Okay, I hope there aren't too many mistakes. I didn't read through it very well because I wanted to hurry up and post something for you guys.

Please enjoy! (And let me recommend that no one EVER take condensed summer quarter classes, especially not three at once. It's a sick masochistic thing to do!) Which reminds me, when writing by hand, I don't write out full names, but tend to just use the first letter (especially if they're long names) so while writing this story, I suddenly realized that every time I wrote a scene with my federal agents, I was writing S&M, which immediately made me break into giggles, lol.

Anyway, enjoy! :)

The morning came to early for both men and Travis somehow found himself sitting at the breakfast bar, alternating between scowling at a cup of coffee and watching Beck move around the kitchen with a skill and grace that seemed unnatural for such a large man. There were already two suitcases sitting in the hall by the door (Travis had halfheartedly started packing until Beck got fed up with his snails pace and took over, Travis had tried not to grin) and Beck was now going through all the perishable foods (because he "hadn't just bought all this food to let it go to waste") and was muttering as he packed meat into a handheld cooler.

"So whatchya gonna make me?" Travis asked.

"Make you? For what?"

"For my last meal. Before the goons come and get me." Beck paused in his movements and Travis wished that his back wasn't to him. He wanted to see Beck's expression, but the other man just continued his packing.

"We don't even know when that's going to happen."

"So? I have to have a last meal. Who knows what they'll try and feed me?" Travis tried to hide his grin as Beck turned to shoot him a skeptical look.

"You eat crap all the time. You had a Big Mac last week." Beck said with disgust.

"But you've spoiled me. What am I gonna do if I can't have any of your weird ravioli stuff-"

"You mean gnocchi?"

"-or your funky lasagna-"

"The lasagna Bolognese with eggplant?"

"Exactly!" Travis said, "Where am I going to get weird shit like that?" Beck was silent for a few minutes and Travis was just beginning to think that he was going to be ignored when Beck turned to look at him directly.

"Okay. What do you want?"

For a moment, Travis was speechless and then he grinned, "As long as it's got meat, I don't care." Beck nodded and moved on to sorting through the fruits and vegetables.

Cruz pulled up to the house late and looked a little harried when they made their way to the car, laden with the two suitcases, the cooler and several canvas bags full of food. Travis cast one last look at the house as they pulled away. His home. An unpleasant feeling curled into his belly as he watched it disappear, feeling like he'd never see it again. And he barely contained a semi-hysteric laugh as he realized there was a pretty good chance he wouldn't. It came out a bark and he managed to cover it by coughing, although Beck turned to look at him, concerned.

"Any chance we can go to the house before we go to the office?" Beck asked Cruz as they pulled onto a main road.

"Uh, let me clear it with Jason first." Cruz whipped out a cell phone and as he called Morrissey, Travis leaned forward between the seats.

"I want those stuffed peppers too. Those are awesome."

"Alright. Anything else, your majesty?" Beck asked dryly.

"Beer. None of that floozy wine shit you always buy." He said firmly and smiled when Beck rolled his eyes.

"Okay, princess." Beck said just as Cruz hung up his cell phone.

"He said it's okay. They're running a bit late too."

The drive to the house took a half an hour into a much poorer neighborhood down an old thoroughfare and passed an old, abandoned factory. A row of decrepit houses greeted them as they turned into a cul de sac. Of the six houses, five had foreclosure signs staked into the brown lawns and the sixth looked as though it hadn't been lived in for years. Cruz pulled the car in front of the third house, one of the foreclosed houses.

"Nice place." Travis said and Beck snorted.

"We figured it would minimize any possible casualties. There's only one resident here, over in that house." He gestured at the house at the beginning of the cul de sac. The one without a foreclosure sign, "Guy works night shifts. Sleeps during the day. Hopefully if something happens, he'll be smart and stay inside."

"Living here, I'm sure he knows to be smart." Beck said and Travis found himself nodding. They all got out and Cruz popped the trunk and produced a key.

"The folks that lived here were evicted about a month ago. They left most of their stuff behind, so it's furnished." Travis frowned, already feeling slightly dirty for going into someone else's home and now they'd be using stuff the people hadn't been able to take with them. A glance at Beck told him the other man felt similarly, but neither said anything as they hauled their stuff into the house. Inside, the living room was completely furnished. Beck went to kitchen to put the food away, but Travis was reluctant to go further than the entry way. Already the house had a stale quality to it and Travis suppressed a shiver as he looked around.

