[Tom Hendricks' POV]
With Jason away on assignment and Leo gone AWOL yet again, the house had settled into an unusual kind of quiet. I'd like to say I was enjoying the solitude, but Gwen's presence made that practically impossible. Even when I wasn't actively calling on her for assistance, there was always that faint sense that she was there somewhere beneath the surface, listening, watching, and keeping track of everything going on around me.
I was sprawled across my leather sofa, lazily flipping through channels while the television cast a dull glow across the otherwise dim living room. Nothing really caught my attention until I landed on a breaking news broadcast. The sudden shift in the anchor's tone was enough to make me pause, the usual polished delivery was replaced by something more urgent.
"Breaking news out of Coast City. Mayor Daniels was assassinated earlier today by an unidentified assailant. Investigations are underway, but authorities currently have no leads."
The corner of my mouth twitched into a faint smirk. No leads, huh? Of course they didn't.
The hit had been clean. Professional. Exactly why I'd hired Deadshot in the first place. Daniels had been standing in the way of Mr. Gray's ambitions, and now that little obstacle had been conveniently removed, leaving behind a vacant mayoral seat just waiting to be filled. Once I pulled the right strings as Ghost, Gray would have his position. A usurper, sure, but one who would owe me big for putting him there.
And someone like Gray owing me a favor was worth far more than the mayor's office itself. His connections, his network, the people he'd be able to influence once he was sitting in that chair... the possibilities alone were enough to have me grinning like Lex Luthor after finding a brand-new toy to play with. But in my case, a potential means of entertainment and political power.
I was still considering my next move when my phone buzzed against the coffee table. I glanced down and saw Jason's name flashing across the screen, followed by one of his typically sarcastic messages.
["Weird having to report to my bro over text and then officially to Ghost with Slade. Anyway, we've got a plan. Details soon."]
I couldn't help but smirk as I shook my head and picked up my phone, then started typing a response, already scrolling through my collection of GIFs in search of the perfect one, when Gwen's calm, almost serene voice suddenly interrupted my thoughts.
"You have a visitor at the door," she informed me, her tone as neutral and precise as ever.
"Who is it?" I asked, already knowing she'd bring up the camera feed before I'd even finished the question.
Sure enough, the television flickered and the news broadcast disappeared and was replaced by a live feed of my front porch. I leaned forward slightly, my attention immediately shifting to the screen, and felt my stomach make a small flip when I saw who was standing there.
Rachel.
She stood just outside the door, her slender hand hovering near the doorbell. For a moment, she didn't press it. She just stood there, almost as though she were debating whether she'd made the right decision by coming here in the first place.
"What the hell is she doing here without even telling me?" I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck as I watched her through the camera feed. It wasn't that I didn't want to see Rachel. I did. That was probably the problem. I'd been deliberately keeping my distance all week, and now she was standing on my doorstep, forcing me to deal with the conversation I'd been avoiding.
On the other hand, it's a good thing she's coming through the front door and not just appearing right in the middle of my living room. Or worse, my bedroom. I guess that's probably the concern of guys dating a girl who can teleport, you can't hide from her for too long.
The doorbell rang before I could come up with a better excuse. I sighed and pushed myself off the sofa, making my way to the front door. When I opened it, Rachel stood beneath the faint glow of the porch light, her deep violet hair catching the soft illumination. Her eyes met mine immediately, and for a second, neither of us said anything. She still looked beautiful, but the warmth I was used to seeing in her expression wasn't there. She looked tired. Maybe a little annoyed. I wasn't sure I wanted to know which one.
"Hey, sweetie," I said, leaning forward to kiss her.
She let me, but the brief contact felt strangely formal. Not cold exactly, just... different. I stepped aside and motioned her in, deciding it was probably better than standing in the doorway trying to pretend everything was normal.
Rachel walked inside without a word and headed for the living room. She took her usual spot on the sofa, though she sat much straighter than usual, her arms folded across her chest. I followed and settled beside her, leaving just enough space between us to make it obvious that neither of us knew what to do with it.
"You didn't tell me you were coming," I said, keeping my voice light.
She said nothing at first but gave me a look for a brief moment. "Well, you left me a text saying you'd be 'busy for a while,' and then disappeared." Her gaze stayed fixed on me. "I haven't heard from you all week, Tom. So what exactly was I supposed to think?"
"I've had... things to take care of."
The moment the words left my mouth, I knew how pathetic they sounded.
Rachel let out a subtle breath and looked away for a second. "Things to take care of?"
I said nothing.
She turned back to me. "You seem pretty free right now."
There was no anger in her voice anymore, which somehow made it harder to deal with.
