The Archer

by Abigail Roux

  “I wouldn't betray Shawn. Ever.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, Remy,” McTiernan tutted.

  Remy lowered his head and thought of Shawn desperately, flooding with

  guilt. His body flushed with shame, and he looked back up at McTiernan pleadingly.

  He could take physical torture. He could take any kind of mental games McTiernan

  wanted to throw at him. But not this. Anything but this.

  “What does the Archer want?” Remy demanded weakly, finally losing

  patience with the mind games and hoping to draw McTiernan out into a monologue.

  If he could distract him long enough to free himself, he would have a chance.

  “You.”

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  “What?” Remy asked in surprise, his discreet motions stopping as he stared

  at the other man.

  “Well, that isn’t his ultimate goal, of course, lovely as you may be, but he

  needs you and your five companions in order to accomplish his goals.”

  “Uh huh,” Remy responded disinterestedly as he recommenced his efforts.

  “You don’t believe me?” McTiernan asked in a mockingly hurt voice. “I

  swear it’s the truth,” he said in the same tone, even going so far as to hold his hand up solemnly and place his gun over his heart. “You seem the type to appreciate honesty, even if you don’t always practice it, and so I’m being honest.”

  “I need water,” Remy asserted miserably, his head pounding as he tried to

  figure out McTiernan’s game.

  “Poor lad,” McTiernan murmured with a sympathetic purse of his lips.

  “Make your choice, Remy. Then we’ll see about water.”

  “What are my options again?” Remy inquired as his head began to spin.

  “Let me fill you in on some facts you may be missing,” McTiernan growled

  as he stood suddenly and bent over Remy’s sitting form. “There are two forces in

  play; one wants you dead, the other couldn’t have cared less about you until you

  stepped in his path. Now whose shoes have you been treading upon?”

  “Yours, apparently.”

  “No no, dear boy. I much enjoyed the chase. You stepped into the Archer’s

  path,” McTiernan told him with what seemed like pleasure. “And far from wanting to kill you, it seems that you’ve rather endeared yourself to him. He doesn’t want to see you dead. Will you join us? I can assure you the benefits are an improvement from those you’ve been enjoying.”

  Remy stared into McTiernan’s icy blue eyes, and for the first time he

  actually thought about what John was offering. The Archer wanted to help them?

  Impossible. Why would the man who had been killing off agents left and right want to help the group that had been sent to kill him?

  “You don’t know who the Archer is?” Remy asked carefully. McTiernan

  shook his head, a smile playing across his lips. “And if you did?”

  “I would tell you. For all I know, you are the Archer, and this is all some

  elaborate game you’re playing.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You may as well, my boy, I seem to be the only one you’ve left out. Does

  Shawn know?”

  Remy’s mouth went dry and his entire body tingled with apprehension once

  more. He hadn’t betrayed Shawn, he told himself desperately. He hadn’t betrayed

  him. It was possible that he’d betrayed the Organization by proposing to join the

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  Archer, but he hadn’t betrayed Shawn. The Archer could go fuck himself for all

  Remy cared, just as long as Shawn was left out of it.

  “You have only one way out of this,” McTiernan said sternly. “Find your

  comrades, Remy, and turn them. Kill any that fight you, and meet me in Auckland in two weeks’ time.”

  “What’s in Auckland?” Remy questioned resignedly.

  “Is that an agreement then?”

  “What’s in Auckland?” Remy repeated more forcefully, needing to hear

  McTiernan say the words before he could even begin to think about agreeing to force the others to join public enemy number one.

  “The Archer. Or he will be, if you say yes.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “I’ll kill you and be on my way.”

  “What are we to do in the two week interim?”

  “Don’t get killed,” McTiernan ordered with a smile.

  Remy blinked several times and finally lowered his head. He had to think

  this through very carefully. He had to know what succession of events he would be putting into place, and he had to know if that would be to the eventual benefit of his master plan.

  ‘Master plan. Pffft.’

  It made him sound like some evil genius. The Archer was the evil genius,

  Remy was just trying to save his own skin, and that of the other five men he had

  grown to care for so deeply. This seemed to be the only way to go about it.

  “What does the Archer plan to do? What’s his goal?”

  “He wants to take out the Organization. And though he doesn’t need the six

  of you to do it, he would most certainly benefit from your cooperation.”

  “Can the Archer promise that we’ll be set free after the mission is over?”

  “That I can’t say.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not the Archer and I can’t read minds.”

  “Ask him.”

  “What?”

  “You know how to contact him. Ask him.” Remy shifted in his tight bonds

  and smiled cheekily. “I’ll wait,” he said.

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  McTiernan grinned and reached into his pocket. For a second, Remy thought

  he was dead. But then he remembered that the gun was already out, and McTiernan

  brought out a silver flask.

  “Water?” he offered. Remy drank what he was offered readily, allowing

  McTiernan to hold the flask as the water poured into his throat.

