Jacing

Tags let his fingers play over the keyboard without thinking. He'd been computer-literate in a previous life, had to know just a little more than the basics in the military, but his knowledge now was greater than if he'd gotten a 4-year CIS degree. Now, it was all second-nature.

He was also profoundly uncomfortable. The little hidey-hole he was using while doing some inside surveillance on their next target barely had room for a chair to sit in and a desk to put the laptop on. Tags was well-built... but hunched over like this, he felt small. In his mind, he compared it to a sardine can for a second before thinking that a sardine can didn't do it justice.

"Shit," he breathed, eyes playing over the screen at a frantic pace. Even so low, the deep bass of his voice seemed loud in the small space. "Where'd he go?"

*Fuck fuck fuck* raced through his mind as he tried to re-locate the mark. Everything about him ran through Tags' thoughts: geeky kid named Zayden, glasses, fourteen years old, bullies at school call him 'Gayden' because of course they do, outcast, oblivious parents who just think their kid isn't 'trying hard enough' to make friends, starting to think there's something wrong with the world...

Tags rubbed at his eyes to clear his thoughts out. He'd been planning to send Zayden a message over his computer when he got home from school; it was time for more contact, time to start prepping the kid, time to start warning him they could show him the truth but there would be no going back. He'd lost Zayden leaving school, which meant the routine changed. When the routine of a lonely middle schooler walking home changed, it probably meant something was wrong.

"Gotcha," Tags didn't even notice himself speaking when he found the target again. Something had gone wrong alright, but not the kind of thing Tags could do anything about.

Resting his elbows on the desk, Tags laced his fingers together and rested his chin on his hands as he watched Zayden's bullies finally kicking it up a notch. "Fucking kids are horrible," he muttered to himself.

He could go. He could help. *I can tell the captain I was worried the target was in too much danger.* He would be lying; the bullies weren't going to kill the kid. The hits were few and far between. Mostly they faked it so Zayden would be scared and react, so they could mock him for flinching. *C'mon kid... you can get through this... you'll get through this and you'll meet us, and it'll get better... you'll handle it better, I was too fuckin' old...*

When his phone rang, Tags was staring so hard at the laptop that he'd begun ignoring the world around him, and he jumped in his seat. His head hit the hanging lamp above him, since there was barely any clearance.

A hard frown crossed his face as Tags chastised himself for letting his attention wander, or maybe he was just pissed off. He wasn't sure, and it didn't matter as he retrieved his phone from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. His other hand absent-mindedly ran through his thick hair, in case knocking into the lamp had made a mess of it.

When he hit the talk button and put it to his ear, the sudden agitation came through a little in his voice. "Yeah?"

The person on the other end either didn't notice or didn't care. "We're pulling you out, there's some activity starting up. Captain thinks the line's been traced."

"You're kidding," Tags went tense.

"'Fraid not," came the response. "The hardline's been cut, either they're on to you or that's one *hell* of a coincidence."

"Shit," Tags got up from the chair, laptop forgotten, but he couldn't really stand up so much as crouch. He bumped into the hanging lamp again, making the shadows in the dingy room dance around. He blocked most of the light himself.

"Just get moving," the voice on the line said, "I'll find another exit and call you back."

"Right," Tags hung up and pocketed his phone. He was out the door and up the small flight of stairs leading up to the sidewalk in seconds.

Breathing sharply, his breath fogging just enough to notice in the cool night air, Tags looked around and unconsciously stretched a little to get the kinks out of his limbs and his back. He didn't need to think about what way to go, because the decision was made for him.

The police officers maybe thirty feet away, next to their parked squad car, saw him. One had what was undoubtedly a photograph in his hands, because he looked at Tags, looked down at it, then looked back at Tags, eyes so wide they could've popped out. Then he shouted at his partner, "Hey, that's him! "

Tags watched the other cop do a double-take as he began to move, backstepping as the thought crossed his mind that he could just kill them, but if eyes weren't on them right this second, causing a ruckus might change that, and then he'd *really* be fucked.

"Stop!" One of the cops yelled, but Tags had already turned and started running. "Police!"

"Yeah, no kidding," Tags muttered, the cops lost in the sound of his boots hitting the ground and the throb of his pulse through his neck.

He turned right at the intersection and very nearly ran into someone about to round the corner coming the other way, but his reflexes made sure that didn't happen. The world slowed to a crawl as Tags reacted faster than should've been possible, shifting his weight, sliding right by the civilian with only one corner of his jacket barely brushing them as it flapped out away from his waist.

That would've been it, that *should've* been it, but it wasn't, because even though Tags didn't care about some random person he only almost knocked over, he caught the guy's face in the corner of his eye. Even with his reflexes, it was just a tiny glimpse, not enough for real detail, but was enough for it to register in Tags' brain that this was someone he *recognized.*

Instincts and reflex betrayed him. Tags stopped before he could think enough to know that he needed to keep going, that he needed to ignore this, that it wasn't important. His boots skidded on the sidewalk and he froze, in shock as he looked at the face of the man he'd barely run by and it fully registered that yes, this was someone he knew, because what were even the fucking chances?

