Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sleep was hard to find, but it felt worse when one was abruptly taken from it.

Grumbling, he raises his head from his flat sunken pillow; untamed brunette hair falling into his eyes as he reaches over towards the phone beeping insistently against the wood of his nightstand. He taps the screen to stop the annoying sound, missing a few times in his drowsiness. When he finally succeeds he stares at his phone screen and a moment to long before he realizes why he even set that alarm.

After months of rebuilding and construction, SDN is finally up and running. Hell, he was just at the re-opening last night and now he had to actually go into work.

He pushes himself up with a soft grunt, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed as he stretches his arms, his back giving a faint pop. Taking a moment to wake himself up he fully before standing and padding over to his adjacent bathroom.

He moves to relieve himself first, before he strips off his boxers to take a quick shower.

Grabbing a towel and turning off the water he dries off as best he can before focusing on his hair. He heads over to the mirror to meet his own hazel eyes. He moves his damp hair over to one shoulder as he gets a better look at himself.

Fuck I'll need to shave soon.

He thinks to himself as he spots how scruffy and thick his goatee is begging to look now. He sighs and pushes it back for a tomorrow problem.

He continues to towel off his hair til it's mostly dry. Tossing the towel to the side, he quickly brushes his teeth and washes his face, then he steps out to find his uniform.

He opens his closet and rummages around, pushing hangers and boxes before he finds his shirt and pants folded on one of the small shelves. He grabs a belt and socks as he tugs on his light blue shirt, buttoning it up as he scans the room for his keycard. He tucks in his shirt and steps into his boots, grumbling when he can't find it.

He grabs and pockets his phone as he heads out of his bedroom, scanning every surface for his card. He spots it on the kitchen counter, grabs it and looks it over.

Jesse Jenkins, Dispatcher.

Jesse reads it before clipping it to his belt loop. He steps around the kitchen island to reach the fridge. He scours it for something to eat before settling on a pack of yogurt. He sets it down a grabs a bag of granola and mixes it in.

He pulls out his phone and goes through his work email as he eats. He doesn't find anything new or important and just finishes his breakfast. He cleans up and walks over towards the front door grabbing, keys and jacket off of the entryway. Zipping up the leather coat, he grabs his helmet from the shelf above and opens the door. He locks it behind him and walks down the hallway and to the stairway, preferring it since he's only on the third floor.

Pushing open the parking garage door, he heads over to where his Harley Fat Bob was parked in the corner. He swings his leg over the vehicle and pulls his helmet over his head. Inserting the key and turning it, the bike roars to life under him. Kicking up the stand, Jesse peddles out of his parking spot and shoots out of the garage. Speeding down the streets of LA, he weaves between cars and trucks on his Harley. After making a quick stop to pick up lunch, Jesse arrives at SDN headquarters.

He parks his motorcycle off to the left of the building and dismounts. Pulling off his helmet, he pockets his keys before grabbing his lunch from the side satchel and walking towards the building.

Jesse spots a few co-workers and nods in greeting as he passes. He stops at his desk to place down his helmet and keys to check for any notes or papers but only finds a welcome back card, which, by looking around, he could see that he wasn't the only one. If anything, it seemed like it was for the entire office.

He walks over towards the break room, lunch in hand, and he pushes the door open. He intends to put his lunch in the fridge and head back to his desk but finds his movements halted by a man in front of him, with a rather rotund dog at his feet.

Robert Robertson. In truth, Jesse only remembers talking with the man a few times in passing since he was still a relatively new hire compared to himself. He watches as Robert takes his own lunch, a tupperware container with at least five different sticky notes labeled something along the lines of "Robert's, do not eat."

"Does your lunch get taken often?" Jesse speaks up as he steps next to the man, placing his bagged lunch in the back of the filled fridge.

"Used to." He hears Robert respond, placing his own lunch next to his.

Turning slightly, he gets a better look at the man next to him. Robert definitely looks better than he did when he last saw him. Well, that's not exactly hard, considering they were almost in all out war with the Red Ring when that was. Still, he looked good.

