“They do excellent work, and serve an important function in modern-day government,” said Anthony politely.
Elliot snorted. “And you know, that’s exactly what Dave sounded like, when he chided me for working at the Library of Congress. Excellent work and very important and he so clearly thought what I did was bullshit, you know?”
Anthony’s mouth quirked. “It’s not bullshit, what they do. It’s just...”
“Not apprehending the latest super-villain,” agreed Elliot. “Anyway, we’re leaving the restaurant, and the TV broadcasts a special bulletin. Doctor Angst Arrested! World Saved from Disaster! I admit, I never really paid attention to any of that stuff? It always seemed... ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous,” said Anthony flatly.
“Turning the Great Salt Lake into the world’s largest bubble bath? Yeah, it’s ridiculous. A lot of Cicero’s plans are completely bonkers. But that’s not my point. When Dave saw the newscast, he rolled his eyes and muttered something about it all being for show, how it was all for publicity, that anyone who followed along was a fool.
“Except he’s muttering all that while the TV showed the line of orphans Doctor Angst had kidnapped being led to families waiting to adopt them, and none of it had been ridiculous to them.”
“No,” said Anthony, somewhat softer. “It hadn’t been.”
Elliot nodded. “I applied to the DVM the next day. Cicero’s ideas are insane... but that doesn’t mean they don’t have an impact. I can help stop his next scheme from succeeding.”
Anthony was quiet for a moment, remembering the orphans, their small faces, their very real fear... and the relief he’d felt when it was all over, and every last child safe.
No. None of it had been ridiculous. Not to any of them, no matter what the rest of the world might have thought (and Anthony was no stranger to what the world could think).
The only ridiculous part, though...
“Stop him as... an analyst?”
Elliot rolled his eyes. “We can’t all go into the field, Mr. Big Shot. Most of your colleagues work with us to figure out where to go, who to target, what’s the most important outcome of an operation. We’re not useless librarians of knowledge, you know.”
Anthony opened his mouth, about to agree—but nothing came out.
“I know that’s what you think of us,” added Elliot. He didn’t even sound angry about it. Just resigned.
“It’s just... you know things, because I tell you,” Anthony explained, wondering why explaining this made it sound like it was wrong. “Why would I ask you to tell me what I’ve already discovered?”
Elliot shook his head. “See, that’s your problem. You think you’re the only one out here, doing anything.”
“That’s not true. I’ve always had field partners. Winston and Jessica and Dwayne and Chris and Polly and—”
“I’m not talking about your field partners,” said Elliot. “Although maybe you might want to ask yourself why you’ve had so many of them.”
“They die,” said Anthony shortly, painfully.
“Not all of them,” said Elliot. “Polly’s in Kyrgyzstan. Lee is in Jeddah. Dwayne was somewhere in Egypt, last I checked.”
“They were the lucky ones,” snapped Anthony. “The smart ones, who knew to leave before—”
Anthony didn’t finish. He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky.
“Enrique was smart,” said Elliot quietly. It was full dark now, but there was enough ambient light that Anthony caught Elliot’s calm gaze.
“He wasn’t lucky,” said Anthony bitterly.
But maybe Elliot was. He’d survived the explosion. He’d shaken off the panic attack. Elliot had already contributed to the mission, with his insistence on O’Leary, with his analysis of Mastermind. Even if he died in the next ten minutes—a thought as distressing as it was likely—there were plenty of good decisions that Anthony would credit to Elliot.
Because of course, Anthony would ensure Elliot was credited. His field partners were always posthumously honored.
Elliot sighed. “Fine. Be stubborn. You do you.”
Elliot returned to peeling the paper from his bottle; Anthony returned to his musing, which rapidly approached a realization.
Two realizations.
The first: Elliot was smart, and that was fantastic, because Anthony liked smart people. The only problem was that a smart field partner was the last thing Anthony needed.
A smart field partner would see through Anthony by morning.
“I won’t say you were right not to tell Medical,” continued Elliot, “because I don’t think they’d revoke your clearance for one panic attack, but... thanks.”
“Yeah,” said Anthony, still a little dizzy. “I... sure.”
Because the second realization was that despite everything, Anthony found himself liking Elliot... who as Anthony’s field partner, was undoubtedly going to die.
Their gazes locked for a moment, and Anthony had to force himself to remember to breathe, because Elliot, in the dim light, was entirely too kissable.
Anthony’s head swam. His heart flipped in his chest.
No, he told himself firmly. Elliot isn’t just another field partner. He’s not here by choice, exactly, and I will not risk his life by bringing in emotional complications.
Because me developing feelings for him would definitely cause emotional complications.
“So we have a couple of choices,” said Anthony, pulling away. He thought he saw Elliot’s disappointment out of the corner of his eye. It made sense; anyone would be disappointed when Anthony didn’t kiss them. Anthony dug in his parachute pack. “But I think our best option is to find an airfield, borrow a plane, and continue moving toward Bulgaria.”
“Borrow a plane.” Elliot didn’t sound amused.
“We’ll return it later, of course. Assuming it’s not destroyed. That only happened once.”
“Including this time?”
“Good point. Twice.” Anthony pulled his DVM-issued tablet out from his pack. It was roughly the size of a very large cell phone, but incredibly more powerful, with satellite and Wi-Fi, as well as enough battery to power an entire 747. More importantly, it had the files necessary to safely navigate a 747 to the ground. “Here we go. I’ve pre-loaded every airfield along our flight path in here. We can head to the closest location.”
“Wrong flight path,” Elliot reminded him.
Anthony frowned at the screen. Elliot was right again, of course; according to the tablet, the nearest airfield was in... “Switzerland,” said Anthony.
Elliot grabbed the tablet. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I saw something much closer than that.”
Anthony attempted to wrestle for the tablet; incredibly, Elliot held him off. “We’re going much further than what a basic crop-duster could possibly fly.”
“I know. Yep, here it is.” Elliot showed Anthony the tablet. “Cicero operates a base about twenty miles to the southeast. There was a landing strip, too. It’s not big, but it’s definitely his. You know how he’s always painting his symbol on everything, right?”
Anthony studied the entry. “In fluorescent paint, yes.”