen if they were alone. If he didn’t like what Holt had to say, he’d ditch and hit the road again.
As Holt explained the situation, Henley mostly listened. Well, until that last part. Kill Richard? In his mind Henley did it a million times. Bastard deserved to die painfully and slowly for the hell he put his stepsons through. But if Holt knew people who could make that happen, maybe it was worth a listen. “So you’re what, a spy?” he asked, not seeing Holt as the James Bond type. ---
Holt sighed with a shrug. “I don’t know. Sometimes. Sort of. It’s really complicated, and I only recently graduated from being a recruit. It’s a long training process. Now I’m officially an agent, and they’ll send me on whatever missions I’m right for. Sometimes that’ll include spying, sometimes more.” The more part gave Holton reason to hesitate. He definitely wanted to kill Richard, but could he kill someone else? A stranger? Holt wasn’t sure.
“It’s safe there, Henny,” he said softly. “They take care of everything for you. Food, clothes... and the money. Fuck,” he was still trying to wrap his head around all the money coming his way now that he was an agent. “We’ll be together again, and no one can hurt us there.”
---
Dammit why did he have to use Henny? Henny, he name he used when Henley was such a small boy. It usually involved Holt saying something about always being there for his little brother. Henny. It was a codeword of sorts. ‘It’s ok Henny’ Holt would whisper in the dark in their shared bedroom after one or both of them got a beating. “Where are you? I mean you’re not back east are you?” Henley asked, knowing Holt would understand that to Henley, back east meant Louisiana. “I can’t be a spy. I didn’t even finish high school, Holt.” His voice was soft and tentative. He wasn’t anything special. Why would some secret organization want Henley Knox?
----
Holt hadn’t used his brother’s nickname as a way of manipulating him. He was simply trying to soothe Henley. It had always worked in the past. It was a term of endearment. “No.. San Francisco.” Holt would only go back to Louisiana once, and that would be the day he killed Richard.
“I didn’t finish either,” he reminded Henley. “They’ll teach you everything. Everything they taught me. Weapons, languages, martial arts,” which had been Holton’s easiest class. “They’ll even teach you about computers and how to behave around rich people,” Holt added with a grin and a light, short chuckle. “You’re smart. A lot smarter than me. Always have been. If I can do it, you can too. And we’ll be together the whole time. Maybe I can even convince Kingsley to let you stay in my apartment instead of the recruit dorms.” At least at first. It would help Henley feel safe.
---
“That doesn’t sound cheap. Who pays for all this?” he asked, leaning against the counter holding the row of sinks. It was the first sign that his body was relaxing and not taking a defensive posture, a run for your life posture. “Is it because of that thing...we can do. That Dick can do?” he asked suddenly aware that someone else knew their secret. “And did I really see pointed teeth on that freak out there?”
---
“People pay us... the organization... for the work we do. They contract Sector 9 to complete tasks, and they pay well.” At least he assumed, because the facility was massive, and the paychecks were too. It couldn’t be cheap to hire Sector 9’s agents.
Holt nodded. “Yeah. Everyone there is special. The big, good looking asshole out there,” Holt said, motioning behind himself with his thumb, “He’s a vampire. A fucking vampire. No joke. You wouldn’t believe what some people can do. It’s insane, but it’s all real.”
---
“Bull shit,” Henley said with a shake of his head. “A vampire? No fucking way.” He wasn’t about to believe that there was any such thing. Those were stories the voodoo folks told the kids. Be good or the vamps will getcha. He looked up to Holt. “But there are others, like us? And people know about it?” He always kept his skill set private, only ever telling Holt (Dick guessed it).
“How did they find you? Me?” he asked, still filled with dozens of questions.
---
“I swear, Henny, it’s true. I swear on my life.” Holt had needed some convincing as well, but he was a believer once he saw everything. “There’s this chick with wings! She’s a new recruit. Not only the wings, but she can set her whole damn body on fire!” That was beyond insane. “Everyone’s different. Some people are like, creatures? I guess?” That didn’t seem like a polite way to describe them, but lycans and vampires and sprites were so very far from being human. “Others are more like us. They can use their minds to do things.”
