SafeAsLife

But then you heard footsteps approaching, a voice shouting for them to spread out. Six opened the door wider and gestured with his hand for you to go first.

"Looks like we don't have a choice."

With a deep breath, you slid into the closet sideways, trying to give the larger agent enough room in the cramped space. Six slipped in right after you, closing the door quietly behind him. And you were right. There wasn't enough room for the both of you in that tiny closet. You were pressed chest to chest, the wall at your back giving you no space to move away, your legs tangled together so you didn't lock your knees. You could feel Six's breath against your neck as you turned your head to the side, deciding to look anywhere except at him in the dark.

Maybe that would make it less awkward.

After a moment of shifting he had his gun drawn, you could here the click of the safety, ready to fight off the first person that opened that door. The voices were getting closer. Neither of you dared to breathe as footsteps approached.

"Any sign of them?" a voice asked from further down the hallway.

"Not yet."

That voice was right outside the door. Your body felt like a coil wound too tight, a rope pulled taught. Ready to spring into action, your fingers curled around the knife attached to your thigh. The doorknob jiggled, a hand curled around it, ready to open. Why did you think to lock the damn thing?

Then someone spoke. "I think these guys are smart. No way they're hiding in this wing. The rooms are empty, no windows. We should search somewhere else."

"Oh, so you know all about these assassins all the sudden, huh?" The hand left the door handle and your shoulders untensed only slightly. "Dillman thought there had to be someone working on the inside in order for them to get in here. You a fuckin' rat?"

"What the fuck did you just say to me? I ain't no rat!"

"Then why don't you think they're hiding here, eh? Trying to make sure I don't find them?"

"I'm just saying I wouldn't hide here if I was them."

"That's awfully suspicious."

"You're suspicious of everyone, Tony."

"Fine. Let's meet up with Yancy, see what he's got."

The two men kept talking, their voices getting further and further away. But it wasn't until it was completely silent, save for the sound of your breathing, that you finally relaxed. Your hand fell away from the hilt of your knife. Your body slumped into the little personal space you had, adrenaline still riding high like a live wire through your spine. And it wasn't until that moment that you realized Six's leg was between your own. That his thigh, thick with muscle, was between yours.

You didn't know what the fuck was wrong with you. Now was not the time to get turned on, you could still be found at any minute. But you couldn't help the fact that the pressure of his thigh against your core made you bite your lip. It felt good. It felt like the adrenaline was being used for something. It felt dangerous.

But you and Six weren't like that. Your relationship was strictly professional, maybe even friendly. And sure, maybe sometimes there was a tension between you thick enough to cut through, but it didn't mean anything. Your touch just lingered too long when you patched him up after a mission. He just leaned into you when you sat too close together. Both of you just preferred each other as a partner. But, in your line of work, it was best not to get familiar. It was best to have no attachments. You didn't want to become compromised.

So you tried to move away from him, but in doing so, you brushed up against his thigh again. You couldn't stop the shaky breath that escaped you. Your entire face felt hot, lower belly burning as you shook your head to try and focus. You were probably going to be wound up and horny until you got to the safe house. Until you could disappear into the shower and touch yourself - definitely not to the thought of Six.

"You okay?" he asked as he holstered his gun.

"Um, yep. All good," you replied, trying to hide how flustered you really were.

At least he couldn't see you. The probable sweat on your brow and dilated eyes. But you could feel him shift closer, and in him doing so, his thigh pushed up against you again. Your underwear was soaked, the friction of it delicious. You had to bite back a moan, a hand shooting out to stop him from moving.

"Stop," you whispered, fingers digging into his tac vest.

"Why? Are you hurt?"

He sounded ready to burn the world down.

"No, it's just - uh - "

He moved again. His thigh moved again and you couldn't stop yourself. Couldn't stop this base instinct to chase the pleasure. Your hips rolled against his leg before the embarrassment caught up with you, a purposeful drag that felt like heaven, your other hand gripping onto his shoulder.

"Oh," Six breathed, his brain finally catching up with what was happening. "Oh."

"Oh, my God, please just - ignore that. Let's talk about our exit plan...Six."

In the dark, you couldn't see what he was doing. So to you, it felt like all of the sudden his hands were on your hips and he was pushing and pulling you against his thigh. A soft little noise escaped past your lips when he did it again. You looked up into his face, barely lit from the light under the door, to see a hunger there you had never seen before.

"What're you doing?" you asked softly.

"Want you to take what you need," he replied, low and gruff, fingers digging into your hips. "We can talk later."

"We really can't - "

He cut you off and you could practically hear his grin. "With the way you're soaking my thigh right now, darlin', I don't think you're gonna last long."

Your mouth dropped open with a gasp. God, were you really that wet? Six didn't give you time to say anything more. He encouraged you to move again, bounced his leg, and you swallowed something thick. What was wrong with both of you? Now was not the time to be turned on. But the drag of his thick muscle against you was amazing, the seem of your tactical pants pushing just right against your clit. Before long, you were lost in it. Moving of your own accord, grinding against his thigh with your fingers in his hair to ground you. You muffled the noises slipping out of you against his shoulder, practically drooling onto his vest.

