|
Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2017 6:01:02 GMT -5
Jiahao,
You have made my life better, my little one. Taiwan is not as I remembered it before the War, but it is surviving! We are surviving! Your brother does refuse to get a normal name, but it is okay, because he does not completely stick out. He has chosen to live on the coast as a fisherman, would you know? He is a good boy, and sends me money from time to time. With yours and his, and I am living in a nice home in the country! There is a kind lady next to me who talks to me daily, and if I am feeling unwell she takes good care of me. A good woman like that, Jiahao, is someone I like in my life! She is good to me and teaches me all about how things have changed. Her son is a good boy, too, about your age. He does not, however, think that people who live away from Taiwan should come back. Very close-minded boy, but a good boy nonetheless. Be safe! I know your work does not allow for that sometimes, but you are clever and so fast. You always were! If something happens to you I will be sad. If things ever get too hard, little one, then you can live with me in Taiwan! The house is big enough, and you are always welcome to come see me. I hope you do come see me, I think youโd like it here. Have you ever been to Taiwan? Itโs in your blood! This is your homeland, as Wales once was, and I think you would enjoy it far more than your childhood home. Also โ congratulations on your title. I am very proud of you for making it so far, and hope that you push even further! With you and Elwyn, I am a happy mother, and you both make my life so much brighter. I love you very much! When you are going through hard times, I hope you think of me!
Lots of love, your mama.
The clock ticked softly behind him, a comforting accompaniment to the letter. He brushed his thumb over the edges of it, smiled down at the familiar words. This letter had arrived just two days ago, and yet heโd committed it to memory, as he had with all of his motherโs letters. Her words had always been a good influence on him, but there was something about the way she chose to write this one in Mandarin characters, far away from her usual Welsh. She was happy where she was, it was very clear in her writing. Whereas Welsh had been written without much passion, had been choppy and short and a little bit messy, Mandarin flowed well from his motherโs hand, gave her a vaster vocabulary. It happened in person, too. She did not enjoy speaking his fatherโs tongue, had considered sending him to a school where they spoke only English, but had soon realised that they did not treat the Welsh very nicely there, and so had allowed for his education to continue in Welsh. She was proud of him from breaking away from Wales, he knew that, and it still made him feel warm.
For how long had he been smiling down at the letter? Gwyn wasnโt quite sure. However, the black desk phone over to his left began to ring, and so he had no choice but to answer. A soft sigh passed his lips as he stood up and wandered over to his desk, picking up the phone and leaning an elbow against the wooden surface.
โHello,โ he greeted, โthis is Gwyn Cadwallader. How may I help you?โ
โOh, thank God,โ the relieved sigh of the man on the other end of the phone was audible, and Gwyn couldnโt help but smile. โGwyn, youโre not going to believe this. Can you come into work? I know, I knowโday off, but reallyโฆreally, you ought to see what William has done!โ
โWhat has he done? I donโt have time to clean up after him every time he drops a jam jar. He should know that Tess likes to coat the outside with butter to mess with everyone.โ
โSheโshe does what? What? Gwyn, youโฆnevermind, the point is, itโs not a spilled jam jar but thereโs plenty of red from what little we can understand, and so I need to send you after him,โ the man on the other end of the phone sounded like he was drumming his fingers.
โDepends,โ said Gwyn, his tone dry, โwhere is our dear Will?โ
โWales.โ
โOf course! Of course! Let me guess, heโs in one of the Welsh-speaking parts, right? Has no idea what to do? Possibly just killed his entire team because of sheer stupidity?โ his teeth were all bared teeth and hackles raised, a low growl in his voice as he, not for the first time in relation to William, lost his temper. โWith all due respect, Thomas, William is a piece of sh*t and if heโs done what I think heโs done, he deserves to die.โ
Thomas was completely silent for a moment, allowing the anger to drain from Gwyn before he spoke again. A clever choice, really, considering the bomb that heโd just dropped. He let out a low sigh, the sound crackling faintly over the phone.
โI apologise, Gwyn, but I need to come here and then go there. Itโll be quick. You wonโt need to do anything you donโt want to do,โ he was lying through his teeth and they both knew it. โBut I thought you should know that James is there.โ
Gwyn didnโt know whether to shout or just give up. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, raised his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Counting to ten in every language he knew in his head would take a while, and so he simply chose three and started, mouthing the words as he went. Once he felt significantly calmer, he decided to reply.
โThatโs unfair,โ he said, and his voice came out far softer than he intended it to. โYou canโt bring up his name whenever you feel like it, just to get me to cooperate.โ
โI wouldnโt have to if you werenโt so stubborn,โ the other manโs voice was equally soft. โBut itโs the truth, Gwyn, and Iโm concerned for the whole team.โ
โDo I report to your office or the Chiefโs?โ
โMine. The Chief is busy today.โ
Without so much as a goodbye, Gwyn hung up the phone and ran a hand roughly through his hair. It didnโt take him long to clean up and dress, hands quick in their movements, and then he was out and walking, at a brisk pace, to the SIS Headquarters. He dipped his head and smiled at people who passed him, as was polite, and was glad of the ten minute walk from his apartment to the building. It had cleared his head, made him calmer, and had ultimately improved his patience, he hoped. Wales was a sore spot for him and Thomas knew it, which meant that it had to be very important if he, of all people, was being dragged into this sh*t-fest.