"Ty?" JD had been futzing around with his phone while he'd been walking, and he promptly dropped it while the color drained out of his face. If Tags looked shocked, then JD looked like he'd seen the horsemen and heard the trumpets sound. " Ty? Wha- Ty fucking Roderick?! You were... and you... the news said..."

*Terrorist,* Tags mentally filled it in. It may have been the only thought in his brain at the moment. *The news said I'm a terrorist.*

Tags actually had seen the news call him that not long after he'd been recruited, although he'd seen it from the outside. It was probably for the best; the label was bad enough but every TV channel and paper rag had a field day talking about another former gay porn star being an absolute slimeball who went from a gross, toxic career to just breaking the law, because going from porn to terrorism was way more entertaining than if he'd gone from porn to robbing convenience stores. Seeing it from the inside would've been demeaning and depressing, seeing it from the outside had merely been embarrassing.

It was a lifetime ago and he'd long since learned not to dwell on how things were *before,* but here, now, imagining JD hearing that about it, wondering what had gone through his mind, hearing JD say his old name... discipline had its limits, and Tags couldn't stop the dregs from sludging up. Right this second, he couldn't stop himself from feeling. "JD, I..."

"Freeze!"

Reality caught up quick, because it only *felt* like time had stopped. Tags couldn't even hate himself for completely forgetting the cops had been chasing him until they just now rounded the corner and leveled their guns at him; he felt far too much like an idiot for any self-hate.

"Ty, what the fuck," JD had spun around to look at the cops and he didn't get any more words out. The closer one pistol-whipped him across the face, yelling at him to get on the ground even though he'd already fallen from the blow.

The other one started walking up to Tags, gun pointed at his face. "Down on the ground! Down on the ground, asshole!" He was so out of breath from running that his yelling wasn't as intimidating as he probably thought it was.

*Thank christ they're idiots,* Tags thought, slowly raising his hands a little, shifting his weight like he was moving down. He didn't *need* them to ignore procedure to get out of this, but it sure was easier than if they'd been smart and kept their guns on him from a distance while he laid down.

Tags moved in a flash the moment the officer was in arm's reach, his posture going from the slack of shock he'd been in from seeing JD to calm and knowing, nothing but confidence and focus in even the slightest of movements.

The yelling for him to get down on the ground abruptly stopped when Tags grabbed the gun and twisted it, breaking the finger on the trigger. The man was so shocked he didn't even scream, he just exhaled sharply from the shock of the pain and of how quickly he'd lost control of the situation. Moving to his side, Tags elbowed the guy in the head as he went, then planted his feet down and drew back before punching out with both fists, one at chest-height and the other lower. He didn't pull it at all, his arms went all the way out despite the mere inches of space between the two of them. It sent the cop off his feet and into the wall of the building that JD had probably just exited from. He hit hard enough to smash an indentation into the bricks, breaking them all inward, before he fell to the ground, motionless.

The other one forgot JD existed, but Tags was on him immediately. A quick front kick and the gun was knocked clear out of his hand; to Tags' mild surprise, the cop responded not by becoming even more shocked, but by trying to punch him in the face instead.

Tags leaned just enough to let the cop's arm travel to the side of his head. Once the cop's elbow was locked, Tags grabbed his arm with both hands and broke it with a quick wrench. Unlike his partner, this one actually did cry out from the broken bone, though Tags barely heard it. He let go and reached for the cop's tie, yanking hard, making him lean down.

When Tags jumped, he cleared the other man's height effortlessly, sailing over his head and twisting in mid-air like it was the easiest thing in the world for a man who looked a lot more like a football player than a gymnast. He didn't let go and kept pulling as he landed, using the cop's tie to yank him backwards off his feet. Tags didn't move, though, he just pulled and bent his knees, leaning forward so the police officer didn't fall, he just went up, practically onto Tags' back, choking as his own tie strangled him.

Tags didn't wait for that, he shifted his weight and pulled down hard. With little fanfare, the man's neck broke. Finally, Tags let go, letting the dead man just flop to the ground. No what-ifs ran through his mind about what he'd done, only one thought; *he hurt JD.*

JD had seen this all, he hadn't moved from where he'd been knocked to the ground. He'd been right next to the entire thing, and all he could do was stare up in shock, seeing Ty without a mark on him like nothing had happened; hell, his hair still looked freshly blow-dried. "Wha- what the fuck... what... T- Ty?"

Tags hadn't come down from the fight, such as it was. His face still had a look of intense focus, eyes like steel and brow turned down just enough for it to be clear he wasn't fucking around. It was a look JD had seen on his face some time ago, under circumstances that couldn't have been more different.

