Risk and Rebel

30: AT 30,000 FEET

After finding clothes for Rebel as I'd promised, and taking a much needed nap, midnight arrived.

We managed to get from the mansion to the airport without any altercations or death threats.

The jet Gray had procured was small; it was a luxurious one with the obvious intention of housing rich people who would nurse fine wine and high-end meals for the duration of their trips. But instead of doing that, it was currently packed with ten people with combat experience, plus a teenage boy who immediately camped out in a back corner and fell asleep.

Rashid and Gray were in the cockpit; Gray had named himself copilot as soon as we had boarded.

Maybe he thought that since we were all confined to a metal tube together for several extensive flights, none of us would kill each other. Maybe he just no longer cared at that point. Either way, it wasn't necessarily Gray's most genius move, to leave his former agents and his current mercs unsupervised in the cabin of a fancy jet — but it also wasn't a decision I was going to argue.

Rebel and I claimed the seats across the aisle from Desmond, with me at the window and Rebel in the aisle.

Once the jet took off, I started to seriously consider sleeping more. After all, who knew when we were going to get a chance to rest after we landed in Munich? I leaned my head back against the seat, and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Hushed whispering was audible throughout the cabin, even from my position in the back, but I couldn't bring myself to care enough to try to eavesdrop on anyone.

Team Bravo had claimed the seats in front of Desmond, and from my position I could see Legion gesturing as he spoke in low tones with Sergeant. Gunner was seated in front of us, and from the soft snoring, it was safe to guess he was already sleeping.

Gray's mercenaries were all in the front of the jet. A full row of seats separated us from them, and I was a little amused that Desmond had ended up on our side of the jet.

It was only when my eyes began to flutter shut that Rebel chose to speak. Had it not been in French, I probably would've ignored him and drifted off anyway. "While you were sleeping," he began, "I talked to several of the other mercenaries."

"Mmm?" I hummed, arching a brow at him as he surveyed the rest of the jet critically.

Rebel gave a short nod, and turned his bright green eyes back to me. "Ilga seems the least suspicious."

"You just think that because she's Russian," I mumbled, leaning my head against his shoulder and allowing my eyes to shut.

"Russians are usually straightforward," Rebel retorted, looping an arm around my shoulders. "She was a part of the KGB, got in too far over her head, and Gray helped her fake her death."

"So she owes him one," I said. "Makes sense why she's here. She doesn't seem like the type to be bribed."

"No, she's the kind that operates on favors," Rebel agreed with me, before continuing with his observations. "Rashid is quiet, but he seems like an adequate observer. Elliot talks a lot. Charlotte is ..."

"Painful?" I offered with an amused smirk as I shimmied down further in my seat and leaned heavier into Rebel's warmth.

I could hear the smile in his voice. "I was going to say terrible. Painful works, though."

"As happy as I am to hear that you're psychoanalyzing our new friends," I said with an undertone of sarcasm, "I would like to continue sleeping."

"Yeah, I kinda picked up on that," he said with a chuckle. He brushed my bangs back from my face. "Are you that tired?"

"I'm mostly concerned that if I don't continue sleeping that I will actually kill someone on this jet," I muttered. "That would probably upset Gray."

"Yes, it would," he agreed. "I don't think anyone on our side of the situation would be bothered, though."

I hummed again. "Are you going to talk for this whole leg of the flight?"

"If I knew you were going to be a wet blanket, Risky, I would've sat closer to Bravo."

I shifted against him and in the process made a point of elbowing him. "You adore my presence and you know it."

"Adore might be taking it a little too far ..."

"What language is that?" Desmond's hesitant voice spoke up then.

I gave a huff of a sigh at that, tempted to keep my eyes closed and pretend I was actually asleep, but Rebel physically moved me into an upright position so he could turn to face Desmond. "French," Rebel answered him. He didn't so much as budge when I flopped most of my weight against his back.

"Oh." Desmond seemed surprised; I could see his blue eyes shining in awe if I leaned enough to the side to see around Rebel's shoulder. "I never, um ... learned other languages. Most of my focus in school was on technology and engineering and stuff."

Rebel nodded in easy understanding. "From what I've heard, it shouldn't be difficult for you to pick one up if you try hard enough."

"I suppose so," Desmond mumbled, his cheeks turning pink as his gaze dropped back to his laptop. "How many, um ... how many languages do you two know?"

"Many," Sergeant answered for us, already turning around in his seat and looking over the top of his chair at the redhead. "If you ask for specifics, they'll list them, and trust me, you don't want that."

Desmond's mouth rounded into an 'o,' at that, before he clamped his mouth shut. "It seems like a generally bad idea to ask about specifics with anyone."

"Look at you, already learning so fast," Legion chuckled, tugging his partner back down into his seat.

"Told you he was a smart kid," Sergeant said, nudging his partner on his way down.

Desmond turned bright red then, and seemed to further hunch over into his seat and the laptop. I suppressed the laughter that threatened to bubble out of me, and instead took my weight off Rebel long enough for him to right himself in his seat. Once he had, I burrowed back into his side with closed eyes again. He didn't protest to my attempts to fall asleep after that, and it didn't take me long to do so.