Six was usually a pretty quiet guy. When he spoke it was usually necessary or insanely witty. You never expected him to talk this much.

"That's it, darlin', take what you need."

"Just like that?"

"Come on, know you're close."

And you were. Right on the edge, about to fall over. Rutting against his thigh like a dog in heat, teeth lodged in his collarbone. When you came, it was warm, bright, a tingle that ran all the way up your spine that made you sigh instead of scream. Relief. Satiated. Six held you through it. Arms wrapped tight around you, lips to your neck.

It was the most comfort you had had during a come down in your entire life.

You didn't pull away when you spoke: "We should get to a wing that has windows. I've got grappling stuff in my pack."

Six didn't either. "Guards're gonna be on high alert."

"Not if we get to the South wing, remember? It's right up against the trees. There's no guards there."

"Seems like a weak point."

"Yeah, well, people are stupid."

The two of you untangled from one another wordlessly and took out your guns. It was going to be a long walk to the South wing.

And an even longer wait until you were at the safe house.

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One day, Court comes home to the sound of a gunshot. He rushes inside and is greeted with the sight of his father's brains blown out, splattered across the counter, wall, window, sink, and Colt. Ryland, still holding the gun, is shaking on the floor. He can see Colt breathing. He knows someone will have called the cops by now. He needs to focus on Ryland.

He takes the gun, wipes it clean of Ryland's fingerprints, and pushes him towards his twin. Colt is soaked, still gasping for air as Ryland pulls him into a hug.

The sirens are too close. They shouldn't be this close already.

When the police get there, Court is grateful that his brothers are too out of it to talk. It gives him the freedom to lie. It gets his 6-year-old brothers into foster care and witness protection. Court gets sent to juvie, labeled as violent and unpredictable. He keeps up the act until some guard mentions that he'll never see his brothers again. "They're safe now. Even if you get out, they won't let you find and hurt them." Maybe the story he told the cops was a bit much.

Ryland and Colt are separated, no matter how much they want to stay together. It's justified as witness protection, putting them in separate homes so they don't remind each other of what happened or who they're missing.

Eventually, memories fade. Or are blocked out to protect themselves. The twins forget they are twins, forget that they have an older brother who got taken away from them.

Court is offered a job as a Gray Man almost as soon as he hits 18. He takes it. He's good at his job, surprisingly. He never wanted to hurt anyone, but hearing how these people acted, reading their files, it's easier than he thought. He learns how to keep tabs on his brothers. Seavers and Grace now. Turns out witness protection sucks if you work for the part of the government meant to collect data.

His family grows to include Fitz and Claire, he protects them with his life, and finally gets his happy ending. Almost.

He's in hiding from the CIA. His own, better brand of witness protection. He keeps tabs on his brothers.

He's so close to reaching out to Colt when Gail beats him to it. He can't interfere with the events themselves, it's too public, it would put Fitz and Claire in danger. He's overcome with relief when Colt miraculously comes back. Court finds more dirt on Ryder, sending it to the prosecutor to make sure he gets as long a sentence as possible.

He's proud of Ryland, getting his academic career underway, then stolen from him, then given back in the most insane way possible. But Ryland is making a name for himself. Which means Court can't reach out, but it's easy to track him. It's easy to find out that Ryland never chose to be the Hail Mary's scientist. The security camera footage is enough proof of that.

Court will never get his perfect happy ending. He never expected to. But it hurts so much when the mere possibility of it is taken from you.

He reaches out to Colt. He can't stand to be away from his brother anymore.

≠≈∞≈≠

Ryland Grace is an only child, has been as long as he can remember. But sometimes he'll think about what it would've been like to have siblings. It would've been nice, he thinks, to have someone you can rely on to be there for you no matter what. Like an older brother. Or maybe a twin, then he could be there for him, too.

He's already been recruited onto the Petrova Task Force when Ilyukhina comes running to him, asking about brothers or twins. When Grace says he's got none, she calls bullshit, and shows him a news clip from Australia about a stuntman who looks remarkably like Grace as the scene of a murder. He can't believe it. Surely he would've known about this, right? His parents would've told him if he was adopted from a split family, right? But his parents are dead now, they can't answer any of the questions swirling in his head. Like why does the name Colt sound so familiar- familial? Why is he so sure that Colt (whoever he is-) isn't capable of killing a roach, let alone a human!

He's somehow even more sure when the video of Colt killing someone comes out. It can't be him. It has to be a double. He's being framed.

It's an understatement to say he's not in the best of shape when he hears that Colt died. Blew himself up.

He breathes a sigh of relief when Colt is announced both innocent and alive.

He doesn't reach out. Why would he? They're not brothers, not really, despite how much Grace wants that to be true. He'd sound like some insane super-fan or something.

