Leo releases an incredulous laugh. It sounds awful, like he's dragging a noise out from somewhere scrubbed raw and bleeding, like it's a rescue that's come too late.
"Do shit that isn’t the mission." He chews through the words, teeth gnashing with impending threat. "That's what you call attempting to avoid the mass murder of people we know nothing about?"
"Yes!" I exclaim in frustration, my voice rising without my permission. "Why is this so complicated for you? We're not supposed to be saving the world or people in general; we're meant to be savingone man, and what I did got us one step closer to doing that."
"You were the one who got pissed at me just the other day for making it all about the mission when I asked you what your issue was with Bullet," Leo argues, missing the point entirely. "You can't turn around now and say my problem is that I don't care about it enough." He sounds just as exhausted by this argument as I feel, which means we should probably table it for another time, when things aren't so fresh.
But I've never been any good at making sensible choices when it comes to Leo. If I were, I would have refused to work with him from the moment I realised he was so softhearted. I certainly wouldn't have fucked him. I wouldn't have allowed us to form a bond capable of hurting either one of us if damaged.
"I'm not saying you don't care enough," I explain, scraping up the last dredges of my typically non-existent patience. "I'm saying you care too much about the consequences of actions that are well within the mission parameters."
This time when I take a step towards Leo, he very purposefully backs away and gives me the look I've been dreading, the one that says he's seeing what everyone else seems to all the time, the mix of outright fear and revulsion at what I'm capable of.
His automatic reaction triggers something scalding hot and cruel inside me, the need to cause pain to match my own. I sneer at Leo, top lip curling as scorn rips free from mouth. "But then I can't be surprised by that, can I? You spend your entire life trying to save everyone, all because of the one person who you've never been able to save from herself."
My words seem to hang between us for a brief span of time, like they need to be absorbed into the atmosphere and echoed back before Leo can believe he heard them correctly.
His response is fired off like a warning shot, the vocalised equivalent of a bullet whizzing past my ear. "Fuck you, Jack."
I should stop now, put the shovel down and refuse to dig any deeper, but I can't seem to stop myself from throwing grenades into the middle of this argument. "Nah," I scoff at him. "Been there, done that, not interested in fucking someone who lies to themself about basic shit. Like the fact that your whole life is wrapped up in being an agent for FISA. Like how you've made it so nothing else is allowed to matter."
Leo flinches away from my conclusions, chin cutting to the side as he avoids looking directly at me. "You don't know what you're talking about." His jaw locks up, as if he's trying to hold in something worse.
For all the ways Leo is brave when it comes to facing the dangers presented by other people, he's shockingly terrible at confronting all the ways he's a danger to himself.
"You think I haven't been paying attention?" I demand, my anger building and spreading, rapid as a forest fire. "All your friends are agency. Your aunt is the fucking buttons master. You keep getting into relationships with bad people who won't treat you well, because you want them to fail."
Then because I've already thrown myself into the abyss like I'm ready to be swallowed whole by it, I fire off a shot meant to extinguish any remnant of light that exists between us. "It's why you've suddenly decided you wantme: because you know it'll only end in disaster."
My bullet hits centre mass, the impact shuddering through Leo like a small earthquake. His eyes are wide and wet as he stares at me in disbelief.
I make another scornful sound in the back of my throat, driving the point home with a sharp implement stabbed into the fresh wound I made in Leo's chest. "Admit it. I'm just another excuse not to live your life for real."
Leo doesn't take nearly as long to respond this time.
"Oh, right, okay," he growls back at me, voice so hard it feels like he's chewing on rocks and spitting out the pieces. "And you think I don't know the only reason you want me is because of Dan?"
What the fuck does that mean?
I inhale sharply, confused by the acidic feeling that begins fizzing in my stomach at the mention of my brother in this context.
Wary of Leo's meaning and afraid of how out of control my emotions have become, fury and anguish ravaging my insides like rats, I give him a warning I can only hope he takes seriously. "Watch your step, Snow."
Leo snatches up my warning and breaks it over his knee with a definitive crack. "LikehellI will," he barks, stalking forward and planting himself right in front of me, his earlier need for distance forgotten. "Your brother was everything to you. He was the one person who cared about you. He was your partner." The ice in Leo's eyes melts ever so slightly at this, his voice breaking a little.
It takes him a minute to gather his rage back up and bitch-slap me with it. "Then he died, and, like, what? Aweekafterward you met me. And barely three months after that, I became your partner." His voice has lowered in both volume and tone, becoming a sad rumble as he seems to remember exactly who and what he's talking about. Who he's using as a weapon against me. He's almost soft when he goes on. "It doesn't take a psychologist to work out you've transferred some of your feelings about Dan onto me. It's why you want to protect me so much: because you couldn't protect him."
It's worse than if he had yelled it in my face. It's worse than if he had told me I was a monster who deserves termination for all the things I've done. It's worse than him looking at me like I'm a rabid dog who needs to be put down for the good of everyone around me, formy owngood.
"Leo, stop." I can barely get his name out with how dry my mouth feels. It's as if I've been gurgling mouthfuls of nails and sand.
Behind me, I hear the sound of glass cracking. There are three windows in the kitchen.
Leo looks devastated by his comprehension. I don't know how long he's been thinking this. How long he's been thinking that all I see when I look at him is some fucked-up replacement for Dan.
"Telling yourself you care about me," Leo murmurs, resigning himself to some miserable truth, "is just another way of avoiding grieving for your brother."
Hiding is for real people.
