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Disclaimer: jake 2.0 and all related elements, characters and indicia © Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc., 2003. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations-save those created by the authors for use solely on this website-are copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc.

Author's note: My first ever fanfic...

Lost and Found
by Candice

Ohio. He'd never visited before. Hell, he didn't know why he was here. Well, he did in a way. Jake. The question was 'why did he care so much about Foley?'

Pulling up outside an all-American suburban house, Kyle spotted a teenager on the porch, rolling a smoke. Jerry, no doubt.

Kyle slowly made his way over, pulling his NSA ID from underneath his dark blue shirt.

"Your parents know you smoke?"

Jerry looked up, eyes wide, at this interruption. He calmed when he saw it wasn't his father or uncle or some other close family relation who'd tell on him.

"They don't know anything. Besides, what they don't know can't hurt them."

"Ah." Kyle nodded, amused. "The teen philosophy. Right... Is Jake around?"

"Yeah." Jerry shoved the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and patted his pockets looking for his lighter.

"Dudes been sitting on the back porch for the last 4 hours. He's totally mindfucked. Why?"

He found his lighter and lit the cigarette, his eyes flicking from the lighter up to Kyle's silver-gold eyes.

Kyle pointed to his NSA ID, his eyes taking in the area. A nice house on a nice street. Everybody looked normal. Typical of many suburban neighbourhoods. But even here people had their secrets.

"Kyle Duarte. NSA. Jake's a friend of mine."

Jerry stared at the ID for a while, as if he could see any flaws, any marks, which could identify it as a fake.

"Yeah," he said eventually, nodding towards the front door "Go in."

Kyle hesitantly opened the door, smelling food cooking as soon as he did. A roast dinner. The usual Sunday dinner in a normal household, in a normal area. So normal even the Brady Bunch did it. Well that changed things, any family that reminded you of the Brady Bunch where most definitely not normal.

On the mantelpiece sat pictures in pretty wooden frames. Pictures of Jake and Jerry and a few other people, probably family too. Kyle saw a figure perched on the steps through the large glass doors, his appearance none too different from his younger brother on the opposite side of the house.

Kyle quietly slid the door open and stepped through, closing it behind him.

"Jake?" he whispered quietly, approaching his friend cautiously.

"Kyle," came the answer, the voice distant and flat. "What're you doing here?"

"I thought I'd come to see if you were all right. You looked pretty messed up when you left." Kyle sat on the step beside him and noticed the gun in Jake's hands. Surprised, and more than a little worried, he watched the gun intently.

"I'm fine," Jake said in that same flat voice, picking up a glass that sat next to him on the step. It was filled with a brown liquid and Kyle could smell the faint aroma of alcohol. "I just... needed a rest." He sipped the drink and shuddered, resting the glass on his knee.

"I think it's more than that. Jake... you didn't mean to kill her. She attacked you and if you hadn't shot her she would have killed you." Kyle tried to convince him, his hand slowly reaching for Jake's gun.

"Didn't mean to kill her? Of course I meant to kill her! I implanted a bullet in her brain Kyle!" Jake said exasperatedly, bringing the gun up in front of his face to look at it closely, his finger on the trigger. "Funny that this chunk of metal and stuff that looks so harmless can kill you. It's pretty genius, don't you think?"

"Genius is not what I'd call it." Kyle checked to see if the safety was on before he started to pry it from Jake's hand.

"How many have you had, Jake?" he asked, nodding towards the glass.

"One... or two... glasses." Jake shrugged "Well...since lunchtime. Before then... I dunno. A few." By now Kyle had gotten the gun from his grip and his hand flopped down onto Kyle's leg, which made Kyle flinch but Jake was none the wiser.

"Erm..." Kyle eyed the hand and then dismissed it "You should go easy. Last thing we need is an alcoholic super-agent," he said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. It didn't work. They sat silent for a while, what seemed like an eternity, before Jake poured the alcohol onto the lawn and then decided to throw the glass down too.

"Kyle? Don't you ever hate me for shooting you?" Jake's voice was quiet, full of pain. He didn't look at Kyle. Didn't really want to know the answer but something made him ask and he couldn't exactly walk away from Kyle. Something wouldn't let him. Whether it was friendship, the drink, or something else he didn't know.

"Nope. You did what you had too. Besides... I'm still here." He lowered his head so that he could see into Jake's eyes "But the question is: Are you still here Jake?"

Okay. So bringing an already tipsy, depressed and potentially dangerous secret super-agent to some small, dark bar where the drink was served all night may not have been the best choice. But at least Jake was talking when he was getting drunk. He may be talking about strange things like upside down tornadoes or whether they make chocolate flavoured nachos, but at least he was talking. The last year had taken its toll.

"Can I be fired?" Jake asked eventually, playing with a small book of matches. He snapped each one off and lit it, watching it burn down almost to his fingers before dropping it into a small glass of coffee Kyle had bought earlier.

"Fired? You mean as an agent or from the NSA completely?" Kyle asked confused. This was one of the things he had expected Jake to ask and He had always doubted that Jake would like the truth. 'No Agent Foley, you cannot quit. You are either an agent, a lab rat or you will be exterminated.'

"From the NSA. I mean... could I quit and still keep my name and stuff? I don't think I could change my identity...."

"Well, that ships sailed, Jake. You had the chance to change your identity and you didn't accept it. I...I don't think you can leave, not as Jake Foley. The NSA think they own you now, and while you have the nanites inside you... they do."

Jake smiled, a too-happy drunken smile, and shuffled off the chair.

"I'm going to the little nanite boys room..." he said with a wink and staggered off, leaving Kyle sipping on his gin and tonic.

