Someone wanted this chapter from Mason's POV so naturally I spent a couple of months not writing it then wrote it. I will not cave easily! But eventually will cave.

Heads up, it's flipping pancakes long!

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Mason made his way to the guest room, hearing the sound of Carter and Bridgette talking emanating from it. Their tones were teasing and Mason knew they were bonding. The sound made his heart flinch.

He stuck his head into the doorway and paused at seeing them curled up on the bed next to each other. Though neither was wearing a smile, Mason could see the faint traces of them on their faces. Again Mason felt the pinch in his chest. Coming to this home, he'd been aware of the dangers it held. It was the pain of the past, it was the uncertainty and hope of the future. Owens should have been prepared for this but she'd failed completely.

"We have a call from the Director," he said.

Bridgette sighed and let go of Carter's arm. "Back to work?"

The quick way Bridgette gave physical contact told Mason how completely screwed Carter was.

"Back to work," Carter said. 

"Ask him if you can have tomorrow night off," Bridgette said. "There's this movie showing that I think you might like."

"Ha. Ha."

Mason didn't need to know the context of what that meant, the easy back and forth told him that it was an inside joke.

Insidious things to have with people.

As they walked back to Bridgette's room, their base of operations, Mason couldn't help shooting glances at Carter. The way she ignored him told him exactly how much she was avoiding dealing with what the definitive outcome of this situation was.

Closing the door behind them, Mason settled into the pink swivel chair. He'd never say it outright but he'd grown attached to the chair. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Also, it was the safest thing to get attached here. A chair didn't have feelings and wouldn't be crushed when he left it.

"Hello, Director Townsend," Mason said.

Mason cast a glance at the causal way Carter sat. The poor girl didn't know this wasn't their usual update. Mason knew what was coming. He knew they'd accumulated all the information that would possibly need. It seems Carter wasn't using her brain. A first.

He watched as she froze and stared at the phone when the director said their work had been exceptional and they had all the information they needed. They were then ordered to come home.

"You have everything you need?" Carter asked.

Repeating the last sentence the director had said, it was going to be worse than Mason predicted.

"We do," Townsend said. "I'll have flights booked for you tonight so you can come home. Write up your final reports and I'll see you back at the Bureau. Good work."

Townsend hung up and neither of them spoke. Carter stared out the window while Mason stared at her. He almost felt bad but he'd thought Owens would know better.

Humans were like puppies, you risked getting attached if you learned their names. 

"It's surprising, isn't it?" he said.

"What is?" Carter asked, looking at him.

"How easy it is to get attached to someone?"

"You don't get attached," Carter said.

He didn't. As a rule. But with all rules, there were exceptions sometimes. Like Link. Yvette. And Owens... well not really her. She was simply someone he had to put up with.

"No, I don't," Mason said. "But I watch how people do it all the time. I didn't expect it of you, honestly."

At this pronouncement, Carter raised her eyebrows surprised. "Oh. And why is that? Because I'm so cold and closed off."

"Naturally," Mason said, grinning.

Carter rolled her eyes and for a second he saw that she'd lost the dazed look. But the moment didn't last long before she sobered. He almost wanted to say this was her fault. Attachments were dangerous. Especially ones with siblings.

He hadn't wanted Link to be anything more than a reminder of what his father had done. But then he met him and... it was hard to not get attached when Link was a literal puppy, kind, eager, happy to be seen, and loyal without any reason to be so.

What was Mason thinking, Owens hadn't stood a chance at all. Bridgette was a puppy like Link had been. It didn't matter how much your past had toughened you up, everyone had a weakness for puppies. No matter what form they came in.

"They need to be told," Carter said, woodenly.

"I could do it," Mason said. "If that would help."

He was saying this because he didn't want to deal with the aftermath of tears from Owens. He didn't think that tears from Owens would ever happen. But he didn't want to risk it. That's was the reason he offered.

...well one of them. But the secondary reason wasn't even worth saying out loud to himself.

