Codename: Kryptonite

Chapter Nine

Quickly, she took a step back. Out of his reach. With a nonchalant shrug and a smirk lifting the left corner of her mouth, she told him, "I'm not much on sharing, Sir."

The almost smile and the teasing tone in her voice would've left anyone else with the impression that she was just joking, but Jon was really good at reading people. The information he sought was in her eyes. They were cold with clouds hiding the soul behind them. He decided a little joking and some teasing might get him a few crumbs of information.

He called up the little boy grin that made the fans putty in his hands. "Are we close in the future? Friends, I mean?" He took off his suit jacket and casually tossed it over the back of a nearby chair and immediately began to loosen his tie.

She smiled at him then. A real smile. It lit up her whole face and twin dimples appeared in her cheeks. "Yeah. Closer than we should be."

The answer surprised him. Surely she didn't mean...

"How close?"

That almost sounded like jealousy in his voice as his tie joined his jacket. Shaking her head, she gave him the slightest disapproving grin. Boys would be boys. "Not as close as you're thinking."

He didn't even try to look contrite. "Can't blame a guy for trying." Negligently, he shrugged one shoulder then turned to head back toward the bar. He really needed that drink now.

Something about his silence made her want to explain. "But you began our working relationship by teasing me about something and it's just been that way ever since. We're friends. You even caused a big fuss and security nightmare just to attend my dog's 'funeral' last month." She paused, dropping her head and shaking it slightly. "Well, it was last month to me."

"You had a funeral for your dog?" There was genuine surprise in his voice as he came back around the bar with two full glasses of wine.

"Don't be so shocked. You told me you had one for Copper," she defended.

Jon didn't even blink at the use of his dog's name. Any fan knew Copper's name. It was the laughter in her voice as she pointed a finger at him in accusation while she defended herself that told him volumes. She hadn't lied about their relationship in the future. She was comfortable enough with him to tease and trade barbs. However, it was bothering him that she talked about things that were important to him in the past tense.

He had crossed the room, stopping when he reached her. Silently, he offered her one of the wine glasses. "I wish you'd quit referring to people and things that are important to me in the past tense."

She shook her head at the offer of wine. "I'm on duty. Past tense, present tense, it's all a blur to me right now, Sir. Sorry. Could you be more specific?"

Casually, he walked over to a counter that ran between the big open air kitchen and the family/game room they were in, sitting her wine glass down. "Copper," he started counting off her offenses on the fingers of one hand while he braced the other elbow on the counter, "Arnold. But, most importantly, Richie. He's still alive." He paused until her light green eyes met his. "And, I guess now is as good a time as any to say 'thank you' for that."

She frowned at him, really hoping he didn't mean what she thought he meant. Her voice was cold and flat when she said, "Excuse me?"

He noticed the deferential 'sir' was missing from that question. "The email you sent today, I'm sure it saved his life. That plane he was supposed to be on crashed; he could've been killed."

Her whole body stiffened and a muscle began to tick in her cheek as her jaw clenched. The green in her eyes lightened to a pale, icy gray just before she grabbed him by the shirt and shook him. Hard. "You lyin' son-of-a-bitch!" She shook him again to emphasize her point. "You sat there, looked me in the eye, hell, you even smiled at me while you fuckin' lied through your teeth!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he ordered softly, sitting his own wine glass down beside hers on the counter. His shirt was still clutched tightly in her small but strong hands. Gently, he wrapped his hands around the seemingly delicate bones of her wrists. She was stronger than she looked, and she was not quite ready to relinquish her hold on his shirt, but he forced the issue. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

He sounded quite indignant. Maybe it was that righteous indignation that made her realize what she was doing. She shook her head and looked up at the ceiling. "You lied to me. It was explained to you that saving your friend could change history, alter the time line. You agreed, then turned around and gave me information under the guise of helping me gain your trust here. Information that just altered my future. The future I came here to protect!"

Jon pointed one long slightly crooked finger at her. His own glare was so icy it chilled her to the marrow. "First, let me remind you that I haven't lied to you...Yet. And secondly, I would never have agreed to just let Richie die. He's my brother, not by blood - by choice! I can assure you that I would gladly trade my life for his if it was demanded of me, and I know that he'd do the same."

There was a defiant tilt to that chin. She'd seen that before. Her mind flashed back to the discussion she'd had with the older Jon. This younger version was right. The president had never 'agreed' not to save his friend. He'd merely nodded at her refusal to help him save his friend, then set out to do it on his own.

While Gabriella's mind was whirling, Jon's was doing a little dancing of its own. So. The saving of Richie had been unintentional on her part. In fact, his older self had tricked her into doing it.

This shined a whole new light on things. He realized that a lot of his initial trust in this woman had been based on the fact that he'd thought she'd saved his friend's life. Now, he wasn't so sure if he even wanted her standing in his home.

If her voice had been cold and flat earlier, his was glacial and hard as diamonds. "Get out."