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A/N: The NSFW portions of this story have been removed to meet FFnet rating standards. If you would like to read the full uncensored story, you can find the story (and a link to NSFW fanart) here: archiveofourown(dot-org)/works/546894

In The Final Hour

Disclaimer: I do not own "Deus Ex: Human Revolution" or any of the characters

Warnings: M/M pairing, game spoilers

Rating: M

Pairing: Adam Jensen/Francis Pritchard

Notes: I have made this story understandable and enjoyable for readers even if you haven't played the game, though you will likely appreciate the story more if you are familiar with the game.

Summary: If someone had told Jensen that Pritchard would be anything but a thorn in his side, he would have waved them off. But as the world threatens to end around Jensen, his last minutes counting down, all he can think of is the snarky cyber security chief. And to Jensen's luck, Pritchard is thinking of him too.

When Jensen had been introduced to Pritchard, the cyber security chief at Sarif Industries, Jensen knew Pritchard didn't approve of him. Pritchard wasn't having a bad day, hadn't woken up on the wrong side of the bed and wouldn't cheer up the next day; Pritchard was thoroughly displeased that Jensen had been assigned as Sarif's head of security, and he made this undeniably clear.

"Adam, this is Francis Pritchard, head of cyber security for the whole company," David Sarif introduced, motioning toward the tall lanky man with his black hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. It looked haphazard, like the man didn't have the time to bother thinking beyond getting the hair out of his face.

Jensen swallowed down his comment at the name – Francis? – out of common courtesy. But Pritchard clearly had no interest in returning the gesture. When Sarif introduced Jensen in return as the new head of security for the company, Pritchard sneered. He didn't even give Jensen more than a glance before he turned back to Sarif. "He's not from a private company."

"Frank, we talked about this," Sarif tried to mollify him, looking a little embarrassed to be having this conversation – clearly not for the first time – in front of his new head of security. "I don't want anyone from a private company like Belltower or any of the others. I want someone independent who will be loyal."

Pritchard still looked unconvinced. "Have a problem with an ex-SWAT, Francis?" Jensen pinned the man with a hard look, daring him to speak up.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Pritchard shot back, proving that he wasn't one to back down. A small part of Jensen could appreciate that, but only a very small part. "These aren't the streets of Detroit you're dealing with anymore. This is massive corporation with classified information and projects."

"I know how to deal in confidentiality," Jensen assured smoothly. "As well as many other types of security."

Pritchard sniffed, unimpressed. "I still think we'd be better off without you," he said and then promptly turned on his heel and stalked away.

Sarif turned to Jensen then, looking a little bashful. "He's always like that," David admitted somewhat grudgingly. "But he's damn good at what he does. You two will have to coordinate at some point, but for now let me show you your office."

Jensen nodded and didn't bother sending a backwards glance toward Pritchard's retreating form as he headed the opposite direction to his new office.

#

For a long time things didn't get any easier. Despite the fact that Jensen actually had to work with Pritchard quite frequently, they never reconciled. Pritchard seemed quite determined to prove that he didn't need Jensen – nor wanted him there. More than once Jensen would find an email floating around the office of Pritchard trying to sort out a problem to tell Sarif before Jensen could – likely trying to undermine him. And working with Pritchard always came with a string of snarky remarks. But Jensen could only complain so much because Pritchard was brilliant at what he did, and despite his attitude he was an asset to the corporation and made Jensen's job a bit easier – mostly.

In the office it wasn't much of a problem since they had offices on opposite sides of the second floor, and it was easy enough to go to the cafeteria for lunch at different times. However, Pritchard was also frequently Jensen's main line of communication when he went out in the field for an assignment, tracking down any potential threats, or acting as head of security detail; whatever Sarif needed as his corporation skyrocketed in profitability.

This meant that while Jensen could ignore Pritchard's existence except when it was absolutely necessary in the office, he often ended up with Pritchard's sarcastic comments in his ear all day whenever he left on a mission. It was distracting, honestly. Especially since there was something about the way Pritchard nagged at him that made Jensen twitch with the automatic desire to shoot a comment back. This was a problem when he was supposed to be standing silently in the background, watching Sarif to keep him safe while he did some speech on augmentation technology to the public and press.

Once or twice Jensen slipped and sent back a few barbed comments of his own, but that was worse because the stakes would rise as their verbal banter continued and it grew even harder to quell his words. Just once Sarif had sent Jensen a look after a conference; he had overheard but he wasn't going to comment. It had been a more low-key talk and Jensen had let himself slip into the habit of muttering back jibes at Pritchard in return for every comment he received, but Jensen still chided himself harshly on his slip.

As the years passed and Sarif Industries continued to profit and expand, Jensen and Pritchard found some form of truce. Their verbal sparring matches continued any time they were forced together, and the majority of the office was quite sure they hated each other. Pritchard certainly was a pain, but Jensen had to admit that the arguments offered an interesting challenge to each day. Not to say that he was lacking work – as augmentation technology grew, so too did the resistance against such evolutionary advancements, leaving Jensen with endless threats to contend with – but Pritchard's snarky words were a way for Jensen to release some of his tension on someone who wouldn't be hurt by his own sharp words.

Then everything changed.

#

Jensen was in the office with Megan, one of the top researchers at Sarif Industries. She was about to present some new research to the media and it was supposed to be groundbreaking. Since that sort of press conference always drew dangerous attention, Jensen was acting as her personal guard to get her to the conference and make sure she stayed safe throughout the talk. But they had some extra time before the conference and Megan was leading Jensen throughout the research and development facility, saying she wanted to show him something.

Jensen had liked Megan since he met her, but he had also maintained a cautious distance. Call him paranoid – as he knew he was – but Megan struck him as someone who always kept a few cards close to her chest. She had certainly been friendly when they had been introduced by David, almost overly so – which had been Jensen's first red flag. But for years after that Jensen had seen no real reason not to trust her, and had slowly grown attached. They tried dating but it didn't work; Jensen had never been able to fully leave work behind and focus on romance. But even though they were not together any longer, he never stopped caring for Megan.

That was why, when the research and development facility was attacked and Megan was taken, Jensen had felt an undeniable urge to protect her. He had fought with everything he had, sidestepping the fires and dead bodies in the hallways. But the men who had attacked and taken Megan, as well as a few other scientists, had special military augmentations. A human like Jensen was no match for their strength and reflexes, regardless of his training.

He had been thrown through a glass wall and then beaten to hell. Jensen knew his bones were broken, his body crippled. And as he struggled for breath, one of his lungs collapsed, Jensen thought he was going to die. He accepted the fact that the last sound he would ever hear was Megan crying out for help as she was carried away, and that he would never get a chance to make things right again.

#

The doctors told him the date when he finally woke up. He had been asleep for nearly a week. And to Jensen's horror, he woke up in a body that was not his own. His movements were stiff, his body adjusting to the new augmentations that had been added without his consent. New arms and legs, likely a reinforced ribcage with replaced lungs. Jensen lifted a metal hand and curled his fingers in front of his eyes, which he could already tell were augmented as well. His fingers were metal now, no longer his own; he didn't even have his old fingerprint any longer.

As soon as he was left alone in the room, Jensen let a few tears slip from his eyes. He had failed Megan and then he had been revolutionized without his permission. Jensen knew the arguments about augmentations. Some thought they were the next step in human evolution while others thought it went too far, that humans were grasping for something they should never possess. Jensen had never really made a conscious decision on how he felt about augmentations, deciding that it was everyone's individual choice on whether or not they got them. But to wake up in a body that was not his own was heartbreaking and nauseating.

Jensen was assigned to one year of sick leave from Sarif Industries. He knew this was partially to let his body adjust to the new augmentations and grow strong again, but also to see if his body would react negatively the way everyone else's did. Augmentations could help those with a lost limb and anyone who required special abilities for their work – such as cops for reflexes, firefighters for strength, surgeons for focus and precision. But the biggest drawback to augmentations was that human bodies could not fully accept them. When this happened, the individual experienced degraded of their bodies and severe, chronic pain, which could only be relieved with neuropozyne. Jensen knew that Sarif wanted to make sure he was fit to work, to see if Jensen would deteriorate like everyone else before he was brought back.

For six months Jensen was alone. He visited a physiotherapist to learn to work with his new augmentations and control them, but that was his only company. The first night he returned to his apartment Jensen had ended up in front of his bathroom mirror, looking over his new body. In the end he had smashed the mirror with a fist – which barely even felt the impact of shattering glass under his hand. He couldn't bear to see himself as he was now. After that he spent his time reading and training, wanting to get back to work so he could be distracted.

Six months into his one year sick leave, Jensen got a call from David Sarif asking him to come into work if he was able. More than prepared and eager to get out of his apartment, Jensen went into work that day. While most people experienced deterioration in their augmentations within three months, Jensen had still experienced no ill effects. He had already grown accustomed to the retinal augmentations, showing him a map and radar scan of the surrounding area in one bottom corner of his eye. But just because he had grown used to them didn't mean he accepted them. Jensen knew many of his augmentations had not been entirely required. Sarif hadn't just saved Jensen; he had turned him into a weapon to be used.

The problem was that now, with his body the way it was, there was nothing for Jensen to do but to go back to work and be used the way Sarif and the doctors had intended. Jensen couldn't turn these augmentations off or remove them. He had been shaped for a purpose that left him no other options. He had nowhere else to go. So he took the elevator up to Sarif and received a new mission. Jensen tried to pry some answers out of Sarif but received nothing satisfying, and eventually forced himself to leave before he pushed too hard.

The world had grown tenser in Jensen's absence. Megan had been kidnapped before she could present on her new research; the augmentation corporations had been left with bated breath and scrambling to discover the next big breakthrough now that Sarif Industries had lost their opportunity. This rush for new technology and further development also caused increased resistance from Humanity Front, led by William Taggart. Conference after conference occurred, with pro-augmentation representatives constantly fighting with pro-human speakers. There was now a constant threat of riots and terrorism; one of Sarif's facilities had already been attacked.

