This is the first in a series of fics exploring the relationship between Claude and Bennet and their work at the 'Company.'

Title: Partners (1/3)
Series: Lies to Live By
Characters/Pairing: Claude/Bennet, mentions of Bennet/Sandra
Rating: R (for no chances taken)
Warnings: non-graphic slash and strong language, Spoilers for 1x17 'Company Man'
Summary: On their first long-term assignment Claude and Bennet have to deal with the company's head-games in addition to the more 'conventional' issues of working in a secret organization that studies people who don't exist.

Disclaimer: 'Heroes' and its characters and settings belong to Tim Kring and the folks at NBC.

Many thanks to superherogrlcat for the wonderful beta and fantasticpants for the awesome support .

"if a man were to become invisible he will steal left and right, he would enter every house, he would rape women and kill men and open up prisons. In fact he would become like a god among humankind" (from The Republic)

sss

Claude Raines' invisible man had been a scientist who discovered invisibility only to go insane and start murdering people in the countryside.

As an invisible man with a healthy interest in the sciences (he'd studied both genetics and psychology once) and a rather grey definition of murder he figured the name fit as well as any, though the few who caught the reference never seemed to add 'actor' to the list of attached characteristics. In some ways it was more a part of who he was than the name his parents had given him; people call you something for long enough and you start to believe that that's who you are. Four years at the 'company' and he'd generated a whole new lifetime. It wasn't real (except perhaps to Bennet, who had never seen his partner strapped to one of those operating tables and possibly believed every lie his superiors spoon fed him), but they all called him by the pseudonym he'd jokingly offered on that first day when he'd woken to the sight of two men equipped with night vision goggles leaning over his bed.

It rolled off their tongues so easily that he'd begun to forget.

He stopped turning when anyone called his true name. He lost the reasons he'd ever left home, the decisions that had led him to the back lanes and quiet houses of his 'assignments' buried under the lies he lived day after day and on into the night.

Lies that were becoming perilously close to truths.

The company defined people by their abilities. Categorized them. Studied them. Even the full blooded home grown humans weren't immune no matter how safe they felt, because this was an institution that was interested in the way things worked. The ability to label something was the ability to control it and nothing was safe when mortals got inquisitive.

The definition of 'test subject' excluded no one and sometimes Claude wasn't sure who had it worse- the people who were vivisected for their 'power' or the ones who never felt the knife that split their lives down the middle and didn't notice the tweezers that tugged their psyche to bits.

And then he'd remember he was getting both, one agonizing assignment at a time. Physical, biological examinations every month that left him feeling like he'd been run repeatedly over a cheese grater and deceptively simple situations that yanked him through the taffy-puller of psychoanalysis.

Like this one.

An invisible man might steal or kill without concern for the consequences but an invisible company- now that was a force to fear. If a man could become a god, a company could re-shape the universe and that's exactly what this one wanted to do.

Starting with their own employees.

Gods, Bennet would never forgive them if he knew. Claude might never forgive himself, but it was his job and in an occupation like his you sat still and waited for the gears to grind over you and kill you slowly for the supposed 'greater good' or you got yourself killed quickly and possibly messily. And then you were no help to anyone.

Still, drawing a man so obviously in love with his wife into an affair with his office partner had to be up there with infanticide on Claude's personal list of sins, and some days he hated every word that came out of his mouth.

Those were the days when he didn't know where the lie ended and the truth began.

sss

Their dynamic had been strange from the start. Bennet's position as regional manager of 'Primatech' meant that his life was paper, and as far as anyone else was concerned that meant it was Claude's life too. He was technically the more experienced partner, the one with authority behind him and that added mystery of being 'special,' but to all outward appearances he was working under the rookie. A rookie who had a good three years on him.Things spiraled into complicated knots from there, perfect for the company's fascination with inter-'species' relations and hell for Claude's headaches.

Two months into the job they were sent on a week-long assignment that dragged to two weeks, three weeks, a month, a month and a half.

And he knew the brief they'd been given was purposefully false. He knew the company was testing this fresh new partnership to see just how much could be wrung out of it.

They'd produced buckets, right on cue. Bennet followed orders even when he didn't hear them and there were nights when Claude lay awake staring at cracked hotel ceilings, almost physically sick because he could see the strings as they were pulled and still he jumped.

There was another part of his mind, the part that had him joining up in the first place, that had to marvel at the idea. Spend enough time in the presence of another person and things start to change- and what better way to observe those changes than to play with people whose lives you already held? Who, if they could be asked without spoiling the whole scenario, would probably enthusiastically agree to it?

It would've been brilliant if he hadn't been stuck in the middle of it, his partner's hand heavy on his shoulder and a supposedly innocent question still ringing in his ears.