People knew to stay out of his way as he ascended staircase after staircase, barely paying the workers heed as he reached the floor that he worked on. When he came to Thomas Atwaterโs door, he considered knocking โ but ultimately decided that he was petty enough to be rude, and so he opened the door and was not at all surprised to find his friend and superior pinned against the wall by his assistant.
โI thought,โ he said drily, โthat you did not condone this sort of behaviour in work, Thomas.โ
Both men made high-pitched sounds and all but flung themselves away from each-other. They were, perhaps, the happiest to know that they would not be arrested for simply being homosexual (or being in homosexual acts) anymore โ though it still amused Gwyn to no end to find out how many of his co-workers were, ultimately, like him. He rolled his eyes upwards and crossed his arms as he walked to the desk, waving to Thomasโ assistant as the young man left. His mood had definitely been improved by causing them stress like that.
โI think,โ said Thomas, sitting down in his seat, righting his tie and holding a hand to his chest, โyouโre trying to give me a heart-attack.โ
โI think,โ mimicked Gwyn, leaning against the desk, โyou are correct.โ
If looks could kill, then Thomas would beโฆabout as threatening as a kitten, actually. The man was not a particularly intimidating one, soft in his years of sitting at a desk and issuing commands or copying the Chief, rather than anything else.
โRight,โ he said, dark gaze flicking over Gwyn briefly. โIโll keep this short. Go to the Brecon Beacons,โ okay, that was not a particularly Welsh-speaking area despite how remote it was. โFind Williamโs team. Save them.โ
โSave them.โ
โThey were tracking a political assassin. Lestrange? Iโm sure you were on a mission against him, some years ago.โ
โAh. Yes. One thing.โ
โHm?โ
โLestrange is a woman.โ
Thomas stared at Gwyn and raised two furry eyebrows that reminded Gwyn of caterpillars. Not the cute kind. The little fat ones that everyone avoided because they were supposed to cause an allergic reaction, or something. It was hard to keep his attention on the other manโs face with such ghastly things there.
โA woman? We were told male. Perhaps she is married.โ
โAnother thing.โ
โAh?โ
โLestrange is a lesbian.โ
If Thomas was surprised by this, he didnโt say anything. Instead, he rested his elbows on the desk that he sat at, mouthing something in a language that Gwyn was not, if he was reading correctly, fluent in. Probably Russian. It was always Russian โ why hadnโt he ever bothered to take it up? He smiled, however, as he watched the man process this information.
โShort black hair, wild eyes, tiny but mighty?โ he asked.
โAh,โ said Gwyn, โyes. Thatโs her lover.โ
Thomas threw his hands up into the air in exasperation, throwing his head back.
โIf it helps at all, I believe that sheโs also a political assassin. We should probably take her down, and we can probably catch Lestrange after.โ
Gwyn could feel the weight of the other manโs gaze on him, and bit his lip so as not to smile, turning his gaze away to the window, instead. It was too much fun, to wind up Thomas โ especially when it was all the truth. Something about that really satisfied him, caused him to find more amusement than he should have.
The mission details, after, went by as a blur. Find the team, donโt catch Lestrangeโs lover if itโs too dangerous, gauge the situation. He was backup while they waited for further backup โ which just felt a little awkward and unnecessary to Gwyn, but what did he know? As long as he nodded along and smiled or frowned when he needed to, Thomas was a happy man, content with laying everything out and giving him access to whatever he needed. It was only two hours before he was on the road to Wales, debating whether or not he could escape this.
โYou know,โ said the driver of the van, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. โI didnโt expect you to take this up, White.โ
โThat makes two of us,โ he grimaced.
She didnโt try to talk to him again, and instead focused on driving. Nobody stopped them, nobody bothered them, and Gwyn found himself too hyper-aware of everything to doze. He was going in โ alone โ to see if he could help a team that may have been compromised by a single woman. Was he being sent in because of the โBritainโs Greatestโ bullshit, or was he being send in on a suicide mission? He swallowed thickly at the thought. It would make sense, he supposed, for MI6 to try to rid themselves of him. He could be nothing but trouble at the best of times.
When he later stepped out of the van and onto the soft grass, he felt sick. The smell of stale water and rain, the familiar sheep baaing nearby โ it was all sickening. He swallowed thickly and turned to look at the driver, raising his eyebrows before giving her a two-fingered salute and moving away. Despite how awful he felt, he moved lightly as he walked through the woods, hyper-aware of everything around him and glad that his senses were screaming already. Wales did not hold many good memories โ the opposite, in fact.
He did not find the team in good condition.
William was dead, that much was certain. So was Sylvia, who was so young and had had such a future ahead of her that it made him feel bad, almost. Morganโฆshe was as good as dead, so far gone that she didnโt even recognise him as he approached. James wasnโt conscious and clearly wasnโt going to make it (that broke his heart, but he powered on). The only one who looked like she was even going to make it was the wild-eyed woman whom had caused so much trouble, and so he stared at her blankly.