“They met me right outside the prison when I was released. And they’ve had a team of intelligence experts searching for you.” Holt grinned, “You got good at covering your tracks.” It was a frustrating quality, but it was also something Kingsley valued. It made Henley an even better potential asset.
---
It sounded like a fairy tale. A girl with wings? He was almost tempted to go just to see that for himself. The compliment about him being good at covering his tracks made him feel uncomfortable for a moment. Like he should feel guilty about it but didn’t know how. “It had to be done,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at his feet. “Wait, right out of prison? They waited for you? And should I take it as an honor that so many people came with you to get me?” He was being cheeky and he knew it. But it did cause him to pause to think about it.
---
“They’re always on the lookout for people like us. I used my abilities a few times in prison. I guess that’s how they found out about me.” He shrugged. Holton had wanted to use his powers to convince the guards to simply let him out, but he wasn’t all that strong at first, and then he considered the fact that Richard would be waiting on the outside. Prison was safer. He could make the other prisoners behave around him. No one hurt him in there. No one hurt him at Sector 9 either, but that had nothing to do with his abilities, because they didn’t work on anyone at the facility.
---
“What if I don’t go?” he asked softly. “They aren’t just gonna let me walk out of here, are they?” He knew the answer and maybe after the activities of the night before, something safer was a better plan. He could always bail if it wasn’t for him, right? So it worked out for Holt - who was in Henley’s eyes one of the baddest motherfuckers around. And it worked out for him.
He gave his older brother a long look over. He’d changed a lot in the 12 years they were apart. But so had Henley. They both looked stronger than ever before and even if it wasn’t the truth, they appeared to be more confident away from Slidell.
----
Holton had made up his mind before coming here that he would be one-hundred percent honest with Henley, even if the truth made his brother nervous. “No, they’re not gonna let you walk out. They’re under orders to bring you in regardless. So you can come willingly with me, or they’ll drag you in by force.” He suspected his brother knew that, but this confirmed it. “If you don’t agree to the offer Kingsley makes, they have ways of wiping your memories of all of this. Sorta like how Richard used to do with mom, only it works on us... when you know our powers don’t work on each other.” Holton had tried to figure out how that was possible, because it sure would be useful to learn if his abilities could one day be strong enough to overpower another supernatural, but it was a closely guarded secret. Holt didn’t even know if it was a person who did it. Maybe it was a machine or chemicals. Hard telling. There was shit at Sector 9 that didn’t exist anywhere else in the world.
---
“They can do that?” Henley asked with a bit of wonder in his voice. He knew as often as he tried, nothing worked on Richard. But then again, Richard couldn’t control Henley either. Just others to do his bidding. The thought of that made Henley angry all over again.
“You mean there is someone out there who could stop him? Why aren’t they doing that instead?” It didn’t occur to Henley that someone might think what he did was just as bad and that Henley should be stopped.
---
"Apparently. Anytime a potential recruit says no to joining, they have their memories of the place scrubbed." Sometimes Holt thought it might be nice. Maybe they could scrub all his bad memories while they were at it. But them there might not be much left. The gaps in his memory would be massive.
"It doesn't work that way, Henley. They're private contractors. Work for hire. Don't go thinking this is some group of do gooder superheroes." Far from it. Morally bankrupt from what Holt could tell. They took jobs based on money alone. No questions asked. But Holt wondered sometimes if there was a line they wouldn't cross. What if Hitler came knocking and asked them to slaughter every Jew in the world? Would Sector 9 agree? "Anyway, part of my deal in agreeing to work for them was that I get to kill Richard."
---
"You better make sure I'm there to see it," Henley said quietly. "In fact, that's a part of my deal. I get to be there when you kill him." He didn't care if he was in no position to make such demands but they came looking for him right? That had to give him some sort of leverage. "I want to watch that son of a bitch beg for his life." Actually need was probably more like it. Henley needed to know Richard wasn't going to hurt anyone else. Even if it meant the chair for Henley, he'd happily watch that fucker die.
"Tell me about the other assignments. Were they to collect others like us?" There had to be more to the story the way Holt described it as not a bunch of superheroes. The way Holt and the others were dresses, it looked more military than Superman.
