Friday, November 6, Great Falls, Virginia

His flight plan sat on top of the dresser underneath his assault gear. A suitcase and a duffel bag were laid out on the floor by the fish tank, and he had just finished changing the message on his answering machine to notify callers that he would be unavailable for the weekend. He smiled at the thought of his weekend getaway - of being caught up in the wild, high class, high-fun, high-stakes gambling of Monte Carlo, with no one tagging along except his best friend and partner, Scott.

Best of all he would be away from the constant wedding chatter of his mother and his fiancee, Ariel Lexington, as well as the tag-team efforts of his fiancee and his grandmother to get him to try and leave his profession, a profession that his grandmother swore would get him killed by the time he was 25. Well, having reached that age two months ago, Jasper Jacks (just Jax to the world at large) had pointed out to his grandmother that she had been wrong and for her to stop worrying. Of course, she had done nothing of the sort, and her new mantra was that he would be dead by the time he was thirty.

Jax was searching for the rest of his assault gear to take back to the office when his phone began to ring. He jogged down into the enormous sunken living room and pressed down the speaker button on the telephone. "This is Jax," he said.

"Jax, it's me."

Me was Scott Wilkie: 28 years old; six feet tall; dark hair; dark eyes; great looking; and a little bit crazy. He had been Jax's best friend and partner for the last three years.

"Hey, we'll leave in a couple of hours, okay?" Jax told him, running a hand through his deep autumn-gold hair. "I have to go back to the office and dump off my stuff first."

"It's a good thing you're coming here, Jax. Donnelly wants to see us," Scott informed him. "Now."

"A meeting now?" Jax checked his watch. It was 8:17 pm. "You've got to be kidding," Jax groaned.

"I wish I was. I'm in the office and I just ran into him. He's pretty livid with us, Jax."

"Oh. Because of this afternoon?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Jax, we blew up a casino," Scott reminded him.

"Yeah, but that was unavoidable."

"That's what we always say. I think we better think of a new excuse this time."

From his end of the line Jax suddenly grinned. "Wait a minute, did you say you were in the office? This late at night on a Friday? So I guess you blew off your hot date with Agent Davis, huh?"

"It wasn't a hot date. It was only dinner, and the purpose was only to help her out with her firearms test. Honestly, man, she is so not my type."

"She's not that bad," Jax said.

"Then you date her," Scott suggested.

"I have a feeling, Ariel might vehemently object to that idea, don't you?"

"Ariel? Jax, are you still under the delusion that you're actually going to marry that woman?" Scott asked him with a laugh. "Please, that cabin cruiser of yours is as good as mine," he added, referring to the bet they had made as to whether or not Jax would actually be walking down the aisle next summer. "Look, you better get down here, Jax. We don't want to keep the commander waiting. He's mad enough with us as it is, and if we make him miss the season finale of "Sabrina The Teenage Witch" tonight, I think we'll be on his list for all eternity," Scott murmured sarcastically.

Jax laughed. "I'll see you in a few."

Federal Building - Washington D.C.

"Sit down!" Commander Sean Donnelly thundered as he watched his two best FBI special weapons and tactics team members exchanging a high five over a mission they had, in his estimation, just botched. Sure they had gotten the hostages out - they always did, damn them - but their methods - their insane, to-hell-with-the-rules-methods! These two were going to be the death of him. He'd never been driven crazier by anyone on his team as he was by S.W.A.T. team operatives Jacks and Wilkie. They were constantly wreaking chaos on every mission, causing thousands of dollars worth of damage, blowing things up. Their list of rule-breaking was as long as the Nile River. Donnelly would happily fire their butts if they were not so incredibly good at their jobs. He would often ask them, after their tactics would earn him a few more gray hairs, 'Why do the two of you work for me? No -- why do the two of you work at all?! You're from two of the wealthiest families in the world, you’ve both got more money than god, and homes world over. Do my blood pressure a favor and quit, will you? Just quit!!' But they never did quit, and now, once again, they were the cause of his bad day and more gray hairs.

Jax and Scott exchanged a glance, preparing for yet another one of Donnelley's heated lectures about obeying the rules. Their unit, more elite than most, did not have the strict rules of the other units of the FBI, but they still had rules, and Jax and Scott ended up breaking them just about every assignment they were given.

"I said, sit down," Donnelly said, a tad calmer.

Jax removed his heavy assault gear and sat down, and Scott did the same.

"You sound upset about something," Scott said, crossing one ankle over his knee.

Donnelly glowered at him. "Upset? Me? Why would I be upset? You only just decimated a goddamed casino! I am furious at the two of you!"