โWhy?โ he asked, because he could not say anything else as he held both Morgan and James, trying to be a warming presence in their last hours. โYou shouldโve run.โ
Lestrangeโs lover smiled bitterly, spat blood. Oh. She wasnโt going to make it.
โYou owe me nothing, butโโ
โShut up.โ
Now, she looked vaguely surprised. Sick and pale, but clearly surprised. He could kill her. Right here, right now, he could kill her โ but he didnโt, because if the backup arrived and knew that sheโd been freshly killed rather than dead from circumstances the team inflicted, theyโd know it was him. It wasnโt a good idea, even if he could think of many ways to disguise it. Gwyn knew he was predictable to Thomas, which meant heโdโฆheโd probably been sent here on purpose. Damn.
โI didnโt kill them,โ she seemed almost upset at the accusation. Gwyn glared at her, daring her to continue. โI mean it.โ
Then who did? The question must have read clearly on her face, because she coughed as she laughed and turned her head, her breath starting to slow.
โF*ckinโโฆfive people, on the team. Not four. Keep count, Welshie.โ
If she responded again, Gwyn missed it, because something blunt hit him and his vision blurred before blacking, and he couldnโt even take a moment to wonder why.
When he came to, he was not, as he expected, in some dark, stereotypical place โ nor was he tied up. In fact, the only thing that seemed to be keeping him on this bed was the IV in his hand. He blinked sleepily down at it before squinting at the person at his bedside. Oh. Thomas. The man was dozing, clearly having not expected Gwyn to be awake for some time. He feltโฆtruly awful. His head hurt, his mouth was dry, and he could feel that his body was aching, too. It was dull โ not surprising, considering where he was.
โOh,โ said Thomas, eyes blinking rapidly as he woke up. โYouโre awake.โ
โHmm,โ Gwyn winced a little as he shifted to look at his superior.
โYou did a good thing,โ the man began, hands clasped in his lap. โLed us right to Lestrange. Genius thinking, really.โ
โWhat?โ he asked, squinting at Thomas. Had the man hit his own head? All heโd done was talk to Lestrangeโs lover and then get hit over the head. Lousy mistake, if he was truly reflecting on it. He was pretty sure that had been what had happened.
โThe coordinates,โ Thomas tapped his own forearm, โhidden? Good work.โ
โI donโtโฆI donโt remember that?โ
Thomas frowned in return and tilted his head back, seeming to be considering how to tell him, or something like that. Gwyn was serious, though โ he didnโt remember any coordinates, let alone writing them down.
โI think,โ he said, โyou could have potential memory loss. Do you remember what happened?โ
โI was sent to Wales after Lestrangeโs lover. I found her and the team โ all of them were dying. Then something hit me.โ
โOkay. Thatโsโฆyes, we did have a traitor, Iโll admit. But heโs been dealt with โ wasnโt even supposed to be on that mission? He mustโve trailed them. The backup team caught him trying to hide the bodies, as it were. Didnโt do very well, of course. Then there was his helper.โ
โWho?โ
Thomasโ expression softened, which only caused him to feel more dread at what the news could be. His mind flicked through those of the team that had been injured โ noted that one heโd assumed wasnโt going to make it, hadnโt even checked.
โAh,โ Gwyn said, his voice soft. โOkay. Who was the one who trailed? The fifth?โ
โWe are all surprised to say that it was Jeremy Blanc,โ the older man gave a resigned sigh. โJeremy and James never got along โ we didnโt want to believe it, but the proof was there. Stillโฆwe caught them and Lestrange, โ thanks to you, - and Lestrangeโs lover is officially deceased. Her name was Renee Bellerose. Ring any belles?โ
โJulien Bellerose,โ said Gwyn, โtaken down in โ57. Evil little man.โ
Thomas smiled, but it was tired and pained. He looked older than he truly was, exhausted to the point that even this did not phase him. He supposed that it was fair, considering all of what had happened. There would, no doubt, be screenings and background checks and people would be torn apart within MI6 to ensure that there were no more traitors.
โWhen can I go back to work?โ he asked, to change the topic. If Thomas was surprised, he didnโt show it.
โWithin a week, but donโt bother. Youโve been called to the Chiefโs office.โ
โSoโฆwhat, you think Iโm going to be fired?โ
Thomas laughed a hearty laugh. It was genuine, and that made Gwyn happier. โNo! I think youโre being reassigned, personally.โ
โToโฆ?โ
โClassified, in the Chiefโs very own words. Youโll probably be discharged soon. Iโll see you when you get back into work, Gwyn.โ
With a nod, Thomas stood and left, thus leaving Gwyn alone and to his thoughts.
True to Thomasโ word, he was discharged in the early evening with some pain medication for the bruises and cuts heโd acquired (one looked awfully deep and would have stitches in until the next week โ the nurse had told him that heโd been lucky not to bleed out), and so he returned home with nothing on his mind but sleep. Sleep, sleep, and more sleep.