Carter stood up. "Thank you for offering but I'm going to tell them."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Mason nodded but again he wasn't sure he wanted the results that could possibly happen. But Carter left the room and he remained in the chair, staring at an empty doorway.

Slowly, he swiveled back and forth, looking at the girl's room. Two weeks there and he'd become accustomed to the girl-ness of it all. The honest conversations he and Owens had in the dead of night while they were in the darkness, not looking at each other, that not so much.

Yes, those conversations seemed to help, but for her. For him, he didn't know how he was helpful. His personal damage came in a checked bag size.

Mason saw as Carter passed the doorway and waited for what was to come next. When Bridgette's voice in shock and panic reached him, rested his lanced fingers on his head. Owens had her work cut out for her. It wasn't easy breaking the heart of a puppy.

With a shake of his head, Mason spun back to his computer. He still had work. A report that needed to be written up and not a conversation to eavesdrop on.

When Carter returned to the room, collected her computer, and sank into a chair, Mason could sense the state she was in by the way she moved with a shuffled footstep. It wasn't the report writing that made her that way, it was the fact that the report represented the end of their time there.

"It's official," Carter said. "I'm a pushover."

"I know," Mason said without looking up from his work. He'd taken at least a month before softening to Link. She caved within a few days. Pathetic. "The same thing happened to me when I met Link. Siblings are the worst. They make you feel all soft and gooey and nonsense like that."

Mason glanced over and saw Carter smile. He shook his head, a complete softy.

*****

The tones floating up from the first floor were an odd mix of boisterous - Bridgette, amused - Owens, cautious - Bridgette's parents. It was the sound of people connected by blood not fully a family. It was the sound Mason had grown up with. But it was also a sound that had improved during their time there.

When he stepped to the railing and peered down, he found the dynamic as the sound had suggested they'd be. Bridgette had latched herself to Carter and the parents were together, not too far from the pair but not in a way that made them seem like a close-knit family.

It felt strange to Mason that he hoped that maybe the dinner helped with that. If Owens had more family what did it matter to him? Had he been listening her to talk about it the last couple of weeks? Yes, to his annoyance. Maybe that's what happened when you spent too long with a person, you cared. Even if you didn't want to.

"Have fun," Mason said to the group. "Bring me back some fries."

"Will do," Carter said. "Don't get into trouble while we're gone, okay?"

Mason gave her a short laugh. Trouble? Him? When Owens existed in the world? Hilarious. "Yes, I'm the one that causes trouble. Not you, whose middle name is trouble."

"Just behave," Carter said.

What did she think he was going to do, set the house on fire?

He raised two fingers. "Scouts' honor."

"You were never a boy scout."

Technically he had been but hadn't lasted, he'd been kicked out. Apparently, a revolt was frowned upon in the Boy Scouts' code of conduct.

"No," Mason said, not letting Owens know that he'd failed where her husband hadn't. "But your husband is one and I've spent enough time around him I feel like I've absorbed enough of his vibe to be counted as one."

Rolling her eyes, Carter waved carelessly at him and headed towards the door with the family. Mason watched them go, wondering what long conversation he'd have to endure when she got back.

It was best that they were leaving for DC that night, more processing with Owens was not good for him. Almost made him think that he should deal with his own family issues more. Which he was fine with the current state of them and didn't need more.

Back in Bridgette's room, Mason called the reason he wished to be back in DC so badly.

"Hi," Yvette said.

"Hello, beautiful."

"Ah, but it's been a couple of weeks since you've seen me. My looks might have faded in that time."

Mason smiled as he started dismantling the computer setup he'd created on Bridgette's desk.

"You know your beauty is only one aspect of why I love you."

"That is good to know. What are you doing now?"

"Packing up."

"Packing up?"

The tinge of hope and question in Yvette's voice made Mason's heart do funny things. Even after being married only a few months, she had an extremely strong effect on him. Just the tone of excitement to see him made Mason ache with wanting to be with her.

"We're coming home tonight," he said.

The little breath Yvette took made Mason pause because he felt like his heart might break out of his chest. The breath was relief, happiness, and eagerness.