Despite his time away from work, Jensen fell back into his old routine quickly. He went to Pritchard's office quickly before heading out on a mission, as Sarif had instructed. Jensen could feel Pritchard looking him over, taking in the many changes that had been forced onto Jensen's body. Jensen prepared himself for some sharp comment; already he had been forced to listen to everyone else in the office comment on how different he looked, as if Jensen needed reminding that he was barely himself anymore.

But Pritchard just beckoned him forward and held Jensen's head steady as he pressed what felt like a taser to his forehead. Jensen cursed at the pain and pushed Pritchard away, overly cautious of his new strength even though Pritchard didn't look scared of him – something Jensen appreciated. "Your left and right image processors weren't completely in sync," Pritchard explained dismissively, which Jensen also appreciated. Whether he had meant to or not, Pritchard's nonchalance helped to normalize the augmentations for Jensen. Although Pritchard had no visible augmentations, and had not been forced into them, Jensen knew he had a few for hacking and computer work.

Jensen wasn't about to thank Pritchard though, so he exited the office brusquely and headed out to meet Malik at the helicopter, beginning a mission that would quickly become much larger than anything he could have possibly imagined. Malik flew him back and forth across the world multiple times and Jensen snuck and sometimes forced his way through cities and extensive security details.

First he was focused on gaining revenge on the men who had taken Megan; everyone thought Megan was dead until one day Jensen found out she was still alive and being held captive. After that Jensen's priorities shifted somewhat; he wanted to save Megan if he could, make it up to her for not being able to protect her the first time. She had been gone for seven months, and Jensen could only imagine the horrible conditions her kidnappers must be keeping her in.

There were other issues for Jensen to deal with along the way as he uncovered a lot of well-hidden connections and risky moves people had made on both sides of the augmentation debate. There seemed to be a few key players in the whole whirlwind. William Taggart, head of the Humanity Front, Hugh Darrow, the one to first introduce augmentation technology to the world, and David Sarif, head of Sarif Industries – the most successful augmentation corporation in the world. There were other connections across the world, spanning as far as China and Australia, and somehow Megan seemed to be at the middle of it all.

As Jensen traveled around the world, trying to uncover what was going on, Pritchard was always in his ear. Offering up information on the buildings he was infiltrating and suggestions on possible routes to take in order to avoid a firefight. Their banter was still sharp and callous, but it had almost turned into a weird form of friendship for them. Jensen had lost Megan and his trust in just about everyone else, but he knew that despite their arguments, he could always trust Pritchard to get the job done right.

So when Jensen found himself in a tight situation, Pritchard became the first one he called through his infolink's communication system. Always checking in, keeping tabs on the outside world through Pritchard and keeping Pritchard up to date on his missions. As Sarif began looking more questionable with the information Jensen was unearthing, it soon felt like Pritchard was Jensen's only ally.

Jensen refused to fully acknowledge this until he no longer had Pritchard around. He was forced to hide away on a cargo ship in a stasis pod used for shipping people illegally. When Jensen woke up he found himself locked in a chair, punches raining down across his face and body. Every inch of his body ached with a slow, agonizing burn and he could tell that many of his augmentations had been disabled. He was interrogated and then left alone, and then the bonds keeping him in the chair were suspiciously turned off.

For a few seconds Jensen remained slumped in the chair, trying to find the energy to force himself to stand. He was crippled but not dead – though that could change quickly if he didn't take advantage of his situation. Without even really thinking about it Jensen turned on his communication system and called out to Pritchard. For a long moment he received no response and then the manipulated voice of a stranger filled his ear, leaving Jensen feeling oddly disoriented and bereft at Pritchard's absence.

Jensen had no real time to consider this fully, falling back into his work mindset to literally stay alive. He moved from the cargo ship to a military detention facility in the middle of the ocean that the ship was docked at, tracking down a man named Burke who was involved with Megan's kidnapping. He had come so far and refused to give up now, determined to find out where they were keeping Megan locked up. Jensen slowly got his augmentations turned back on as he moved throughout the facility while also receiving minimal help from the distorted voice in his ear.

He would never admit it aloud, but more than once Jensen barely caught himself from voicing Pritchard's name even though he knew the head of cyber security wasn't on the other end of the line. He had grown so accustomed to hearing Pritchard's voice – knowing he would be there to answer questions and help ease some tension – that it was difficult to adjust to working without Pritchard there. But the realization that Jensen missed Pritchard only struck him when he finally killed Burke and escaped the facility. As soon as Jensen heard Pritchard's slightly panicked voice in his ear, anything felt possible despite Jensen's exhaustion.

Jensen had been on a continuous mission for more than a month and he was both rundown and injured. But with renewed energy the thought of rescuing Megan continued to drive Jensen forward now that he knew her location. Until he found out that she wasn't as much of an unwilling hostage as Jensen had assumed. When he finally found Megan she was under surveillance, yes, but her 'cell' looked quite lavish and she didn't look excited enough to see rescue coming. Jensen found out that not only had Megan joined questionable groups to continue her research, she had been using Jensen's DNA without permission in her work. Apparently there was something in Jensen's DNA that saved him from the deterioration and pain most experienced with augmentations, and she had taken a sample without asking.

She told him that it would improve millions of lives but it was difficult to hear her words through the betrayal filling him up like water – if his augmentations would let him drown, he wondered if this was what it would feel like. His lungs clenching painfully, his heart beating quicker until it left him dizzy.

He didn't have time to fully ream Megan the way she deserved though, because a signal was suddenly broadcasted from Hugh Darrow's arctic facility – Panchaea – that activated a new biochip Megan had helped develop and get distributed to the majority of everyone with augmentations. Jensen had luckily been too untrusting by that point to get the new chip because the news showed augmented individuals falling to the ground in pain, screaming as they experienced terrifying hallucinations.

Jensen had been forced to return to his work mindset yet again, evacuating Megan and the other kidnapped scientists; he had no time to deal with his sense of betrayal then. After that he turned his attention to Darrow's arctic facility, taking a pre-programmed rocket for the trip. By that point Jensen was running on backup energy, both his mind and body exhausted from the ongoing mission, the betrayals and near-deaths. But Pritchard was there – familiar voice in his ear – so Jensen pressed on.

Jensen was genuinely relieved to hear that Pritchard hadn't gotten the new biochip and wasn't suffering like a large majority of the rest of the world. And as he continued working through Panchaea, avoiding crazed people with the new biochip attacking him without quite realizing what they were doing, Jensen noticed that Pritchard's tone of voice had changed. His snarky comments had faded away to leave room for serious concern, Pritchard sounding more worried and tense each time they talked. And as he thought about it, Jensen realized that their banter had become less vicious even before Jensen had momentarily lost contact with Pritchard while on the cargo ship.

Without really noticing, Jensen found that his own comments in return had softened. As he heard Pritchard's concern for him, Jensen remembered his own relief at hearing Pritchard's voice after the long time alone on the cargo ship, and when he realized that Pritchard was also safe from the biochip. Although Jensen had never really thought about it before, he acknowledged that a part of him felt close to Pritchard. After all, Frank had been there with Jensen through it all from the very beginning. He was Jensen's partner in the field, even if Pritchard worked remotely.

It came to a head after Jensen talked to Darrow. Jensen was able to talk Darrow into giving him the codes to shut down the signal causing the new biochips to hurt anyone with augmentations. Then Darrow begged Jensen to broadcast a message across the world telling everyone about all the conspiracies related to augmentations that Jensen had already uncovered during his long mission. Darrow felt that the world should be scared of augmentation technology – even though he was the one to create it – and hoped that the message explaining all the lies and attempts to control people through the new technology would make everyone hate the technology enough to shun it.

Jensen didn't know what to think as he left the room and Darrow, continuing on through the facility. He still had a long way to go and a big decision ahead of him, and Jensen was starting to get a bad feeling that he wasn't going to come out of this mission alive. At this thought Jensen felt his heart clench and he contacted Pritchard, updating him on the situation and his next move. Pritchard tried to share some information in return but began complaining about interference, and that was when Jensen finally slowed to a standstill in the hallway, focused on their communication link.

"I think you're...on your own, Jensen," Pritchard said through the static. His words were halted and undeniably disappointed...maybe even sad.

Jensen took a deep, steadying breath. The drop in his stomach was similar to what he had felt when he found out Megan had betrayed him, except instead of anger Jensen felt longing. He wished it didn't have to end this way. But Jensen didn't know if he would escape this facility alive and refused to deal with false hope and the later disappointment. A part of Jensen could barely comprehend Pritchard's emotions; by this point Jensen was little more than a weaponized machine and Pritchard had always disliked Jensen, so why did he care? How could he care?

Maybe Jensen was over-thinking things, and in the end it didn't really matter; there was no time left for these sorts of ponderings while half of the world's population was in agony. So Jensen took another breath and willed their communication link to work just another moment longer. "Careful there, Francis," he said softly. "You almost sound like you regret that."

There were a few seconds of silence and then the static took over, forcing Jensen to shut down the communication link. He hadn't heard any final response from Pritchard and he didn't know if Pritchard had caught his own final message. Jensen hoped he had, because if he hadn't been reading too much into the inflection of Pritchard's voice, he didn't want Pritchard waiting for Jensen only to have him never step beyond this facility again. And with that thought, Jensen forced himself into his work mindset one final time.

#

This was it, the final moment of the final hour. Jensen hadn't heard from Pritchard in a few hours but he had found both William Taggart and David Sarif in the facility as well, both of them also begging Jensen to broadcast a different message after the signal was turned off. Taggart wanted a false message sent out blaming the pain and hallucinations on poisoned neuropozyne, which would lead to harsher restrictions on augmentation technology developments. Sarif wanted a message exposing Taggart and his connection with the Illuminati while shifting blame away from the biochip so that people would lose trust in the companies putting restrictions on augmentation technology, allowing the technology to expand at an even faster pace.

