TITLE: Playing tourist
FANDOM: Jake 2.0
NOTES: Kyle POV
writers_choice: accidental tourist
“Hey, Liberty’s a lot taller up close!”
Agent Kyle Duarte closed his eyes and counted to ten, pushing the thought of strangling one Jake Foley out of his mind. Not that he could – the kid would have him decked in under a second, but it’s the thought that counts.
“Jake, you’re meant to be on surveillance. For criminals, not landmarks.”
“But Kyle – it’s Liberty!”
Kyle allowed himself a smile at the excitement in Jake’s voice, and wondered if he’d ever been that young. Sure, in years, he’d been mid-twenties not so long ago – despite Jake’s thoughts to the contrary – but he couldn’t remember a time when he viewed a world of cocktails and candy without the bombs and the guns and the dead.
Wherever he saw crowds, he saw potential victims; when he let Jake tour NYC, he knew exactly how many dangers the kid could run into, not least the ones brought upon him by the Big Upload aka One-Way Ticket to Disaster.
Sure, a super-agent, a regular superhero with an edge. Oh, if he did remember a different time, it was when he thought himself invincible, and he didn’t have the technology to back it up. That’s what led him here, lurking behind a tree, with a radio and a rapidly-cooling cup of coffee.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Liberty before?”
And he had been sucked in, again, with the youthful enthusiasm and the absent-minded prattle that would undoubtedly get them both killed someday. Jake was wandering around Liberty playing tourist, and whilst Kyle knew the importance of keeping him focused, he’d started imagining the statue in his mind, viewing it through Jake’s eyes.
“It’s incredibly cool, Kyle. Big, and green, and big…”
Kyle began to laugh, but then there were gunshots on the radio, and he felt his own heart. Stop. Dead.
“Jake? JAKE! What’s your status? I repeat, what’s your status?”
Silence.
Faster than he knew possible, he was running, the coffee flying against the tree like the splatter of blood. Running towards the screams, and his heart was beating out his mouth and falling in the gutter.
Jake. Gunfire. All. His. Fault.
He arrived into confusion and could barely pick out any person from the mass of screams and movement, but eventually picked out Jake, propped against the base of Liberty, holding his side.
One sigh, then he was across the square and pulling his gun on the motionless man lying on the ground, head bleeding. Out, passed not forever, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.
Kyle knelt in front of Jake, who smiled and gestured somewhere vaguely above him.
“Liberty…” he said with blooded lips, and Kyle drew his arms around the man, and hoped to forget being an agent for just one second.
“How bad is it? Let me see.”
Kyle pushed aside Jake’s weakly protesting hand and examined the wound. Only in, not too serious, non-fatal. A quick glance showed not one more casualty, and Kyle met Jake’s slightly blurred eyes with a faint grin.
“That’s it, Jake, no more playing tourist.”