---
"I'll do what I can, but having you there could significantly delay things. I've only known them to allow a recruit to go on a mission once, and it was because she was the only one who could get part of the job done." It was rare and for good reason. Recruits weren't trained for such things yet. "Anyway, just remember to be respectful when you talk to Kingsley. He's dangerous, or can be. You want to stay on his good side. Understand?" Unless all the stories about Kingsley were complete crap meant to keep people fearful of him, because Holt had never actually seen the guy do anything out of line.
"I told ya, it varies, and I don't know much of anything from personal experience. This is actually my first mission." Which had been the deal. "You'll be hard pressed to find agents willing to talk all that much about what they do. But they all seem pretty happy." That had to be a good thing.
--- A delay would be bad he supposed. He knew if the time came, Holt would tell him what happened. And if that's what had to happen, so be it. Holt took most of the physical damage that Henley saw. It was probably fair. Henley nodded listening to his brother's advice. In other words, speak only when addressed and shut the hell up otherwise.
"You wouldn't lie to me, would you, 'ton?" Henley asked, feeling like the little boy he was before Holton was arrested. There was still plenty of anger but if there was anyone on this planet Henley could trust, it was his big brother.
---
Holt actually seemed a bit offended by the question. He shook his head though, putting a hand on Henley's shoulder and looking him in the eyes. "I will never lie to you. I swear." Not that telling the truth would be easy. It wouldn't. Because there was a lot of ugliness in the truth. That's why Holt lied a lot to nearly everyone else in the world. It was easier. People couldn't handle the sort of 'truth' that Holt and and Henley had survived. "You'll be safe there. And you'll be with me. I promise I won't leave you again." Unless someone killed him. That would be the only way to separate the brothers again.
---
The second the words were out of Henley's mouth he knew it was a mistake. Holt wouldn't lie to him. Whatever Richard told him about his brother's wishes had been lies and more lies. The look on Holt's face just proved it. Feeling the hand on his shoulder tightened him up, but he tried to relax into it. He wasn't terribly successful. Touch that wasn't initiated by Henley was suspect, even from his brother. "Alright," he said with a hint of resignation in his voice. "I'll go. But can I get some of my things first? I mean I won't run. They can even follow me upstairs if they don't believe me."
---
Holt let go upon feeling the tension in Henley's muscles. Even after all this time, the younger Knox apparently struggled with touch. Holt was improving slightly on that front, but it definitely depended on WHO touched him.
"Yeah, we can get your stuff. Come on." With that he escorted Henley back onto the casino floor where Michael and the other team members were waiting.
"We good?" Michael asked. He was the team leader. With a nod from Holt, Michael talked into his sleeve. "We're ready for extraction."
"He has some things to get first. Upstairs."
Michael motioned to Carlos. "Go with them. We'll cover the exits." Michael was a good read of body language, and he could see that Henley was calmer now. His heart rate and breathing were relaxed. Plus, he'd been able to hear the men's conversation in the bathroom. A little trust was given in hopes it would attract some trust from Henley.
---
As the three men headed to the elevator, Henley looked at Carlos with a careful eye; not out of fear but wondering if this cat had wings or or if crazy long knives slid from his hands. "So, are you a vampire too?" He asked as he tapped the button to go up to Henley's floor. Before Carlos could answer, the doors slid open and Henley walked in. "On second thought, don't tell me."
He put his hands in his pockets and saw Carlos tensed. He was bigger than Holt and Henley thought the dude could easily rip arms off a body if properly motivated. "Just getting my key," Henley said as he pulled out the plastic rectangle.
The elevator stopped and the doors silently slid open and Henley led the way. He gave a quick wave to the housekeeping lady in the hall before getting to his room. It wasn't much but it had been home. Inside,he picked up a small duffle bag and stuffed his few clothing, well worn paperback book with a photo of he and Holt when they were younger as the bookmark, and a small stuffed turtle. He glared at Carlos, daring him to say just one word about the animal. Henley had the thing since he turned three and many nights cried himself to sleep with it.
---
Carlos looked down at Henley. Despite the request that followed the man’s question, Carlos piped up. His voice was deep but soft. Clearly, he was a man of few words. Brawn was his greatest strength. “Lycan.”
“Don’t scare him off, Carlos,” Holt warned in an amused voice. “I think learning about vampires is enough for one day.”