Now Jensen was in the control room with a huge decision to make. Eliza was there in the computer – an AI system created for watching the world and reporting the news – ready to manipulate Darrow's original message to whatever one Jensen chose to send out to the world after turning off the signal affecting the new biochips. But Jensen didn't just have to choose between three options; Eliza had offered a fourth. Jensen could flood the whole facility after turning off the signal. No message would be sent out – no truth and no lies – and no one would leave this facility alive to spin the story to their advantage. The world would be left with questions, but they would be able to make their own choices without further manipulation.

The decision was an obvious one. The follow-through was not as simple. As Jensen's hand hovered over the button that would turn off the signal, he couldn't help but hesitate. He knew Eliza would shut down the whole facility and let the frigid arctic water rush in as soon as she was sure the signal had been shut down and the suffering had stopped. Once Jensen made his decision he would not have long, and he felt his mind wander back to Pritchard's final message, the raw emotion in his voice.

Jensen would not be leaving this facility alive. He wouldn't exactly consider this a huge loss, even though he knew that sort of thinking was unhealthy. But he could think of no reason to fight those thoughts. After all, his body had been turned into a machine, a weapon for Sarif to use as he needed to try to advance augmentation technology, but Sarif would be dead at Jensen's hand momentarily. Jensen had told himself that his new purpose was to save Megan, but now knew she had betrayed him and had likely run off to continue her research.

He could go after her and try to stop her, but a part of him felt like it was all beyond him now. It would not be right for Jensen to kill everyone in this facility – silence them – and not silence himself as well. Beyond the fact that it would be too selfish, Jensen felt certain that he no longer had a place or purpose in this world. If he let everyone in the facility live, the world would continue to be manipulated by Darrow, Taggart and Sarif. Granted, it was entirely possible that someone new would step onto the scene and take power – publicly or not – but Jensen could only hope that the population would seek out the truth the way Jensen had this last month. He just had to trust the world enough to do it on their own.

"I'm ready," Jensen said, knowing Eliza was present and waiting for him.

"Are you sure you wish to do this? After the signal is turned off the facility will flood. There will be no survivors," she warned him, voice ethereal but surprisingly warm.

Jensen took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was delaying too long, leaving half the world's population to suffer. But as his fingers brushed the plastic of the button and he tried his best to say goodbye to this life, he couldn't help but think of Pritchard, of their final communication. Pritchard's voice had been soft and truly disappointed, and Jensen wasn't as surprised as he probably should have been when he felt a sudden desire to see Pritchard again and tell him it was alright. Their communication system was down though, and Jensen couldn't get a message to Pritchard. He just had to hope that Pritchard would understand that this was the right – and necessary – decision to make.

"I'm sure," he said, and then pressed the button.

There was a tense moment of silence as he watched the screen in front of him, Eliza showing him footage of the world as those suffering finally collapsed and returned to their senses. The biochip would have caused serious pain and hallucinations, but they would be okay with time. Once he was sure it had worked, Jensen closed his eyes, veiling himself in false darkness as he waited for the facility to flood. He was in the basement so he would be one of the first to die, swept up in dark icy waters.

But after a few moments there was no sign that the facility was flooding and Jensen blinked his eyes open. Eliza was watching him through the screen. "Eliza," Jensen growled. "Just because I'm sure doesn't mean I want to stand here contemplating death for an extended period of time."

She stared at him for another long moment and then offered half a smile. "You should leave this room and take the elevator up to the roof."

Jensen blinked in surprise. "I've made my choice, Eliza. This is it. It's not fair for me to try escaping while leaving everyone else to die."

"If you are willing to make this sacrifice, which I know you are because you pressed that button," Eliza began, holding Jensen's gaze. "Then I think you deserve another chance at life. You are willing to sacrifice your life and trust the world to find out the truth and make their own decisions. I think you can be trusted to not manipulate them if you survive this."

"But Eliza..." Jensen trailed off, baffled and overwhelmed. He had just made the conscious decision to give up his life; it was disorienting to suddenly be told he could continue living.

"Besides," Eliza cut him off. There was an almost-human smile on her lips now, despite the fact that she was only an advanced computer program. "There is someone waiting for you, Adam." Jensen felt his heart rate pick up despite himself. "Please go live the life you deserved but never received. I will flood the facility when you are gone."

Jensen could have argued with her. A large part of him still felt that it was unfair for him to survive while he left the rest of the facility to drown. But Eliza's words had hooked him effectively: someone was waiting for him. Jensen didn't know who it was and refused to hope, but he wouldn't let them die too when the facility crumbled under them if they had come for him. So Jensen gave a final nod to Eliza on the screen and turned to run back through the facility and rush into the elevator.

It was a long, slow climb to the top of the facility and Jensen paced with agitation. He didn't pull a gun because he knew Eliza would not send him to an enemy, but it left his hands feeling empty and useless. Jensen turned on his sunglasses as soon as he stepped out onto the roof, the sun high in the sky overhead. As soon as he saw the helicopter on the roof he knew it was Malik's, and Jensen felt an odd blend of relief and disappointment.

He took a few steps closer, trying to figure out how Malik had known to come here and why he was feeling so let down. Jensen felt his heart jolt when the back door was pushed open and Pritchard jumped out onto the roof. They stared at each other for a long moment; it felt to Jensen like he was seeing Pritchard for the first time. It was certainly the first time he had seen Frank in the field and even though Jensen knew Pritchard was more than capable of taking care of himself, Jensen suddenly felt the urge to protect him, to get him to safety.

And yet it was Pritchard who had gotten Malik to fly the helicopter up here, to save him. Jensen took another few steps closer while Pritchard remained standing by the helicopter, a few strands of black hair fallen loose and flying in the wind. Jensen could still remember the first day he had met Pritchard, and their years of animosity despite having to work together. But he could also remember their competitive but friendly verbal sparring, their softening voices, and his own discomfort when he had been forced to work without having Pritchard just a communication link away.

Jensen continued to step closer until there was only a foot of space between himself and Pritchard. He could feel his body canting forward, urging him to close the gap, but Jensen held back as he met Pritchard's dark blue eyes. Pritchard seemed to be wavering as well, looking just as unsure as Jensen felt. "You look terrible," Pritchard eventually said, trying to sound snide but failing as he looked over Jensen's numerous injuries.

As soon as Jensen heard Pritchard's voice again – even though there was still too much interference for his communication link to work – Jensen felt his body relax. Even the ominous shudder beneath his feet as Eliza no doubt began the destruction of Panchaea wasn't enough to worry him; Jensen just shouldered Pritchard back into the helicopter and closed the door. He turned on the intercom just long enough to tell Malik they were both safe before he flicked it off again, feeling the helicopter power up and lift off from the ground.

Once he was sure they were safe, Jensen turned back to Pritchard. "What are you doing here? You could have died!"

Pritchard, never one to back down, crossed his arms in defiance. "I got your last message and I realized I did regret it," he admitted, their eyes meeting now that Jensen had turned off his shades. "I wasn't going to let you die alone. You've done so much for the world, sacrificed so much. You've saved millions."

"You should have left me," Jensen snapped, aware of his voice rising with anger at the thought that Pritchard and Malik could have died in the process of trying to save him. Through the helicopter's window Jensen could see the facility already crumbling and beginning to fall into the ocean; that was almost him, that was almost Pritchard. What right did Jensen have to live while everyone else in that facility died? "I've fulfilled my purpose," Jensen sighed, finding himself unable to look away from the window. "The world doesn't need me anymore."

"Maybe not," Pritchard said. Jensen heard footsteps approaching across the small space of the helicopter but only turned when a hand on his shoulder half yanked him around forcefully. Pritchard was standing so close that Jensen could feel his breath brushing across his face, and he could see those blue eyes looking at him with determination. "But I need you," Pritchard muttered and then leaned forward.

Jensen lost his breath when he felt lips lock with his own, Pritchard's body pressed against him and keeping him pinned to the side of the helicopter. For a moment both of them were frozen, shocked and nervous and unsure. Jensen had grown closer to Pritchard after everything they had been through together, and he knew Pritchard coming to save him wasn't a small feat, but Jensen had never entertained the notion that Pritchard cared for him this way. Nor had he ever taken the time to consider his own feelings for the man. He had been obsessed with saving Megan, and then focused on saving the world.

Malik changed the direction of her flight and the helicopter tilted under their feet. They should have been seated and belted in but on instinct Jensen lifted one arm to hold onto some of the metal framing of the helicopter and wound his other arm around Frank's waist, holding him close. He could feel Frank gasp against him in surprise, lips parting slightly, and that was when Jensen leaned down into it and kissed him back.

It had been a long time since Jensen had kissed anyone – since he had wanted to kiss someone. He was tentative and slow as he met Pritchard's lips, who seemed even more hesitant about the whole thing even though he had been the one to initiate it. Jensen worried that Pritchard was regretting his choice and began to pull his arm away, but was surprised and pleased when he felt arms thrown around his neck to keep them close. At the feeling of Pritchard willingly pressing into the kiss, Jensen felt a moan building in the back of his throat as he pulled Pritchard tighter against him.

The kiss hadn't grown too heated, both of them still adjusting to this sudden jump in their relationship, but Jensen had no intention of stopping. However, Malik made another bank with the helicopter and Jensen fell back against the metal siding of the helicopter. Pritchard was safe but many of Jensen's injuries didn't appreciate the impact and he broke the kiss with a pained groan.

To Jensen's displeasure, Pritchard pulled away and manoeuvred Jensen until he was forced to sit down in one of the helicopter's seats. Pritchard pressed one last, hard kiss to Jensen's lips and then sat down in the seat beside him, buckling up. Jensen watched him as he buckled up himself, shamelessly using his augmentations to see through the dim lighting and watch Pritchard's blush. "Pritchard..." he began but was silenced by a quick look. "Frank," Jensen tried again, not used to using the name. "I don't understand."

