The young man with the jet black hair that was combed in the ‘Armani’ style stubbed his cigarette out by pressing the smoking end into the marble ashtray on his desk. Deep-set emerald green eyes shone with brilliance but were achingly sad as well. He was extremely attractive, with much of his beauty radiating from the inside. It was perhaps uncanny to call a man ‘beautiful’. The word had been once the prerogative of women. But he really was. There was no other way to describe him. He radiated melancholic goodness.

Isaiah Raily watched the orange glow sparked with a last attempt at luster and died soon after. It could not burn the cool marble even if it tried its hardest. The ashtray was a reluctant present from his late mother, a bible-thumping woman who picked his name from the old Testament, who had always been trying to get him to quit smoking. She was a dear old biddy and he missed her. He missed her very much.

Nobody knew how to address him besides occasionally clumsily tripping over the three syllables of his name. An obvious abbreviation would be Isa of course which was disallowed in any circumstances. Isa was the Arabic name for Jesus and anyone who called Isaiah that would have committed blasphemy in his mother’s opinion. Very staunch opinions.

His thoughts wandered to the deep sorrow that plagued him for far too many years. In his reverie, he had not noticed Grey Man approaching his desk and throwing a thin file onto his table. Only after Grey Man knocked the table twice did he broke from his trance-like state. When he spotted the brown, unassuming file, he just wanted to rip it up into a million pieces.

The secrets of his life were overbearing. There he was, twenty-five years old with the weight of the world on his shoulders. His piling work was non-existent, and if The Network could have their way, he would be non-existent. The life of a secret agent was never conducive for life. He was talent-spotted while he was a policeman with the NYPD; his knack for getting into the minds of criminals most of the times with frightening accuracy both a bane and a boon.

"Yes Grey? A new case or an old one we screwed up?" He greeted his mentor wearily, with a soft, raspy and yet low voice. He was just back from a vacation in one of the few heavens left on Earth- an island off the coast of Trengganu, Malaysia called Perhentian. He had not imagined such beauty and simplicity still existing in the world, side by side the one which was his- filled with horrors after horrors of what mankind was capable of.

"Very funny. It’s just the profile of your new partner. I thought you may be interested. He came highly recommended by the FBI. They felt that he needed a career more ‘out of the ordinary’. With Alan’s passing, you need a partner. I thought I’ll assign him to you." Grey Man explained in that flat drone of his. Everything about Grey Man was flat and grey. Sometimes, even his protégé had trouble remembering the ordinary face. Lackluster brown eyes, graying brown hair and a ‘roundish’ face was Grey Man’s best defense against those who sought his identity. His physical appearance was simply too unassuming and that made him too deadly.

Isaiah raised a brow in a questioning look and used the tip of his pen to lift the cover of the profile. He was dreading a new partner. He hoped he never had to remember the name. Another partner seemed to be another name to send a wreath to after some time. Isaiah had his share of wounds but he always miraculously slipped past Death’s grip.

As usual, on the first page of any hardcopy of an agent’s profile would be a non-flattering photo. However, there was no way to make the man being photographed any less than gorgeous. Light blond hair, almost an striking sheen of whiteness from some angles and deep blue eyes like the depths of the ocean. His coldness was such that the camera could catch it even in still form.

Isaiah would remember the face anywhere, in any form. He could never forget it, he could never want to forget it. The moment he had some cash of his own from part-time work while he was a teenager, he had hired a PI to track this boy…no…man…down. He continued tracking him until the subject turned twenty-one. Isaiah could finally find some peace, knowing he was safe and would have a bright future ahead of him.

Isaiah flinched from the painful memories that was forever etched in his mind. He was only ten. Elijah was a precocious eight-year old then.

"Are you doing this purposely? We are not like the Hardy Boys that you pinned so much hopes on to one day join us…not that loving brothers crap. If I’m lucky, he may not kill me before the day is over. If you’re so desperate for a brothers’ united-together team, you can wait for Frank Hardy to graduate in a year’s time."

Grey Man’s face shadowed over and he coughed uneasily. Isaiah heard about the plight of the Hardy Brothers of course. They were famous, having helped The Network cracked many cases which they had so brazenly ‘invited’ themselves into. The most famous exploit of theirs that was being reiterated all over The Network was how they helped stop a hydrogen bomb from exploding in a volcano somewhere in Indonesia.

