Slovakia seemed to be the most understated country in the world as far as I was concerned. The extensive time spent on a train was worth it when I saw the soft, green rolling hills that covered the horizon. The stunning surroundings often made me forget my reality. I had seen several old structures that looked like the remains of castles and I would always excitedly press myself up against the window then turn to Alistair, expecting him to spew information.

But when I met his eyes he looked very collected and deeply somber.

My excitement would immediately be under control once more and my lips would remain shut.

Yes, we were traveling together, and yes, it had been a long and boring day with no one to talk to. But I wasn't about to confront Alistair about what his brother said, nor was I ready to hear him tell me that his response to the kiss had been impulsive and he regretted it. For now, we would both wrestle our demons in silence.

We spent a full day on the train, leaving Paris on Boxing Day morning and arriving in a city called Kosice when the sun had already set and a cool chill had settled into the air. I smiled a little bit when I saw snow coating the grass and the roofs of buildings. I felt as far away from Canada as I had ever been, but at least there was something that reminded me of home.

Alistair slipped off the train and I trailed behind. I nearly groaned out loud when we boarded yet another train and ended up back tracking. About half an hour later we ended up in something that was more of a village than a town.

As much as I loved the reminder of home I actually quite disliked snow. As we walked from the train station to our destination I wrapped my arms around myself and held on tightly. The flimsy hoodie I had on wasn't doing much to save me from the cold and my runners were very slippery on the crunchy snow. The gentle weather in Paris had been a blessing I forgot to appreciate, but the long walk in the cold made me very envious of my previous station.

"This is it?" I asked softly when Alistair opened a gate to a very modest looking house.

It wasn't that I expected more for myself; it was the fact that I had seen the luxury that Alistair's parents chased. Secluded villas covering in trailing plants that looked like they were fit for a fairy tale. The stunning condo in the city that looked like it was from an old movie with its original flooring and historic crown molding. This was not soft and whimsical nor was it grand and opulent. It was just a little house in a village.

Alistair didn't reply to me, continuing with the theme for the day. He just marched up to the front door and retrieved the key from somewhere. A second later we were both inside and I understood.

The exterior was very underwhelming, but the interior was at the peak of modern styling in Europe. Stunning wood flooring, stark white walls and cabinets, and dark accents. Sleek, stylish and very functional. Within a second it became my favorite property that we had stayed in.

But my delight was squashed once more when Alistair crossed my line of vision and I saw just how bleak he looked. I wanted to pepper him with question so I could understand what was going on in his head. I wanted to know how he felt about the kiss, if I needed to apologize or not. I wanted to know what gave Jasper the authority to barge into the quiet villa and disrupt everything. And I needed to know who Malia was and why I was somehow similar to her. It wasn't fair that I was being strung along so limply while I was in the dark.

Alistair didn't leave any room for those questions to be asked and I was certain he wouldn't answer anyway. Besides, I didn't think I truly had the guts to ask them right now anyway.

He showed me the functional kitchen with clean lines, the living room with a massive bookshelf, and the small, plain bedroom that would be mine. I awkwardly nodded along with his limited amount of words. I was dismissed rather quickly. As much as I wanted to grill Alistair I was also thoroughly exhausted and decided that everything would wait until tomorrow. My confidence needed to rebuild and I needed my mind to be on a clearer path, perhaps one that wasn't based around Alistair stroking my hair while I was haunted by nightmares and he was very much shirtless.

But the next morning when I ambled into the living room- my hair still a mess and my pajamas still on- Alistair was waiting for me, wearing jeans and a teeshirt. He watched me intently as I entered the shared space and silently gestured to the open spot beside him. I slowly sat down on the couch beside him, a second steaming mug on the coffee table in front of me. When I peered into it I realized that it was dark tea and not the steamed milk I had grown accustomed to.

"It'll have to do until we go shopping." He said with a nervous smile.

I muttered my thanks and carefully sipped the beverages, unsure of where we now stood.

"I think it's only fair that you have some questions for me." He reasoned, turning his attention fully to me. "I'm prepared to answer them as best as I can."

I thought I would carefully select my starting point, but my impulsive behavior got the best of me.

"Why does Jasper hate me so much?" I blurted.

Alistair seemed taken aback by my suddenness and took a minute to collect his thoughts, nodding to himself as he did so.

"I don't think he hates you-"

"Alistair, if you hadn't been there I think he would've ripped my head off."

He pondered this for a moment and took a deep breath before starting again, "Jasper is a complicated person and the reasons for the way he is come from a very long confusing collection of events."

"I, personally, have nothing better to do than listen, Alistair."

We both took a heavy drink of our beverages then Alistair started unraveling the mystery that was Jasper, but as he did so I watched an invisible heaviness fall on his shoulders.

"Jasper and I were raised very differently from other kids and I guess all of this started back then in some way. We were raised to be in the same business that my parents were in."

"Which is what, exactly? I mean other than dragging women out of their homes."

Alistair met my snarky comment with a hard glare.

"My work is very hard to explain in its entirety. But basically, we do everything and anything that the police and their specialized teams can't handle. Whether it takes more finesse like easing a confession out of a mobster before he's arrested, or more dangerous like a single person who is a threat to national security and needs to be taken out as quietly as possible. My supervisor knows everyone's skill set and hands out assignments accordingly. Sometimes things are slow, like the day your house was broken into, we just float around and cover the gaps in policing and EMS shifts."

