#medvxd

pt.1 | pt. 2

There are two men alone in a hotel room. 

( men, in both cases, is a loose term. one does not exist, the other--- ) 

There is whiskey and Alexi is studying how to drink without drinking. He’s agitated to begin with, Kuznetsov getting under his skin by being within a ten mile radius. Sodium and water; collision, explosion, the past three meetings concerning his progress have been detracted by mentioning her. He’s hoping for some peace tonight, to be able to turn his mind off tonight, but he has a funny feeling in his gut that he won’t get any sleep and it will have nothing to do with killing a man. ( he never thought he’d be praying for a chance to kill someone, but he literally would take torture over being in the same room as Nikolai tonight. pity God’s stopped listening to him. ) 

“You know --- “ Nikolai is drinking vodka- or water, Alexi isn’t going to check - and playing chess. “it’s a little funny you didn’t have a sweetheart.” Alexi makes a noise and doesn’t-drink-some-whiskey. He hates this. He hates where this is going. Please, God, a nuke, anything. His prayer doesn’t get answered and Nikolai continues. “It’s not a problem --- it’s a huge part of why we chose you for this position.” Not a lie. “Just--- curious.” A lie. Alexi knows how they work. They know everything about him. Every fight he got into in high school, every girl he kissed, every boy he’s almost kissed, that one time with the vice-captain of his soccer team--- all of it. They have each of his sneezes listed by chronological order, and another list by severity, another by cause --- 

Silence is a sort of confession, although he’s not entirely sure what Nikolai is trying to get him to confess to --- “Didn’t have a lot of time, did I? Three tours of duty as soon as a man gets out of training for war for four years does that.”  “Three tours with significant leave---” Rational, rational, his voice smooth when up against Alexi’s hard military tone.  That got a humorless huff of laughter out of Alexi. “You ever been deployed?” He’s across the room from Nikolai, neither man looking at the other’s face, but seeing it clearly enough.  “Not like that, no.” 

That makes Alexi pause. He’s never tried to pry into Nikolai’s files, figured they’d be a load of horseshit, figured there’d be no point, tried to not see a point. Nikolai is still playing chess, seemingly undisturbed. “Where?”  “Chechnya. First War.” Not a lie. His response, his body language, all says Nikolai could care less about the information. It was almost two decades ago, after all. Alexi doesn’t lose sleep over Iraq, does he?                                           ( he thinks no, I don’t. )                                           ( he thinks, not about Iraq. ) 

“Right, and what’d ya’ do when you got home?” His voice isn’t as abrasive, now, but there is a firmness that he doesn’t shake. ( it’s a test, he knows this is some kind of test. he’ll play. there’s no point in avoiding. )  Here. A significant pause. Here, Nikolai’s hand pausing on his chess pieces. Here, his head turning to look at Alexi out of the corner of his eye. “Found a wife.” Not a lie. The weight of the truth suffocates any other sound in the room. Alexi speaks without thinking. “You’re married?” Americans, Nikolai thinks, and resists the urge to smile or laugh, enjoying the raised brows, the slightly incredulous look, the dawning horror. “You did not go wife hunting?” Nikolai turns back to his game, letting a touch of his native accent color his words, all to pull Alexi farther into where he wants him to be. ( it is a test. it is always a test. ) 

“No, I slept for ‘bout four weeks straight. You have a wife.” If he doesn’t, well, Alexi won’t resist a chance to rub some salt in that wound. 

“Had.” Tap as he set a piece down on the board. “As stated before, if you were paying attention, this is not the profession for husbands. But now you see my confusion as to why you did not get home from war and find find someone to bury your sorrows in.” He could mean with, but, ah, English is such a silly language, isn’t it, and it’d still ring of murder, wouldn’t it, Captain Bauer? “No sorrows to bury.” He looks back to it and it seems golden. It seems almost perfect. He remembers the little details so vividly. Warm sun on his skin, clean sand under his boot, Tiger by his side ---  “No sorrows from war?” Nikolai’s voice is light, teasing, and he drinks his maybe-vodka like it might be water.  “No, sir. Best months of my life.” No, sir, no, sir, no, no, no. ( it is always a test, and he just gave Nikolai the answer he was looking for. )  “That’s funny, considering---” A pause, Nikolai getting up from his chair to refill his glass. A glance to Alexi, who has gone too still, who realizes where this was all headed, who knows it’s too late to stop it. Nikolai is able to keep himself from smiling; he is a professional. “Well. She doesn’t quite need to be mentioned, does she?”  ( She, she, she. She is currently asleep in Nikolai’s bed in New York, her head under his pillow as she sleeps off a flight from Macao, the last text she sent simply reading good night. to n. in her address book.  He will check his phone and see it and he will send one in response. He will put his phone in his pocket and smile to Alexi. He will pry, and pry, and pry until both of them are just parts of broken wholes rendered down to their useful bits, the rest cast aside. 