Carlos didn’t say a word about the stuffed animal. He turned into an animal on the full moon, and like most beasts, he enjoyed playing with stuffed toys. Holt didn’t say anything either, at least not about the turtle. He did, however, notice the edge of a familiar photo sticking out of the book that Henley picked up. Holt watched with interest. Unable to resist, he motioned for Henley to show him. “Let me see.”
Holt had no belongings from his childhood. Not a single photo or keepsake. Nothing. He’d gone to prison with the clothes on his back, clothes that didn’t fit when he left. Everything he had now had been provided by Sector 9 or bought with the money he’d started making since joining them.
---
It had been a neighbor's Fourth of July party. Both boys were uncharacteristically free of visible bruises. Henley was still 4 (his birthday wasn't for a few days) and Holt was either 11 or 12. It was one of instant photos that developed as you waited, Holt was holding Henley over his shoulder and both boys were laughing. They both looked free and happy. "It's starting to fade," Henley said quietly as he handed over the photo, his finger holding his place in the book. "Do you remember it?"
---
Holt took the picture and examined it carefully. He smiled, remembering the moment as though it was yesterday. It was easy to remember the good times, because they were so few and far between. Holt had to guard those memories carefully. They were all he had. “Yeah, I remember.” He handed the picture back, feeling really emotional suddenly. “We should make a copy of it. Scan it or something.” It would preserve it as best as possible.
---
“Why don’t you hang on to it,” he said sensing Holt’s emotional turmoil. He didn’t care what Carlos thought of the brothers and he mentally dared him this time to say anything. “I know it will be safe with you and when I get settled, we can see about getting that copy.” Henley figured that Holt had little if anything from their childhood, and he knew life was physically harder for him.
He coughed and sniffed to clear his head and collect himself before turning to Carlos. “So are there snacks on this road trip or is it bring your own?”
---
Holt was already close to crying, and it wasn't made better by Henley offering the photo. Holt took it back, looking at it again before tucking it into his inner jacket pocket. "Thanks," he said in a strained voice.
Carlos' presence was grating right now. Holt looked at him with a stare. "Yeah, I'll be right outside," he finally said, exiting the room.
"They don't know. Only Kingsley knows everything. Just be careful who you talk to. You don't want people knowing your weaknesses."
---
Henley nodded expressing his understanding. There was plenty he didn’t talk about. The less he had to, the better. Henley grew up keeping things to himself, it wasn’t going to be a hardship. Slinging his bag onto his shoulder, he fished out some casino chips from his pocket and left them on the nightstand. They were a larger denomination than he would have normally left, but he like the housekeeping staff and they'd always been friendly toward him. That tip was for them as a way of saying goodbye.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asked, feeling strange considering Holton was the one to come get him. “Are we driving or taking the super secret batplane?” He wanted to add some lightness to the much too serious mood.
----
"You won't need those. Plenty of food and drinks on the jet." Holt smiled at that. "Things are gonna get better, Henley. Much better." They could put their past behind them. "Just wait until you see the place. It's incredible."
Holt led the way out with Henley by his side. Carlos brought up the rear. He too had a microphone in his sleeve, and he informed the others that it was time to go. But they went UP instead of down. A helicopter was waiting on them. Michael was piloting it. The rest of the goons were gone. Just Michael, Carlos, Holt and Henley now.
---
The comment about the batplane was meant to be a joke but when the door to the roof opened, Henley’s eyes widened. He’s actually never been on any sort of aircraft and the thought of it now clenched his stomach. He stopped to look at it with some hesitation. Not about going, but about getting in such a thing.
“The vampire can fly the helicopter?” Henley asked anyone who could hear him over the propeller. “And why isn’t he bursting into flames in the daylight? How is he with garlic?” It was more nervous chatter than really caring about the answers at this point.
---
Michael heard him just fine. "The vampire? I got a name, kid." He waited impatiently for them to climb in. Holt wasn't all that used to it yet, but he was trying to stay calm for Henley's sake. "Any day now, ladies," Michael teased.
"Vampires can go out in the sun," Holt explained. "Garlic isn't a problem either."
---
Shit, there went all his ‘known’ theories about vampires. Henley followed Holt’s lead, grabbing where he grabbed, and stepping onto the bird. “Ok vamp, what is your name?” Henley asked, annoyed at being called kid and a lady. Especially lady. It struck a Richard nerve.