"Simply put, I didn't hate you as much as I made it appear," Pritchard confessed. "Well," he gave a tiny chuckle, brushing his fingers over his own lips. Seeing this, Jensen ran his own fingers over his lips, noticing that they were still tingling from the kiss. "After a while."

"You never said," Jensen tried not to sound too accusatory. Truthfully he was feeling a bit overwhelmed wondering how long he had missed this. So much had happened and he knew he had a bad habit of being oblivious to anything but work. And he was still piecing together his own feelings, finally recognizing their friendly banter, his sense of loss when Pritchard was gone, and his relief at hearing and seeing the head of cyber security again for the indicators they really were. What would have happened if this long mission and string of events hadn't happened? Would he ever have figured out his feelings?

Pritchard shrugged, not meeting Jensen's gaze now. "I figured it was pointless to say anything," he said. "You and Megan were very close and I assumed you hated me. I wasn't going to admit anything just to make things awkward. Our job depends on us being able to communicate effectively. I don't think we'd do too well if things were uncomfortable."

"Frank..." Jensen began but trailed off, not knowing what to say. He was trying to focus on the confusing whirlwind of emotions inside him, piecing together every memory and thought of Pritchard to grasp the development of these feelings, but he was exhausted. His body was beaten down and his mind worn, and he could feel his eyes drooping as he rested his head against the back of the seat.

"You don't have to say anything right now, Adam," Pritchard brushed him off quietly. "You should sleep."

"I should stay awake," Jensen grumbled, struggling to fight off his exhaustion. He was so used to taking care of himself, of not trusting anyone else to watch his back, that Jensen wasn't used to letting himself sleep unless he was in his own apartment where he knew it was safe.

But he noticed Pritchard looking over at him, offering up a shy smile. "Trust me," was all he said. Jensen wanted to argue but it was true, he did trust Pritchard to watch his back. And it was so much easier to let his eyes drift closed, his thoughts dimming as he fell into sleep.

#

Jensen was woken by the sound of his communication link kicking back in now that they were far enough away from Panchaea's interference for the technology to work. "Where am I dropping you guys off?" Malik asked, jolting Jensen out of sleep with a grunt.

Disoriented, Jensen couldn't think of an answer before Pritchard spoke up. "Drop us at my apartment. After this we'll all want to stay low for a while, and I can help Jensen with his wounds."

"What about my apartment?" Jensen asked groggily, realizing slowly that he must have slept for the whole flight.

Pritchard looked over at him. "Do you have anything that needs to be secured in your apartment? I've already wiped all records and logs showing you were at Darrow's facility and in contact with them all leading up to this so ideally no one will ask too many questions," Pritchard explained, much to Jensen's surprise when he learned that Pritchard had altered all the records to protect him. "But you're chief of security so I'm sure they'll still want to talk to you. Anything we should pick up?"

Surprisingly, Jensen did not feel the need to insist that he return to his own apartment. It had always been his safe haven but now he remembered his shattered mirror and the six months he had spent alone, hating his own body in that apartment. It would be nice to rest elsewhere tonight. And he also wanted to ask Pritchard more detailed questions about the head of cyber security forging records to protect him, but he was still too drowsy to focus on a long conversation. "My computer."

"I've already made a full backup copy and wiped it," Pritchard informed him. An average person would have sounded nervous saying that, but Pritchard's voice was steady and sure in his own work mindset. Pritchard knew computers and his work so well, and knew Jensen was aware of this as well. A part of Jensen did still feel indignant about the whole thing but he was also relieved to know that his computer was secure and no one could access his information. "I didn't look at any of the files," Pritchard clarified, this time sounding a bit unsure.

Jensen waved his concern away, realizing by now that he had to trust someone in this world. "I can't think of anything else that needs to be immediately secured," he said, looking out the window as the city of Detroit approached on the horizon. Jensen turned his communication link back on. "Pritchard's apartment, Malik."

"You got it," she answered and then altered her course. Jensen was equally relieved and grateful that she didn't ask any questions, because Jensen was too confused and tired to voice any of his answers.

Although he had felt in relatively good condition at the facility, when Jensen finally forced himself to step off the helicopter and follow Pritchard into the roof door of the building he found that he could barely hold his own weight. His adrenaline had faded, the weight of what he had just done still on his shoulders and wearing him down as much as his injuries and blood loss made his limbs drag. It took all of his strength to get to Pritchard's apartment so he didn't bother arguing when he was motioned towards an armchair in the living room.

Jensen sunk down into the cushions with a pleased groan, finally allowing his body to fully relax. For a few minutes Jensen let his eyes remain closed, tracking Pritchard's movements around the apartment by the sound of his muffled footsteps on the carpeting and hardwood floors. Then he forced his eyes open, taking the opportunity to study Pritchard and his apartment. He wondered how many people had been trusted to be invited here, knowing Pritchard was about as private and antisocial as Jensen himself.

The apartment was relatively sparse and utilitarian. It suddenly made Jensen wonder if Pritchard had slept in his office as often as Jensen had, both of them asleep across the floor from each other in the building alone without even realizing it. The only part of the apartment that actually looked personalized was a large desk the spanned the length of wall with windows looking out on the city; part of it was covered with a high-tech computer and the rest with other software equipment.

"There isn't much to look at," Pritchard commented as he stepped up to the armchair, drawing Jensen's attention. "I'm rarely here to do more than sleep."

Jensen watched Pritchard set a large case on the coffee table by Jensen's chair; it looked like a blend between a toolbox and a first aid kit. His assessment wasn't far off from the truth when Pritchard opened it up to reveal a mix of first aid items and tools Jensen knew were used for adjusting and fixing augmentations. He could see that Pritchard looked somewhat uncomfortable as he set aside a few items, so Jensen forced himself to speak. "I get it," he offered.

Pritchard met his gaze and nodded. Then his eyes swept downward. "You'll have to remove your coat and all body armour at the very least," Pritchard told him with a strict, professional voice, making it easier for Jensen to accept that Pritchard was telling him to take his clothes off. "Likely your shirt as well. Your pants can stay on as long as you don't have any injuries on your legs. Can you give me a rundown?"

It helped for Jensen to slip back into his work mindset as he pulled off his coat and body armour tentatively. Yes he had kissed Pritchard, but that didn't mean he was interested in stripping down and doing more when he was feeling so exhausted, sore, and overwhelmed. He listed off the injuries he could feel across his body – both flesh wounds and augmentation malfunctions. As far as he was aware, only his right knee and shin had taken any real damage, so he pulled his shirt off but left his pants on.

He tried to lean forward to roll up his pant leg but gasped when he added pressure to his chest and sat back quickly, panting. Jensen felt a hesitant hand touch his knee and his eyes flashed open; Pritchard remained where he was, waiting for Jensen to nod his permission. Only then did Pritchard lift Jensen's leg to set his heel on the coffee table and roll up the fabric of his pant leg carefully. Jensen hissed when Pritchard's hand brushed the two bullet holes in his augmented leg – his nerves sensing pain in metal as effectively as they had in flesh – but Pritchard pulled away quickly and let the pain dull.

In silence Pritchard began working on Jensen's body. He cleaned and wrapped up all injuries Jensen had on his biological body first, making sure the muscles and skin were well taken care of. By the time that was finished, a good third of Jensen's skin was covered in bandages, and he had an ice pack pressed against a pair of bruised ribs. He had been lucky that his body armour took the majority of the damage, leaving only relatively minor injuries like bruises and shallow cuts across his body.

Unfortunately, his exposed arms and legs had taken more damage, though the blend of metal and prosthetic material was better equipped to sustain damage; that, of course, did nothing to dull the pain. "This is going to hurt," Pritchard warned him more than once, but there was nothing Jensen could do other than clench his eyes closed and swallow the pain down. The only reason Jensen didn't bolt when he felt machines pulling at his augmented muscles, pulling out fragments of bullets and treating burns, was because he knew Pritchard's steady hands were the ones in charge.

By the time Pritchard was finally finished, placing only the lightest touch to Jensen's uninjured shoulder to press him back against the chair as a hint to finally rest, Jensen felt dizzy with pain and exhaustion. A soft hand brushed against Jensen's metal one and Jensen forced his eyes open, unfurling his fingers from a fist to accept the small pill Pritchard placed in his palm. "Take this for the pain, and then I need to do a quick scan to make sure all your neural augs are doing alright. Then we're finished," Pritchard promised him. It was bizarre to hear Pritchard speaking with soft concern rather than harsh sarcasm paired with a sneer, but Jensen found he quite enjoyed it.

He nodded and pretended to swallow the pill as Pritchard watched him, keeping the pill in the groove of his palm as he brought it back to rest at his side. Then he stared at the machine Pritchard held up in front of him, trying not to get distracted by looking to Pritchard who was right behind the machine's screen. When Pritchard finally patted his clothed knee and moved back slightly to read the machine's readings, Jensen closed his eyes, trying to will away the pain.

To Jensen's distress he found that as soon as he closed his eyes he remembered his last view of Darrow, Taggart and Sarif, and the other nameless workers at the facility. This forced his eyes back open as he watched Pritchard approach with something that looked like a much nastier version of the taser he had zapped Jensen with at the beginning of his first mission over a month ago. "This is going to—"

"Hurt, I know," Jensen cut Pritchard off, not wanting to worry the man. "It's okay."

"It'll be dulled from the pill you took," Pritchard assured him, which just made Jensen clench his teeth together in preparation. Pritchard only got the device against Jensen's forehead and switched on for a second before Jensen let out an involuntary gasp of pain, bringing his hand up as his headache turned into a fully-fledged migraine. He was too disoriented to fight back as Pritchard reached for his other hand and pried his fist open, revealing the crushed pill. "What the hell, Jensen!" Pritchard snapped, setting the device down fully. "You need this!"

Jensen shook his head even though it worsened the pain, building a growing sensation of nausea in his stomach. "I don't..."