I shifted on the sofa, running a hand through my hair. "I can't explain it."
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "You can't?"
I shook my head.
"That's funny." She looked down at her hands, picking absently at a loose thread on her sleeve. "You told me about Ace. You actually trusted me enough to tell me about the whole tyrannical-lunatic thing." A faint, humorless smile touched her lips before disappearing. "But whatever this is? Apparently that's where you draw the line."
I stared at the floor for a moment.
How was I supposed to tell her the truth? That being "busy" meant coordinating hits, managing people who operated in the shadows, and making sure an entire criminal network stayed exactly where I wanted it? That Ace was only one piece of the puzzle and Ghost was the part she absolutely couldn't know about?
There were secrets that could be shared because they belonged to the past. Ghost wasn't one of them.
"It's complicated," I said.
Rachel was quiet for several seconds. She didn't argue this time. She just sat there, staring at me as though she were trying to figure out which part of me she'd been missing.
Then she asked, almost too quietly to hear, "Is it me?"
I looked over.
She swallowed and continued, "Because if I've done something, just tell me. If you don't want this anymore..." Her voice faltered, and she glanced away. "I'd rather hear it from you than spend another week wondering what I did wrong."
That caught me completely off guard.
"Rachel..."
"No, seriously." She finally looked at me again. "Have you lost your feelings for me?"
I didn't even think about it. I reached for her hands, catching them before she could pull them back into her lap.
"No. No, baby girl. That's not it." She watched me without saying anything.
I tightened my grip slightly, more to reassure myself than her. "It's not you. I swear."
For once, I didn't have some clever answer ready. I couldn't tell her the truth, but I also couldn't stand there and let her believe she'd somehow become the problem.
"Then what is it, Tom?" she demanded, her voice cracking despite her attempt to keep it steady. "You've been distant. Cold. It's like I don't even exist anymore." She paused, swallowing hard before adding, "Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"
"I know," I said quietly. The words came easier than an excuse ever could. Guilt had been sitting in the back of my mind since the moment I'd started avoiding her, and seeing the look on her face now made it impossible to ignore. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I've just been... dealing with a lot."
"Then let me help you." She didn't hesitate this time. "Whatever it is, Tom, we can deal with it together. You don't have to handle everything by yourself." Her fingers shifted in mine as she looked at me. "But I need you to trust me."
I wanted to. God, I wanted to. There was a part of me that desperately wanted to tell her everything, to drop the act and finally stop carrying all these secrets around by myself. But I couldn't drag Rachel any deeper into this life I'd created, not when doing so meant exposing her to the lies, violence, and blood that came with the life I'd chosen.
Instead, I leaned closer until my forehead rested against hers. I could feel the faint tremble in her breathing as we sat there, neither of us saying anything for a moment.
"I do trust you, Rachel," I murmured. "More than anyone." I closed my eyes briefly before continuing. "But there are some things I can't tell you. Not yet."
She stayed still, her eyes slowly closing as a tear slipped down her cheek. Another followed, and she drew in a shaky breath through her nose before finally giving a small nod.
"Okay," she whispered. "But you can't shut me out forever, Tom." Her voice was barely above a murmur. "I'm not going to keep standing in the dark while you decide how much of yourself I'm allowed to see."
"I know." I lifted a hand and gently wiped the tear from her cheek with my thumb. "And I promise, when the time is right, I'll tell you everything."
She didn't answer. She simply leaned into me, and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. For the moment, that was enough. I couldn't give her the truth, but at least I could give her this—proof that I was still here and that, despite everything I was keeping from her, my feelings hadn't changed.
Still, as I held her, I couldn't shake the thought that this wasn't something I could keep putting off forever. Sooner or later, the secrets I'd buried would catch up with me, and when they did, I had no idea whether Rachel would still be willing to stand beside me.
- - -
[Jason Todd's POV]
"Gustavo. That's his name," Dante finally said, his tone clipped as he gave us the name of the FBI agent who'd gone rogue.
I raised an eyebrow and leaned back in my chair, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Gustavo? Really?" I couldn't help myself. "I swear, every time I hear that name, I start thinking Spanish folks have a pretty limited name catalog. Walk into any bar tonight, and I guarantee I'll find at least two guys named Gustavo."
Slade's eye twitched. He slowly turned his head and fixed me with a look that could've peeled paint off the walls. "Quiet, kid," he muttered, his voice coming of low and firm. Dante, on the other hand, actually chuckled, apparently finding the whole thing more amusing than he should have.
"Anything else we should know?" Slade asked, his usual no-nonsense tone quickly pulling the conversation back on track. He wasn't here for jokes, and, despite what I was pretending, neither was I.