----
"Michael." And the man grinned again, flashing those beautiful and deadly fangs. "Don't ever call me Mike."
"I tried once. I don't remember much after that." Holt was totally serious too.
"I warned you too, Knox. You should have listened. You kids. Never listen."
Holt rolled his eyes. Michael called everyone kid. Because he was old. Much older than he appeared. But even he wasn't close to Kingsley in age.
---
“Vampire Michael,” Henley said as he watched and then repeated what Holt did to buckle in. Seeing the calm in Holt, not knowing it wasn’t 100% truthful, helped Henley feel like it was going to be ok.
Then back to Michael, he nearly smiled. “You took ‘Ton down?” he asked then looked at his brother, no slouch himself, and suppressed an honest to god snicker.
----
Holt trusted Michael. He didn't always like the guy, but he trusted him. Michael could fly this bird like no other. So while Holt didn't like flying, he knew he was in good hands.
"Shut it," he said with a grin to his brother. "He's a vampire. No way in hell I got a chance against him. They're always gonna be faster and stronger. Usually better looking too." What was it with vampires? They all seemed like super models. Except Kingsley. He was pretty average.
---
Henley looked at the pilot carefully, trying not to stare. He was handsome in a dashing sort of way. Not showy and certainly not forced. For a quick flash, Henley wondered what he would look like naked.
Feeling a bit of shame for that, he didn’t say anything more, but his smile grew as he looked out the window as the helicopter rose from the roof. Then he realized that there was a small part of himself that was sad to be leaving. Not fending for himself and doing what he had to do, no, he wouldn’t miss that. But there were some people who showed him incredible kindness for the first time in a very long time that he’d miss.
But Holt was next to him now and Henley knew that his brother believed that they would be safe.
---
It was a good thing vampires couldn’t read minds, because Michael certainly would have given Henley grief for that thought. As it was, Michael only sensed Henley’s elevated heart rate and a signal of nervousness from his breathing pattern. “Relax, kid. I’ve been flying since before you were born.” Michael chalked it up to Henley being a nervous flyer. He already knew that about Holt.
Holton gripped the edge of his seat as they took off. Yes. He was nervous. Flying didn’t sit well with him. He did a decent job of pretending he was okay, but his behavior during take-off and landing usually gave him away. He steadied his breathing within a few moments and forced himself to relax into it. “We’re heading to the airport. San Francisco is a little far to take the chopper all the way.”
“It’s a helio, man! How many times I gotta tell ya?” Michael was sensitive about names and terminology.
Holt and Carlos both rolled their eyes. But it was Holt who spoke up, what with Carlos being a typically quiet sort. “We’re not all ex-Marines, Michael.”
“Retired!” he stressed. “Once a Marine, always a Marine. There’s no such thing as an ex-Marine... unless you’re dishonorably discharged, and I sure as hell wasn’t. Fuck, you’re a dumb one. Kid, I hope you got more brains than your big brother.”
---
Even if the banter was meant to be playful, it still made Henley’s heart race more. He wasn’t good around fighting because it usually ended up getting physical. Hearing Michael call Holton ‘dumb’, Henley flashed anger. “Fuck off, Mike. You have no idea about Holton,” Henley said in an as even as he could currently muster. “So just focus on flying and get us to where we’re going.”
----
Michael wasn’t angry. In fact, he laughed at Henley jumping to his older brother’s defense. “Looks like you’ve got a guard dog, Knox. Your own personal chihuahua to come to your rescue.”
Holt glared in Michael’s direction. “Take it easy, man. We didn’t all serve in the military. I don’t know the lingo... so fucking what?” Holt didn’t mind being chastised by Michael. He was used to taking grief from the agents. Holt was the ‘newbie’ so it was to be expected. Hazing came with the package. Henley needed to get used to it. If he didn’t learn to give back what he got, or simply ignore the teasing, he’d be one angry dude.
---
This didn’t sit well with Henley. Growing up, he never had the opportunity to learn how to tease; Richard always stepped in with a swat or a punch before it got there. Jumping to the defense of his brother came automatically to him. They may have their differences but no one got to call his brother dumb. No one.