"So, the plethora of sticky notes are just habit then?" Jesse smirks a little, finding it slightly amusing.

"A precaution." Robert corrects as he shuts the fridge door, matching the larger man's own amusement.

"Someone still out to get your lunch after you saved SDN?" Jesse jokes a little as he kneels down to the dog. He lets the little guy sniff his hand before he scratches him behind the ears, earning a little tail wag and full body wiggle.

"Saved is a stretch, I didn't do it alone." Robert defends, causing the knelt man to look back up at him. "Besides the building wasn't exactly saved."

"Well, regardless of that, Mr. Hero, someone's still a lunch thief." He can't help but tease, standing back up to meet Robert at eye level. "If it comes down to it you can just stash it in my bag, I don't mind." He offers.

"I'll think about it." The other man huffs, a small grin making its way in to his face.

"Then I'll leave you to it." Jesse nods before stepping back to head to wards the door. "Have a good shift, Robert."

"You as well, Mr..?"

"Just Jesse is fine." He smiles back at Robert before pushing open the door and leaving.

Once he's back at his desk he unzips his leather coat and hangs it off the back of his chair. He sits down at his new desk and powers up the old monitor in front of him. As he puts on his headset he's immediately met with the familiar voices of his team.

"Alright, O-team, are we ready to start?"

Jesse huffs tiredly at the laughter coming through his headphones. Leaning back in his chair he can't help but smile at the banter.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Jesse feigns offense, he's missed his team.

"It's good to be back, Jenkins." Glacier adds, her optimism infectious.

"Yeah, it feels good to be back in action officially." Quickfoot agrees despite her grumblings all shift.

"Good shift everyone. Get some good rest and I'll see you all tomorrow." With that message, Jesse signs off and removes his headphones. He stands up and grabs his coat from the chair and slips it on. He picks up his helmet and pockets his keys. He decides to take the thin packet of paper he'd received, though he's pretty sure it's just a refresh on policies and new announcements around the building. He heads over to the break room again since he didn't finish all of his lunch; he'll likely have what's left of it for dinner.

He enters the break room to find it empty. Walking over and opening the fridge, he quickly finds his bag in the back where he left it. As he grabs it, he feels something different about how he left. Opening it, he finds Robert's mostly eaten burrito inside the labeled tupperware. Jesse grins to himself as he realizes that Robert took him seriously. He didn't think he would, but he's glad, and now he needs to actually find him. He folds up the packet and stores in the bag, ensuring it won't be stained too much.

He heads out of the break room to start looking for Robert. He heads to his desk first and is pleased to find him still there, and talking with someone, no less. He walks over towards them both, making his footsteps a little louder than normal to announce his presence.

A man with the head of a bat looks up at him first, looking confused at his sudden presence. Robert follows suit and looks a little surprised to see him.

"Jesse, what brings you here?" The man asks, turning in his chair to face him.

"I'm heading out for the night, and you're lunch was still in my bag." Jesse answers, taking out the container and holding it out for him to take.

"Oh, shit, thanks. I almost forgot about that." Robert grins a little as he takes it, ignoring the questioning look he gets from Sonar.

"Are you guys friends, or…?" Sonar finally speaks up, looking between the two of them.

"Oh, um, kind of." Jesse, shrugs glancing at Robert for input before meeting Sonar's gaze.

"Sorry, I know I've interrupted your conversation. The name's Jesse by the way." He switches his lunch bag into his other hand, pressing his helmet against his hip so he can hold out his hand to the man.

"Sonar." He responds, not taking Jesse's hand. The man lowers it and takes the bag in his free hand again.

"Well, good to meet you." He nods, moving to step back until a clatter of doors opening sound from their right. Looking over he spots a taller man in a deep v-neck sauntering over to them.

"Bob Bob, Sonar, there's something I need to-" He begins to say but stops as he registers Jesse's presence.

"Who the fuck is this?" He sudden asks. Jesse opens his mouth to answer but is cut off

"A kinda friend of Robert's, apparently." Sonar quips, almost smirking.