"Wait a minute," Jax said. "Okay, granted, we didn't exactly follow protocol . . . "

"As if you ever do!" Donnelly snapped. "Which is my point exactly!"

"But wasn't it more important that we got those hostages out of there?" Jax asked.

"I'm tired of you both justifying your methods by the fact that you just happen to be lucky enough to always get spectacular results," Donnelly informed them. "My butt is getting chewed out by the director about you two every other day, and I have had it! You're too disruptive to the team to go undisciplined, yet you're too damned good to fire, and no matter how many times I beg you to, you never quit. So this time I'm going to seriously discipline you both, with pleasure." He handed them packets containing their next assignment. "Your next mission, boys," he said smiling smugly at them.

Jax gazed at the sheet of paper in shock. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Well, it is to me," Donnelley admitted with a chuckle. "I know I'll be laughing my head off thinking of the two of you on modified baby-sitter duty in some sleepy town. And maybe this will teach you both to follow agency rules every now and then."

"Wait! This has got to be a joke!" Scott protested as he finished reading their assignment. "This is ridiculous! It's a total waste of what Jax and I are trained for."

Donnelly shrugged. "That's your assignment. If you don't like it, quit. Otherwise, get your bags packed for Port Charles."

"You can't do this," Jax insisted. "This is completely out of our jurisdiction, first of all. Port Charles? Where the hell is that? This is an assignment for some paper-pushing detective, not for special forces. And even if it were, their local police force S.W.A.T team could handle it. We would never get involved in something trivial like this. Director Scorpio will never sanction this," Jax said with certainty.

Donnelly let loose a broad grin of delight. "He already has. You see, the police commissioner of Port Charles just happens to be Director Scorpio's little baby brother, Malcomb. So the director was only too happy to offer him the use of the FBI's finest," he said, laughing.

Jax looked like he was going to be sick.

"How long do we have to be stuck in this godforsaken town?" Scott asked.

"You're on this assignment for the next six months," Donnelly told them. "Until the trial begins."

"Six months!" Scott and Jax erupted in concert.

"That's right. Six months," Donnelly said, enjoying how his two tigers were already feeling the effects of being caged. Donnelly was more sure than ever that this tame, mindless, potentially very annoying assignment would be the lesson they would need to make them start to take agency rules and regulations seriously.

"Six totally wasted months," Jax corrected, his dazzling blue eyes reflecting his unhappiness. "These people will probably not ever even be called as witnesses."

"Probably not," Donnelly agreed.

"And they sure as hell don't need protection," Scott added. "Protection from what? The guy's already in jail! How can the director allocate funds for us to do this stupid thing?"

"The Port Charles police department is picking up the tab. Apparently, they feel that protection is required. I'm sure they have their reasons, and it will be explained to you once you get there," Donnelly said with a shrug.

Jax shook his head in disbelief. "That is such a load of . . ."

"If you two are quite done with the whining," Donnelly interrupted. "I suggest you sign out your gear and your weaponry, and then go home and pack. You're due in Port Charles first thing in the morning. Your tickets will be waiting for you at Dulles Airport, and Commissioner Scorpio will meet you at the airport in Port Charles. And by the way, the cost of damages to that casino you annihilated was going to come out of your salary, but seeing as that would hardly be considered punishment given the wealth you already have, I decided to penalize you, not only by taking it out of your salary, but also banning you from the next in-training session with the team."

"The one in the sub?" Jax asked, looking like a little boy who had just had his favorite toy taken away from him.

Donnelly nodded, smiling. "The brand new sub," he said, rubbing the salt in the wounds. "The stealth."

Jax and Scott looked as if they would like to kill their boss. He, in turn, was enjoying their silent fury. "You can always quit," he invited with a smile.

Jax rolled his eyes and grabbed his gear, and Scott took Jax's cue and got up, too. They left the commander's office to the sounds of his soft chuckling.

"Well, this just . . .. sucks!" Scott said for lack of a better word, as he stuffed the assignment ungraciously into the pocket of his jeans.

"You can say that again," Jax muttered, tossing his assignment sheet into the trash bin they were passing. "Six months and we miss the best in-training session, too? I'm going to go insane, Scott."

"And you think I’m not? Did you read the third paragraph? We have to take them to the safe house. We have to stay there with them. We can't ever leave them alone. We even have to sit in on their classes Jax."

Jax covered his ears. He didn't even want to hear anymore about this nightmare assignment. Who in the hell were Brenda Barrett and Eve Lambert anyway? And what ever possessed this Port Charles police commissioner to employ a force as lethal, major and elite as the FBI’s special forces S.W.A.T. team unit to assist in a case as pathetic as that of some puny local racketeer whose case was so open-and-shut as to be laughable?