He's never regretted a lack of action more than when he's told to save the world. Maybe- if he had reached out to Colt- even if they weren't brothers- maybe he'd have a reason to tell Stratt "No." Flat out. If they were brothers, maybe he could reason with her. He only just got his brother back, and she wants to send him 12 light-years away? That could've been convincing.

He realizes, on the ground, in the grass, that it wouldn't really have mattered if he'd reached out. It didn't matter if he had a brother or not. He was getting sent into space, to save everyone, whether he wanted to or not.

≠≈∞≈≠

Colt has a couple siblings, both younger than him, born after he was adopted. He loves them to death, but has always felt like something is missing.

The first time he tries parkour, he thinks he's found it. The adrenaline and fear is so familiar, it almost feels like home. He loves it.

He rides the big rollercoasters, gets better at parkour, figures out how to do the sick movie tricks without getting too badly hurt. When he learns that what he loves could be a job, he jumps at the opportunity.

He's stuck with Ryder, but the job comes with perks. Namely, one specific British camera woman who wants to become a producer. He has no doubts she'll succeed.

His accident had one "perk" among the myriad of physical injuries. His head got hit pretty damn hard. He's reminded of other times he's been hurt, his mind supplying him with memories of people he doesn't know. But he does. He has a twin. Ryland. And an older brother. Courtland. What's up with his brothers having fuckin weird names?

He feels like he's been living a lie. On top of everything else, he feels betrayed. He asks his parents why they never told him. They tentatively explain that something bad happened, bad enough that he's in witness protection. Has been since he was 6 years old. He can't reach out to his brothers, can never have them in his life again, and it hurts.

He only hurts himself more when he isolates from everyone. Jody, his parents, his little siblings. He can't look any of them in the eyes. He wants so badly to see his brothers again. But he can't. He can't put them in danger. Whatever danger they escaped from.

He gets to see Ryland all the time in the news, if he watches the right channels. He almost never talks, but he's clearly important. Always at the side of the woman in charge of it all. Leading expert on the thing killing the sun.

He looks into Grace's old academic career. He actually manages to read about half of the thesis that got him into that hilarious argument.

He can't find anything on Court besides a death certificate. Died in jail. Suicide. It... Almost makes sense. Court had been more than double their age, he probably remembered everything that happened. Colt doesn't remember what happened beyond a gunshot, Ryland holding him in the ambulance, and the hospital room. It must've been pretty bad if Court had killed himself four years after.

He loves his brothers. He loves his twin. The other half that he now knows is what was missing when he was younger. He just found something else to fill the void, which has apparently only grown in the absence of his brothers.

He gets a call from Gail, and things start going right, then wrong, then worse, and then amazing. He reaches out to his adoptive family. He apologizes for dropping off the face of the earth for a year and a half. He wants to reconnect. He gets his family back. And it's almost perfect.

Not even a year later, he's watching the news with Jody as the Hail Mary takes off. With her last-minute volunteer scientist. And Colt breaks. It feels like breaking his back again. He swears he won't repeat his mistakes. He won't isolate. Jody won't let him, that's for sure.

He's told Jody about Ryland and Court, she knows watching the Hail Mary launch was supposed to be something big to celebrate as a family accomplishment, not just because it's humanity's last hope.

He knows Ryland probably doesn't remember him, doesn't know him, and they couldn't get to know each other anyway. But God does it still hurt to hear that his twin chose to leave him behind.

≠≈∞≈≠

After the Hail Mary has set off, Court reaches out to Colt. It's a small, short, typed letter. He can't risk a digital paper trail. He invites Colt to a secluded little coffee shop in the middle of nowhere. A place where people know to mind their own. He promises answers and doesn't give a name.

Colt asks Jody. She says it's a stupid risk, but if he thinks there's a chance whoever the letter is from is being serious, she wants to go with him.

They arrive at the coffee shop, and are handed a drink each when they get to the register. Already paid for. With a note telling them where to look behind one of the shops bushes for more instructions.

It's cryptic. They're on edge. But they follow the directions and end up at a very remote, very secure-looking building. Like a compound. They're greeted by Fitz and Claire, welcoming them to their home, and assuring them that the person who invited them is waiting inside.

The inside of the building is nothing like the outside. It's colorful, well decorated, and full of pictures of the small family. Colt can't help but stare at the first one he sees, knowing the face staring back at him. Jody pulls him along. There are a couple framed articles about Colt or Ryland, too. If Colt wasn't so sure of who he'll see around the corner, he'd say this is super creepy. Instead, he's on the verge of tears.

Court turns away from the window he's looking through, turns towards the footsteps, and smiles at his baby brother.

Colt launches himself at Court, who catches him with a bit of a stumble. He's getting old, sue him. They hug. Tight. Clinging to each other like they'd disappear if they let go.

They finally have as close to perfect as they can get. The only piece they're missing can never be brought back, lost forever.