It took him a few days to work up the energy to shower properly and clean himself up, but once that was done, he went to work. Not to do actual work (Thomas had called the previous day and had told him that he had filed the report due to his memory loss), but to see the Chief.
Chief Russell King was not a man to be messed with, but Gwyn liked to mess with him anyway. Theirs was not a good friendship, with sharp retorts and petty actions, but they respected each-other (to a degree) and so even as Gwyn entered with an overly-cheerful, โhello, Russ,โ he was not sent out to enter in a proper way.
โGwyn,โ said Russell, fingers in a steeple position, as if that made him intimidating. It did, a little, but Gwyn overlooked it because he was not going to pay attention to the manโs intimidation tactics. โYouโre being reassigned.โ
He couldnโt help it. Gwyn burst into laughter that pulled his stitches and, he was quite sure, made him sound almost manic. Russellโs expression remained serious, and it trailed off into something weaker, a little more desperate.
โYouโre joking.โ
โNo. Please take this seriously.โ
โDonโt.โ
โSorry. Take it seriously.โ
The two men stared each-other down, one amber and one blue, almost akin to circling wolves. Neither would give ground to the other, they would refuse, outright, to back down from the fight. Despite everything, Russell was the first to give ground.
โYouโre to arrive by March 2nd, do you understand?โ
โWhy?โ
โListen, Gwyn,โ the Chiefโs tone was firm, his fingers no longer steepled and now laying flat on the desk. โYouโre one of the elite โ the best that MI6 has to offer. You donโt even remember using coordinates to help catch Lestrange,โ he โtskโed at Gwynโs attempt at a protest. โDonโt start that bullshit with me, Cadwallader. Iโm washing my hands of you. Iโm sick of my spies knowing that theyโll have to wait until youโre dead to be Britainโs Greatest, sick of them having lost morale because I have no choice but to give you cases that I need to succeed. For f*ckโs sake, look at Lestrange! Internationally, you are ranked as one of the highest. Not the highest, I canโt remember who owns that title, but youโre certainly f*cking up there, you got that?โ
For once, Gwyn did not reply.
โGood. Listen, kid,โ Russell inhaled deeply. โItโs been fun having you around โ youโre one of the few who doesnโt mind backtalking me, which makes you fun to handle, but Iโm not keeping you around. Got it? Read this,โ he handed the spy a piece of paper.
After a few moments of silent glaring, he read it. All he needed were the basic details โ and thatโs what he found, after a quick glance over the letter. There was an elite agency for spies that the United Nations had created, and they wanted MI6 to take part. In return for their most skilled spy, they would be part of an official spy agency in relation to United Nations. It was an opportunity to surpass their already strong reputation.
โYouโre asking me to leave my life behind here to work for these people, who think asking for the best spies within the UNโs region is going to be good enough to build something?โ he snorted.
โIโm not asking you,โ the Chiefโs tone was almost gentle, like soothing a child. It happened, sometimes, because he alone was aware of Gwynโs state of health, and he alone could tell when he was pushing too far. โIโm commanding you. This is the final order I will give you, and this is goodbye from me to you, as friends rather than as a superior.โ
โWhere is it? What am I going to have to do? What about my files?โ there were so many questions and this felt like a dismissal, even if he knew better. Russell would not agree to send him where heโd fail โ he would only push Gwyn upwards, because as much as they hated each-other at times, they were still friends, even if they were the worst kind.
โThe Agency will have your files,โ Russell replied, โyou will be theirs, I do not know what you will do. It is located in Norway. Donโt look like that โ I donโt think you need to speak Norwegian.โ
โOkay. I have, what, two weeks โ just under that, actually โ to make my flight plans and say my farewells?โ
โNo, you have two weeks to pack and make flight plans. If I see you here again, Iโll have you arrested. Say your goodbyes today, or instead of working for the Agency, youโll be rotting in prison.โ
Gwyn scowled. โYou havenโt got that power.โ
โIโm connected to that power, just try me. Gwyn, listen. Youโre not going to come back here ever again. If the Agency lets you go, go and live with your mother โ you know sheโll have enough saved up for you to stay until retirement. Yes, your funds will still go to your mother if you die,โ the aged man sighed and tilted his head back, seeming to be content with that. โIโm done. Youโre going, get out of my sight. Now.โ
He did not need to be told twice.
The walk back to his apartment felt surreal. He did not stop to say goodbye to Thomas, nor did he say goodbye to anyone else โ there was no point. Gwyn had always been awful at farewells, and he was not about to try to learn to be good at them. Leaving was a fact of life, and he had to repeat this in his head as he entered his home and looked around. This place would be empty, soon. Not of items โ but of himself. It was unlikely, he noted, that heโd come back. If the Agency let go of him, he probably would go to Taiwan. London was a place with a mix of good and bad memories. If he did come back, it wouldnโt be here. Nah.
Before he did anything, he sat at his desk and began to write, glad that he practiced his Mandarin often โ otherwise this wouldโve been awful.