Dante rubbed his jaw and leaned back in his chair, thinking for a moment before continuing. "Gustavo isn't your typical agent. He's got a... peculiar hobby. The guy's obsessed with collecting rare artifacts. Not the kind of stuff you pick up at some flea market, either. We're talking ancient tribal relics. Pieces that belong behind glass in a museum."
I snorted. "Of course. A rogue FBI agent with a side hustle as a wannabe Indiana Jones. Because apparently this situation wasn't weird enough already."
Slade shot me another sharp look. "Focus, kid."
I lifted both hands in mock surrender, settling farther back into my chair. "I'm just saying, the guy's got layers. Like an onion. A really shady, potentially federal-criminal onion."
I continued putting up with this act, in hopes that their guards wouldn't be so high up as it initially was, but wouldn't compromise capability.
Dante tried to hide another grin before continuing. "He's spent a small fortune building his collection. Rumor has it he's got connections overseas, too. People who can get him the rarer pieces, the things most collectors wouldn't even know how to find. It's become something of a point of pride for him. Almost an obsession."
"Obsession, huh?" Slade murmured, his expression shifting as he considered the information. His voice took on that calculating edge I was starting to recognize. "That might be something we can exploit."
"Anything else?" Slade pressed, his gaze moving between Dante and Miguel.
The two exchanged a brief look before Dante finally shook his head. "That's all we've got for now. Gustavo's been keeping a pretty low profile, at least publicly. But if he's really our leak, then he's clearly been busy behind the scenes."
I drummed my fingers against the table, letting the information turn over in my head. An idea was already beginning to take shape, and from the look on Slade's face, I figured he was thinking along similar lines.
"Alright, then how about this?" I said, leaning forward slightly. "One more shipment. You arrange the delivery, but this time we pick the location. Somewhere we can watch every entrance and exit." I paused, letting the idea sink in before continuing. "If the FBI shows up again, we don't just run. We watch them. See how they knew where you'd be, how they tracked the shipment, and maybe..." My smirk returned. "Maybe we finally flush Gustavo out."
Slade tilted his head, studying me for a moment as he weighed the suggestion. I gave him a subtle nudge with my elbow, hoping he'd back me up. If Gustavo really was feeding information to the FBI, then giving him something worth reporting might be the easiest way to find out exactly how deep the leak went.
"I agree," Slade finally said, his gravelly voice carrying the kind of weight that made it clear he'd already made up his mind.
Miguel leaned forward, giving a slow nod. "It's going to cost us, but it's still a sound plan. If we don't figure out how they're targeting us, we'll end up losing a lot more in the long run. I say we give it a try, amigos."
Dante remained quiet for a moment, stroking his chin as his eyes narrowed. He was clearly running through every possible way this could go wrong. The room fell silent while he weighed the risk, and when he finally gave a nod, his decision seemed to settle the matter. "Alright. Let's do it. We'll coordinate the details, but this is your show now. If you're confident in the plan, we'll follow your lead."
I exchanged a brief glance with Slade. That was all I needed. It was time to move. We'd spent enough time sitting around trying to piece together scraps of information. Now we finally had a way to pull on the loose thread and see where it led. If Gustavo really was the mole, we were about to give him exactly what he needed to expose himself.
Dante's voice stopped us just as we started getting to our feet. "One more thing. Be careful. Gustavo might seem like nothing more than a man with a strange hobby, but don't let that fool you. He's dangerous. He's got connections, money, and enough resources to become a serious problem if you underestimate him."
I looked back at him with a faint smirk. "Dangerous guys with weird obsessions? Sounds like a Tuesday to me."
Slade merely shrugged as he brushed past me toward the exit. "I never knew you could be this chatty, Todd. You're perfect for infiltration."
I followed after him, keeping my expression completely straight. "I'm only trying to lighten the mood a little. You know, so they don't feel so tense around us. Makes it easier for them to trust us."
Slade slowed for half a second, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. "Hmmmm~."
I ignored the skepticism in that single sound and kept walking. There wasn't much else to say anyway. The meeting had given us what we needed, and now the real work could begin. We had a shipment to arrange, a location to choose, and a trap to set.
All that was left was to make sure Gustavo took the bait.
It was time to plan. Time to flush out the rat. And when we finally caught him, I intended to make sure Gustavo regretted ever becoming a problem for Ghost.
- - -
A/N:—
There you have it folks, today's chapter. What do you guys think about me adding some personality into Tom's relationship from here on out? Instead of his usual nonchalance, I am using his feelings for Raven as an anchor, as his center. Else he could drift off into thinking and acting less and less inhumane.