"Don't, what?" Pritchard hissed, brushing the remains of the ruined pill onto the floor. "I know you're used to this work and dealing with injuries but you're seriously hurt. A little bit of pain relief—"

"I don't deserve it!" Jensen finally yelled, slumping back against the chair a moment later, all of his energy fading. Pritchard was sitting on the coffee table in front of him, watching him with wide eyes. Jensen looked at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. "I killed them, Pritchard," he whispered, horrified as his mind was flooded with memories again. "All those people in Darrow's facility. Hundreds dead because of my choice."

A hesitant hand rested on top of Jensen's clenched fist, pale flesh covering black metal. "And millions more are saved because of your bravery," Pritchard told him, hushed in the dim apartment.

"You don't understand," Jensen closed his eyes but didn't pull his hand away. "I had a choice. I could have saved everyone else and still let everyone in the facility live as well."

"They didn't leave you much choice," Pritchard said, surprising Jensen enough to finally draw his gaze. "I lost communication with you after you spoke with Darrow, but I've been keeping track of you through your Infolink for most of this last month," the head of cyber security admitted. "I tried to give you privacy but I heard most of it. It sounded like everyone's been trying to use you for a long time."

The contained anger in Pritchard's voice softened Jensen's heart, and he moved his hand to subtly rest it on top of Pritchard's own. "None of them were bad men," Jensen felt the need to say. "It would be easy to simply call them villains. But they were all just blinded by their own ambitions."

"At your expense," Pritchard said and then sighed, running his free hand through his hair. "For what it's worth, Adam... I'm sorry," Pritchard murmured. "Do you want to talk about it more?"

Jensen watched Pritchard for a long moment in the silence of the apartment. He noticed that he could sense Pritchard's heartbeat where their hands touched, his augmentations sensitive against warm flesh. The thought of talking through his thoughts with Pritchard in the past would have filled him with dread, anticipating sneers and disapproval. But now he knew Pritchard would actually listen and it made Jensen feel grounded. "Yes," Jensen said, "But not now."

Gratitude and affection washed over him when Pritchard nodded his agreement and understanding, not pushing. "That's fine, but Adam..." Pritchard slowly pulled his hand from under Jensen's. "Please don't punish yourself. I still have to do some maintenance with your neural augs and it's going to be agony without a painkiller."

A part of Jensen still felt like that was exactly what he deserved – Darrow, Taggart, Sarif, workers all at the bottom of the arctic ocean at his call – but it was Pritchard's look of genuine concern that had Jensen offering his hand palm-up to accept another pill. Pritchard handed him one with an audibly relieved sigh and grabbed the machine again as Jensen swallowed down the pill.

It worked almost instantaneously and Jensen felt his pain dull, fading away to a forgettable discomfort when he felt nimble fingers brush at his hair absent-mindedly. It was ruined slightly by the shock and pinch of the machine working and Jensen had to close his eyes as his retinal augmentations blurred and rebooted. But Frank's fingers were in his hair again, soothing and distracting as the machine worked and was finally pulled away.

"Keep your eyes closed until I say," Pritchard told him, his fingers and warmth retreating. "Otherwise you'll feel pretty disoriented. It should only take a minute for the full reboot." Jensen sat silently as he had been ordered, listening to Pritchard cleaning and packing up the machine and the rest of the kit. He counted a minute and a half before Pritchard told him to open, and nearly jumped when Pritchard held out a small glass to him. It looked like a large-sized shot glass filled with a light blue goo. "It'll taste terrible but it'll stimulate healing," Pritchard explained.

Jensen took the glass and knocked it back in a hurry, shuddering as a sensation of slime trickled down the back of his throat thickly. He handed the glass back and coughed, fighting his gag reflex until his roiling stomach had calmed somewhat. After that he sat back again, watching with cleared vision as Pritchard packed up the kit and slipped it away on a bookshelf. "Pritchard..." Jensen called out to him when Pritchard remained by the bookshelf, shoulders hunched. "Frank," he tried again.

He wasn't sure what he was going to say, each passing moment making it harder for him to stay awake. Pritchard seemed to be aware of this as well because even though he walked back to sit on the coffee table, he didn't lean into Jensen's personal space again. "You need sleep, Adam."

"Frank," Jensen said again, forcing himself to sit on the edge of his seat so he didn't fall asleep mid-sentence. "I know this is probably the farthest thing from what you imagined if we ever..." he hesitated, unsure of what they were and not wanting to say too much too soon.

"I never even let myself imagine," Pritchard told him matter-of-factly, sad smile curling the corner of his mouth. "So you have nothing to live up to."

"Still," Jensen pressed. "I think you deserve an answer. I just know I'm not in the right mindset to give you one right now. So for now..." he said as he reached forward, offering an unsteady hand. He felt his heart jump when Pritchard offered his own hand, lacing their fingers together and letting their hands hang between them. "I want to thank you, for everything."

Pritchard rolled his eyes but Jensen could tell it was to save face, only half hiding his blush. "I've never known you to be so sentimental."

"I think this warrants a moment," Jensen said gruffly, trying to contain his own embarrassment. Even though Jensen was still warring with his own thoughts – wondering if he should be alive at all – he refused to belittle or brush aside the risk and sacrifice Pritchard had made to save him. He wasn't going to throw that aside, regardless of his internal turmoil. Jensen also wasn't going to downplay their kiss in the helicopter because he had returned that as readily as Pritchard had initiated it. Because of this, Jensen fought down his embarrassment and lifted their twined hands, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Pritchard's hand.

Pritchard watched him and Jensen smiled softly when he saw that Pritchard didn't fight down his own smile. It didn't progress further than that, but Jensen felt content. Pritchard eventually slipped his hand from Jensen's but didn't move away further. "I think we should sleep," Pritchard suggested grudgingly, both of them aware of their shared exhaustion. "You should take my bed. You'll need to lie flat to let everything heal properly."

"I'm not stealing your bed," Jensen began to argue, but Pritchard silenced him with a look.

"I'll not have you wasting all my work fixing you up," Pritchard snipped, standing and striding away. Jensen chuckled quietly at seeing the head of cyber security attempt to hide behind his work mentality. Even though Jensen knew he was guilty of doing the same thing, it seemed rather out of place after he had just kissed the man's hand. He forced himself out of the armchair and followed Pritchard into the other room, finding himself in the bedroom. He saw that Pritchard was pulling spare sheets and a pillow from a closet, arms full as he walked past Jensen toward the door. "Goodnight, Jensen."

"Frank," he called out, stopping Pritchard in his tracks. Jensen slowly stepped closer to Pritchard, their eyes locked in the near-darkness. He stopped when he was standing right beside Pritchard, their body heat shared between them. "One kiss?" he asked, a little nervous but not unsure about his request.

Pritchard pursed his lips. Jensen could see his blush with his retinal augmentations. "Just one," Pritchard huffed, but remained still.

Jensen knew that this was probably a bit of a test, Pritchard wanting to see if Jensen was interested enough to actually initiate this time. Feeling certain, Jensen rested a hand on Pritchard's far cheek and turned his face just enough to catch his lips. The kiss was innocent and soft, a mere brush of lips before he pulled away again, but there was no denying the way their heartbeats picked up. This was still incredibly new to him, but Jensen knew enough to acknowledge that he liked kissing Frank – and wanted to do it again.

"Goodnight, Francis," he said fondly.

Pritchard gave him an odd look for the name but didn't comment on it. "Goodnight," he said again, softer this time. Jensen let him leave, keeping the door open as he walked back to the bed. He decided to keep his pants on, still very aware of the fact that this wasn't his bed. He felt guilty for taking Pritchard's bed and leaving the other man to fend for himself, but it was only mere seconds after he had slipped under the covers that smelt of Frank before he fell into a deep, restful sleep.

#

Jensen jolted out of sleep with a gasp, his heart racing and his skin sweaty. Even though his eyes were open he was blind to the room around him. All he could see was the faces of those he had sent to a watery death – those he knew and those he didn't. "I believe you'll make the right choices, son," Sarif had said to him the last time they had been together. Darrow and Taggart had been similar, less familiar with Jensen but still trusting him to make the choice and, if nothing else, at least save them from death. All those lives, ended. At Jensen's hand. He couldn't stop seeing them in his mind, couldn't help but imagine their fear as the facility crumbled around them and the cold water rushed in, filling their lungs, pulling them under...

Jensen stood from the bed, forced into movement with his jittery body and mind. For a few minutes he paced blindly, struggling to slow his breathing and regain control of himself. It took a long time before his nightmares began to fade and Jensen could take in the room around him, remembering that it was Pritchard's and not his own. There were not many personal items for him to look at, only one picture frame on the dresser that looked like a half-forgotten family portrait from Pritchard's youth. Parents, Frank, and an older sister Jensen had never heard about.

After studying the picture, Jensen stepped away from the dresser and turned his gaze to the open door leading out to the living room. He couldn't hear Pritchard and hoped he hadn't made enough noise during his nightmare to wake his host up. On silent feet Jensen stepped out into the living room, casting his eyes around the darkened room in search of Pritchard. He found the head of cyber security asleep on the couch, uncomfortably curled up since the couch wasn't the right size for guests.

Continuing to keep his steps silent, Jensen approached the couch cautiously and stood over it, watching Pritchard sleep. Pritchard was definitely unconscious but his sleep looked fretful, his dark eyebrows furrowed. Jensen knelt down and carefully brushed his fingers through Pritchard's hair, tugging the hair tie out on one sweep of his fingers. Pritchard's black hair spilled free, half covering his face until Jensen brushed it aside, caressing Pritchard's temple in the process.

Pritchard did not wake up at the touch, but his face did relax somewhat as he let out a calm breath. Jensen didn't want Pritchard to be uncomfortable and no longer wanted to be alone; it was only here as he kneeled close to Pritchard that he was able to remember he was safe and had a reason to keep going instead of finding a away to finish himself off the way the facility should have. He was still exhausted and knew he had to sleep more; the clock on the wall told him he had only been asleep for a few hours. It wasn't even approaching dawn yet.

