Evenfall (52 page)

He just needed a few more days. He just needed to give himself a chance to recover and a chance to determine what he could and would say.

Besides, he had to admit that after everything that had happened, and after how upset they each were in their own way, trying to bring up a serious discussion like that right before such an important mission with such a mercurial person was a terrible idea. All it would take was the wrong word or wrong expression and things would be worse off than they already were. And since Sin didn't like Thierry, the mission was probably going to be strained enough on its own.

The mission felt ominous enough on its own, with the warnings about how imperative it was that they do anything necessary to get the information from Thierry and how unpredictable Thierry was. Even so, maybe it was good to have a mission now even though he felt nervous and not at all at the top of his game. Maybe having something else to focus on would help him clear his mind. Maybe on the plane ride home or after the debriefing later he would be able to pull Sin aside and they could talk.

But right now, it didn't work. So, although there were so many things he knew needed to eventually come up between them, he didn't say any of it.

Instead he nodded at Sin and fell in line beside him as they headed toward the door. "You look good," he commented.

Sin shrugged. "I guess."

Boyd didn't have a response to that and they ended up falling silent. Neither of them spoke as they headed for transportation to the airport.

The flight ended up being eight hours and they were almost the only people on it. It was a semi-private jet that Owen ended up booking them on; the only other people there were a couple of very rich looking business men whose suits probably cost more than a typical person could earn in two years. They spoke over wine about nothing in particular, but Boyd found himself idly listening to them as he read through the information on his panel.

He gave the other panel to Sin, but Sin did not so much as look at it. His pale green gaze was focused solely on the window, and for the entire flight the only time he was not looking out was when he closed his eyes and sat silently for long periods of time.

Being stuck on a plane would have given Boyd too much time to brood if he hadn't had the panel with him. He read everything and reread parts a few times simply because it was something to do. He was very aware of Sin sitting next to him and couldn't help watching him from the corner of his eye now and then. When he'd exhausted his attention for the panel, he'd turned to watching the drivel movie they had playing on the screen embedded in the back of the seat in front of him. He managed to fall asleep but it wasn't long before any inane dreams he may have been having turned down the dark path he'd been treading all too often of late, filled with blood and screams and terror. He jerked awake, his heartbeat racing and his skin feeling clammy.

Seeing that the others were asleep or not paying attention made relief flood through him. He got up and walked to the bathroom, bracing his hands on the sink for a moment while he tilted his head forward and closed his eyes. He couldn't think about these things. He couldn't let nightmares keep jerking him awake; it was dragging down his energy little by little. But he also had no control over it and he supposed expecting himself to deal with everything in under two weeks after having repressed it for years was expecting too much.

He ended up splashing his face with some cold water and looked at himself in the mirror. He could see the rings beneath his eyes, which were slightly bloodshot. Aside from that, he hadn't mussed up his hair or clothing too much so far. He was still presentable, which was the most important thing right now. If he could give a good first impression with Thierry, and if he approached this as high level negotiation and was careful with his interaction, maybe they could pull this off with minimal problems. He could do this.

He pat-dried his face with one of the paper towels in there and then threw the crumpled towel in the trash receptacle with a partially suppressed sigh. The idea of going back out there, acting like everything was okay for the sake of the civilians on the plane while he worried about the mission and Sin and his own problems... It wasn't something he looked forward to but there was nothing he could do about it. So he straightened his clothing and expression, and walked out of the bathroom as if nothing had been wrong.

By the time they arrived in France he was tired but not exhausted. The pilot welcomed them to France, and the single flight attendant smiled amiably at them and helped them with their bags. Boyd looked around, feeling a moment of disorientation as he saw that everything around him was in French. Of course he'd known that would be the case, but it was more relieving than had been the case in Barcelona, when he hadn't been able to read the signs fully.

As he looked around, he reflected on the fact that it was because of his mother that he was able to read any of this, and partially due to his mother that he was even here. Without her having taught him French when he was younger, he probably wouldn't be fluent. And without her nominating him to the Agency, he wouldn't have ever had reason or money to fly here to the country where his mother had been born.

Her lessons in French were one of the few fond memories he had of her.
When he was young, she'd been still working on perfecting her English. She'd spoken French at home more than English and had insisted that he learn the language. Although she'd been a harsh teacher, impatient with his mistakes and very short on praise, he still remembered how intently she'd focused on him. Her long, elegant fingers shuffling through cards and pictures, trying to teach him simple words that he could repeat, and later increasing it to harder words that someone his age normally wouldn't have been able to comprehend.

The small light of success that had been in her face when he'd gotten something right. The way she'd told his father that Boyd would be fluent and how much further ahead of the other kids he would be. The time he'd overheard them talking and her saying that he was a quick learner and ahead of his age, and almost sounding proud of the fact.

She hadn't taught him for long or particularly often, since she was often busy. When his father had died, the lessons had all but died with him. By that time, the already tenuous ties with countries like France were broken and now that Boyd thought back on it he suspected that she'd no longer wanted to admit to anything that linked her to a homeland that would not further her profession in America. Still, he'd continued learning French on his own, mostly out of love for the language but partially out of a need to see that approval from her again. A need to see something other than the expressionless or cold stare she'd so often turned his way after that.

Boyd had retained the ability to speak French and continued to enjoy the language. He still read books in French and still wrote in the language. He had an entire notebook filled with terrible French poetry that he'd written mostly after his father died.