Too busy counting the seconds, Tags didn't notice. *Three... four... five...* Adrenaline pumped through him from fear now instead of combat. *Eight... nine... ten...* He imagined it happening, imagined that JD was under surveillance and they could see him right now, and JD wouldn't be JD anymore... *Thirteen... fourteen... fifteen...*

There were no hard and fast rules for deciding enough time had passed to make sure someone was safe to talk to, because they just worked under the assumption that no one was ever safe to talk to. Tags had enough self-awareness to hate himself for letting these feelings control him, feelings he'd come as close to forgetting as humanly possible until they came back from this completely bullshit occurance of luck. Bad luck.

Guilt for not doing what he was supposed to wasn't enough for him to just start running, though. "Get up," he moved and pulled JD to his feet; JD, for his part, neither resisted nor tried to get up himself. Getting over the shock of the last thirty seconds was going to take him longer. "C'mon! *Move!*"

Dragging him into the space between the buildings, Tags was at least grateful that JD could stay on his feet. He shoved JD back against the wall; the space wasn't quite large enough to be called an alley, though Tags glanced down it anyway to make sure it was free of bums and eyes in general. When he looked back at JD, his face finally softened and he just stood, so close he could see JD breathing, mouth hung open in silence because Tags only now realized he had no idea what he was even doing, let alone what he could possibly say.

"Ty, you," JD was starting to remember how to talk, if only a little, "You killed them..."

"Shhh!" Tags raised a finger right to JD's mouth, stopping himself from actually clapping his hand down over it like he really wanted to do when he heard his old name again. "Just..."

He realized, finally, that he probably scared JD more than anything. He felt like he towered towered over the man even though they were the same height just like he did when they'd had sex in front of a camera, and JD was tensed up in front of him, somehow cowering despite standing up against a wall. He'd never told JD he'd had feelings for him, hormone-driven as they probably were, because that was just asking for trouble. He'd never told JD that he'd stopped pretending he wasn't bisexual after they'd filmed together because he finally knew he could have feelings for another man.

JD knew him as a guy he'd done some shoots with and was a casual friend at absolute best, because they got along just fine, but JD knew him as a selfish asshole. JD didn't know the man who grew so fucking depressed because no matter how selfish he got, it was so painfully aware it wasn't satisfying, he could never even pretend anything was enough like normal selfish assholes did. JD didn't know the man who'd actually try writing poetry because there had to be some way to not just escape but to make it make sense, to wake up, to stop feeling like the whole world was a cage made of bad dreams...

JD knew him as Ty.

Tags knew the last time he'd heard that name he was still trapped in the Matrix, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember who had said it, or when.

"I wish I could tell you everything," Tags finally blurted out. "I wish I could tell you where I went, and why. I wish I could tell you the *truth,* but *you'd* have to find *me* for that, and," the words hurt before he even said them out loud, "I don't think you can."

He pushed himself up against JD's chest and kissed him; it was quick, and simple, and... chaste. Tags told himself it was better than nothing.

His phone was in his hand as he stepped back, and he put it to his ear while he stared at JD with the saddest eyes JD had ever seen.

"Operator."

"Where the hell's my exit," Tags clenched his jaw and started moving away, forcing himself not to look at JD anymore.

"The hell are you doing," his Operator practically yelled back, "Ditch the damn battery and get a move-on, are you trying to get killed?"

"Exit," Tags barked. "Fuck's sake!"

His Operator got the message. "Turn right on the street, two miles down at North Damen and Milwaukee. Front desk of the gym. There's another squad-car you might have to deal with, just hurry up before the Agents get their thumbs out of their asses!"

"No problem, I'll make it." Tags hung up. Looking down the road, he tried hard to pretend that JD wasn't still behind him, watching him disappear into the night after everything he'd just seen. The first step was the hardest, but he started walking, and then broke into a run.

A shift watching the monitors wasn't the worst thing in the world, and Tags didn't think he could sleep anyway. He could see himself in his bunk just fidgeting, reaching up to his chest, curling his fingers and pressing them to the spot where his dog-tags would have sat trapped underneath his shirt, if he was still inside. In the old life, he'd taken them off the day he left the military, and the idea of wearing them again had seemed idiotic... then he'd been freed. Damnedest thing, from moment one in the construct for training, they'd been part of his RSI. Stuck to him.

He resisted the urge to find JD for a few hours, but, eventually, he gave in.

JD had probably thought he wouldn't be able to sleep either, not after what had happened. Tags figured he must've underestimated how exhausting the excitement would be, because there he was, passed out on his couch. Looking adorable, except for the shiner on his face from where the cop had hit him.

Watching the encoded information pour down the screen, Tags got a better look at JD now that he wasn't in a hurry. The last five years had been kind to him so the industry hadn't chewed him up yet; he looked a little more masculine, with some stubble and a different haircut then Tags remembered, but he was still... small.

Running a hand over his head, over the buzzed hair and back down to the jack in back, glancing down at the plugs in his arm where he once thought he had tattoos, Tags tried to imagine JD being free, what he would look like, how he would handle it... and he closed his eyes, trying to will it away when he realized it wasn't something he wanted to think about at all.

When he opened his eyes again, Tags tapped at the screen to his left to shut it off, and let JD fade from view.