"Work friends. We're work friends." Robert finally butts in, sending a look Sonar's way.

"Yeah." Jesse agrees, but the man still seems skeptic of him.

"I don't really give a shit. Robert, we need to talk."

Jesse takes that moment to excuse himself and slips away from the group. He walks out into the hallway passing a few co-workers and who he assumes is a new hero. He pushes through to enter the lobby and out the main door. Rounding the building to his motorcycle he set his helmet on the seat before opening the saddlebag and placing his lunch inside. He grabs his helmet but hesitates when putting it on.

Looking back at the building, he feels like he's forgetting something, yet he knows he has everything he brought with him. But that feeling, that pull in the back of his mind, won't cease it's whispering. He almost goes back. He almost listens to that tug of fate, but Jesse stopped listening to fate years ago.

He looks back towards his bike, just wishing the feeling would fade away. It doesn't, but as he rides further and further away it lessens to only a faint hum in the back of his mind. He refuses to let it get the best of him, and just focuses on going home.

He arrives at his apartment complex and swiftly heads up to his apartment, lunch, or now dinner, bag in hand. Walking through his door he shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up on the hook in the wall, setting his helmet on the shelf above it. He unties and pulls off his boots, leaving them by the door before heading further inside.

He sets his bag and keys down on the counter before turning to grab a soda from his fridge. He leans against the counter as he eats his leftover sandwich, his hip braced against the edge. It was quiet, hell it's always quiet, but for some reason it feels weird now. It was never quiet when… when…

Fucking hell…

Jesse thinks to himself setting down the small portion of his sandwich. He runs a hand down his face as he sighs, the action doing nothing to help with the tension building in him.

Of course, grief comes to kick him in the fucking ass. Of course, it changes when he'd finally gotten used to it. And of course, he's no closer to fixing it. To finding…

"Fuck…" He murmurs, his voice almost cracking. He looks up from his food and across the room in his living room. There on the wall hangs a board; it's filled with pictures of different people and places, newspaper clippings, messy notes, and a frayed red string connecting all of the dots. Then, at the very center, a person. Someone very dear.

"Fuck, I truly am failing aren't I..?"

Chapter Text

The clunk of his boots against the cold, metal-panel flooring echoes within the hallway as he rushes through, the sound bouncing off the walls back to him. Through the door he's running towards, he can hear muffled voices, shouts of demands and shouts for help. He's only been "free" for about six months, and he's already been sent on mission after mission. He's being used as a sort of "tester", considering he's one of the first people to make it out alive; they need to see how well he can work when he's out actually doing something.

He quickly gets to the door, grasping the handle and turning it. It doesn't work. He turns it the other way, still doesn't work. Maybe he should try pulling? Nope, that doesn't work either. Pushing again doesn't do anything for him. It's not locked, it's just not fucking working. It's really starting to piss him off. He fiddles with the door a few moments longer, seemingly unnoticed by the ones on the other side of it who are - most likely - robbing the place. Good for him, he supposes. He's just about to give up when someone comes up next to him, closing their hand over his and twisting the doorknob, opening the door for him.

"You've gotta turn the knob. You know that, right?" Gods he's so smug about it.

He ignores the guy, squeezing into the room and confronting the criminals. Said criminals are, simply, just a gaggle of teenagers. The two of them stumble to a stop, the group staring at the pair.

"…Ok, look, if you all just leave, we shouldn't have any-" He starts to say, but the group dashes off, all in separate directions. There goes his plan. He immediately rushes off behind one of the teens, not even sparing a glance to the stranger who showed up with zero warning. He can only hope they've taken a different route than him, as he doesn't precisely feel like collaborating with anyone on this mission. Or any future mission, really. He much prefers solo missions.