"How do you even get hired for a job like that?" I pressed. "I imagine you have a very impressive resume."

"They find you, you don't go to them." Alistair corrected. "I was already on the radar because of my parents, but it's very elite and almost impossible to get into on your own accord."

"And your parents raised you to be perfect for this job?"

"Of course."

"How exactly?"

"My parents were constantly on the move, which helped us accumulate these houses, but also taught me a tremendous amount of languages. I was born in Canada, but lived in Germany from the time I could walk until I started going to school, then it was down to Peru for three years, back to Canada but this time in Quebec so I would learn French. But Canadian French is very different from true French so then I was bumped to a private school in Paris for a few years. Then Slovakia for two years and Poland for one."

"So learning a lot of languages gets you hired."

"That and I also participated in every sport I could. Hockey, archery, lacrosse, golfing, snowboarding. Anything that challenges your body and demands that your brain faces a stark learning curve is good as well. There's also less fun parts like etiquette courses so I know how to dance the fox trot with a woman should the need ever arise, fencing classes in case the only weapon I can grab is decorative sword, and tons of biology and chemistry. You never know when you need to know which acids will burn through rope in less than seven seconds."

"That sounds absurdly intense for a child." I replied with a heavy frown, "When did you have time to play with other kids or build Lego castles?"

"You don't. You kind of just let go of your childhood and accept that you're going to be doing something else for the rest of your life. Your childhood is super intense schooling, constant physical activity, and zero normal social interaction. A lot of people become very bitter about it. They blame the world for the lack of childhood happiness. But Jasper was never like that."

I could only raise my eyebrow in surprise, because if I had to label anyone as bitter it would be Jasper.

Alistair continued before I could argue.

"He loved his job so much. He thought it was like this amazing opportunity or something. Being an agent meant everything to him. We got into it very young thanks to our parents. I started just before I turned twenty two and Jasper got in three years before me when he was twenty five. Everything went really well for the first bit I think. I mean, there is the reality that you are actually mingling with very dangerous people, people who would murder you immediately if they know who you were. But other than that I think he did great.

"Then, one day, he went after the daughter of a drug king in South America. It was his big break and it was the perfect assignment for someone like him, tough and diligent. But things didn't go as planned. No one saw him or heard from him for a year and a half." Alistair swallowed hard, staring at his mug so intensely. "We all thought he was dead. What else could we think? We buried an empty casket. My parents announced they would be retiring as they couldn't handle the grief on losing a son and continuing to do the same thing that had killed him. I stopped almost all of my training, worried that if I ended up in the same situation my parents wouldn't be able to handle it. Someone had to be there for them. Then he just showed up one day, about five hundred days after he took the assignment.

"Seeing him alive was a massive shock. I never thought that my mom was a fainter but seeing her son after she thought he was dead for so long did it. My dad snapped too, he thought he was seeing a ghost and immediately called the hospital. And then came Dallas."

"Who is Dallas?" I asked softly.

I could see how much Alistair was struggling to get the words out of his mouth. I had never seen him so raw and so vulnerable. This was the darkest point in his life, I was certain. But he had seen me at my weakest and I wanted answers.

"Jasper's son." He answered tightly, when he found his voice again. "We all love him now and we were always conscious of the fact that he was just a baby and the whole situation was not his fault, but it was hard to know that my brother had a child with the daughter of a drug lord."

"Is he still with Malia?"

Alistair rubbed a tired hand over his face, "No."

"What happened?"

"To put it very simply he fell in love with Malia right away. Saw her and that was the end of his rationality I guess. They slept together a few times. She told him that she loved him and that she was pregnant. He decided that he needed to be honest and blew his own cover, thinking that he would take her back to Canada and protect her from everything that would undoubtedly come their way. That was not a vision she had, she was completely content living the lavish life she had. She told her dad- the very dangerous man he was supposed to get information on in the first place- and her dad locked him up. He got the shit kicked out of him three or four times a week for a little over a year. Had super limited social interaction, didn't see the sun more than once a week, barely got fed. They kept him almost as close to death as they could without killing him. It was some kind of sick psychological game to them."

I watched Alistair's face become completely clouded with hundreds of emotions. He looked like he was on the brink of tears but the way his hands were clenched led me to believe that he was furious as well. He might've not lived through it with Jasper, but he could certainly make himself feel it.

I tentatively reached out and laid my hand on his. The tiny gesture felt very brazen.

"He's okay now, Alistair." I murmured.

The look of weakness drifted away. He straightened his back and took another drink of tea. My hand fell limply back into my own lap.

"Yeah, he's fine now. We don't really talk about how he got out or how he was able to get Dallas out of there with him. He released a statement to his team with all the details, but I think he only did it because he had to or because he hoped it would help them with a take down. We all just accept that and don't ask anymore. This kind of work makes us all have secrets. After that nothing was more important than staying in shape and his work. He's convinced that if he had been in better physical shape he would've been able to escape much sooner and he refuses to let anything distract him from his work aside for Dallas."

"I'm so sorry." I whispered softly.

Alistair stood up suddenly, a mask of emotionlessness falling over his handsome face.

"I'm not the one who suffered, he did." He replied curtly.

"You went through losing your brother, having him come back, a new nephew, and then the man that you grew up with became someone different."

Something flashed in his eyes, but he turned away before I could read it.

"I'm going out." He blurted.

I just let him go, knowing that he needed to be alone after he had to relive all of those awful events, from his own perspective and his brother's.

****What do we think of Jasper now?****