"Alright, I'm ready to go to work." He said finally, injecting a false cheeriness into his voice as he fled the house. Cruz and Beck followed.

Their day at work wasn't much more cheerful although Beck and Sanderson managed to keep their animosity to low level. All of their code words were making his head hurt. Weird things like 'fichus' and 'pop tart' were used to signal that everything was going okay and 'martian' and 'arsenic' for if he was in some kind of danger. There was no way he'd be able to keep all of these straight and even though he knew it wasn't a smart idea, Travis kept reassuring himself that if worse came to worst, he would sneak away and call Beck's cell phone.

And then he kept imagining all kinds of things that could go wrong with this. Maybe Billy really didn't want him back to teach him the trade. Maybe he just wanted to send him to Chicago to face that mobster. Maybe he just wanted him back to torture him. Or worse. Travis still remembered the poor guy that had pissed off Billy too many times. It had happened when Billy had taken him for that year when he was 11. Travis had made wary friends with a young lackey. His name was Josh, just a few years older than him, maybe 18 at the most. Travis wasn't even sure what he'd done to piss off Billy so much, but he remembered clearly the way Josh had screamed and begged as he'd been dragged out the front door by two goons Travis had never seen before. He later learned that while Billy didn't have his hands in the sex trade, plenty of his associates did. A lump formed in his throat as he thought about what had become of his friend. And he barely stopped a shudder making its way up his back when he realized someone was speaking to him.

"-avis?" He blinked and looked up from the table, frantically trying to recall what had just been said and failing.

"Huh? What?"

"We were wondering what you wanted for lunch." Cruz said, half-worried, half-amused.

"Um, whatever. I don't care."

"Are you okay?" Beck asked and Travis avoided his concerned gaze by dropping his eyes to the table.

"Fine, yeah."

"You're pale, and sweating."

"Uh, yeah. That coffee, I-uh, I gotta run to the bathroom." and without another word he stood and left the room, avoiding everyone's eyes. He was breathing hard by the time he made it to the restroom and one glance in the mirror told him that Beck hadn't been exaggerating. He looked like he was about to faint. And he felt like it too. Just as he bent over to splash water on his face, the urge to throw up became to strong and he dove for the closest toilet, barely making it as the vomit spewed out. The porcelain was cool beneath his hot fingers as his stomach emptied itself. Coffee, eggs and toast, and finally just bile.

He was wiping away sweat from his forehead and shivering when a familiar, warm hand started stroking his back. It was comforting and he accepted the gesture gratefully.

"Feeling better?"

"A bit." He mumbled, then to try and save some face, "You put poison in the coffee this morning or what?"

"Yeah. It was supposed to kill you though. Guess I didn't add enough." Beck said and Travis heard the grin in his voice.

"Next time, then." He said and turned to stand. Beck helped him up and guided him to the sink, hands resting comfortably on his hips.

"I'll see if they have gum or hell, hopefully some toothpaste." Beck said and he nodded as he tried to pretend that the sudden absence of Beck's hands didn't make his stomach knot up again. He bent down to rinse his mouth and wash his face, listening as the door swished shut. It opened again a few minutes later, a triumphant Beck brandishing a travel-sized bottle of Listerine.

"He said you can have the whole thing."

"Awesome." Just having a clean face and fresh breath made him feel almost human when he finally got up the nerve to return to the meeting room. It was empty and he turned to Beck.

"Cruz and Sanderson went for food. I think Morrissey went to make some phone calls."

Travis nodded and made his way to his chair, collapsing into it as he tried hard not to think about anything that might make him upchuck again. Beck was leaning against the wall, watching him.

"You want to talk about it?"

"You wanna start sharing feelings, Big Boy?" Travis said, smirk already in place. "Maybe we could have a slumber party too! Paint our toenails and have makeovers and everything!"

"Fine, suit yourself." Beck said and left the room. An unpleasant ache settled in his chest as he watched his friend walk away. But he ground his teeth and stared hard at the wall. That's what he'd wanted anyway, right? To keep Beck away, to stop him asking questions, to stop him from caring. He didn't have the right to mope about it.