The teen makes a turn down a side-hall to the left, leading themselves to a dead-end, which they get quickly cornered in. He forms himself a pair of claws, slowly stepping after them as they back themselves further against the wall. They glance around him, clearly looking for a way out. He lunges for them, intending to carry them out similar to how you would grab a kitten by the scruff, but the bastard from earlier shows up out of nowhere, ending up in front of him and grabbing the kid before he can. He scrambles to stop himself from actually hurting anyone, with a small shout of frustration. They hand the, now shaking, kid over with a stupid cocky grin before rushing off to the rest of the teens.

"….You know how to get outta here right?" He asks, not even looking at the child.

The kids voice is quivering, they're barely able to get anything out,"Yes- Yes, sir, I do-"

"Ok, cool. Go ahead and leave, and I won't give you any trouble. And don't call me sir, I'm only 25."

He lets go of the kids jacket, to which they quickly run off towards the front of the building to leave as quickly as they can. He glares in the general direction the other jackass ran off too, letting out a growl and closing his hands into fists, claws biting into his skin through his gloves. He stalks off after the guy, quickly finding them before they leave. They turn towards him, seemingly intent to say something, but he gets to them first. He grips their upper arms, making the conscious effort to not touch any bare skin left out from the rather deep v-neck of their costume. He corners them against the wall, getting all up in their face with a scowl.

"Ok, look, I don't know who you are, and I don't know who your boss is, if you even have one, but if we ever - and I mean ever - meet again, you will not get in my way like you just did. And I mean it. I have my job and you have yours, and just because we ended up on the same mission does not mean you can get in my way. I will not hesitate to hurt you if you do."

He shoves off of them, hurrying off to the same exit the other kid did before the stupid earpiece that's forever embedded into his ear lets out the same stupid ping it always does before his stupid boss gives him some stupid order.

"Follow him."

"Why should I??"

"Because I said so."

He scoffs.

"He's part of an organization we need Intel on, and we haven't been able to get anyone in there yet."

"I'm not following shit, suck my dick."

"James Jenkins. You will listen to me. You signed the contract and you knew what it said. I know you aren't disobeying a direct order, are you?"

James lets out a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes and turning back around, "No, 'dad', I'm not. I'll follow him."

He dashes off in the direction the other guy did, ending up outside and quickly spotting them, hurrying off after them, making sure to keep out of sight. He'd take his time, but the bitch moves fast, and he's not as quick in the air as they are. It's really getting on his nerves. All he wanted was to finish the mission and go home, and then right as he does, he gets an extra little side-quest. That he really, really doesn't want.

He watches as they walk into a building, and he stops right at the edge of the sidewalk, staring up at the building, squinting against the sun. A building for a company he's only ever seen on the news. Something about it being rebuilt after the "Red Ring" got to it, and their leader Shroud was killed. As if he knows what any of that means. He rushes to get at least into the front doors before he gets yelled at again, running across the street without so much as a passing glance to the crossing cars, leading to him almost getting hit and for sure getting honked at quite a lot, as he's not even on a crosswalk.

He opens the doors, fully hoping that the other guy is far enough in the building to miss him entering, striding into the lobby like he fully belongs there. He steps off into a corner, lowering his voice and tapping at the stupid earpiece to get his boss's attention. He gets a response in the form of that stupid ping yet again.

"I'm in their lobby right now."

"Yes, I can see that, I'm not blind."

"Ok, well, is that all you wanted?"

"I need you to go into the actual building, Jenkins."

"I'm not doing that."

"You are."

"Fuck, ok, fine. Damn."

He huffs out of annoyance, turning away from the corner and scanning the walls in front of him for a door of some sorts, crossing through the first he sees that looks to actually lead somewhere, ignoring anyone who looks at him and quickly moving to another corner in the first room he gets to and leaning against the wall in another corner, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, great, you haven't been killed yet."

He scoffs quietly, keeping himself quiet.

"I need you to stay right there for a second. They have files, and I need to look through them."

He tenses up a bit, his jaw pressing tightly shut. He doesn't think he can stay here any longer without looking suspicious. Alas, he's there for about a minute longer before he gets any confirmation.

"…He's somewhere in the building."

"Well- Fuck, I know that! What do you want me to do about it?" He keeps his voice as low as he can, tilting his face towards the ground and pulling his hood further over his face.