Not bothering to second-guess himself in this moment, Jensen stood and hesitantly slipped his arms under Pritchard's sleeping form. It was easy to lift the man up into his arms and hold him close but Jensen was worried about waking him up. There were a few seconds were his heart raced, Pritchard shifting in his arms and grunting at the movement, but then he settled again and Jensen let out a sigh of relief.

He carried Pritchard back to the bed and settled him down, moving around the bed to slip under the covers as well. Then he shuffled over until his chest moulded to the warm flesh of Pritchard's back, the man without a shirt even though their pants were still in place. Not entirely sure about boundaries but hoping Pritchard wouldn't mind, Jensen wrapped an arm around Frank's waist and twined their fingers together, holding their combined hands against Pritchard's stomach and pulling him closer.

Pritchard shifted around again for a few moments but then he relaxed. Jensen could feel his own body relaxing as well, his muscles unwinding and his mind calming to a tired lull. Maybe if he had been more awake Pritchard's proximity and their positioning would have made Jensen anxious; they hadn't sorted anything out yet. But right now this was exactly what Jensen needed to settle down. He brushed his lips curiously across the bare skin of Pritchard's shoulder and then tucked his face at the back of the man's neck, breathing in his scent as he drifted off into a much more relaxing and refreshing sleep.

#

The next time Jensen woke up it was at a slower pace, leaving him groggy as he unconsciously pulled Pritchard closer to him. Jensen let his eyes drift closed again as he spooned Pritchard from behind and was about to doze off again when he noticed that his partner's heartbeat had picked up. Jensen's hand was still loosely wrapped around Pritchard's own and resting against Pritchard's chest, making it easy to pick up on his racing heart. Once Jensen was aware of that, he woke up enough to also pick up on Pritchard's slightly faster breathing and warmed skin.

"You're awake?" he mumbled quietly, his hand twitching worriedly, not knowing if he should pull away.

"I'm awake," Pritchard answered him and clasped their hands together tighter, keeping Jensen from retreating. Jensen realized that Pritchard sounded very awake, meaning he must have been aware of this position for a while but had not pulled away. This thought had Jensen tightening his hold as much as he dared, pressing his face against the crook of Pritchard's neck. "Wondering how I got here..." Pritchard added with a light chuckle that swept through Jensen's body.

"You just want me to admit it, don't you?" Jensen whispered against Pritchard's skin.

"I do," Pritchard admitted, not turning around yet to face him.

"I woke up in the middle of the night with a nightmare," Jensen told him. "I walked out and found you barely fitting on the couch. You looked so uncomfortable and being close to you made it easier for me to relax, so I brought you to bed." As he spoke he slowly slipped the fingers of his free hand into Pritchard's hair, watching the black strands fan across the pillow.

"And then you proceeded to spoon me," Pritchard griped, though Jensen could feel the smaller man shiver when Jensen began stroking his fingers through Pritchard's hair.

"You didn't pull away when you woke up before me," Jensen pointed out, smiling privately to himself at the thought again.

"No," Pritchard agreed. "But it does make it rather difficult to figure out what's going on in your head."

Jensen remained silent, thinking over Pritchard's words. It was true; he wasn't being fair. He was making it difficult for Pritchard by acting like this without explaining his feelings or deciding on what sort of relationship he wanted with the cyber security expert. Jensen mulled this over, growing increasingly accepting of his feelings for Frank, but before he could say anything he was startled by the sound of a radio flicking on and the news filling the room.

Pritchard rushed out of Jensen's embrace immediately to flick off the radio, but Jensen had already caught the beginning of Eliza's broadcast from Pritchard's alarm clock. "It has been confirmed that Hugh Darrow's research facility near the Arctic Circle experienced severe malfunctions which caused the main structures to fail, allowing water to rush in quickly—"

Jensen sat up slowly as Pritchard looked back at him, dark hair spilling over his shoulders. Pritchard looked guilty and concerned, all rolled into one. "I'm sorry, Jensen..." he began, weathering his bottom lip.

"Turn it back on," Jensen demanded, voice ragged. When Pritchard just stared at him with wide eyes, Jensen forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed and reach for the radio, flicking it back on.

"—whereabouts are not confirmed yet but police have spoken to their secretaries and both William Taggart – leader of Humanity Front – and David Sarif – CEO of Sarif Industries – are reported to have been scheduled to visit Mister Darrow..." Jensen was aware of Pritchard slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him but neither of them said anything. "We do know for sure from a roster that there were two hundred and forty-eight staff members on site at the time of the accident..."

"We don't need to listen to this," Pritchard said, but weakly; he knew as well as Jensen did that it was necessary for them to keep track of this. After all, as head of security at Sarif Industries, it was only a matter of time before Jensen was approached. He had to be aware of what Eliza was offering to the media and decide for himself how much of the story he was going to tell. Jensen reminded himself that if he had died he wouldn't have a chance to share any information; now he had more choices ahead of him.

"You don't have to listen," Jensen looked over to Pritchard with a soft look, not wanting Frank to suffer by listening to this.

"I'm not going anywhere, Adam," Frank chided him, sitting a little closer on the bed so that their knees almost brushed.

Jensen watched him for a long moment, desire, uncertainty and guilt warring for attention in his mind. Not knowing what to say, he just nodded his thanks and turned back to the radio as Eliza continued her modified broadcast. "...the situation surrounding the future of Sarif Industries will be answered by Mister Sarif's lawyers, though we have been told that no rash decisions will be made until Sarif's location is confirmed. The police are seeking out Adam Jensen, head of security for Sarif Industries but have been unable to contact him. We have been able to speak to Mister Taggart's secretary though, who says that..."

"Shit," Jensen cursed, standing quickly. The longer the police were unable to talk to him, the more suspicious and persistent they would become. Pritchard seemed to understand this as well because he stood beside Jensen, motioning him back down to keep listening before disappearing. Jensen sat back down on the bed reluctantly until Pritchard returned a moment later with his phone, handing it over silently.

Jensen turned down the radio and called the police station, working through the menus until he got through. "Detroit Police Department, how many I direct your call?"

He watched as Pritchard walked back out of the bedroom and Jensen wasn't sure if he appreciated the privacy or missed the man's company. Nonetheless, he forced himself to focus. "My name is Adam Jensen, head of security for Sarif Industries," he said briskly. "I just heard the news and wanted to call immediately. I haven't been to my apartment and haven't had my phone on me."

"One moment, sir," the man told him.

There was a click and Jensen listened to a few minutes of classical music until someone else picked up the line. "Officer Blake," a woman said. "Glad to hear from you, Mister Jensen. We've been trying to contact you."

Jensen could hear the slight suspicion in her voice and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I haven't been home in a few days but I called as soon as I heard the news. I won't discuss anything over the phone but I'd like to come in to the precinct if that works."

His willingness to talk should have helped ease the tension across the phone line, but Officer Blake still sounded unimpressed. "It seems a little odd that you haven't been home right before your boss disappeared, and now you won't discuss anything over the phone."

"I don't appreciate your poorly-veiled accusation," Jensen said steadily. "Much of what I do for Sarif Industries is confidential and I do not trust common phone lines. Now I ask you, do you really think I would be calling and willingly agreeing to come to the precinct if I had something to hide?" The officer on the other end of the line was silent, likely taken aback by Jensen's boldness. "I will get breakfast and then come over directly, if that suits."

Officer Blake cleared her throat. "We'll be expecting you," was all she said before she hung up.

Jensen clicked off the phone and stood from the bed, walking out into the rest of the apartment. His movements were stiff, his muscles and joints sore, but he had to stretch and loosen up before he went to the police station unless he wanted to be asked even more questions. He set the phone down on the table and found Pritchard in the kitchen, frying enough eggs and toast for two. Pritchard looked up as Jensen approached and leaned against the counter beside him, watching the eggs fry. "I'm going to the police."

Pritchard looked him over critically. "You'll be able to hide your injuries, but you better hope they don't ask you do a physical," he huffed worriedly. Jensen watched as Pritchard reached up to pull two plates from the cupboard, the muscles across Pritchard's back stretching and flexing beautifully. He reached forward and brushed his fingers across Pritchard's back, causing the man to tense and then slowly relax. "You better not be planning to turn yourself in," Pritchard warned lowly as he pushed food onto the two plates.

"I'm not," Jensen assured, fingers still mapping bare skin. "If I told them I was there then they would eventually force everything out of me. The whole point of destroying the facility was to keep anyone from moulding the story. Telling the story myself would just make all those deaths a waste." Pritchard remained silent, the food on the plate but Pritchard's hands on the counter as he remained where he was, allowing Jensen's fingers to explore. "You're the only one I'd trust with the full story," he said seriously.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Pritchard offered quietly.

"Would you listen if I wanted to?" Jensen asked, stepping a little closer. Their bodies weren't touching but they were close enough that Jensen could feel Pritchard's warmth radiating off his skin.

He didn't complain when Pritchard leaned back so that their back and chest were pressed together. Jensen slid his fingers down and around to hold Pritchard's waist lightly. "I would."

Jensen's fingers tightened slightly on Pritchard's hip. "Now?"

"Anytime."

"I want to now," Jensen said, pressing a soft kiss to the crook where Pritchard's neck met his shoulder before stepping back. "Over breakfast?"

Pritchard turned to lean back against the counter, eyes appraising as he looked Jensen over. "That sounds reasonable. And we can always talk more when you get back."

"You want me to come back here?" Jensen asked softly. He would never call himself dumb but the idea that Pritchard wanted him close, desired him, still somewhat baffled to him. Although it pained him to think it, over the last month Jensen had become little more than a killing machine. Who could possibly love him the way he was now?

His thoughts were cut off when Pritchard covered the small space between them, hand sliding up into Jensen's hair and grabbing it, dragging him into a fast, heady kiss. They broke apart a moment later, Jensen's lips tingling from the contact. "Yes, I want you to come back," Pritchard told him in the most deadpan voice possible, tugging his hair in what Jensen assumed was a small punishment for his stupidity before Pritchard pulled away and handed him a plate. "Now sit down and eat your food."

