Codename: Kryptonite

Chapter Nineteen

Agent Mission Log Entry:

I'm risking a reprimand from some future superior by putting this in my report, but I just have to bitch to someone and this slightly sloppy composition notebook seems to fit the bill.

POTUS pisses me off...NO END!

I've been known to get aggravated with him occasionally in my time, but nothing like this version. Somehow, this past version of POTUS manages to get on my last nerve without actually trying. Then, I become quite insubordinate - bordering on homicidal rage. Well, okay...maybe not that bad, but I HAVE wanted to kick his ass and take him down a peg or two.

But, it REALLY pisses me off when he's right.

Gabriella was still in the hallway when the two men came out of the office laughing and joking like this was any other morning and an assassin wasn't after one of them.

"Sir," she began, but quickly corrected herself, "Jon, could I speak with you in private, please?" There was only the slightest pause before that last word, then her voice was drenched in sweet sarcasm when the last word fell from her slightly smiling lips.

Women were such a big part of his life, Jon had no trouble recognizing the emotion behind her voice. He looked at Richie, rolling his eyes at Gabby - making Richie chuckle. "There's coffee in the kitchen, Rich," he said, smiling, "and if you haven't eaten, get Janet to make ya something. I'll be with you in a few."

Richie nodded and started down the hall. He tossed back over his shoulder, "Even if your ass is in a sling?" He didn't expect an answer and didn't get one.

Without another word, Jon followed Gabby into his office, even closing the door behind them. He fought back a smile. Usually, when this room was used for an ass chewing, he was the one doing the chewing. He found her arrogance attractive - yeah, he was one sick puppy.

Gabriella had stomped across the room, only to spin around to face him once the door clicked closed. "Do you even understand the concept 'top secret'?" she demanded.

With a smirk, he shook his head. She honestly didn't know anything about him. Now, he told her so. "If you knew me at all, you wouldn't have to ask that question." She scoffed, and he went on, "I'm one of the most secretive people you will ever meet, but I've never had to keep a secret from that man - never will. Because better than 'Top Secret'," he made air quotes around the words, "Rich and I understand the concept of 'to the grave'." She opened her mouth, probably to argue with him, but he held up a hand to stop her words. "I'm through explaining myself to you. You've already told me that in your future Richie's not around, so it's understandable that you don't realize just how close we are. But, I will not justify anything to you. I told him what's going on - it's done. Get over it."

She was so mad, she actually sputtered. "Get over it?" she finally managed to get out. "I'm here to protect you, but you'll be guaranteeing that this is a suicide mission for me if you go around telling everyone why I'm here." She waved her left hand in the air before dropping it to her side so hard it made a slapping noise when it hit her thigh. "Fuck, why don't you call the papers? I'll probably end up locked in some dark corner of Area 51, while they try to figure out how I got here. And you won't even care - until I'm not here to stop that bullet with YOUR name on it."

"I would care," he argued, but she didn't hear him. Nope, she was on a tangent and building up steam.

Jon just let her rant while he enjoyed the view. For probably the thousandth time since he met her the night before, he wondered about his future self and how he coped with working day in and day out with this dynamic, sexy woman. He even let his mind wander to the topic of Richie's death. He couldn't begin to comprehend what it would be like to lose his friend, but he supposed like all amputees he would've had to figure out a way to cope.

Wait. What had she just said? Something about things being completely fucked up.

"I should be having to pry you out of the bottle you crawled into when you 'lost your right arm'," she made air quotes around the phrase he had used to describe the loss of his friend. "But, no! That's not exactly what's happening now is it?"

A bottle? "What the fuck are you talking about?" he demanded.

For a split second, she frowned at him in confusion, as if she was surprised by him butting into the conversation she'd been having with herself, but she picked up her train of thought again quickly. "The one time you were willing to talk about this subject, you told me that when Richie died you crawled into a bottle and didn't come out for days, not until David pried you out of it for the funeral."

He wanted to deny her words. Would he be that weak and selfish? He liked to think he was stronger than that, but losing Richie just might make him go off the deep end for a few days.

"None of this is happening the way it's supposed to," she announced, glaring at him. "And, it's all your fault."

He was getting really tired of being blamed for all the wrongs in her world. His face darkened to a scowl. "I'm getting sick and fucking tired of being your fucking fall guy," he told her. "And that fucking song is starting to sound too much like whining."

She seriously resented that! Borrowing one of her POTUS's favorite insults for David, she growled, "You sorry waste of a good fuck," she pointed at him with one long finger, almost wishing it was her Sig. "I do NOT whine."

"It sure sounded like you were, and as your future boss - I'm ordering you to knock that shit off."

"We don't know that you're even still gonna be my boss. You might not become President now!"

Fuck. She really had a way of getting on his last nerve. "You're still here aren't you?"