"I’m sorry. What I meant was…it won’t work out. It’s better for you to assign him to the branch in Chicago…better if we don’t see each other." Isaiah’s tone became more gentle when he saw the brief moment of sadness on Grey’s face before the mien became all indifferent again.

"Better for you or for him? Anyway, it’s not done purposely. You need a partner and up he pops at the right time. Who knows, fate has a funny way of working things out."

Isaiah surveyed the office. It was like any posh commercial offices, white tables, white walls and white blinds, giving that sanitary feel. Yet, hidden minute cameras and other assorted security instruments kept the office constantly closely watched, without alerting the agents of their presence- concealed enough to give the agents that false sense of privacy.

"So where’s he going to sit? Everyone used Alan’s desk like an extra storage space…tons of files to clear."

"Then everyone will just have to sort out the files and take theirs away. He’s arriving tomorrow, still being briefed at our "fantasy" headquarters. Maybe you can grab this chance Fate is giving you…work out some demons." Grey Man’s drone let slip and some concern crept inside the words.

Isaiah gave Grey a tight smile. "You meant God."

"No. Fate. I’m agnostic, remember? Don’t try to convince me." Grey Man spoke, half-jokingly.

"Nope, was not going to. Not feeling right for a theoretical debate now. Just found it weird that you can believe in Fate and not God."

Grey Man’s mien lost that momentarily slight mirth. "Well, because…just because. Be nice to your partner. Just like I’m your mentor, you’re now his."

"No problem. Like I said…it won’t work out." Isaiah tossed the file aside. Whatever was written in it he would have already known like the back of his hand. Pretending to type in some report on his workstation, he gestured his wish for Grey Man to leave him alone- a wish which was granted.

Isaiah then stopped all pretense of work. After glancing around and noticing that the other two agents in that section were indifferent to whatever he was doing, he retrieved the profile from the side of his right-angled table and gingerly perused through it.

And he closed his eyes, hearing the eight-year old Elijah screamed his name over and over again as he was being carried away by their despicable father- in hysterics- after their parents signed the divorce papers.

***

Wen Li-Lin, or better known as Lynn since all the Americans here thought that her name was Wen Li, which was so presumptuous of them. Asians placed their surnames first, a long-standing tradition that the ‘Family’ comes first. Thus her name was Li-Lin, not Wen Li and definitely not Li-Lin Wen. However, after being so frustrated by many who could not grasp the different culture, she let them call her by the name Lynn- her Baptism name adopted so many years ago.

Lynn waited for Isaiah to emerge from the commercial building. She was outstation for a couple of days which she really enjoyed, because she hated being trapped in the office. Always a little impatient, she was slightly annoyed when he was taking ten minutes too long.

After a while, she saw him emerged from the glass erection. There he was, a 6ft 2 inches lean and well-built man with the deep tan. He was handsome, in the out-worldly manner and they had been dating non-exclusively for the past two years.

Her silky, short black hair brushed against the nap of her neck as she turned around and started walking into the direction of the restaurant at 42^nd Street, New York, that they were supposed to be having dinner in. This was her way. He knew that she was just being Lynn, not snubbing him or anything. Very soon, she felt him right by her side, slipping his hand in hers.

"Tough day." He muttered as they crossed the heavy traffic to a small, beige-colored building. The human traffic was also appalling but as usual, even with the never-softening din, she heard him. They were trained to hear each other- even when the speaker was not speaking.

"Why?"

"Tell you later." He took out his cigarette case and stuck one stick into his mouth, before reaching into his pants’ pocket to put the case back and to retrieve a sleek lighter. Smoking took some of his stress away and maybe warmed him in the Autumn chill, though hurting his body and those who breathed in the second-hand smoke in the process.

They stepped into the little restaurant that was thankfully very good and yet not popular enough for it to lose its homely charms. Mrs Greenfields, the owner of the restaurant spotted her regulars and very effusively welcomed them, hugging Lynn tightly and clapping Isaiah on the back like how a gung-ho mother would.

"Haven’t seen you kids for…like a week? I’ve always reserved the table for you two, will never let anyone take it during dinnertime. So, what do you wish today?" She led the couple to their usual table, the one in the corner, next to the glass window that would give them an unobstructed view of the bustling city.

"Fish N Chips." Lynn answered chirpily at the kind old lady who could never fail to make her feel warm and welcomed. Isaiah nodded and indicated that he wanted the same.