He does not know what he is getting in to. Forgive him, she was just a girl. ) 

Alexi is learning how to not drink whiskey, but he chooses to forget that for a moment as he tosses his head back and empties his glass. “No, she doesn’t.”  “I guess she’d be part of it.” “Beg pardon?”  Nikolai is making his way back to his game of chess, pretending to think, pretending to be a man who knows anything less than everything, everything. “Nothing, it just seems like... Well, you two had a complicated relationship. You were very hard on her, weren’t you?”  This is exactly the conversation Alexi was hoping to not have tonight. ( or any night. He dreads and dreads when Nikolai will pick at the wound where his heart was ripped from his chest. He tells himself it’s a weakness. an enemy of the state will exploit it, he’s just trying to toughen you up. it’s like boot camp. you cannot be weak. you cannot give them a foothold. It doesn’t feel like that in the least, but it’s what he tells himself. It’s all a test. ) “Had to be. Didn’t want to risk disciplinary actions for favoritism.”  “And yet you consider it the best time of your life?”  “Yes, sir.”  “You spent most of your time undoubtedly making your sister miserable.” Nikolai hasn’t quite made it to the chess table yet. He’s facing Alexi, his expression at least partially exasperated.  It gets a smile from Alexi, the first of the night, and a soft, soft laugh. “You have no idea who she was, do you?” ( It’s a test. He’s getting better at this. He’s managing to ignore the screaming voice inside his chest that is saying SHE HATED YOU WHEN SHE DIED YOU RUINED HER LIFE IN THE SERVICE YOU MADE HER EVERY WAKING MOMENT A NIGHTMARE AND THEN YOU LEAD HER STRAIGHT TO DEATH BEFORE SHE HAD A CHANCE TO BE FREE FROM YOU. SHE HATED YOU. SHE HATED YOU. SHE JUST WANTED TO MAKE YOU PROUD AND YOU SPAT IN HER FACE UP UNTIL THE VERY MOMENT SHE WAS TORN APART WHILE YOU LAID ON THE GROUND. USELESS. USELESS. Yeah. Ignoring it. Trying to, at least. ) “No,” a lie, but Alexi chalks it up to him knowing everything about anyone.  “I never put her through anything she couldn’t handle.” Until, well ---

If Nikolai can’t read his mind, Alexi’ll be damned, because he could have sworn he heard the Russian’s voice say Until she died. Until you let her die. What he knows Nikolai said, however, was, “It’s late.” 

Alexi doesn’t sleep that night, nor the night after. All he hears is SHE HATED YOU. SHE WAS RIGHT TO HATE YOU. COWARD. TOO AFRAID TO LOSE HER THAT YOU DROVE HER STRAIGHT TO DEATH. TOO AFRAID TO LOSE HER THAT YOU DIDN’T LET GO WHEN YOU SHOULD HAVE. COWARD. MONSTER. IF YOU COULDN’T HAVE HER, NO ONE ELSE COULD. NO ONE ELSE COULD, YOU MADE SURE OF THAT, DIDN’T YOU? NO ONE WILL HAVE HER NOW. YOU MONSTER. YOU MONSTER. YOU COWARD. HELL WOULD BE TOO GOOD FOR YOU.

pt. 1

“Your... well, this is complicated, isn’t it?” Nikolai asked as he looked a deeply amended file concerning the Bauers. “Let’s settle with Sergeant, shall we? Genevieve?” He doesn’t need to give Alexi the meaningful look and pause, but he is all for dramatics. ( they have their place, and their place is watching the Good Captain swallow and turn a bit green. Nikolai could smile at the sight. )

If a visible reaction was gotten out of Alexi just by saying her name, he can’t wait to see what happens when he --- “She died in rather unfortunate circumstances. I’m told you have not attempted to contact your family since her death?”