  “Better,” Remy murmured thankfully after he had soothed the ache in his

  parched throat.

  McTiernan brought out a wicked hunting knife that Remy belatedly

  recognized as his own. “We have a deal then,” McTiernan asserted.

  Remy fixed his gaze on the knife. Shawn had given it to him. If he did this,

  Shawn would probably kill him. McTiernan was right; Shawn’s loyalties ran deep.

  And even though Shawn was loyal to Remy, the Organization had twenty years and a

  whole lot of training on him.

  If he didn’t do this, he would most certainly be killed. But did he want to live

  knowing that Shawn would now despise everything he stood for?

  Remy closed his eyes and nodded his agreement.

  McTiernan sliced through the ropes and Remy stood shakily and turned to

  face the old gentleman.

  “If I’m followed I will kill the tails,” Remy warned. “We’ll disappear and

  your Archer will have to go at it alone.”

  “Yes, I know. Unfortunately I’m working without a net myself now,”

  McTiernan responded as he gestured toward the two bodies on the floor. “I have

  neither the resources nor the desire to follow you. Besides, if the Archer sees that you’ve betrayed him, as is your… tendency, apparently, he will kill all of you. That I can promise.” McTiernan held out his hand and watched Remy expectantly. “With

  that in mind, I suppose I’ll just have to trust you, won’t I?”

  “If Shawn finds out– if he finds out I’ve turned he’ll kill me,” Remy

  informed the man sadly, hoping he could
convince him that he’d truly agreed to join them as his mind wrestled with what the old spy had just said. The Archer was

  watching them? How?

  “Yes, he will. So you’d best be sneaky about it,” McTiernan suggested with

  a wink as they gripped each other’s hands and sealed the dirty dealings.

  “I suppose that makes me a real traitor now… all these years,” Remy

  mumbled as McTiernan clapped him on the back.

  “It’s not so bad as all that. You’ve just earned yourself a definite raise in

  pay.”

  II.

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  THIAGO stared blankly up at the ceiling as Shawn sat in bed beside him, rocking

  slightly the way he had when he held Remy’s limp body outside the cabin that day.

  Thiago’s chest compressed painfully and he fought the urge to cry as he recalled that painful scene. And Thiago wasn’t a crier.

  This was a war, and wars suffered losses, but just because it was expected,

  didn’t make it any less of a tragedy.

  Thiago’s mind kept taking him around in circles until finally he could no

  longer stand it. He sat up and propped his back against the headboard. He looked over at Shawn, who was mechanically cleaning his gun in a vaguely disturbing fashion,

  and Thiago desperately tried to come up with something to say to him.

  He could think of nothing. What did one say to someone who’d just lost his

  soulmate? Shawn continued to rock slowly, the movement almost imperceptible, and

  finally he placed his gun aside and sat staring at the opposite wall blankly. Thiago watched the other man’s jaw clench and unclench repeatedly, and finally he put his hand out tentatively and rested it gently on Shawn’s shoulder.

  The reaction was immediate and so heartbreaking that Thiago finally did

  begin to cry silently. Shawn let his head fall and his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of Thiago’s compassion. He brought a hand up to cover his eyes and one

  broken sob tore from his throat before he let Thiago pull him into his arms.

  Thiago held him and rocked him back and forth slowly, assuming that the

  motion comforted the other man in some way since he seemed to do it when he was

  distressed. Shawn clung to him, sobbing silently against his chest as Thiago let

  several slow tears run down his own face. He couldn’t imagine the pain Shawn must have been feeling. He desperately wished he could make it better somehow, but he

  knew there was nothing he could say or do to ease the loss.

  They fell into a restless sleep at some point, and only when a soft brushing

  sound echoed in the silence of the night did Thiago wake. He managed not to hit the ceiling as the adrenaline and training kicked in, and the only indication he was no longer asleep was a tensing of his muscles. He peered through the veil of his

  eyelashes and jerked involuntarily when he saw the shadowy figure standing at the foot of the bed.

  Shawn must have been awake as well. Shawn tensed at almost the same

  moment Thiago spotted their intruder, and in a flash they were both up and reaching for their weapons.

  The intruder leapt onto the bed and handily disarmed both of them. Before

  Thiago could fully register the threat he had a knife to his throat, and Shawn was staring down the barrel of his own gun as the man squatted on the bed between them.

  Thiago forced himself not to swallow nervously, knowing the movement would force

  the sharp blade into his skin. He tried to calculate the number of people in the world who could disarm two veteran Class One operatives simultaneously.

  There weren’t many.

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  “It’s just me. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Carl whispered through the

  darkness. “I wanted to make sure you were both doing okay.”

  Thiago began to relax and the knife was removed from his throat. Shawn

  was still tense, but the gun was handed back to him and Carl removed himself from the bed.

  “Mierda,” Thiago breathed in irritation, more than a little annoyed that he’d been so easily overpowered.

