Evenfall (42 page)

Which one was the real Sin? What part could Boyd believe in on any level?

It left him feeling uncertain and confused; an uncomfortable feeling for someone like Boyd, who was used to gathering information, forming an opinion, and being done with it.

Part of him knew it would be best if he kept his distance from Sin. After all, these violent spurts were unpredictable. So far they had largely been limited to missions but hadn't Sin seemed ready to kill Harry awhile back? Although Harry would have deserved anything he got, Sin hadn't seemed to realize how close he was to the brink. What if Boyd angered him like that one day? Sin had nearly killed Boyd just for trying to wake him from a nightmare.

But he'd protected and saved Boyd too. He treated Boyd differently than the others, for whatever reason. Boyd still didn't understand why but he couldn't deny that it was the truth. And he couldn't deny that there was something about Sin that made it difficult for him to turn away. Something about Sin that made it so he didn't even want to.

He couldn't help thinking that some of Sin's situation wasn't his fault, yet he was paying for it as if it was. He couldn't help thinking that he and Sin were alike in some ways neither of them fully acknowledged, yet it was that similarity that made him incapable of turning his back. Even if Sin hadn't been his partner, he felt a certain, strange sense of defensiveness for him, or perhaps protectiveness. As if he was now getting the chance to protect someone from bullying the way he'd been protected in the past.

He went back and forth in his mind, acknowledging the danger and the value that Sin represented. He still didn't know exactly what he thought but he noticed Sin glancing at him a few times. And as the silence stretched between them, he realized why it seemed strange. Although they didn't tend to have extensive conversations all the time, by now they would have spoken at least a little. Even if it was just about the mission.

When it became apparent that they would spend the whole ride in silence if Boyd didn't say anything, he turned his head toward Sin and studied him openly. That look Sin got when he was practically another person, killing indiscriminately, was nowhere to be found on his unreadable features. It tipped the scale for Boyd.

"Are you alright?"

"My injuries aren't severe."

Boyd nodded but didn't look away. "You're very quiet," he observed after a moment.

There was a pause and Sin looked over at him again. His mouth turned down slightly and he shrugged. "I don't have much to say."

"Usually you have something to say by now."

Sin grunted and focused on the road again. His fingers flexed against the wheel and he shifted slightly, eyebrows dipping down. It was clear that even if his injuries weren't severe, they were still causing him some degree of discomfort. He'd stopped hiding his wounds so completely only recently, but it was still surprising to see.

More moments stretched in silence until Sin shrugged his broad shoulders. "You weren't exactly looking very chatty yourself."

Boyd was silent a moment as he considered that. He supposed it was true enough. "I was thinking."

"About what a freak I am?"

Boyd looked over, his eyebrows drawing down. "No." He paused and then frowned. "I won't deny that the mission underscored how dangerous you can be but you've also saved me twice. I don't entirely know what to make of you but I can say for certain that I don't see you as the psychopathic monster others seem to, or that you may believe I do."

Sin turned his head and looked at Boyd fully. His eyebrows were drawn together and lips parted, genuine confusion written across the planes of his striking face. It looked like he wanted to say something but he just looked back at the road.

"What?" Boyd asked.

Black hair rustled against Sin's jacket as he shook his head slightly, dark eyebrows still knitted together. "I didn't expect you to say that."

"Did you think I would hate you now?"

There was another pause and then Sin said slowly, "No. But I thought perhaps now would be the time when the fear you've been lacking all along would set in."

"Would it have bothered you if it had?"

At that, Sin made a face. "Why do you always need so many details?"

"Why are you always so reluctant to answer when I ask?" Boyd countered.

Sin rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Because you ask questions that are uninteresting to me."

"The answers would be interesting to me," Boyd replied with a shrug. He looked out the window, noting that they were moving out of the city and onto the highway. "Should everything be solely according to what you want?"

"Yes."

Boyd snorted quietly and he shook his head, but there was a faint curve of his lips. "If you say so."

Sin smirked and he seemed to visibly relax. It would seem that even though he didn't want to admit it, the idea of Boyd being afraid of him had bothered him. Before anything more could be said, the loud shrill sound of fire trucks sounded somewhere in the distance. Sin looked in the rear view mirror before focusing on the road again.

He turned on the local news station and within the next twenty minutes, there was a special report of a large explosion on the outskirts of town. There wasn't any other information and no indications that anything more was known, so Sin switched the channel. Obnoxious pop music abruptly filled the car and he made a face and turned the radio off.

Boyd watched Sin for a moment, idly wondering what sort of music he generally listened to, but ended up looking away again without bothering to ask.

He watched what he could see of the scenery flashing by, although he didn't see much. Trees were dark sentinels in the night, broken up by roadway signs saying how long it was to the next several cities and billboards that hadn't seen maintenance in years. The lights turned toward the billboards to illuminate them had broken in many places, leaving strange messages behind where only half the advertisement could be read. Boyd wondered how many of the places advertised were still in existence and how many had become just one more ghost haunting peoples' memories.

With the darkness seeping in from outside and silence in the van, Boyd started to get lulled into a doze. His body rocked faintly with the movement of the vehicle and he ended up leaning his head against the side of the door. The seat belt pressed against his lap and stretched lightly across the shoulder, holding him in place as he started to fall asleep.

It felt like his eyes had barely closed when he was suddenly awoken by a change in his surroundings. He sat up a little abruptly, absently pushing hair away that had been pressed against his cheek. He squinted at the lights around him and couldn't stop a brief yawn. They'd pulled in at a 24-hour rest stop. He looked over at Sin as he started to unbuckle his seat belt.