Mother,
I am being reassigned. The location is classified, and I would rather you did not know where it was. I am alive, will remain alive, and will keep myself alive until I can see you again. Money will keep coming your way! Remember when I was little and told you that mountains were my favourite thing? I think Iโm about to see something better than Walesโ mountains. Oh! I was in hospital temporarily, but you know how I recover from injuries โ super fast! Iโm okay now. If this is my last letter to you, do not worry. I know itโs scary when I go on long missions, and this is a little bigger than thisโฆbut do not panic. Treat it like a long mission, because I am going to come home better than I was before. Tell Elwyn that if he doesnโt choose a name, then Iโm choosing one for him. Or you give him one! If I give him one, it will not be a nice one. I will make sure that it conflicts badly with the Ruan family name, and no-one wants that. As always, I love and miss you very much. Iโm glad that youโre happy in Taiwan! One day, Iโll definitely see where I would have been born had circumstances been different. Iโm glad that youโre happy and I hope your neighbour treats you as well as it sounds! Iโm glad that you have someone like her. She sounds very nice. Homosexuality is no longer criminalised in England (and I think Wales, but neither of us care about that part), which gives me great joy. I will admit that I am concerned about the attitude of those around me, but it is okay โ many are too fearful to lash out violently. I would probably win in a fight, so itโs fine. No-one will get past me. Next time we talk, perhaps it will be in person. I apologise for however long that may take, and if I ever can, I will certainly get a letter to you.
Yours, Jiahao.
Just as he was giving the finishing touches (a few doodled daffodils and a little cat face) to the letter, a loud banging at his door jerked him out of his daydream-like state. He blinked and flicked his gaze to the clock settled on the coffee table; it was starting to get late. He scowled and pushed himself up, half-limping towards the door and opening it.
Bedraggled and clearly having come in out of some awful rain, Casper stood there. Casper was, if he thought about it, one of his closest friends โ a man who did police work, who often attended pubs that Gwyn went to, who had been in the army with him, and was often been seen with a man or a woman or both on his arms. He looked, in every sense of the word, pissed.
โYou,โ he started, in an accusatory tone, โdid not tell me you were injured.โ
โIt must have slipped my mind,โ said Gwyn drily, and moved away from the door to pick up a towel. He walked back over to his friend and draped it over his head, taking a moment to help the man dry off before he was allowed into his home. As heโd learned many times before, Casper took off his shoes. It was nice to know that even when angry, he paid attention to the rules.
โRight,โ the tone used, now, was almost like a sneer. โForgot, you? Nah. Shut up. Tell me whatโs happening.โ
โI,โ he said, โam being reassigned. Let go. Fired, almost, but not quite? Just thrown to another place. Itโs classified.โ
Even as Casper sat on his couch and helped himself to some of Gwynโs good whiskey, he seemed to be annoyed at that โ almost as if daring to ask if it was classified for him, as a person. Whatever he found on Gwynโs face mustโve confirmed it, because he sipped his whiskey and sighed in a resigned manner, nodding and tilting his head back. Gwyn walked over and sat next to him, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt and wondering, briefly, why he hadnโt changed out of his more formal clothing.
โYouโre leaving London,โ Casper said, and it wasnโt a question.
โYes.โ
โAw, hell. Itโs not going to be the same without you.โ
Gwyn couldnโt help but smile and raise his eyebrows. โYouโll manage, Iโm sure.โ
โNo,โ the other manโs tone was offended, now, and he turned his head to look at Gwyn. โReally, itโs going to be strange andโjust, youโve been here for years? Not here as in London, but here as inโฆI donโt know, a place at my side? There. We were in the army together, Gwyn. We served and fought together and even when Simonโeven then, you didnโt really back down. You have a hell of a lot of things wrong with you, but youโre probably the bravest man I know.โ
โThat sounds an awful lot like a confession.โ
โYou bastard,โ Casperโs laugh was weak as he gently punched Gwynโs shoulder. โLet me be sentimental, damn you.โ
Gwyn laughed quietly and leaned back, wishing he could justโฆstay, in this sort of peace. It was nice, something soothing in a time of pain. An entire MI6 team had been wiped out by their own, and he was getting the credit for something he didnโt remember doing. It frustrated him to no end, caused him to become shorter tempered โ but Casperโs presence was something calming.
โCanโt you take anybody with you, wherever youโre going?โ asked the man, who mustโve been watching Gwynโs expression.
โFamily, I suppose,โ he scowled thoughtfully, โbut by blood or marriage, not friends, Casper.โ
โI donโt want to say goodbye.โ
The words hung in the air as a reminder of why Gwyn hated farewells. They were a sad thing, filled with selfish sorrow of leaving loved ones. He inhaled deeply and poured himself a glass of whiskey, draining the glass and savouring the burn as it went down his throat. It helped clear his mind, just a little.