  “I’m sorry,” Carl said unapologetically. “I heard a noise; I came to check on

  you both.”

  “How did you do that?” Shawn asked suspiciously. Thiago could see the

  white of Carl’s teeth gleaming in the darkness as he grinned.

  “I could kill you with a pinecone,” Carl intoned as he made his way back out

  of the room. “G’night, mates.”

  Thiago was left deeply unsettled as Carl pulled the door closed behind him.

  It took him a long hour before he was able to get back to sleep.

  When next he awoke it was not a sound that was the cause, but a hand over

  his mouth. His eyes snapped open and he stared at the dark form above him. He could just barely see the shadowy figure put a finger to its lips in a shushing motion, and Thiago blinked several times as a familiar voice whispered to him.

  “Thi?”

  The hand was removed, but he didn’t have time to respond before a rush of

  movement sent him hurtling off the bed and onto the floor.

  “Shawn! No!” Thiago called as the smack of a fist on flesh resounded

  throughout the silent hotel room. Thiago scrambled to reach the two struggling

  figures and pull them apart. He wrapped his arms around Shawn’s shoulders and

  tried– unsuccessfully– to restrain the other man from landing his blows. Just as he managed to pull Shawn off their new intruder Carl and Brandt ran in, followed

  closely by Nikolaus, who had the presence of mind to actually flip the light switch on.

  Thiago used all his strength to drag Shawn away, and finally threw his body

  backward and landed with Shawn struggling in his lap on the floor. As soon as the lights flickered on Shawn froze in his arms.

  “Remy?” he whispered as his body went lax. Thiago held him close, not sure

  what to do with him just yet.

  Remy sat up with difficulty and gingerly lifted his fingers to the cut on his

  cheek.

  “At least you didn’t shoot me in the ass again, podna.”

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  III.

  TO say that Carl was a little astounded by Remy’s sudden appearance would have

  been an understatement.

  Remy sat on the floor where he had landed, and Shawn and Thiago both

  appeared to be motionless in one another’s arms as they stared at him. Carl was aware of an increase of pressure where Brandt’s hand gripped his arm, but other than that, not one of them moved after Remy’s decidedly nonchalant statement.

  Nikolaus was the first to regain his senses.

  “Remy?” he questioned tentatively as he moved around Brandt and took a

  step forwards. Remy turned to look at him and Carl watched the abused face break

  into a grin.

  “Niko!” Remy exclaimed as he continued to flounder on the floor and swipe

  absently at the blood running in a trickle down his cheek and nose. “I was worried about you!”

  “Me? You were worried about me? Hurensohn! We thought you were dead!”

  Nikolaus cried. Brandt took hold of him and clapped a large hand over his mouth

  before Nikolaus could shout anything more. Remy didn’t seem to be fazed by the

  outburst. His attitude was as if he had never left them. Never been in danger. Never made them all believe he was dead or in peril.

  And Carl was furious. It was the irrational anger of the relieved, he knew

  this, but he didn’t care. How could Remy just waltz back in here like nothing had happened? Shaw
n was apparently of the same mind. Carl watched him wrest himself

  free from Thiago’s grasp and crawl across the floor to grab Remy by the front of his shirt and shake him violently.

  “You little son of a bitch!” Shawn hissed as he pulled Remy to his knees and

  knelt facing him. “I told you if you ever did that to me again I would kill you!” he whispered in an angry rush of words. “I’ll fucking kill you!” he shouted. “Where’s my gun!” he demanded as he pushed Remy away from him and fumbled around on

  the floor for the weapon he had apparently dropped during the melee.

  Carl didn’t know Shawn well enough to know whether he was serious, and

  so he took his reactionary cues from Brandt and Remy. Brandt stood by impassively and watched, seemingly unaware that he still held Nikolaus and covered his mouth.

  Nikolaus looked terrified to say anything, but he was beginning to turn a tad blue so Carl calmly pulled Brandt’s hand from the smaller man’s mouth by one of his fingers and turned back to watch the show.

  Remy scrambled to his feet and kicked the gun away from Shawn’s grasp

  before crouching in a slightly defensive position and watching Shawn warily. Shawn stood swiftly and growled.

  Carl’s eyes flickered to Thiago, who was still on the floor looking slightly

  stunned, and then back to the two combatants. He didn’t want to get into a fight

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  tonight.

  “I’m sorry, Shawn,” Remy said sincerely. “It couldn’t be helped,” he

  insisted.

  Shawn growled again in response and the back of Remy’s foot hit the wall as

  he backed away. Shawn gripped him by the front of his shirt once more and Carl and Brandt moved forward to separate them, but they weren’t nearly fast enough.

  Shawn’s fist flew at Remy’s face as Carl watched in shock, but Remy

  managed to get his hand up in time and he blocked the blow, catching the clenched fist and stopping it just centimeters away from his already bruised face. He lowered it forcefully and used his other hand to grasp the back of Shawn’s head, and Carl