Despite himself, Jensen felt himself smiling as he sat down at the table, Pritchard sitting beside him. Jensen couldn't even remember the last time he had sat down to a meal with someone else, and he had never been a domestic sort. But this was surprisingly enjoyable. The sun was just beginning to spill in through the windows, lighting up the hardwood floors and highlighting dancing dust motes in the air. Jensen found himself watching Pritchard as they ate silently for a few minutes, for the first time taking the time to notice the beauty of his lit up skin and eyes.

Once he had had a few bites of food he began trying to summarize the whole mess of a conspiracy he had uncovered over the last month. It was made easier when he realized how much Pritchard had heard while watching over him during his missions. The only parts of the story Jensen had to give long details about were when he was stuck on the cargo ship, in the detention centre, and everything that had happened after Jensen had talked to Darrow and Pritchard for the last time at Panchaea.

It went against Jensen's basic instincts to admit to anyone that he had killed someone, let alone a whole facility. But Pritchard was silent and supportive, not once interrupting or giving Jensen a horrified expression. Part way through Jensen realized that this wasn't new to Pritchard. Many of the missions Jensen completed with Pritchard as his remote partner included serious moral boundaries being crossed, life and death hanging in the balance. Although Pritchard had never promoted senseless killing and had always suggested more sneaky methods of getting around, both of them had had enough experience to recognize that death was sometimes the most viable option.

There wasn't much to be said when Jensen finally finished telling his story; it was a lot to admit and take in. It had taken him some time to give Pritchard the details and he knew the police were probably getting impatient. He didn't want to leave, didn't want to walk back out into the world and be forced to see what had changed and what had remained the same. But if he didn't go to the police, they would certainly come for him. So Jensen borrowed one of Pritchard's shirts to slip on – his own riddled with bullet holes, rips and blood – and washed up before pulling on his coat and heading for the door. He hesitated in the doorframe, wondering if he should say something, but he couldn't think of anything so he let the door close behind him and continued on silently.

The police station was a nightmare of a day for him, even though he had known what to expect. As soon as Jensen walked into the building he began a recording through his augmentations, feeding everything that was said back to Pritchard since the police would likely question him soon as well and their answers had to match up. Jensen knew how to lie and his augmentations were far superior to those that the police possessed, meaning there was no chance for him to get manipulated and give away information. But it was still gruelling having people ask him questions constantly throughout the day, many of them drawing up painful memories even though he refused to show his reactions.

It was difficult for Jensen to determine if they suspected him or were just reaming him because they had no other leads to pursue. He could tell that they were getting frustrated with him though; it was obvious. Although it actually made it easier for Jensen to skirt certain details, even if he had wanted to tell the truth he had to consider his confidentiality agreement with Sarif Industries. Just because Sarif was dead didn't mean Jensen wasn't bound to silence regarding many of the missions Jensen had undergone during the last month.

He was able to give some hinting details about locations that might direct the police and help the world find their own answers regarding the collapsed arctic facility, but Jensen offered up no specifics on what he had been doing in any of the locations he had traveled to in the last month. Jensen wasn't against the police or the rest of the world learning what he had discovered through his exploration. He just wanted to ensure that he did not add his own personal biases to the information by handing it all to them. He wanted everyone to find out for themselves and then determine what the best course of action would be.

Sometime in the late afternoon Jensen was finally released from questioning. He was told to stay in the city and remain accessible. Jensen had been forced to admit that he was staying with Pritchard, though he had been unwilling to answer any specific questions on their relationship and had promptly snubbed any prying questions. However, he did promise to pick up his phone on his walk back to Pritchard's so that they would be able to contact him if they needed anything else. By now Jensen had learned that to avoid suspicion it was usually best to act accommodating.

Jensen ended the recording as he left the precinct and he only got two blocks away from the police station before Pritchard's voice filled his ear again. "I feel exhausted just from watching that interrogation," he grumbled.

"Tell me about it," Jensen sighed, rubbing his temples before adjusting his path and heading for his own apartment. "But I think I covered everything well. They'll question others, but no one else will know. Sarif was keeping my work pretty under the radar."

"What about Malik?" Pritchard questioned quietly. "They'll probably question her since she flew you around. They'll want to confirm the locations you visited."

"I did Malik some favours," Jensen brushed over the details; Malik's secrets were her own. "Back in Hengsha. We can trust her."

"Good to know," Pritchard said. There was a pause between them and then Pritchard cleared his throat. "Are you coming back?"

"I'm stopping by my apartment first," Jensen explained. "And I was also thinking of stopping by Sarif Industries. Until they figure out the new management hierarchy I think I'm going to bank on the other six months of my sick leave I was ordered." Pritchard didn't respond and Jensen felt his lungs tighten nervously. "Then I'm coming back."

There was a tiny exhalation of breath that Pritchard probably hadn't meant for Jensen to hear, and then there was a smile in his voice. "I'll be here. Pritchard out."

Jensen forced his feet to continue their trek to his apartment even though he just wanted to return to Frank and sleep. He told himself that it would be a short stop at his apartment. It would be easy to pick up the things he needed and leave again; nothing would remind him of Sarif or the others to bring the memories back. It was Sarif Industries that would be the bigger challenge, though Jensen had learned by now how to suppress his emotions when it was necessary to remain focused.

He knew he had miscalculated as soon as he walked into his apartment and caught the sight of an unused glass sitting beside his bottle of scotch on the kitchen counter. Immediately the memory rushed back, stalling Jensen mid step in the doorway. He remembered coming back to his apartment and finding David Sarif already there, having boldly invited himself in. It had been right after Jensen found out that Sarif hadn't been entirely truthful with him and had felt his senses sharpen as he stepped into the apartment.

Jensen gave Sarif an opportunity to tell him the truth without prying, but he lied again and Jensen could only wonder how many more lies the man had told him over the years, how many lies Jensen had believed. He had pulled two glasses out of the cupboard for the scotch but Sarif failed him by handing off another lie and Jensen had never filled the second glass with scotch for his boss. Already he had begun to withdraw his companionship from the man, though at that time he had never considered the possibility that he might end David's life.

Jensen forced himself to step forward into the kitchen, brushing his fingers over the clean rim of the second glass. The scotch bottle was still on the counter and Jensen's used glass was still unwashed in the sink; he hadn't been home for long before he was forced to leave on another mission. He thought back to the last time Sarif was in his apartment. There had been distrust between them but never outright animosity. Sarif had made a lot of mistakes but had never possessed ill intent, and it was hard to blame Sarif fully when Jensen knew he himself had made just as many choices and mistakes in his life.

The crunch of shattering glass filled the room and Jensen looked down to find the glass broken into splinters in his hand. He tilted his hand slightly, letting the pieces of glass fall to the counter and lie still. He looked down at what remained of the glass until he caught his own augmented yellow-green eyes staring back at him with silent judgement. Then he strode out of the room in a rush, reminding himself to breathe.

But when he walked out into the living room he remembered where Sarif had sat and stood, how he had begged Jensen with such passion to help him. Jensen's memories were so strong that he could practically still see David, hear him as he entrusted Jensen with his hopes for the future; even though this hadn't been where Sarif died, Jensen felt like he was still here. Judging Jensen and asking why?

Why had Jensen killed all those people? Why had the decision been left to him? What was he going to do now?

Jensen turned away from the living room and stepped into his bedroom. He grabbed his phone off the bedside table and began playing his collection of messages while he packed some clothes and other items he would need. Jensen was glad that he still had a phone, knowing that only those at Sarif Industries with the proper clearance for Jensen's missions would be able to contact him through his infolink. It was nice to know that he could turn off the messages if he wanted to, disappear again and take a much needed break from the world. Abandon it even, maybe. He wouldn't be missed.

He got a small bag packed and pocketed his phone, not calling anyone back. All of the messages were from the police and he had already spoken with them. Jensen hesitated in his living room again, but only acknowledged his memories briefly before continuing on to the exit and heading out into the hallway. He realized that there was no benefit to wallowing. He had made his decision and David Sarif and the others were dead; no second-guessing would bring them back now. It was time for Jensen to accept what he had done and move on.

Walking around Sarif Industries was also difficult for Jensen to face but for a different reason. While his memories of Sarif talking to him in his apartment were more personal, being in the company office with the knowledge that he had killed the CEO was uncomfortable to say the least. It also left Jensen feeling oddly lost. As he stepped into his office to check his emails and go over all the accounts he felt as though he was simply going through the motions but was otherwise detached. And when he took the elevator up to the top floor to tell Sarif's secretary that he was going to continue his sick leave but was available via his phone, he felt like he lacked purpose.

There were not many people at Sarif Industries Jensen actually interacted with on a daily basis. The majority of his work meant he would either be at Sarif's side or halfway across the world on a mission with classified information he couldn't tell anyone when he got back. Most days Jensen had only come into the office and spoken with David Sarif and his secretary. So now, seeing Sarif's office dark, empty and unused through the glass doors was almost startling.

He bid farewell to the secretary and turned away, disappearing into the elevator again and allowing it to whisk him away. He wondered what his future with Sarif Industries would be now that David Sarif was dead at his hands. Jensen doubted he would be fired, though he didn't know if the new appointed management would want to keep him on for the same sort of work or not. A lot of what Jensen had done for Sarif was classified; he wasn't even sure some of the details would be in Jensen's file for the lawyers to look at.

But would Jensen want to come back and work here? How long would it take for him to work here before he eventually came to terms with the fact that he had killed his boss? And if Jensen didn't come back to work at Sarif Industries, what else would he do? He had been outfitted with military-grade augmentations that even made interacting with the general public a potential nightmare. Often times his sensory augmentations would pick up on details he didn't want to know, and others were scared or hateful at the mere sight of him. Jensen had nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do.