"There's a liquor store down the street. Do you want anything?"

It was company guidelines never to answer a question directly. They were famous for it, or would have been if anyone had known they existed.

"When was the last time you called your wife Bennet?"

The hand slipped away and Claude felt constriction leave his lungs.

"Monday, after we found the precog. You were there."

"That was a thirty second message saying we'd be here another week. Call her again."

He could just imagine the man's face at this moment- probably wearing that half puzzled, half affronted look he was so good at. Just do it you stubborn git.

"There's no need-"

"She's your wife Jack, you don't need a reason t' call her." Remember where your loyalties lie.

The tense silence was smothering and once his partner finally moved to the other side of the room Claude poured himself another glass of orange juice and tried to pretend he'd mixed it with vodka. Alcohol really was the last thing they needed right now. Almost two months of spending nearly every moment of every day together and they needed control or Claude didn't know what would happen.

He didn't want to find out.

Quiet murmurs rose from the far corner of the room and he deliberately blocked them from his mind, focusing all his concentration on the way the dim hotel lighting cast shadows of his glass onto the counter of their tiny kitchenette.

Anything to stop himself from wondering what they were talking about, from turning 'round to catch Jack Bennet with that wistful, undeniably happy tilt to his lips and shine to his eyes.

If he did he really would be getting drunk tonight. Invisibly, on the other side of town. Alone. He ran a shaky hand through his hair irritably.

Hell, I may be doing that anyway.

The soft click of the hotel phone in its cradle nearly made him jump out of his skin and words left his lips on automatic, before his brain could catch up with them.

"So how is she then?"

The heavy sigh he received in response was nearly enough to let him relax- maybe Bennet would ignore him for the rest of the evening and this thorny tangle in their path could be pushed aside.

No such luck. Damn.

"She's fine. She's got all the boxes unpacked and started decorating yesterday."

Claude snorted. Wasn't that just like the company? Move a man and his new wife halfway across the country to a new home and then yank him away so that soon he's spent more time in crummy hotels on the job with his partner than he has in his house with his wife.

"Are you feeling alright?" Bennet's voice was cautious, a tone he hadn't heard since that first week when the man kept forgetting that just because he couldn't see him didn't mean that Claude wasn't there.

"Why d'you ask?" That was not an invitation to talk about 'feelings' mate.

"Well, you've been staring at that glass of orange juice in a manner better reserved for brandy and you only answer questions with questions when you're stressed."

Don't you dare start tryin' to analyze me rookie. You don't have the experience.

Who'm I kidding? Neither of us do.

"I'm tryin' t' stop myself from taking you up on that offer." He focused his attention back on the orange-ish liquid.

Bennet was suddenly right behind him and Claude could feel him, like his entire being was tuned into the man's body heat and Lord, this is going to be harder than I thought.

He turned, clutching the glass tightly with the flitting thought that if all else failed he could spill it to break the moment. He used to watch girls do that when they didn't want to talk to his friends, just four years (a lifetime) ago.

His partner stared with condescending eyes under raised brows and Claude had the momentary urge to throw the drink in his face.

"There's nothing wrong with a few drinks with a friend after a hard week Claude."

It was that tone he always used when he was trying to be convincing, the words articulated just a little too carefully, and Claude couldn't help a bark of laughter.

"We're not 'friends' mate. We're partners. Let's try t' keep it at that, alrigh'?"

He turned away and barely caught a glimpse of something that could have been disappointment or could've been anger in that too-familiar face. He didn't plan to stick around and find out which.

"I'm goin' out."

Claude grabbed his coat and strode into the muted hallway. I need to get out of here. I need to be alone. I need to do something.

He was invisible before the door clicked into place behind him.

sss

So running wasn't the most mature of actions, he could admit it. Nor were invisibly haunting shops and messing with the security guards or making things vanish and watching how long it took people to notice that their valuables had gone missing, but that didn't stop him from doing it anyway.

Why were their assignments always in such boring little towns? He'd liked working out of New York. There was more challenge, more excitement, more possibility, and Jefferson had been amazing to work with, taking invisibility in stride and indulging in the sort of banter that only a fellow foreigner to this strange nation could. Then the guy got himself killed by a bloody six year old with venom in his saliva glands and Claude was caught without a partner and stationed indefinitely in Odessa, running projects in tiny towns in Kansas and Oklahoma.

It was so much easier to be invisible in a city. He didn't even have to be transparent.

Liquor store, gas station, grocery, and a McDonald's. Oh, the exciting life of a secret agent.

He bought a pack of cigarettes and leaned against the back of a souvenir shop to watch the stars emerge. The Zippo he'd nicked at the start of this amazing cock-up of a job was heavier than he was used to but it felt solid in his hand. An anchor of sorts.

