Chapter Text
“The most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway
Is that it's you and that you are standing in the doorway
And you smile as you ease the gun from my hand
I am frozen with joy right where I stand”
If Jack had known how much time he’d have to spend in climates with 30 degree days on the regular, he might have rethought his employment in the CIA. Probably still not then, but maybe. Yet, the thrill of being in the field again was making it difficult for him to take much issue with the scorching heat at the moment.
He was here. When you’re an analyst you spend months chasing numbers on bank statements, minute changes in stocks, in search of the one number that catches your eye. The one that isn’t quite right. Jack had never mentioned it to anyone, for fear of being teased mercilessly, or worse: having his work discredited, but he could feel in his gut when the numbers did add up quite right. He had felt it when chasing Suleiman, and he’d felt again just recently when hed started working Venezuela.
In truth, he’d felt a similar pull in his stomach when Geer had offered to bring him to Moscow, but he’d ignored it. Now, looking Greer in the face, wearing a wrinkled suit and lounging on the couch in the hotel bar, he couldn’t remember what he’d been thinking when he’d turned him down.
Jim Greer wasn't a particularly nice person, nor did he attract much desire for friendship, but despite that, Jack couldn’t help but be drawn to the man in a way that confused him. Often it left him up at night wondering why he enjoyed working with Greer so much. Not that he’d ever admitted it to the man, for no end of mocking would ensue if he ever did.
Jack was having trouble paying attention to what Jimmy - Sorry, Senator Moreno was saying. He couldn’t help himself from staring agape at the man he half thought he’d never see again. Its been months since Jack turned down Greer’s offer, and since then there had been all bur radio silence between the two of them since. Jack’s head is buzzing the entire time Greer and Moreno are talking and he doesn’t manage to snap out of his sudden trance-like state until they’ve stepped out of the bar and into the humid night.
They meander their way slowly towards the restaurant Moreno insisted they visit, Greer and him silently falling into step beside each other. Moreno walks several paces ahead of them, with the excuse of leading the way, but secretly doing so to allow Jack to catch up with Greer.
“So..How’s Moscow? He ventures at the older man. Followed by several seconds of excruciating silence between the two of them. Finally, Gree makes a sound halfway between a sigh and a chuckle.
“I’m not mad Jack don’t get your panties in a twist” Secretly, Jack breaths a sigh of relief, but feigns innocence as Greer continues “You’ve got your responsibilities in DC. I’m sure after everything with Soulamon last year Cathy wouldn’t --”
“Cathy and I broke up six months ago” Jack interjects, and if he thought the previous silence between them was uncomfortable, this one could run laps around it. Greer looks like he’s about to attempt to fabricate some sort of lame condolences, so he rushes on.
“I’m not upset about it.”
“No of course not”
“So we don’t need to talk about it” Jack asserts, effectively killing the meager conversation they had been having.
Jack had cared for Cathy. But’s he’d found it hard to build a relationship with her after the several months of lies he’d had to feed her about his profession. The trust just wasn’t there, and so after a few months of trying to ignore it, she had admitted to him that she couldn’t trust him and they had parted ways. Jack was partially relieved. Their breakup had in part, prompted him to take the position with Senator Moreno.
Several streets pass, and Jack is wondering to himself just how far out of the way Moreno is dragging them for this food as they climb one of the many hills littered around the city when he notices Greer breathing heavier than normal. Jack casts a concerned glance in Greer’s direction, which goes largely unnoticed by the man. A few moments pass and Jack is just about done working up the nerve to ask him if he’s okay when Greer stumbles slightly on a piece of uneven sidewalk
Jack catches him gently by the shoulder, steadying him before he falls. “Are you alright” he inquires, unable to keep a hint of worry out of his voice. “Never better” Greer replies, but his fatigue from the incline is impossible to hide entirely. Jack wants to pry further, but the look he receives from the man persuades him otherwise for the time being. Moreno has failed to notice they’ve stopped and continued on, now several paces ahead of them.
“You can stop touching me now” Greer says and Oh. Jack had momentarily forgotten about his handing gripping onto Greer’s shoulder. He suddenly becomes hyperaware of how close they are on this tiny side street. Close enough the Ryan can smell the distinctive sandalwood scent of the cologne Greer wears, mixing with their sweat from the humid air. The combination of the two made him dizzy.
Reluctantly, Jack’s hand dropped from Greer’s shoulder. Their fingers brushed briefly as Greer reached up to wipe the sweat from his temple at the same time. The brief touch of their fingers only increased the dizziness he felt, leaving him worried that he might be the one needing help standing in a minute if Greer kept looking at him with the same stern but ever so slightly fond look he gave Jack every time he was being what Greer liked to call a “space cadet”
The pair of them were roused out of their own minds when Moreno called for them to hurry up. Slowly, they once again fell into an easy pace beside one another, the narrowness of the alley they were walking down causing them occasionally brush sleeves. Jack couldn’t help but feel the urge to reach out to Greer again as they walked. The image of their hands intertwined wormed its way into Jack’s thoughts. Confused, Jack dismissed his sudden need to touch the older man to a friendly concern for his health.
The rest of the walk to the restaurant passed in relative silence, save for Moreno stopping occasionally to point our some landmark, or reminisce about his summers here as a kid. The buzzing in Jack’s head had started up again, and he once again found it difficult to pay attention to the Senator’s musings.
The spot where his had brushed Greers felt like it had ever so slightly burned, and made it tenfold more difficult to pay attention to the conversation at dinner. By the time Jack had returned to the hotel and was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling fan spinning, he could still feel his hand tingling from the touch. He falls asleep uncertain about what Greer’s appearance had meant, but with a familiar ball of excitement developing in his gut.