And who was Mike calling a chihuahua? Fucker.
Henley watched the scenery melt away as they approached the airport. They were flying low enough to avoid the planes but it was something Henley liked despite never flying before. The planes were almost magic to him.
---
Holton glanced at his brother, noticing how quiet Henley got. He smiled to offer reassurance. They could talk more later in private. For now, Michael and Carlos were a guaranteed audience, and Holton didn’t want them overhearing anything that might be used against the brothers later.
The helicopter ride was short, and it wasn’t long before they were exiting one flying machine and boarding another. While there was more space to stretch out on the jet, Michael’s hearing was excellent. Holt felt he should point that out to avoid problems later. “So, Michael and the other vamps have freakish ears. Watch what you say within fifty yards of them.” They weren’t guaranteed to listen in, just like you could tune out people sitting at a table next to you in a restaurant, but it was good to know that your conversations weren’t automatically private.
Holt settled into his seat, buckling the belt. Carlos and a few of the other agents they’d seen earlier at the casino were sitting in the main cabin as well. Michael moved to the co-pilot’s seat. He apparently flew planes as well.
---
Henley looked around the cabin. This wasn’t what he planned on for his first plane ride - this was posh and comfortable, hardly what he thought flying was going to be like. But he also knew this wasn’t any old commercial plane. This was sleek and reeked of money. Henley didn’t think he should get too comfortable. It could all be gone in a flash.
He sat close to Holt and eyed the other agents who pinned Henley in the casino. He didn’t trust any of them. Maybe it would come but for now, these were the people Holt apparently worked for. He had said they called the shots. He listened to Holt’s comments about vampire hearing and while he was still mildly shaken about Michael actually being a vampire, the hearing thing was news to his vampire lore. Then again, the whole sunlight or garlic thing were wrong. Henley took what he’d learned about Michael to heart. He’d try to avoid him in the future.
“So what will happen when we get there?” he asked quietly. Not to keep Michael from hearing, he didn’t care if the vampire thought Henley was clueless. He was. But it was more to keep some semblance of a normal conversation with his brother at hand.
---
Holt’s first plane ride had been the same. He’d boarded a jet in Louisiana and traveled to San Francisco to join Sector 9. This was actually only his third trip on a plane, so he was pretty nervous as well. It would take time to get used to this sort of thing, but he’d have to, because being an agent required a lot of travel.
“You’ll probably meet with Kingsley. He’s the director of the facility and usually makes the offers to new recruits. Not always, but I think he will in your case.” Especially since Kingsley had been the one to make the decision to recruit Henley. “He’ll tell you about what all the training entails, how much money you’ll be making, all that. Then you’ll be assigned a room. I don’t know if he’ll let you stay with me, but ask anyway. Tell him I’m cool with it if he is.”
---
That little bit surprised him. “Wait, I’ll be making money while I train?” he asked, not wanting to follow up with a ‘what’s the catch’ question. Holt did it, he could too. He hadn’t caught that part in Holt’s pitch. He would have been happy with a roof and meals that he didn’t have to fuck someone for.
“What’s this Kingsley like?” Henley then asked. He’d found that usually men in director type positions or any sort of leadership roles were ones to be wary of. Power went to some peoples’ heads and he wouldn’t have been surprised if the same were true of this Kingsley dude. All this money? Yeah, Henley had already pegged him as an asshole. “And I will. If he doesn’t let us, how far apart will we be?”
---
Holt nodded. “Not nearly as much while training, but yeah. You’ll have an expense account. Sector 9 provides everything you needs, but most people come here with nothing, so we’re given money to buy stuff we want as well. Then once you’re an agent, you make a shit load of cash.” Carlos smiled at this. He enjoyed the wealth.
“He’s strict, but I’ve found him to be fair. Just play by the rules and stay focused, and he’ll keep up his end of things. He’s very old, also a vampire. Smart too. Not just that, clever. He figures shit out fast. He’s good at figuring people out too. Just be honest around him. There’s a decent chance he knows more about you than anyone else. It was frightening how much he knew about me.”
As for the room situation, Holt couldn’t be sure. “Recruits live in a different part of the facility, but I’ll make sure we see each other all the time. I have agent access now, which means I can go a lot more places. So I can visit you if you’re not allowed to live with me.”