Years of being with her and still she felt all of that about him being back with her. He hoped the wonder of that reality would never fade. And at the same time, he hoped it would, because it would mean he didn't have to be afraid that one day she wouldn't want him home.

"Good," Yvette said. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. What have you been working on today?"

Yvette talked as Mason worked and he didn't care about the tangents she took, it only meant he got to hear her voice more. Her voice was like her, soft, comforting, straightforward. Her voice felt like love to him.

When eventually she had to go, Mason sat in his chair staring out the window but saw nothing. Bits of what she'd said floated through his mind. Pieces he wanted to keep and remember. Some of the pieces felt nonsensical to think about but Mason kept them anyway because they were true to who she was.

A part of him heard the front door opening downstairs but he didn't move. The family had returned. Though he didn't hear their voices, he didn't think about it. Footsteps approached the room and Mason remained where he was.

"Owens," Mason said. "We will finally be done with each other. I'm sure you're happy that-"

Mason spun around and felt fear puncture his chest.

Carter wasn't standing the in room but two menacing men were.

Before Mason could even jump towards his phone to call someone, one of the men reached him and slammed his fist into Mason's face. Mason crumpled to the ground, blinding pain slicing up his face as something warm poured down his lips and chin. Mason swore violently.

"Did you have to go for my face?" Mason said. "It means a lot to a lot of people. Including me."

A pair of meaty hands jerked Mason up and Mason felt grateful for the blood on the floor. Owens wasn't dense enough to miss that clue.

But his heart sank as the other man bent down to clean it.

Mason looked at the man who held him in a tight and unbreakable grip.

"I take it this is where you tell me to come with you or you'll kill me?" Mason asked.

The man grunted.

"More original," Mason said. "I approve."

Even as his voice came out evenly, his heart beat frantically in his chest. He needed to get out of the situation. There was no way out. He wasn't delusional enough to think he could take on these men. His broken nose was proof he couldn't. He needed Owens.

That was a thought he didn't like having.

But he needed Owens. Owens needed to know he was taken.

As the man roughly guided Mason down the stairs, Mason wiggled his wedding ring off his finger. As it fell, Mason stumbled and swore again loudly to cover the ping of the mental on the tile floor.

"Enough," the man said.

"I apologize, this is my first time being manhandled. I'm not used to the rough way of walking. However, it gives me a new understanding for women who have to deal with situations like this. My whole view of life might be changed because of this."

The man shook Mason a little and Mason took that as a sign he needed to shut up. He didn't think that was likely to last long, in any given situation sarcasm and talking were his way of coping.

At the door, the man stopped them and wiped the blood clean from Mason's face. The pain of the man touching Mason's nose nearly made him black out. He went limp but was forcefully hauled to his feet again.

"Walk normally," the man said. "Or-"

"You'll kill me. Yeah, I know. I preferred the grunt. It was more unique. Now you sound like any other thug."

The man glared at Mason, which Mason didn't have the heart to tell him didn't affect him whatsoever. Not when he'd lived with Owens glares the majority of his life. One of her glares could make a man wet himself, this man only looked like an annoyed child. The image made panicked laughter rise in Mason's throat and he fought to tamp it down.

They crossed the street to Thomas's house without a single person passing by or seeing them. When they entered Thomas stood waiting for them, his hands behind his back.

Mason assumed he was going for intimidating but that was laughable. Mason had grown up with a President for a father, this man was a pathetic bad guy who picked the wrong person to mess with: Owens.

"Mason Douglas," Thomas said as if this were a big reveal.

It wasn't to Mason, he knew exactly who he was. Why would that be a surprise to him? Though the fact that Thomas knew it was something they'd not predicted. Not when he'd accepted the lie that Mason had been his own cousin.

But the years of working to never be caught off guard by anyone kept Mason from reacting. Thomas continued to stare at Mason and eventually Mason looked at the man holding him.

"I think he's waiting for you to respond," Mason said. "I know who I am."