"I'll need you to stay here until we can get to him, or any other member of his team. Preferably his dispatcher. I know there's a team with a dispatcher of their own, I keep up with the news."

"I don't care. I do not care about what you saw on the news. Can't I just… come back tomorrow? It's a Monday, everyone is gonna have work again tomorrow."

"Well the easiest way to do it now is to wait. You are not in a place to disregard orders."

He shuts his mouth, running his hands over his face and staying in his corner, keeping his hood covering as much of his face as possible, hoping the angle he's staring keeps his face out of view. As if he isn't easy to remember by his costume. There's no way to tell how long he'll be standing here, and it's kind of stressing him out. That's a lie. It's really stressing him out. If he gets thrown out for some bullshit like trespassing, it'll spell out bad news for him. He's only been out for six months and is already managing to mess everything up again.

Hopefully, his 'beehive rule' keeps him safe. As long as he acts like he belongs and keeps out of everyone's way, he should be fine to stay. He hasn't had anyone walk up to him just yet, so maybe he'll be fine. He can only hope he's allowed to leave soon. Everything in this damned building feels way too sterile to him. The urge to call his boss up again and beg for permission to leave is rather tempting, but he would rather not risk it. There's no way he's risking it again. Thankfully, he doesn't. He gets a ping instead.

"I have sent the higher-ups of this building the information that you will be volunteering here every once in a while."

"I'm what? You didn't tell me this."

"When I tell you to, you will be doing volunteer work for SDN. This is, decidedly, the easiest way to gather intel on the supers and inner-workings of the company. Your job is to tell Robert Robertson III that you will be volunteering. He will be getting the paperwork tomorrow. You will be coming back to help tomorrow."

"Who in the world is that? That's the stupidest name I've ever heard. How will I know who he is?"

"I will tell you. Figure it out from there."

The earpiece goes quiet, and he's left by himself in a huge building full of rather well known heroes. He hasn't been noticed yet, thank the Gods for it. Maybe they get new people all the time, especially since they got rebuilt, and haven't noticed anything off about him for it. He anxiously taps a finger against his arm, letting out a heavy exhale to try and cool his head. He watches as the boots of someone pass by him, the person passing through the door, paying zero mind to him. He ignores how strangely familiar the walk pattern seems, and how something tugs at his heart, his mind, telling him to follow. He has a job to do. He needs to stay and do it.

After a few minutes of waiting with nothing from his boss and nobody else walking by him, he decides to look for this Robert guy himself. Waiting makes him worry, and he doesn't like it. Maybe his boss was wrong, and Robert isn't the guy he needs. Maybe Robert took a different exit. He has to look for himself. He pushes himself off the wall, glancing around to scan the faces of everyone in the building. Stupid idea, he doesn't recognize any of them. He walks away from his spot, following along the wall to keep an eye out for who he needs. He spots the same v-necked jackass from earlier, deep in conversation with a plainly dressed man.

"There, that's him. The one in blue."

He walks over, as nonchalant as he can, placing a hand on Robertson's shoulder. He should've given himself time to prepare, get some courage, but it's too late now. The man jumps, turning towards James.

"What-"

"Robert Robertson, correct?"

He brushes James's hand off his shoulder, looking at him but staying turned towards the jackass.

"That's me. Who-"

"I will be doing volunteer work for your team starting tomorrow. The paperwork is already going through, and will be on your desk tomorrow at the start of your shift. Be ready."

Robert opens his mouth to say something else, but is quickly ignored as James turns away, hurrying out of the building, acting like he knows exactly what he's doing. The second he's back into the - now setting - sun, he groans, dragging his hands down his face. Gods he fucked that up. He's just embarrassed himself so bad, and he has to go right back over there tomorrow. He's embarrassed himself three times in an hour, in front of the jackass twice, and now in front of the guy he's gonna have to work under in less than twenty-four hours. No matter what he tells himself, he knows it's too late to un-embarrass himself.

Fuck.

He's already fucked this up.