โI donโt care,โ he said, despite the fact that the words were cruel and a lie. He was a compulsive liar, it was in his nature. โYou have to let me go at some point, and it is better I leave alive than come back dead.โ
โYou are terrible with words.โ
โYouโre terrible at listening to them.โ
โI know,โ Casper said, โbut I have a proposition.โ
โWhat is it?โ
โWhen you come back, you will marry me.โ
โI do not think that is legal.โ
โWeโll find a country where it is legal and marry there, then.โ
Casperโs admiration was admirable, that was a definite thing. He inhaled slowly and ran a hand over his jaw, closing his eyes as he considered whether to make it a deal or not. They were both single men nearing their fifties, not a strange thing, and they both held a good preference towards men. Casper was rather attractive. It was not, by any means, a loss. He squinted up at the patterned ceiling and sighed, wishing things were as easy as the other man made them sound. Maybe it was that simple. Maybe he was just trying to fool himself into thinking that life was harder than it truly was.
โOkay,โ he said, sitting up and turning to look at Casper. โIfโwhen I return, we will find a country and marry and live out our days in retirement. You, however, must stay far away from me until then. You do not attempt to track me down, you do not approach me in the two weeks before my leave. If you understand, you may kiss me. If you donโt, you leave now.โ
โI am not going to stay away for two weeks, but I will not attempt to track you down,โ Casper seemed faintly offended. โDonโt make me stay away for the two weeks in which you will be close enough for me to stay with.โ
Gwynโs lips thinned and he flicked his gaze away, trying to ignore the pang of guilt that crushed his heart. It fluttered, however, when Casper leaned forward and brushed their lips together.
โA half-agreement,โ said Casper, โlet me stay with you for the two weeks, let us act as I wish we had been for the past thirty years, and I will not track you down nor will I attempt to contact you before you contact me.โ
As he spoke, Casper moved from the couch to the desk, absently looking over the letter left there.
โThese characters,โ he said, fingers brushing over long-dried ink. His brows furrowed as he struggled to read them. โYou areโฆsaying farewell to your mother?โ
โTemporarily. I refuse to stay completely in contact with her, because if I die and she is expecting a letter, she will hurt far more than if she is waiting for me to comeโฆoh, I see,โ Gwyn scowled thoughtfully. โI suppose it is cruel, but Iโd rather her be safe.โ
โAh. The martyr complex. Hurting yourself to save others.โ
Gwyn stood up and shook his head, gently taking the letter away from the man and instead folding it and setting it aside so that he could send it later during the week. He leaned his weight on his good side, far too aware of the stitches as they protested against most of the movements he made โ and it was not helped by the fact that the words from earlier were sinking in, that he was going to Norway and would be working for the Agency, that MI6 would not take him back due to how petty Russell could be. That Casper had run here because heโd been concerned about Gwynโs physical health and now seemed more adamant to stay around him than ever, because he was leaving in two weeks and nothing could change that.
โYou look like youโre going to be sick. Iโm going to make you a hot cup of tea. Lots of sugar,โ Casper hummed softly, โgo. Change your clothes.โ
โYou,โ said Gwyn, โare unnecessarily tall.โ
Casper did not disagree and so he walked to his bedroom to change, slow movements as he listened to the sounds of someone moving in his home, the soft, high-pitched whistling of the kettle boiling and the low hum as Casper sang to himself, the soft clink of a teaspoon in a mug. It was so domestic and comforting that Gwyn thought that perhaps he could allow this for two weeks, until he left for his flight.
When he emerged in his trademark oversized sweater and boxers, Casper did not seen shocked nor phased. He simply set the cup of tea on the coaster and grinned at him, a childish twinkle in his eyes as he set on removing his jacket and then settling down beside Gwyn with his own cup of tea.
โYour kitchen is small and you appear to have antiques. Are they from your mother?โ
โHmm. She likes me to keep a piece of Taiwan with me.โ
โThatโs nice,โ Casper said, and it was genuine. โI wish my mother had been around. I do not know what Korea is like at all. Itโs a shame, really.โ
โIt is,โ Gwyn agreed. โItโs taken me years to understand how lucky I am, though. Elwyn is still learning.โ
โJiahao,โ said Casper, โthatโs how you pronounce your Chinese name, right?โ
Gwyn smiled behind his cup of tea, curling his fingers around it and taking in its warmth. โYes. I think my spelling is a fairly common one โ the first character means family, or home, and the second means brave or heroic. I think it means chivalrous, too.โ
โThatโs a good name,โ he mused in response. โIt suits you.โ
A nod of agreement passed Gwyn. Yes. It did suit him, and his mother had been sure that he knew that, that he knew that allowing her to give him a Chinese name had not been a bad idea. The more he thought about the name โJiahaoโ, the more he liked it. For some bizarre reason, Casperโs confirmation of it being a good name warmed him.
The evening passed in quiet talk of mothers (or lack of mother, in Casperโs case) and fathers, of how they were raised in such different circumstances โ Gwyn with whispers and rebellious talk of Taiwan and Casper without a hint of South Korea, without knowing anything about his motherโs history โ and of their jobs. Their jobs, it seemed, came to them a lot. When the two realised the time, it was late; it must have been about one in the morning.