The blasé comment stole all of Thomas' smugness and he jerked his head towards the hall. As he strode off with Mason being hauled after him, Mason couldn't help his tiny smile even as his heart told him it was not the time to be acting smug at pissing someone off. The someone in question had him in his house without anyone knowing was there. The logic of Mason's rapidly beating heart wiped away the tiny smile.

When he was led down a flight of stairs to the basement and an average wood shop setup, except for the ominous atmosphere, Mason felt every muscle tense with fear.

Years of practice, and the strongest will never to show his true feelings, kept him from jerking in the man's grasp. He wasn't strong enough to fight the man's grip, and doing so would only show he felt afraid.

Instead, keeping his composure, he allowed himself to be directed to a chair in the center of the room and strapped to it. Causally, Mason twisted his head this way and that, taking in the whole room. Looking as unimpressed as he could, he focused back on Thomas.

"Cute room," he said.

Out of nowhere, a fist slammed into his face. Flares of pain laced up his cheekbone and rang in his ear. The world darkened for a second before slowly clearing. But when Mason tried to open his left eye all the way, it protested and he shut it to make it simpler.

With a sigh, Mason shifted in the chair, getting more comfortable even as his head throbbed.

"You know," Mason said the man who'd delivered the blow. "You lost your cool. Really shows you're getting a little too emotional, maybe you should take a walk or a few deep breaths."

The next hit came to Mason's ribs and Mason coughed, bile rising in his throat. The pain kept Mason bent longer than he wanted, hating that they could see that it hurt him. Part of him knew he should stop talking but the stronger, dumber, part of him couldn't.

"Thomas," Mason said, straightening. "Having seen your operation, I would have thought you smarter."

Thomas flinched as if Mason had been the one to punch him. But quickly, Thomas recovered and cocked his head, smiling pleasantly at Mason.

"I am smart. Because even with your flawless cover," Thomas said. "I still discovered who you were."

Mason barked out a laugh but regretted it as his ribs screamed but he kept it from showing.

"After two weeks. Any teenager with a phone and eyes could have figured that out. No, you're stupid because even knowing who I am, you're treating me like this. Do you have any idea what hell is about to come down on you?"

"Ah, the powerful father card," Thomas said musingly.

"No, the crazy partner connected with a massive law enforcement agency card." 

The door at the top of the stairs opened and Mason smirked as he caught Thomas tense. But it was only the second thug who entered and pounded down the stairs.

"Ah Thing Two," Mason said.

The next blow hit the other side of his ribs and Mason spat out blood onto the floor. Which he hoped stained and smelled until the next person bought the house. His body screamed at him to stop talking but Mason's brain always had been the stronger aspect of him.

"I'm not going to kill you," Thomas said. "That should bring you some comfort."

"I didn't think you were," Mason said. "So your comfort is pointless."

The blow to the face turned everything black and Mason waited for the peacefulness of unconsciousness to take him. Unconscious he couldn't talk and make matters work.

But pinprick of light by pinprick the world came back. Mason rolled his head back, his skull feeling like someone was hammering it.

"You seriously," Mason said, tiredly. "Have got to get your emotions in check. This is just embarrassing for you."

Something started ringing and Mason raised his head, knowing it was his phone.

"Ah, I see your lovely wife is calling you," Thomas said.

Anger like Mason had never known came over him. These people had tied him up, meaning it was unlikely he'd get home to Yvette that night. It had been two weeks since he'd seen her. He wanted to yell at all of them for making everything worse.

But when Thomas showed him his phone, Mason wanted to laugh but history told him it would be a bad idea. On the screen wasn't Yvette but Carter, a sapping photo they'd had to gag their way through to take for their cover.

"What should I tell her?" Thomas said, declining the call but pulling up their messages.

"To not wait on dinner, I've been taken by a psychopath and will most likely be late."

The second punch to his already damaged ribs made everything go fuzzy as the pain ripped through his body. Voices faded to indistinguishable noises. Mason promised himself one day he'd learn to shut up.