Beck stalked down the hall, not really caring where he was going but needing to get away as he tried to understand how Travis, that obnoxious child, could elicit so many emotions from him. Anger (which was at least understandable) and protectiveness and concern (which he'd already given up trying to understand) and those other bothersome feelings that twisted up in his gut and made him want to-No, he was NOT going to go there. Those were too dangerous to invest any thought in. It was safer just to squash them down into a little box and shove them to the back of his mind.

He found himself at the front doors and the fresh air was a welcome relief as he stepped outside. He could barely remember a time when he preferred the smog and heat of L.A. to the fresh, brisk air of Colorado.

The mountains were peeking out over a layer of morning fog that had yet to lift, the sun still chasing away the remnants of the cool night. It was a beautiful morning and he entertained the idea of letting Travis take him camping, like he'd been pestering him to. Beck was still a city boy though and he hadn't yet recovered from the trauma that was the Brazilian jungle. Still though, camping in the woods was a far cry from camping in the jungle. At least there wouldn't be monkeys. Yeah, maybe he and Travis would go on a camping trip. And then it struck him that they might not get the chance and the mountains and the fog and the sun suddenly seemed less friendly, more ominous and he turned away to make his way back inside.

Morrissey had made his way to the meeting room and Travis was sitting next time, chattering incessantly and Beck tried not to notice that Travis didn't look up at all as he walked in. He made a quick promise to try and not get mad at Travis again, at least not until this whole thing was over and done with.

Sanderson and Cruz returned a few minutes later with a couple of pizzas and a salad from a local pizza place. By then, Travis had recovered completely and inhaled several slices before taking a break to breath. Beck watched him, torn between disgust and amusement, until he realized Sanderson was staring at him, a sneer evident on his face. Annoyed, Beck stared back and neither looked away until Morrissey coughed pointedly.

The rest of the day passed without incident. They finalized code words and quizzed Travis on them, and the individuals they'd been shown the first day, with Morrissey once again emphasizing that they should be avoided at all costs. They were reassured that there would be eyes on Billy's house at all times and that if anything were to go wrong, they'd have help there almost immediately. Just as Beck was going to ask when everything was going to happen, Morrissey beat him to the punch.

"Now, I know this is going to seem really soon, but tomorrow our man is going to get word to Walker that you've been located." Beck's heart thudded once in his chest and he slid a glance to Travis who suddenly looked almost as pale as he had earlier.

"Tomorrow?" Travis managed to croak out.

"Yes. Which means we wont be meeting face to face any more. You can call us, but we'll be staying out of sight. We don't know when they'll be coming, but it'll probably be soon." Morrissey said.

"Tomorrow?" Travis repeated, this time in a faint voice.

"That is really soon." Beck said and he almost missed the barely imperceptible glance that the two agents exchanged before Morrissey responded.

"It's important that this happen as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the less control we're going to have on how everything goes down. We promise you, there will be people watching you at all times."

"Right." Beck said doubtfully as he tried to decipher the exchange between the two agents.

"We suggest you get a good nights sleep and try and prepare yourself, okay?" Sanderson said, looking at Travis, who nodded though his expression indicated he was deep in his own thoughts, "You're gonna be alright. You'll do great." And at this Travis gave a thin smile. Beck tried not to roll his eyes.

"Cruz is going to drop you off again. You have all of our numbers?" Morrissey said standing and Beck tapped the side of his head to indicate he'd already memorized them, "Good, you call us the second Travis is gone. You'll fly with us back to L.A. and one of our other agents is going to follow Travis for as long as it's safe." He held out his hand to Beck and then Travis, "Good luck. I'll see you later, alright?"

"Yeah." Travis said, with feigned nonchalance and he walked almost mechanically toward the door. Beck moved to follow but Sanderson stepped in his path.

"Don't get shot." The agent said with half a smirk, clearly wanting him to get shot.

"Don't worry, I wont." Beck said and pushed by him, eager to catch up with his friend who had already made his way to the front of the building with Cruz. He seemed almost frozen, expressionless and just as Beck reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, the younger man ducked away.

"I'm alright." He said firmly and Beck's hand dropped to his side, useless. The trip to their 'decoy' house was quiet and the only words spoken were by Cruz when he dropped them off.

"Good luck, guys. Stay safe." and Beck couldn't even muster a response as Travis exited the vehicle in silence. With a wave at Cruz, he followed Travis, a terrible, ominous feeling gripping him as he made his way up the walk. There was no way this was going to end well…