His walking pace slowed as he entered Pritchard's apartment building and dragged his feet up the stairs. By the time he punched in the key code Pritchard had sent to him, Jensen was leaning against the doorframe. He felt like his strength and motivation had been sapped; he had always drawn his strength from his purpose and goals. Now there was nothing pushing him, nothing to aim for.

The door slid open and Jensen stumbled inside. He could hear the shower running and Jensen stepped into the living room, setting his bag down and collapsing into the same armchair he had used the night before when Pritchard patched him up. Already Jensen could feel the superficial wounds across his body beginning to heal, though he knew the more serious injuries would take more time. He leaned his head back against the chair and let his eyes drift closed, breathing in and out slowly as he listened to the shower run.

He thought briefly of joining Pritchard in the shower but brushed the idea aside. His thoughts were continuing to spiral downward as the sun slipped away behind him, shrouding him in lengthening shadows. He knew he was poisoning himself with his thoughts but he couldn't seem to pull back; he lacked the motivation to do so. It was impossible to forget his many new augmentations and it kept reminding him that he had been built for one purpose, which was now gone. It made him hate his own body and question how anyone else could possibly find the horrible mesh of flesh and metal appealing.

By the time the shower turned off and Jensen heard Pritchard walking around in the bedroom getting dressed, Jensen was half tempted to get up and leave. He didn't want Frank's pity. But before he had mustered up enough energy to stand up from the comfortable armchair, Pritchard stepped out into the living room. "Adam, you're back," he said with a bit of surprise, not having heard Jensen enter the apartment. Pritchard stepped closer and then hesitated. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" Jensen asked blandly, not yet opening his eyes.

Pritchard scoffed and Jensen listened closely as the other man stepped closer and sat down on the coffee table directly in front of him. "I've been your partner for years, Adam. Just because you didn't have augmentations before didn't mean I wasn't watching your vitals to make sure you were safe on a mission," Pritchard reminded him. "By now I know you well enough to notice when something is wrong."

Jensen blinked his eyes open and looked Pritchard over. He was dressed in a comfortable set of clothes, his wet hair tied back messily. Jensen couldn't decide if he liked or disliked that Pritchard could read him so well – it made things easier in a way but he wasn't used to others taking a strong interest in his business or thoughts. He knew that there was no point in lying though; Pritchard already knew something was wrong even if he didn't know the details, and maybe Jensen would even feel better once he got his thoughts off his chest. "I've been thinking."

"Oh dear, that is problematic," Pritchard teased.

Jensen sent him a sharp look and Pritchard just raised an eyebrow. Regardless of his dark mood, Jensen felt his lips twitching upward. He liked knowing that Frank was there for him, but wasn't going to go easy on him either; it wouldn't have felt right if their snippy banter and competitiveness faded away. Feeling a little more determined, Jensen took a breath to speak. "I went back to my apartment and the office to let them know I was going back on sick leave. All of it made me think about Sarif, and what the future holds."

"I've found it's better to enjoy the present rather than focus on the past or the future," Pritchard said seriously, moving a bit closer until their knees brushed.

Jensen took another deep breath before he met Pritchard's dark blue eyes. "I'm a machine – a weapon made for a purpose I hate, by a man I'm responsible for killing."

"You made a choice, Adam," Pritchard insisted strongly, words not up for debate. "One you made selflessly at the risk of your own life and others for the greater good. But you have to remember that Sarif and the others made a choice as well. Eliza gave you this chance and luckily Malik and I were there. Don't throw your life away."

"How do I go on, Frank?" Jensen asked softly. He knew Pritchard was right, that he couldn't waste his life after taking away the lives of others. But he still felt lost and out of place. "I have no purpose."

"You'll find a new purpose. And this time you'll get to choose it for yourself," Pritchard said, reaching forward to rest a hand on Jensen's knee. For the first time, with Pritchard's words, the thought of the future left Jensen feeling...liberated.

Still, Jensen's gaze drifted down to take in Pritchard's hand resting on his knee, metal below fabric. Jensen might be able to find a new purpose in the world, but this would always be his body now. Never again would he be able to touch the world with more than the metal fingers he had been fitted with. He would never be able to warm Frank with his hands. "How could you want the touch of metal against your skin? How could you trust my strength?" he heard himself asking quietly in the room.

"Because it's you," Pritchard said immediately. "Because I trust you."

"But my body—"

"—Is only one part of who you are," Pritchard cut him off. "You are still the man I..." Pritchard trailed off, fingers twitching against Jensen's knee. "I cared for you before the change, and I care for you now," he said strongly. "Your appearance has changed but you are still the same man and I have lost no interest."

Jensen wet his lips and noticed Pritchard tracking the movement. "Do you like me more now?" Jensen asked curiously. He knew that some people were particularly attracted to augmented individuals. He wasn't against it, but he wondered if that was why Pritchard still maintained his interest.

Pritchard rolled his eyes but answered seriously. "I don't like you more with the augmentations; I've just accepted them as part of who you are. I would be with you with or without the augmentations," he said and Jensen noticed the slight blush across Pritchard's cheekbones in the growing darkness. "But I'll admit I do miss one thing terribly that I wish they hadn't changed."

"What might that be?" Jensen lifted Pritchard's chin, looking him over.

While one of his hands remained on Jensen's knee for balance, Pritchard raised his other hand to cup Jensen's cheek. "I miss your eyes," Pritchard murmured. Jensen could feel Pritchard's thumb sweeping over his cheekbone, skirting so close to his eye that his finger tickled the under lashes of his eye. He had barely remembered before Pritchard mentioned it, but now Jensen recalled that his eyes had been a light blue-gray before the augmentations.

With Pritchard already leaning so close, all it took was for Jensen to raise a hand and cup the back of Pritchard's neck to drag him forward into a kiss. They both moaned, chests vibrating when pressed together as Pritchard took the hint and carefully climbed into Jensen's lap. Their kiss had to pause for a moment as Pritchard got situated, doing his best not to jostle Jensen's still-recovering body, but then Pritchard leaned down into the kiss and it began anew. Jensen kept one hand on the back of Pritchard's neck while he splayed his other hand across Pritchard's back. At the same time Pritchard was framing Jensen's face with his hands, holding them close as their lips locked slowly but certainly.

As they kissed Jensen swept his fingers up and down Frank's back, causing Frank to arch closer to him and deepen the kiss. It felt so good to have Frank's warm body against him, their lips moving together with increasing confidence and familiarity. It had been a long time since Jensen had been with anyone and the knowledge that it was Frank above him – that the normally snarky cyber security chief was actually willing to show such interest and affection for him – made Jensen finally acknowledge how badly he had wanted this.

He pulled away slightly so that they could both drag air into their lungs, both of them panting quietly in the silence of the room. Jensen could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the flush across his skin, which was just made hotter by Frank's own heat against him. "Frank," Jensen said as he purposefully tugged at the hem of Frank's loose shirt, sliding his hand up and across the burning skin of Frank's back. "I want you."

Frank gave a breathless laugh and sat back on Jensen's thighs as he swept a few stray strands of hair from his face. "I think I figured that out, Adam," he smirked. "And I think it's pretty clear I'm interested as well."

"No..." Jensen paused, sliding his hand up from the back of Frank's neck into his hair, tugging out the hair tie and letting the drying black hair fall free. Frank was watching him with furrowed eyebrows, giving him his full attention even as his body shivered while Jensen began slipping his fingers through the now-loose hair. "I want you for more than just tonight."

Frank leaned into the touches but his face was serious. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I have every intention of keeping this promise," Jensen assured, burying his fingers deeper in Frank's hair to pull him closer for another short brush of lips. "You have been my partner for years in the field, Frank. You've helped me and kept me safe," Jensen said, trying to find the right words to express his feelings. "I know this is different than work and that it's been a while for me. I've been obsessed with work for a long time. But when I lost contact with you on that cargo ship... and when I finally heard your voice again, I felt much more than simple relief."

"You can't imagine how worried I was when I lost your location signal," Frank sighed. Jensen thought their encounter might be cooling off when Frank leaned forward and rested his head on Jensen's shoulder. But then he grunted and moaned when he felt Frank nip and then suck a mark onto his neck forcefully. Jensen had to remember not to hold Frank too tightly as he was given a rather noticeable hickey on his neck. Even when Frank finished and pulled away slightly Jensen found himself unable to move his fingers from Frank's skin, his body burning for more. "Will you be with me?"

"If you'll have me," Jensen said, voice ragged.

"I'll have you," Frank said and then pressed their lips together again.

#

Hours later they ended up in bed, sated and content. Jensen curled his body up close to Frank and pulled him closer with an arm, his eyes drifting closed again as he felt Frank lean against him. They relaxed together for a long time, both of them close to dozing as their breathing slowly calmed. At some point Frank wrapped his arms around Jensen tightly, his head resting against Jensen's chest. "Any chance you can avoid life-threatening situations for a while?" Frank requested, sounding like he was trying to joke but his protective concern evident in his voice.

Jensen held him close in his arms, their bodies sharing heat. "I have no intention of leaving this apartment for a while," Jensen admitted. "Or you... ever," he added, voice more hesitant this time. His nerves were soothed by Frank's tender kiss, both of them smiling into it. "As for continuing my work with Sarif Industries... I don't think that's what I want to do with the rest of my life, but I don't know yet."

"One day at a time," Frank reassured him, pressing closer. "The end of the world is behind us."

Jensen could hear Frank's voice slowing, indicating that he was on the verge of dozing off, and could feel his own mind shutting down. So he caught Frank's lips, Frank barely responding now as he drifted off, and then relaxed against the sheets and Frank's warm body. As Frank's breath evened out, brushing across Jensen's neck and chest, Jensen pressed one final kiss to Frank's forehead and let his own eyes drift closed.

A/N: NSFW 4k ending of this story can be found here: archiveofourown(dot-org)/works/546894

You can also find a link to NSFW fanart for this story at the end of the story posted on AO3, found at the link above.

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