Who are you? Alexi doesn’t say that, he keeps his poker face in place. He looks to Nikolai like a wolf looks to a too-skinny groundhog. It’s not worth it, but oh, how he wants to open his jaws and snap with his sharp teeth. “No, sir.” Simple, simple, it’s better this way.

“That’s a bit odd, isn’t it? That you haven’t tried to talk to them after six months? I’m sure they’re very worried.” So, so sympathetic, with his gentle voice and concerned look up from the highly edited file. Not a change, no, no reaction, it must be all focused on ---

“They don’t need to be concerned with me.”

“Why not?” Oh, he knows why, but he wants to hear it.

“Because I’m not important.” Deadpan, stoic as he can manage. ( and he’d put Brutus to shame. )

“Now, Captain Bauer, I’d have to disagree --- “ Nikolai looks down to the file, frowning. Oh, this is wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. “Don’t you want to see them?” He looks back up, a hopeful, gentle expression in place.

“No, sir.”

“Why not, Captain Bauer?”

A pause. Alexi looking less stoic than absolutely frozen, the tension in his chest the only thing keeping him from flying apart, a few tears showing in his seams as he takes long, slow breaths. Genevieve has been dead for six months. He can look at sunflowers, now, but he can’t quite hear her name. ( Genevieve is. Okay. But not the other name. )

“Why not, Captain Bauer?” A bit more force in his question this time, the older man leaning forward.

“Because she’s dead.” ( Nikolai has learned there is only one she when Alexi speaks. Isn’t that hilarious? It’s hilarious, at least, until Nikolai adopts the same she, adopts the same god. )

“But surely the rest of your family --- “ Back to gentle, and enough pushing of the right buttons to get Alexi to break protocol.

“Doesn’t matter.” Edging, edging his voice closer to showing emotion, though his face is passive as ever.

“Alexi, your other sisters ---”

The Good Captain stands at that, his expression growing stormy. “Don’t matter, alright?” He is grief raw and broken, forgive him. “I can’t go back. No without her.” Her, her, her. There is a flush in his cheeks, heat rising in his ears. He feels the vein in his throat bulging, the one tell he hasn’t mastered in his stress. He can almost look the Russian in the eye at this height, taller than he has a right to be in his pride and growing indignation.

“Is it not better to only lose one sibling instead of two?” Nikolai is lowering his voice, deescalating in the perfect way to leave Alexi completely alone in his thoughts, completely swept up in himself, in the terrors of his own soul.

“This isn’t about them, Kuznetsov. I can’t.” Maybe... just to lay his head on Frank’s shoulder and sob until he has no more breath in him, for Frank to kiss his hair and hold his hand and tell him she forgave him for losing Genevieve. But he’d rather die than face that, in reality. He can’t go back without his little shadow nipping at his heels, racing him to the house, locking him out and only relenting once the dogs whined too much to see him, then getting bowled over by the beasts, and laughing until he cried because he was so happy to be back, to be home, to have Genevieve grinning down to him with Captain Kirk in her hands, the giant tabby purring so loud Alexi could hear it from the floor.

“I’m sorry, but I am having difficulty understanding. Why is this so significant? She seemed like a good girl, but I have never seen a death affect someone so drastically.” Nikolai looks at the file once more, the frown deepening on his face.

“I don’t need to explain this to you.” Anger, now, legitimately creeping into his voice, through teeth, through clenched fists, through the throbbing vein in his throat.

“I don’t see why this is so hard, Alexi. She’s dead, there is nothing else you can do about it. Why are you still so troubled by it?” Nikolai looks up, and, to his credit, looks utterly perplexed. ( the stage lost a great actor, ah, but espionage is so much more fun. )

“Are you fucking with me?” The slightest raise in volume, his hands still clenched. “My sister died. On my watch.”

“Half a year ago, and now you’re as good as dead to the others. Don’t they matter?”

“No.” He says it with such force it surprises him. He spits the word out, sickened by his honesty, by how much he has hidden in his chest. “The only thing that mattered was her.”

“The only thing?” Nikolai raises an eyebrow. ( Ah, yes, this is where he wanted to get at tonight. )

That gets a gesture, one hand swiping out. “Fuckin’ yes, the only goddamn thing that fucking mattered was her. And she’s gone, so let me just fuckin’ say yes, sir, no, sir, and thank you, sir.” He’s breathing heavily. If Nikolai got any closer, he looks liable to go for the other man’s throat. ( how delightful. ) “And forget everything else.”