โYouโre welcome to stay,โ said Gwyn, eyeing the other manโs figure. โI might have something that will fit you.โ
Though Casper looked amused at the possibility of something from Gwynโs wardrobe fitting him (considering there was a good eight or nine inches between them), he nodded and followed the man to the bedroom and watched with vague amusement as Gwyn rifled through his draws, grimacing until he found a pair of oversized pyjama trousers that could not have belonged to him. They were thrown at Casper, followed by one of his oversized sweaters, and he moved to the bathroom to change. Never did the amusement leave his gaze as he did so, and Gwyn couldnโt help but smile in return.
The quiet talks continued even as Gwyn turned out the lights and thus let darkness descend. Unable to let Casper stay on the decidedly uncomfortable couch, he let the man sleep in his bed โ the two facing each-other until they fell asleep. Casper was a comforting presence despite the overwhelming emotions that he often portrayed, he was a good man.
When he woke, Gwyn was warm and safe and when he felt an arm over him, he only started briefly until he remembered the events of the night. He exhaled softly and allowed himself to relax again, squeezing his eyes closed against the sunlight that trickled in through the window. Soft snoring from beside him confirmed that Casper was still asleep, that he probably wasnโt going to wake soon. He half-opened his eyes and watched the manโs sleeping face with an amused smile. Even in sleep, he looked like he had something to prove. As gentle as he could, he moved one arm and reached out a finger to lightly brush over his moustache, smiling a little more when Casโ mouth twitched. He continued this for a few moments until the man shifted his head and groaned.
โWatching me sleep?โ he asked in a sleep-thick voice.
โNo, I was considering shaving your face.โ
Casperโs eyes snapped open at that and he turned to glare at Gwyn. Then, he reached out and ruffled his hair and laughed, leaning over to brush their lips together. Gwyn grinned into it and smiled as he reached up to push his own hands through Casperโs.
โThis,โ he said, using one hand to point to himself and then to the other. โIs scandalous. Just imagine what people would think! Two unmarried men, laying in bed? The shame.โ
โAh, but are you implying that we are married to women or to each-other?โ
โYou are saying this as if you didnโt propose to me yesterday, Cas.โ
โAw, you brought the pet name back! I love you too, Gwyn.โ
Gwyn laughed as Casper settled against him, continued to run his fingers through the larger manโs hair. The two, far too lazy to move, settled down and once again their talk began โ murmurs of nothing, of what they would do if the apocalypse set in, of what would happen if they had one wish or if they could do anything. While Gwynโs answers relied more on how he felt in the moment (rather sappy, now that he thought about it) and were more serious, Casper leaned towards ridiculous answers, pressing kisses to Gwynโs jawline every so often.
โYou are coming back,โ said Casper, out of the blue. โYouโve made a deal with me. You never break your deals.โ
โYou canโt hate me for something I canโt help,โ he replied, though he was doubtful.
โWatch me.โ
Gwyn gently used the palm of his hand to push Casperโs head up, smiling at the little squeak it caused. Such a high-pitched sound should not have come from a man such as Casper, but it did, and he was glad that he had caused it. โYou wouldnโt,โ he said lightly. โYou said that you love me.โ
The words seemed to sink in, then, and Casper smiled.
โYou love me too,โ he said.
โShut up,โ Gwyn said.
The next two weeks passed by in something that felt unreal, to Gwyn. There was something about the quiet domesticity that soothed him, the panic of someone in his bed until he realised, just after heโd pinned the other man down, that Casper was there and that he was safe. As he feared, he was somewhat reluctant to leave โ but he had to, he had no choice. March 1st was the date his flight was set, and so it was this day that surprised him the most.
โHere,โ said Casper, gently taking hold of Gwynโs left hand and sliding a silver-and-gold wedding band onto his ring finger. โA token of our promise.โ
It took him longer than it shouldโve for him to realise a similar ring was on the other manโs finger, and Gwyn smiled, looking down at it. It marked him, he realised, as a married man โ even if they were not officially married yet, there was nothing about the rings that could be seen as illegal. If anything, they wereโฆlowkey married! Absolutely.
โI still wish I could come with you,โ Casper sighed softly, brushing some of Gwynโs hair away from his face. โBut you, a stubborn bastard, donโt want me to.โ
โItโs unsafe,โ he corrected firmly, โIโll be okay.โ
โIf youโre lonely or you want me there, just send a letter and I will come. I speak Norwegian, Gwyn, I can easily become part of their police department!โ
โTempting,โ murmured Gwyn, โIโll consider it, but for now, do not track me down.โ
Casper hummed confirmation and brushed his lips over the shorter manโs temple, smiling down in a fond fashion. Their relationship was uncomplicated โ they were best friends and so their bond was an easy one. Whether it was banter or not, he loved their talks and he knew heโd miss it, but there was something about the job he was taking on that told him not to take nor talk to anyone he was close with. If time told him that it would be okay, then heโd consider it. He realised this with growing surprise, and smiled some more.
โGo,โ said Casper, โor I shall keep you here in handcuffs and formally arrest you for so many crimes.โ
โLike stealing your heart?โ
โGwyn!โ
โSorry,โ he did not sound sorry at all, and he kissed Casper briefly before giving a little wave and walking away.