"You left your wedding ring," Thomas said, leaning down to Mason. "That was cute of you."

"What can I say... I'm cute."

Thomas slapped Mason and stars burst before his eyes as his head exploded with pain. The darkness crept in and Mason pulled on it, wanting to escape into it. He chased it as it tried to recede leaving him with nothing but pain and a room full of overly abusive men.

"I'm afraid to tell you," Thomas said. "Your wife will not be calling the police since she thinks nothing is wrong."

Mason smiled a little, unable to open his eyes anymore. "You got something right. You should be... afraid."

The next hit sent Mason falling into a well of blackness and he dropped gratefully, the world fading to muffles.

The muffles changed from low tones to sharper ones but still, they stayed muffled.

But a touch, not abusive tugged Mason from the well and slowly he let himself return to the reality of the room. The voice in his ears was soft, scared, and urgent.

"This is FBI Agent Owens. I need an ambulance immediately," Carter said.

He knew that voice. Mason wanted to smile. He'd never been happier to hear that voice.

Hands soft in places but toughened with calluses tenderly touched his face, his arms, chest, and along his stomach.

"Getting handsy...with me...Owens?" Mason said, weakly.

He heard Carter laugh but it cut off halfway through as if she choked on it. She shifted away and Mason wanted to ask her to stay, something he never imagined saying. But before he could find the words, she'd returned. The straps on his wrists fell away.

"You're going to be fine," Carter said.

Mason fought to open his one working eye to see her. She had her head bent, cutting the ties on his ankle.

"I know... I have... you," Mason said.

When she lifted her head, Mason stared, wondering if the pain in his head was causing him to see things. Because on Carter's cheeks were tears. Weakly, Mason reached out to touch them, wanting to know if they were real.

"You're leaking, Owens."

Carter roughly swiped at her face. "Don't you know these are just allergies?"

"Ah. My mistake." That made more sense. Mason dropped his head back, closing his one working eye. "I almost thought you cared about me."

"That's you wrong. It would look bad for me if my partner died on the job."

Die. His whole body hurt in ways he'd never thought it could. Would this be how he went? Because he couldn't shut up. His father would say he'd warned him about that.

"Am I going to die?" he asked.

"No, you're barely damaged. You're just being dramatic."

That sounded more like him. He laughed a little only to remember why that was a bad idea.

"Don't laugh," Carter said.

"Thanks for that astounding advice."

Carter looked around the studio and Mason did as well, seeing the destruction Owens had caused. He only wished he'd been conscious to see it. Must have been amusing.

"What happened?" Carter asked, quietly.

"Jumped me when I was packing up. I don't know how they knew. My security system didn't even go off. They must have disabled it."

Mason heard footsteps overhead and tensed as Carter whipped out her gun, aiming it at the door.

"Agent Owens?" a voice called out.

"Down here. Is the ambulance here?" Carter asked as the agents descended into the basement.

The leader nodded and at the back of the group, two medics rushed forward with a gurney.

"Gently, he's bruised but I don't know if there's more damage than that."

Mason knew there was, he might never talk back to another person again. That damage was irreversible.

When the medics lifted Mason to the gurney, he wanted to yell at them to stop hurting him. But exhaustion made speech hard to find. Hooked into the firm mattress, Mason closed his eye and waited for the pain to take him into unconsciousness again.

Though it didn't, Mason was only half aware of people working around him, sticking something into his arm, putting a mask over his mouth, murmuring something he couldn't make out.

When the mattress jolted a little, Mason opened his eye and found Carter sitting in the ambulance beside him. She held her head in her hands, shoulders slumped over. It was a dejected Owens Mason had never seen.

Though he didn't know what she was thinking, he wanted her to know he was grateful to her. But he didn't have the words. All he could do was hold out his hand and hope that she'd see it. When she noticed it, she met his gaze.

She took his hand and Mason closed his eye. He felt her firm grip and it carried him through the rest of the ride until he got taken away.