Some part of him was probably clinging to the memory of his father, and happier times when his mother spoke to him more. Times when she'd acknowledged part of his ancestry and had told him tiny bits about his family. Still, because of that, he had no troubles falling back into using the language.

The day passed relatively quickly. When they made it to the hotel, they were given key cards to the suite that Thierry had booked for them in anticipation of their arrival. It was one of the few towering buildings that remained with multiple levels, and their suite was toward the top.

Situated on one of the upper floors of the hotel, it would have been more accurate to refer to the suite as a small apartment. Everything about it was decadent and luxurious, with rich dιcor, smooth carpeting and a
wall of windows overlooking one of the few views in the city with very little lingering damage from bombs. The curtains were whisper-soft to the touch when Boyd ran his fingers down them and the large sitting area had multiple couches as well as a television with a video player. There was a cabinet which appeared to be stocked full of expensive liquor and a small fridge next to it was already filled with food. The excessive use of wealth was a little overwhelming.

They ended up divvying up the rooms without speaking about it. They had both hovered for a moment in the main room before Boyd ended up choosing the far bedroom. They didn't have long to wait until it was time for them to go down to the restaurant on the main floor of the hotel. 

The dining hall continued the theme of overt wealth that he'd so far seen throughout the hotel. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling with dangling crystals that made the light sparkle. There were several tables, each carefully set with a white tablecloth, expensive-looking plates and shining sets of silverware. Couples in elegant clothing dotted the room, with the occasional group of three or four, and Boyd paused just inside the room to scan the people. He knew what Thierry looked like from a picture he had in the files, but he did not see him. He was just turning to Sin to ask him if he saw Thierry when he noticed someone appear behind them.

It turned out that Thierry was more attractive than the image in his file. He was just under six feet tall and had a sleek muscular build that was showcased in the slim cut pants and fitted suit jacket he wore. His hair was wavy and a chocolate brown color that was offset by steel blue eyes and tan skin.

He approached them with a smile, white teeth flashing at them as his eyes slid from Boyd to Sin and back again.

"Hello, hello," Thierry said with genuine sounding enthusiasm. "We meet again, Monsieur Vega. But who is this young man accompanying you?"

Sin raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You thought it was just me?"

Thierry smiled indulgently. "Yes, even despite our previous misunderstanding. But that is in the past, let us not be rude." He turned his eyes onto Boyd, looking him up and down fully. "I am Thierry Beauvais. I welcome you to my home."

"Thank you, Monsieur
Beauvais
," Boyd replied with a smile. Wanting to give the best impression possible to sway Thierry to their side, he switched to French for the pleasantries of a greeting and introduction.
"C'est gentil de ta part,"
he continued with a perfect French accent.
"Je m'appelle Boyd Beaulieu. C'est un plaisir de faire votre connaissance."

Sin's gaze shifted to Boyd but he didn't speak. Thierry, however, seemed delighted. His eyebrows rose as his face lit up with a grin and he slid his arm through Boyd's, guiding him over to one of the grand tables so that their backs were to Sin.

"
Your French is excellent-- almost native sounding
," Thierry said in French, looking genuinely impressed. "
How did you learn? School, perhaps
?"

Boyd glanced over his shoulder at Sin before he turned his attention back to Thierry.
"I did take some classes but I learned from my mother."

They moved across the room and settled in a table that was tucked into an alcove in the corner. Thierry sat on the same side as Boyd while Sin, who had lagged slightly behind them, sat on the other side. For the most part the senior agent maintained his non-expression but his eyes had drifted away from them again.

"
Is she French, your mother
?" Thierry asked, turning slightly toward Boyd and focusing all of his attention on him.

"Yes. She grew up here."

"
Excellent
." Thierry's smile turned a touch indulgent. He sat back in the chair and looked over at Sin. He observed the senior agent as Sin looked back coolly. During the interim, a waiter glided over with three glasses and a bottle of champagne.

"I find it quite amazing that your organization continues to find such beautiful specimens of masculinity to recruit," Thierry said, pouring the golden liquid into their glasses after the waiter popped the cork and disappeared. "How very odd that I feel quite plain now, as I sit next to the two of you."

Thierry paused with the neck of the bottle tilted towards Sin's glass. "For you?"

"No."

Looking unsurprised, Thierry set the champagne down in the chilled bucket and looked at Boyd again. "
Do you not find it interesting that the Agency only wants beautiful people
?"

"Perhaps they only send the attractive ones to you to make you believe we're all beautiful,"
Boyd replied with a slight smile.

"
Or perhaps they know beautiful young men are my weakness
," Thierry replied with a slow smile, his gaze once again sliding along Boyd's face. It moved away languidly to focus on Sin once again. "Is that not correct, Sin?"

Sin stared at him flatly. "Sorry, my pig Latin isn't up to par."

A smirk found its way onto Thierry's face although his lips then pursed slightly with displeasure. His blue eyes narrowed and he arched an eyebrow, sitting back and crossing one knee over the other. "Did you tell our blond young friend about our previous meeting, Sinful?"

"Why don't you do the honors?" was the flat response.

"Heh." Thierry turned his body to Boyd again, reaching out to sip from his glass. "
I am not sure how long you have known Sinful, but those striking features mask quite a terrible temper. He was quite cruel to me on our last meeting
."