---
A wave of nausea passed over Henley. If Kingsley knew things... fuck, that night. He hadn’t planned on ever telling anyone. Ever. And now, his old vampire might already know? He felt like he needed to move. Get up and move. The cabin seemed much much smaller than it had moments ago.
Missing from his brain was the rest of the conversation with Holt. He’d be able to see him all the time. He’d be safe. None of that mattered right now. His breathing quickened as he felt warm and faint. Gripping the armrests, his fingers soon lost feeling. It was panic, an attack like he’d never had before. He thought he was dying as he relived that night over and over in his mind.
----
Holt picked up on Henley’s nervousness. A lot of time had passed, but the men weren’t all that different in how they processed things. “I’m tellin’ ya, be honest. But only with him.” No one else had earned Henley’s trust just yet. Kingsley wasn’t deserving of it, but he was a fucking walking lie detector. It would be foolish to try to deceive him.
Henley didn’t calm. So despite the fact that it probably wasn’t safe to do so just yet, he unbuckled his seatbelt and got up. He dropped to his knees in front of Henley, putting his hand over the top of his little brother’s white knuckles. “Breathe, Henny. You’re safe. We’re both safe. We’re together.”
The other agents at first stared at the brothers, but then looked away. They didn’t want to make things worse, because it might impact the success of their mission. Let the new agent handle it. It was his brother.
---
He couldn’t be honest with a guy he’d never met. But if Holt said Kingsley would already know, it terrified Henley. Most importantly, what if it ever got back to Holt? He’d never be able to look him in the eye again and Holt would most likely hate him. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. It was his past, past not present. He could hear Holt’s voice and could feel his hands on his. Henny. He was calling him Henny again.
“Can’t breathe,” he whispered. He’d had panic attacks in the past but nothing like this. Nothing this bad. He wanted to move, get up from his seat. He pulled his hands from Holt’s and fumbled with his seatbelt, trying to get it open.
---
Holt didn't want to put Henley in danger, but the plane was steady and smoother in the air than a normal plane. He helped Henley remove the seat belt, but urged him to stay in his seat. "You can. Just focus." Holton thought of what he could do or say to help. He finally had an idea. Pulling out the photo Henley had given him just a short time ago, he put it in front of Henley's face. "Look. Focus on this. Focus on the memory."
---
He looked at what Hold had in front of him. He remembered the day, it was so hot and there were water balloons. The grill was going and food had been plentiful. There was real lemonade, not that sugary stuff their mom used to make. He looked at Holt then, near tears but his chest didn’t feel so tight. “This doesn’t help my case, does it?” he whispered, now fearful that once he met with the director, he’d be booted out before he even started.
-----
Holt used his shirt sleeve to wipe at Henley's eyes. "It's okay. Most people are pretty much broken when they arrive at Sector 9." As if agreeing, the other agents bowed their heads. They all had secrets, and most of them were damaged.
"You don't have to be perfect. None of us are. He picked you knowing what you are and WHO you are." Same as everyone else. "You're fine just like this."
---
How many times had Holt done that to Henley when he was a boy? It was like nothing changed. So it was a camp for broken toys, only these toys were all down right weird. Vampires, guys like Henley and Holt, and whatever that Carlos guy was. Lycan? What the hell was a Lycan? What else …. yeah wings. People with wings. What was he getting himself into?
The plane hit a bump of turbulence and pitched sending Henley out of his seat and Holt tumbling into the aisle. “I’m sorry,” he said fumbling to help Holt back up.
-----
Holt actually chuckled. "It's fine." Just jostled. They were both safe. It helped break the tension. He got to his feet again then sat back in his seat, urging Henley to do the same.
"Don't get yourself twisted over this. You got it, seriously. It's not an audition or whatever. Kingsley already wants you to join. I do too. I promise you'll like it." His promises held weight.
---
As Henley got situated again, he looked around the cabin to see if anyone has been paying attention to his freak out. If they had, they all now looked bored and were looking away. At least they had that decency. “Why does he want us? I mean no one ever wanted us, Holt. Why does he?” he asked quietly, hoping Michael was too busy flying the damn plane to be listening in.