"I want to eat before we get back," Sin said, glancing up at the diner across the parking lot.

Boyd nodded, unsurprised. Since Sin got the chance to buy anything he wanted when they were off compound, he usually wanted to stop for food when they were returning from missions.

Boyd got out of the van and shut the door behind him. He took a moment to stretch. His limbs felt creaky from being in the same position for awhile. They filled the car with gas and headed over to the diner, crossing the distance as Sin adjusted his jacket and pulled his hood up over his head.

Once inside, Boyd saw that it wasn't much different than the other diners they'd been to recently. There was a bar at the front with the rest of the space dominated by booths. No one really paid any attention to them when they arrived, which was one of the good things about roadside diners. They offered anonymity since most people were just passing through.

The hostess, a girl with black curls, green eyes and a slightly bored look on her face, perked up when they approached her. Her eyes rose to take in Sin who stared back grimly from beneath his hood, before falling on Boyd.

"Hi, I'm Danielle. Welcome to Sam's Shake Shack," she said with a grin, green eyes flitting up and down Boyd quickly.

Boyd nodded politely in return and glanced away to take in the diner. He hoped they ended up in a booth a little away from others so they didn't have to overhear any pointless conversations.

Danielle started to walk them over to a booth at the front near the window but Sin said flatly, "The one at the back."

She glanced at him again and shrugged. "Sure."

The booth he'd indicated was set apart from the rest of the crowd and she placed menus in front of each of them. "The special shake tonight is strawberry shortcake if you're interested. It's pretty awesome if you like that kind of thing."

When neither of them replied aside from Boyd nodding she sighed. She gave Boyd another once-over. "Your waiter will be right over."

Sin opened his menu and didn't bother to say anything in return.

"Thank you, Danielle," Boyd said, glancing up at her as he opened the menu.

She gave him a bright smile and turned away, glancing back before returning to her station at the door.

"How cute," Sin commented from behind his menu.

"Hmm?" Boyd asked absently as he flicked his gaze along the menu. He didn't know what he felt like eating. For some reason he was in the mood for breakfast and turned his attention to the omelets. It would probably fit in his diet.

"I forget that you're blond."

Boyd flicked his gaze up at Sin with a clearly unimpressed look. "Is it possible for you to make it through a conversation without insulting someone in some manner?"

"Most likely not." Sin snapped his menu shut and put it on the table, leaning back against the booth. His eyes were barely visible from beneath his hood.

"Well, if you want to say something, just say it," Boyd said as he looked down at the menu. "I don't like it when people play games."

"I guess I won't take out my set of checkers then," was the disinterested reply. Sin looked around the diner, seemingly checking out the other patrons.

Boyd shook his head to himself and skimmed the menu. He didn't feel like getting into a roundabout conversation if Sin didn't want to say what he was thinking in the first place. He didn't respond and focused instead on determining what he was going to order.

The waiter came over and put glasses of water in front of each of them. He was tall, gangly and had shoulder length light brown hair.

"Hi guys, I'm Steve and I'll be your waiter tonight," he said in a dull sounding voice. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and he looked tired. "The specials today are the golden crusted chicken pot pie with buttermilk biscuits, the tri-color pasta tossed with lemon chicken and the strawberry shortcake shake."

"I'll have the grilled chicken three-egg omelet," Boyd said. He closed the menu and slid it over to the side of the table so Steve could take it with him.

"Potatoes or hash browns with that?"

"Potatoes, please."

Steve nodded, not writing anything down. "White or wheat toast?"

"Wheat."

"K." Steve looked at Sin expectantly.

There was a pause where Sin stared at Steve and then asked, "What's a pot pie?"

There was another pause as Steve tucked some hair behind his ear and looked at Sin skeptically. Then he shrugged. "Uh. It's like, chicken, potatoes, peas and carrots and gravy baked into this crust stuff like a pie. It's pretty good. The biscuits are awesome too. Buttery and stuff."

Sin considered this. "I want that. And a black and white shake."

"Cool. Drinks?"

"Just water for me," Boyd put in.

"Same."

Steve nodded. "K. Let me know if you change your mind."

When the waiter left, Boyd idly looked around the diner. Some men who were clearly truckers were at the counter and a number of customers were dotted throughout the room.

One woman was leaning against the table looking thoroughly despondent as she let her half-finished shake slowly melt in front of her. She kept dipping in the long spoon, pulling up bits of the half melted ice cream, and letting it fall back into the glass. One of the truckers was watching her in between bites of his meal.

"I wonder what these people would say if they knew what I'd just done," Sin said seemingly randomly.

"I don't know," Boyd said, his gaze shifting to take in the mannerisms and expressions he could see. Everyone looked, for the most part, very ordinary. "I imagine most of them wouldn't be able to conceive of it let alone know how to react."

Sin grunted, his eyes going from one customer to another. "I think they'd be disgusted that we're capable of sitting down to have a nice meal afterward."

"Probably," Boyd agreed.

He wondered briefly why it was that he could do that; why the idea of food didn't disturb him. But he couldn't change what had happened any more than he could change the functions of his body. There had been a time in his life when maybe all of this would have been too much for him, but he'd seen and experienced a lot over the last few years. And the months at the Agency had helped to deaden his responses even more.

His gaze lingered on the woman with the shake and he shook his head. "Some of them probably wouldn't care, though. She seems too depressed to notice much of anything around her. I wonder if she lives in the area and came here for comfort food in the middle of the night or if she's on a long ride where she's dreading the final destination."