The examination and resetting of his nose made Mason almost believe hospitals were just as bad as the bad guys. But when they gave him a bed and more pain meds, he decided they were the better of the two bad guys he'd encountered that day.

He felt on the verge of sleep when his door opened. It took what felt like hours for him to muster the strength to see who'd bothered to come see him.

"I should have stayed with you," Carter said.

The stupidity of that comment woke Mason up fully. He blinked at her. Sometimes he wonders if Owens was as smart as he'd thought she was. Or maybe she only knew how to fool people into thinking she was smart.

"Yeah. This is your fault," Mason said. Carter laughed. "Just don't let it happen again. I know I complain about life but that doesn't mean I want to die."

"I promise."

With that reassurance, Mason decided it was best to sleep for a few years. But then the door opened again and Mason knew that sweet scent anywhere. It felt like being revived. He opened his eye and saw Yvette hurrying inside. But instead of coming to him, she hugged Carter. An act of betrayal that Mason had ever seen. They whispered something to each other, making the betrayal last longer.

"Invalid in a bed here," Mason said.

With teary eyes but wearing a soft smile, she settled on the edge of the bed. Mason didn't want her to sit on the edge, he wanted her to curl up beside him and hold him until the nightmare of the day faded completely. Even knowing how much pain it would cause for her to do that, Mason still wanted it.

But he said nothing, not with Carter standing right there.

Yvette touched his cheek and Mason could only think about how awful he must look, completely unable to open one of his eyes. He turned away.

"Don't look. I look sad, pathetic, and ugly," Mason said. Only thinking about how joking might keep her from thinking too hard about what he went through. 

"Aww yes," Yvette said. "I forgot I only married you for your looks. I should leave and come back when you aren't so ugly."

The teasing tone was genuine and Mason saw how the initial worry she'd had on entering the room started to recede.

"Excuse me, I was just tortured," Mason whined. "Can you please show me some sympathy?"

His words had the desired result, he'd said the truth but taken away the weight of it by making light of it. Yvette smiled and he knew it would be okay, her fear for him wouldn't change her love for him.

"Of course," Yvette said, softly.

Donovan appeared in the doorway and Carter instantly left with him, giving Mason the freedom to be alone with his wife.

He cupped her cheek, all the fear he'd been suppressing surging to the surface.

"I thought I wasn't going to get to see you tonight," he said.

His throat felt tighten but he kept it in. The worst was over, he didn't need to think about it. Owens had come through like he knew she would. Yvette was with him. That's all he needed to focus on. For now, he didn't need to think of the other possible realities.

"Can you promise me something?" Yvette asked.

"Anything."

"Don't get into something like this again?"

Mason saw how, like him, she was working to keep her fear in check. They were both scared to let the other see how afraid they'd been.

"Promise," Mason said.

"Okay. Is it too much work to move a little?"

Mason didn't care how much pain it would cause and it caused a considerable amount, but he shifted over. Yvette curled up next to him but did not touch him.

Gently, she reached out and touched his cheek. When he didn't flinch with pain, Yvette carefully caressed his face.

Mason closed his eye and relaxed, her touch the only kind of painkiller he needed.

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Hey there Dunkin Ducks!

(Question: why are ducks playing basketball? I feel like with their wings it would be cheating! They'd be able fly to the hoop)

Okay okay thoughts, you must have some! 🗯💬💭

Honestly, I don't have many thoughts other than I love Mason. I love Mason with a depth that is concerning considering he's not real.

And how does he do it?! He literally never once stopped with the quips! How does he do that?! I'd be catatonic.  Or crying. Or yelling. Or something of a gibbering mess.

But we all now that Mason is stronger than me. Smarter than me. Funnier than me. Sharper than me. He's just... better.

But I guess that's nothing new. It's true for most my characters. Okay, let's move on before I develop a complex around my character being better than me.

Vote, comment, follow but only if you like M&Ms.

Shout out comments from: Being Followed (part 4)

😂 this was so perfectly said.

Ditto! Mason and Carter are my faves.

😂😂😂

Cause some of us are losing the bunny in our lives. 💜