Nikolai’s expression darkens a bit, though more of a test of awareness for Alexi than anything else. “She was just a girl.”

Alexi passes the test, darkening with Nikolai. “She was everything.” He wants to retch, but he’s too angry. He wants to throttle the Russian. He’s dimly aware of this being a test, a falsehood, but goddamnit he’s wretched, he’s rotten to the core.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to feel about your sergeant, or your sister, Alexi.” Taunting, blatantly.

“You have no fuckin’ idea, Kuznetsov. She was the greatest thing to happen to anyone and I led her to her death, don’t you dare fucking tell me how I am supposed to feel about it.” He’s yelling, now. Every ounce of strength is keeping his feet in place, his fists at his side. Only his dim awareness of this not being real, none of this being real, is keeping him from getting severely beaten in an unfair fight by the giant. Tears threaten, his throat is closing, he wants to scream, to beat the holy hell out of something, but he keeps himself still, he waits, he waits. He’s a goddamn Marine, not a child. His default is self control, even in a state like this.

“Captain Bauer. Congratulations on your promotion --- and move to a more exciting line of work.” His voice struck him first. It was low, as expected, but the English accent threw him. This man was supposed to be a senior Pentagon official. He wasn’t aware of how many Brits were in the Pentagon, not at that level.

“Thank you.” Reflexive, he has to swallow the bile at the back of his throat. A promotion and a lateral move to Advanced Recon and Security Expert came at a heavy cost, but how could this man know just what it meant? ( he’d learn, later, just how intimately aware Kuznetsov was. ) More exciting? More exciting than running intelligence through Helmand? For fuck’s sake, he’s already tired.

( he is raw. he is fresh pink from grief. it has been three months.

he saw his mother --- his birth mother, and she told him the truth that he knew all along. he doesn’t remember much from that night, except running to the bathroom to retch, except her crying on the other side of the door in apology, of the red he saw when he looked in the mirror and shattered it, of walking out the door after grabbing the bag of things she had assembled, of vowing to never speak to any of his family again, not when Genevieve was dead and he never called her sister because of their fucking pride.

he is raw and choking on grief. Genevieve is dead. Genevieve is dead and everyone is continuing on like it doesn’t matter. how can it not matter? the sun is out of the sky. the birdsong is in mourning of her. he saw a sunflower the other day and had a panic attack in the grocery store bathroom. she’s dead. he let her die. he remembers the way she screamed for him before he lost consciousness. he remembers the feeling of death’s inky hand gripping his heart and letting go, going after her instead. he’d do anything. he’d do anything. )

There are so many questions, and he does not expect any of them to get answered. That’s how this works. He knows. He was raised well, Kuznetsov, you have to give Adoria that. He stares at the giant of a man before him, not reacting, not showing an ounce of emotion other than readiness, other than expectant intent. You’ll hardly have to do anything, Nikolai. Mold a bit here, shave off a bit here, and you’ll have the protege you need. No real work required after the initial investment of shattering.

( it’s in the shattering, you see. you have to shatter a man the right way so the sharp bits left are usable. and this one is perfect. ah, the little girl proved to be doubly useful, how fun. Nikolai wonders, and wonders. he will regret wondering so once she spreads her wings a bit more, once her shattering settles and he sees the beast he unleashed. )

“I will be training you for your new position, as it will be primarily solitary, which is quite a departure from your previous assignments, I’m told. Though I have no doubt you will manage just fine.” Congenial, but he is starting to see the way Alexi’s jaw clenches, the slightest bob in his throat as he swallows back his rage.

( Nikolai has a leg up. Even as emotionally unstable as he is at the moment, it takes an expert to see any reaction from the Good Captain. It’s a damn shame he makes such a good spy. )

“Thank you, sir.” Sir, sir, sir, it rumbles. Distant thunder, the promise of a storm if his buttons keep getting pressed. It’s all a test, Alexi knows it’s all a test, but goddamnit he’s raw and grieving and tired. He doesn’t want what they’re going to make him, he doesn’t want to be a goddamn spy, he doesn’t want to work alone, exposed, without his men at his back, without Genevieve at his side, without Genevieve --- he stops himself from spiraling and focuses on the monster of a man before him.

He does not want this, but it is a good thing he is not allowed to want anything anymore, isn’t it? His rage is quieted, his grief silenced but still aching.

( Nikolai sees it happen, the storm passing from Alexi’s eyes, the unclenching of his jaw. My, my, Captain Bauer. )