Chapter Text
A week passed. Spot was excused from work, but never left the office. Pulitzer hadn’t told him he wasn’t supposed to be working, he figured it best. Spot was angrier than usual, and many agents had caught him sobbing in one situation or another.
Sarah had picked up pretty quickly on Spot’s plan to let himself be killed, and had put an end to it immediately, installing cameras in Race’s room.
Spot walked down the hallway to the medical wing, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun on his heel. Davey.
“What do you want?” He spat, drawing his shoulders up defensively. Davey looked at him cautiously, his face a perfect mix of fear and sympathy.
“I want to talk to you, Spot.” He said, taking Spot by the arm and leading him to an unused meeting room before he could protest.
“I swear to god Davey, I don’t need your goddamn pity.” Spot was silenced when Davey sat down in a chair and looked at him nervously, jaw locked into place.
“I’m not here to give you pity.”
“Really? Then, prey tell, what are you here to do?”
“Tell you I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” Davey repeated. Silence fell over the room. Spot didn’t speak, rather just waiting for Davey to say something.
Finally, he did.
“I need you to understand that I know what you’re going through. I was in your shoes exactly. It wasn’t fun, and it wasn’t pretty, but look at Jack and I now. We’re happy.” Davey said earnestly, and Spot scoffed.
“Yeah, things are different with you.”
“Are they really, though?” Davey asked.
“Yes. I could have- should seen this coming. I knew about his goddamn past. We’re only in this situation because of me. Agents were wounded and some almost died because of me-”
“But you killed Snyder.”
“Jack killed Snyder.” Spot reminded coldly. “I was too busy bleeding to death.” Davey looked at Spot with an emotion that he couldn’t quite peg, but could only describe as lost.
“Okay, so the path that lead you here wasn’t pretty. For either of you. I can understand that, it happens to a lot of soulmates. They go through the worst to end up happy.”
“Yes, but a lot of soulmates don’t get kidnapped, tortured, and trained to be a walking weapon. They don’t have their partner strapped to a chair, practically foaming at the mouth with a desire to kill. A lot of people don’t-”
Spot was silenced as his watch chimed with a notification from the Agency, and he rushed to get it open.
“Get in the medical ward. Now.” Was all the message read. Spot cursed and leapt to his feet.
“We’ll continue this later.” Davey said.
“Yeah, sure.” Spot appeased, dashing of the room and into the hall, sprinting down the flights of stairs leading to where Race was. He’d learned a few days ago that the elevator took longer than steps.
He burst through the stairway door, almost panting as he caught Sarah’s attention. She gripped him by the arm and dragged him towards Race’s room.
“What’s going on?” He asked. Sarah looked exhausted, her hair tied up haphazardly and a wild look in her eyes.
“Race remembers you.” Spot pulled away from her to open the door eagerly. She gripped him tighter.
“Sort of. I need you to remind him. Make sure he knows exactly who you are. Goddamnit Spot, you could meet your soulmate today.” She said, and let him go.
Spot burst through the door, his heart thumping wildly and his blood rushing through his body.
Race looked up at him, fragile and weak, though at a more healthy weight than when he’d been brought in.
“Racer?” Spot asked tentatively, stepping slowly closer. Race gave him a look so full of emotion his heart almost broke, though he still seemed… Empty. Resigned. Scared.
“I… I think I know you.” Race said softly, like he was afraid of his own voice, like it betrayed him. Spot grinned from ear to ear.
“You do, Race. You do.” Spot started, stepping closer and placing a hand on Race’s chair, not daring to touch him just yet.
“I’m Spot Conlon, and I’m your soulmate. I know practically everything there is to know about you. You’re Italian, and a genius. You’re kind and gorgeous and the biggest bookworm I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Race looked down, and began to thrash in his chair. Spot stopped, terror coursing through him, before he heard a soft voice.
“K-keep talking. I’m remembering.” It choked out. Spot gently laced his fingers with Race’s. He continued to thrash and scream, face contorted in agony. Spot kept talking.
“You’re a phenomenal actor, and your dancing… Oh my god, your dancing. You look like heaven, like worlds colliding and reforming, like your own force of nature. It’s breathtaking. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.” Spot paused as Race stilled, and for a moment, Spot thought he was unconscious.
Then, he stirred. Moved a little, lifted his head. Spot’s heart swelled.
“I do know you.” Race said, and his voice was warmer. His eyes bright, exactly like Spot knew them from his dreams.
“You’re Spot Conlon, and you’re my soulmate. You’re a spy for the US, head of your department, and you’re a genius. You don’t have very healthy sleeping habits, but you make it work anyways. You make your coffee the exact right way every single morning, and you care for everyone you see. You’re loyal and kind and everything I could ever want in a man.” Race said.
Tears sprung to Spot’s eyes as he ran to the walls of the room, plucking the key off the wall and unlocking Race’s binds.
Spot pulled Race up and tugged him into the tightest hug he’d ever given. Everything seemed to click into place. The world was bright and warm and happy, and with Race enveloped in his arms, he understood why he did what he did.
“I love you.” Race mumbled. Spot grinned wider.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.” He replied.