When Mrs. Greenfields left them, Lynn took a sip of the ice water and observed Isaiah’s troubled look. Isaiah was always troubled. He was terribly sweet and terribly haunted by memories that he could only reveal a little of to her. He had propped his head up by resting his elbow on the table and resting his chin on the clenched fist, his eyes pensive. Lynn reached for a piece of napkin and waved it in front of him.

"Hey! Earth to Isaiah Raily! You’re ignoring me…"

"Am I? Sorry…I’m not myself today." He apologized, having woken from his deep, dark thoughts. Lynn felt sorry for him. Normally, Isaiah would get a mild bout of depression after a terrible case. The previous one had his partner killed and Grey promptly sent him off to a vacation for a month.

The nature of Isaiah case-solving methods was also a highly intense one- one that would leave him feeling all tired and exhausted with the world at times. But Isaiah Raily was a stoic creature, unable to bow down to any trials that came his way. Isaiah always had a sweet, sad hope in him that one day, he would find peace and start living a beautiful life.

She pouted and sipped her water again. He cocked his head to one side and pretended to investigate each and every contours of her face. Glowering even more, she raised a questioning brow.

"Anyone told you the girl in the cartoon Final Fantasy looks a lot like you?"

"Just because I’m Chinese? She’s supposed to be a Japanese."

"Yes…but you’re so much prettier."

Lynn took the compliments in her stride. She was used to being called gorgeous in that exotic manner. And many times, strangers would come up to her and asked her if she was the model for the cartoon and she would smile tightly in response. The first few times were amusing. After that, it got irritating. The cartoon was passé but Isaiah, being slow to the entertainment scene, only just caught the show on VCD.

Strangers too came up to her and just tell her she was beautiful. Some with ulterior motives, some genuinely complimenting her for something that she felt they should accolade the Creator for, not her.

"Thank you. So, what’s troubling you?" She was never one to beat around the bush, always straightforward and yet, casual in her manner of questioning with the lithe voice of hers, like many Asians would have. Higher pitched and perhaps for some, slightly more sonorous due to the nature of the Asian languages.

Isaiah took a deep breath and stubbed out his cigarette. He reached for his own glass of water and sipped it deliberately. Lynn waited until he was physically ready to tell her. She knew he was already mentally prepared to unload as much as he could to her.

"You know how the cosmic works? It’s so funny…but…I think my own estranged brother is going to be my partner," Isaiah spoke in seeming disbelief.

Lynn swallowed a little harder than usual, a little startled by the news. Isaiah had told her about Elijah before. How they used to be very close when they were kids and suddenly, when Elijah turned eleven, he stopped writing long, heartfelt letters to Isaiah- writing because their father forbade Elijah to use the phone. Elijah was a sneaky child though, he would phone Isaiah when he could, most likely getting punished in the process.

Their father died when Elijah was thirteen. Their mother, who had custody of Isaiah, refused to take Elijah back. Elijah was shuffled from foster home to foster home. He finally settled down in an orphanage until he graduated from high school with a scholarship to Yale- not yet turned eighteen.

Secrets. Isaiah had a lot of secrets. There were so much gaps that he was not filling in for Lynn. And she wondered if he was hiding those facts, unable to speak of them or that he had no knowledge of them either.

Through Isaiah’s words that were impassive and at the same time, filled with latent love whenever he spoke of Elijah, Lynn felt she already knew Elijah. Maybe not all of Elijah but some parts of it. Being in her line of work, she could deduce very logically that Elijah would be one demented young man. Or at least, someone very disturbed.

"Ah…well…your wish is granted. Re-united with your brother."

"Who told you that was my wish?" Isaiah narrowed his eyes, worried. He was always worried when she could read too well into him.

"You. You have been telling me with your words whenever you talked about him."

"Is it?" Isaiah was slightly baffled but he relaxed and smiled to himself quietly. "Yah…maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m worried for nothing."

"I was always wondering…if your mom’s so religious…why would she not want Elijah back? Why would she dump Elijah with your abusive father?" Lynn voiced her opinions. She was always vociferously, unable to contain whatever she wanted to say- unable to mince words well.

Isaiah eyes clouded over as the shadow descended upon him like a comfortable veil once again. "My mom’s religious but she’s not perfect. Some knots are harder to untie. Before she died, she told me to find Elijah. She wanted so much to say sorry. But she never could bring herself to.

Because she too was afraid."

***