It had been almost 5 minutes when Kyle decided to go and look for Jake. Hopefully he wasn't being sick or passed out. Pushing open the door to the toilets he tapped on each cubicle in succession.

"Jake?" he called out, feeling slightly worried when he got no answer.

Rushing out, through the bar and into the street, Kyle looked around. This was bad. Jake was in no state to be alone.

Kyle swept his jacket out the way and looked down. Jake's gun wasn't in his waistband anymore.

Shit.

Kyle didn't remember much of those two hours, searching the streets of Akron, Ohio, calling out Jake's name so many times that people were asking if they should call the police. One woman even asked if Kyle had lost his child. How could he explain he lost a drunk NSA super-agent in some dive bar?

At 5 minutes to midnight Kyle decided to give up. He was moments away from calling Lou, telling her that he had helped Jake get hopelessly drunk and let him get away. Let him get away depressed... and with a gun. She'd kill him for this.

He was pondering all the ways Lou Beckett may kill him, probably painfully and maybe (if he was lucky) in a non-literal way. Then again what's worse than dying? Oh god no, she'd probably make him work for Warner.

Kyle looked up and realised that he was standing on a dock beside the Ohio River.

*Could be worse* He thought *At least I get to sightsee before I'm stuck behind a desk working for the evil director from Hell*

"Why are you looking for me?"

Kyle stopped and looked around in the darkness. Jake was sitting on a bench, his face the picture of depression and despair.

"Because I care?" Kyle tried, a bit suspicious of Jake. He looked rough, worse than when he left the bar. His was shaking, sweating like crazy.

"Care? Your job is to be my babysitter! You don't care, you just do it cause you wanna get paid." He raised his hand to show the gun, shining in the dim streetlamps-light.

Kyle gulped, walking closer.

"You shouldn't have taken it back, Jake. Now, just calm down and hand it back to me..." He held out a hand and Jake shook his head fiercely.

"No! This...This is how I'm going to get out! You won't let me leave. I do this and I'm out of there!" Jake lifted the gun and pressed it to his temple. "I can get OUT!" He stressed the out and with it came a smile. An unstable, stressed out smile.

Kyle thought about this. What could he say to stop him? He couldn't let Jake do this, there must be some way...

"What about Diane?" He said eventually, almost sighing as Jake's head turned sharply to look at him.

"What about h-her?" He was shaking worse now, his trembling hands threatening to pull the trigger without him realising it. "Is she okay?"

"She's waiting for you"

Oh God, please make this work.

"And she's not the only one who'll miss you. I told you earlier. There's me and Lou and your family. What about Jerry? He needs his big brother."

Kyle approached his friend and held out his hand.

"Give me the gun.... Please!"

Jake gave him the gun, almost immediately standing and looking Kyle in the eye.

"Three people. I killed three people. I don't deserve to live!" He broke into gasping sobs and closed his eyes, bringing his hands you to his ears. It was as if he was trying to stop seeing and hearing the people as he killed them. Stop from hearing the gun firing.

Kyle understood how he felt. Maybe not completely, but this part he understood.

Pulling Jake's hands down from his ears, he pulled his friend into a hug, letting Jake sob on his shoulder for what seemed an eternity. Every so often Jake would mumbled something.

'No' 'Sorry' 'God'... The random words where probably answers to the voices and scenes playing in his head. Kyle was about to suggest that he take him home when Jake's body went limp, and he hit the ground.

"JAKE!"

Diane nervously shoved a pile of papers into Fran's waiting hands and rushed back into the observation room. Fran sighed and started to look through them, test results. Diane was running every known test on Jake, trying to find out what caused his collapse. Fran knew what it was, although Diane and the figure that had been planted in the seat in the corner of the lab wanted to be sure.

Stress.

A year of being an nanite-enhanced super-agent who has to kill even though they don't want to would make anyone stressed out.

"Fran! Have you finished yet?"

Diane was standing at the door to the observation room, wringing her hands. Periodically she'd push her glasses back up her nose and sigh. Fran nodded and braced herself for the onslaught.

"There's nothing here. He's physically fine. I think it's stress." Here it comes.

"HE'S NOT FINE! HE COLLAPSED! HE'S NOT OKAY--"

"She's right."

Diane's ranting was cut of by the sound of Jake's voice. He was standing behind her, clad only in his boxer shorts and looking surprisingly calm. Kyle stood from his seat.

"I was stressed out."

He gave Fran an apologetic look. Wven out cold, he had heard Diane shouting at her.

"Y-you should lie down! You're not well! You--"

"I'm fine. Stop worrying..." He gave her a weak smile "I... I need to talk to Kyle alone." He headed back into the observation room to get dressed.

Diane nodded and stepped out the way, a relieved look on her face as she raided her candy-jar for Twinkies.

Kyle entered the observation room and closed the door. He waited until Jake sat down before asking.

"You need some time away again?"

"No." Jake looked up and met Kyle's eyes. "I needed to cry. I needed to get annoyed and angry and you let me do that..."

"Let you?" Kyle chuckled and shook his head "I didn't let you! You practically did a 'Fugitive' on me!"

"Same thing!... You could have called it in, said I was AWOL but you didn't. You... looked for me. I didn't think anyone would ever do that. I was lost, in my head..."

He trailed off and put out his hand. Instinctively Kyle handed him back his gun.

It was like they had a silent connection, all of four of them. Jake, Kyle, Diane, Lou. But mostly Jake and Kyle. And right now Kyle knew Jake was okay. Thank God.

Kyle turned to walk out, a smile on his lips. He stopped for a moment and turned back to look at Jake with those silver-gold eyes.

"We'll always look for you, Jake. And I'll always find you."