“It's okay. We're still talking." With that, he put on his sunglasses, which gave a sparse but grateful glow against the still glaring, albeit orange-tinted rays of the evening sun that assumed protection.

Magnus Jordan had taken care of the wound as best he could. He was less dangerous than he had first thought. His only concern was that the boy would not regain consciousness. But his breathing and pulse were regular, and despite his trembling hands he had managed to stop the bleeding. He was glad to have gained a moment's peace. He couldn't deny anymore how much he needed it. He closed his eyes as the poison entered him, overwhelming him, and washing away every pain, fear, and uncertainty. At that moment he didn't care, at that moment he would have embraced death like a lover.

Sounds reached his ears almost unnoticed, he fought against them and refused to perceive anything other than the noise that dragged him into the distance he longed for.

The boy stirred, groaned, and began thrashing. Jordan opened his heavy eyelids with an effort, watched his opponent hiss a curse, and gave him a flaming look. At least he wasn't seriously hurt, and by the looks of it, he'd just discovered that his hand was tied to the wall.

"Damn Junkie!"

Magnus Jordan's face almost cracked into a crooked smile, but only almost, recognizing the abysmal contempt in those words, a contempt that was becoming harder to bear the more he felt it toward himself.

The wind was picking up. He felt it intuitively before he could even interpret the sound of the grains of sand being blown against the roof. Something else that was unfamiliar put his senses on high alert, making him jump up in a matter of seconds and dash to the window, which although boarded up had room enough to get out to peek.

The sky glowed with an unfamiliar and eerie color. The evening mood, which had just been almost peaceful, had turned into a dirty yellow world in which nothing seemed to exist but dust and sand.

XXX

And yet it wasn't the change in the weather that had alarmed him. He couldn't tell from where, but he knew someone was approaching, someone quiet enough and fast enough to enter the room in a heartbeat, without Jordan noticing the draft of the door opening and closing just as quickly. He inhaled sharply as strong arms encircled him, pulling him into the familiar and longed for an embrace. "Jorge! Why?"

Jorge finally managed to pull away from Jordan, if only to give him some breathing room. But he only let him go so far that their eyes met and Jorge found himself caught in shining eyes that sparkled in an unnatural green, almost like emeralds, in the weak light of the gathering thunderstorm, pushing the usually dominant blue into the background.

"What are you doing here, Jorge?" Magnus Jordan finally whispered after jerking free of the man's tight grip.

The first hint of a smile twitched around Jorge's mouth. "I was worried, and..."

He ran his hand through Jordan's soft hair, which he'd missed more than he realized, and cupped Jordan's cheek tenderly, a movement the younger man embraced imperceptibly snuggled before he took Jorge's hand with both of his and brought it to his mouth. Jorge's eyes filled with tears as the gesture touched something long buried inside him.

He swallowed absently, trying to continue the thought. “The boss insists on visible progress and regular reports. He's already performing angry dances in an effort to justify the mission. If we can't serve him, and management, anything soon, he'll pull you out."

"He won't!"

Magnus Jordan's eyes flashed with pure anger, sending icy blue rays into Jorge's dark brown gaze. The green was gone, replaced by a cold, almost gray light. At that moment, a gust of wind whipped across the plain. Unbeknownst to them, heavy clouds, dark and threatening, had met overhead. Nature held its breath for the last moment, dead still in anticipation of the impending storm. And then all hell broke loose. Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and rain pounded the roof that had just been smoldering from the heat, slicing through the weak spots that could no longer withstand its violence.

The wind whistled sharply through the cracks in the walls, and darkness fell over them like a cloak. But Jorge still felt the friend's gaze on him, implacable, hard, and filled with abysmal despair. "I will not go." He felt the words more than he heard them and understood. Jordan had already given up too much of himself to just walk away now. They both broke their freezes, Magnus Jordan pulling Jorge deeper into the room and locking the door behind him as the storm howled in vain against the crumbling wood, and Jorge stumbling inside the cabin just in time to catch a glimpse of the chaos free that happened outside. The dusty yellow of the desert merged with the gloom of the sky, the edges of which glowed a dark red while the horizon took on a menacing purple hue that further emphasized the unreal of the situation.

"Who is this?" gasped Jorge, startled when he saw the tied boy in the shadows.

"My assistant," Jordan replied, and Jorge could almost feel the crooked smile the other threw at him. Irritated, he decided to leave it at that, turned, and peered out of a crack in the wall. He couldn't resist the feeling that something terrible was happening to Jordan, that he was changing in ways that could never be undone. As if the storm shaking the cabin wasn't bad enough, another sound added to the commotion created by nature.

Movement in the dark proved to Jorge that Jordan hadn't missed the roar of the engine struggling to propel a vehicle through rough terrain. He stared hard into the descending darkness, and couldn't make out any more than before. If it was a car, it had to drive without lights. Magnus Jordan, beside him, fiddled with his bags and boots with inimitable speed. Jorge heard the telltale click of the ammo block clicking into place, the clipping of silencers, and the firing of weapons. Jordan was at the door in seconds.

"Wait here," he hissed, and Jorge knew better than to contradict him.

XXX