"I didn't know you smoked." Claude fumbled the lighter and watched it thump into the dirt with a puff of powdery dust. So much for anchors.

I'm the one that's supposed to be the master of stealth.

He glanced at the sky, trying to regain the casual mood he'd been generating and knowing he'd failed utterly.

"You don't know a lot of things, but I don't, very often. They taste bloody awful but for about thirty seconds I can forget I have any problems." Now take the hint and leave me alone you persistent bastard.

Bennet moved closer, settling beside him so that there were only a few inches of whitewashed wall between their shoulders. Claude kept his eyes firmly on the stars, doggedly ignoring the current that seemed to be rushing up and down his whole right side. There were a few stray clouds near the horizon.

"I'm sorry if I've said something to offend you. I know this assignment isn't easy for either of us and-"

Gods, he's going to get all sentimental now.

"Just stop, alrigh'? You haven't done anything wrong so stop worryin' so much."

The other man lapsed into silence and Claude tugged distractedly at the fraying cuffs of his jacket.

"I don't even know what we're doin' here anymore." He mumbled, fighting the urge to make himself transparent as the stars stared down at him, judging. He already knew he was guilty.

"We're here because there's been a series of strange occurrences at the elementary school. Our assignment is to observe, identify abnormalities, and recor-"

"Yes, alrigh', shut up now will you? You sound like a bloody piece of paper when you do that."

They were facing each other now, each with one shoulder pressed into the wall and faces flushed with anger.

"You asked-"

"It wasn't a question!"

Claude dropped his cigarette and rubbed it out restlessly. Didn't do anything more than burn it anyway. He could feel Bennet shifting beside him and refused to look up.

"Is there a reason you're so belligerent today?" His partner's voice was clipped, and he was probably clutching his hands into fists in an effort to hold onto his temper.

Wonderful. Now we can be frustrated and stir-crazy together. Fuck it, why do I do this to myself?

"Bennet, think for a second. Every morning we drive for half an hour so that we can stalk a fifth grader, a third grade teacher, and a cafeteria woman in a bleeding elementary school. Then we write reports that tell us nothing new in triplicate before calling in to hear that Thompson wants us to stick around for another week to do absolutely nothing. No talking to anyone, no analysis, no progress while we sit in that cruddy hotel room and gradually go insane. Can you see how that might be just a little bit frustrating?"

"The assignment is impor-"

"The assignment has nothing to do with those people! If they wanted a snot-nosed kid to draw the future they'd pay for his art lessons. If they wanted to recreate the loaves and fishes we'd be bagging and tagging, and if they were really all that concerned with a school teacher who plays with the wind then we'd be recruiting. This is about us Jack. This is about whether or not this partnership is going to work and the chances of your marriage lasting and how soon I end up on a sterile white table with the skin scraped off my hands."

Blessed silence rang for a moment and Claude dared to hope that he'd be left to absorb his nicotine in peace.

"How do you know?" He sighed and shifted back towards the sky.

"Because that's the way they work. They want to know how much you'll sacrifice for the cause."

"And how much did you give?"

Claude grinned ironically. They owned every cell in his body and every action he took. He was lucky to have the thoughts in his head to himself.

"Enough."

Bennet snorted.

"Yeah, that's really convincing. Come on Claude, let go of the paranoia for a minute. The company wouldn't go to the trouble of sending us out here without a reason, a real reason. And they're certainly not taking bets on my marriage."

"No, just how long it takes for one of you to sleep with someone else." It was said under his breath but the other man still heard it and Claude barely managed to turn the punch that could've broken his nose into a clip against the side of his head.

Still hurt like hell though and he struck back, some surviving rational thought reminding him to avoid the face because whatever else happened they had to go to work the next day and no one would talk to a man with a black eye, no matter how well tailored his suit was.

Bennet's next attack caught Claude in the chin and drove him to the ground. He kicked his partner's legs out from under him and launched himself onto the man's torso, pummeling his abdomen while he had an advantage because Bennet was bigger than he was and Claude had never been all that good and these things.

His partner had him kneeling with his arm twisted up his back shortly and they panted with adrenaline. Claude tried to grin through the pain because this was good- as long as they were trying to beat the shit out of each other they weren't crossing lines that needed to stay whole or thinking thoughts better left in the dark realms of the id.

"Well done. But were you really defending your wife's honor or did that punch have more to do with the fact that you've been thinking about it too?"

Gods, I need to get control of my mouth.

He felt a shock of pain shoot from wrist to elbow before something heavy connected with his head and all will to remain conscious disappeared.

To be continued…