The flight, itself, was as uneventful and boring as he could imagine. He stared blankly out of the small window and watched the clouds pass by, breath catching as he watched the scenery go by. The only good part, of course, was seeing the terrain from so high โ it was like a dream, really, and he loved it.
His new home would be nestled away in a comfortable place โ not too far from the coordinates heโd been given to the base, but not so close that it aroused suspicion of his connections. Just so. It was a quaint little apartment building, with only three floors and three people on either side โ it was, in every sense of the word, pleasant. He unpacked in an automatic fashion, ensured that everything was settled, and then promptly fell asleep with an alarm to wake him up in time to ready himself to go to the Agency the next day. This was, of course, a big opportunity โ and the butterflies in his stomach, he knew, were for a good reason. Either way, he was excited and nervous and so, so jetlagged.
There was some sort of vague relief, on March 2nd, that crossed his mind. Heโd rented a car that would be good enough for him to cross most terrains, and so it was with very little difficulty that he made his way to the Agencyโs gala, nerves still fluttering in his stomach. Every so often heโd glance to the wedding band on his hand and smile, fond thoughts of Casper, who waited because heโd been told to. A man who was stubborn and as impulsive as Gwyn himself, but patient and understanding enough to stand back when told to. It felt unreal.
When a guard approached and he rolled down his window, he presented his invitation before the guard could open his mouth. Said guard raised his eyebrows and spoke something in Norwegian to his partner (damnit, he couldnโt understand a word despite Casper trying to teach him), and then waved him along, eyebrows still raised as if in a judgemental way. He couldnโt quite tell.
The place was fancy. Fancier than heโd seen for a long time (there was that one partyโbut that had been horrible) and so he was on-edge from the minute he parked his car and stepped out. Nerves fluttered again and he shifted his weight, debating on taking a moment inside his car to smoke โ but ultimately, the sooner he did this, the better. Heโd be okay. Everything would be okay.
Intimidating Gwyn was not hard. He was easily intimidated, he was just extraordinarily good at not showing it. Backing down in the face of danger? He didnโt. Overall, he was not easy to scare, as such, but intimidating him was easy enough โ many held a height advantage, very few had faces he could read, and he remembered those who stuck in his mind as more intimidating people. They were not, of course, acquainted with him now. Hell. He realised that he had no more acquaintances, that heโd have to make new friendsโdamn. Maybe the other spies would be good company, considering his social circle back in London. Spies, men and women who attended his local gay pub, andโฆuh, his family, he supposed. Not the Welsh half. Hell, heโd give his soul to never have to even look at them again (perhaps he had, as he considered the intimidating doors). Taiwan and Casper awaited him once he got out of this. This was it, the job that would kill him or see him live to an old age. He quite thought it would be the latter. Maybe he should send a letter to Casper to request him to come live here, if only to keep him close but no, no, that was selfish and dangerous and damn it, he had to keep his head straight.
A shaky breath escaped him and he clenched his fist before rapping his knuckles on the open door before he entered. It was pure politeness that he did so, because he didnโt want to beโฆimpolite. It was very โEnglishโ of him, he supposed. Or perhaps โLondon-ishโ would be better. British, even. Heโd met quite a few polite Scotsmen. Not so much Welsh people. Welsh people, heโd decided, were a completely unreal and separate part of this realm. And, once again, his head was going off track and he was too nervous for his own good. His thumb passed over his cheek as he stepped forward and took in the interior.
Gorgeous, would be a way to describe it, and breathtaking โ but he still felt a little on edge. This was the place heโd be working, correct? Ah, well. As polite conversation drifted over his ears and the speech was given, he stayed within his own head and only quirked an eyebrow as he half-listened. The jobs started tomorrow. No names, he noticed, had been given for the Director or any of his staffโdefinitely intentional. His eyes narrowed as he watched, mouth drawn into a thin line. All of this did not feel right, but he knew he had no choice. It was this or early retirement, and the early retirement did not sound entertaining. He was quite sure that heโd take up the life of a criminal if he was forced to stay down this early, and so when a man spoke to him, he blinked and turned his head.
Gwyn was quick to process โ black hair, taller than him (definitely six feet, at least), ferocious eyes. Oh. Oh, this was a man to learn about, he was fascinating. Automatically, he gave a smile that lit up his entire face, too gentle to be ferocious or a lie. It wasnโt a lie. He remembered about how kindness had been something heโd been taught, how heโd chosen to try to be a good person a few years ago. The lies, eventually, caught up to a man, and so the less he lied now, the better. Of course, that didnโt mean that he always succeeded.
His own hand stretched out to firmly grasp the otherโs in a handshake. Politeness felt stiff and unusual from working in MI6, where heโd become friends (or enemies) with people and had learned, over the years, that no-one would point out if he put his feet up at his own desk (as long as it was only there), no-one would complain if he sat cross-legged on the floor with his typewriter, and no-one would ever complain if he was rude to Russ, butโฆthis wasnโt MI6, heโd have to learn what his peers liked and disliked and that, in itself, was a horrifying prospect. He inhaled sharply and tilted his head.
โThe pleasureโs mine,โ he hummed softly, trying to deduce what he could from the man. Nada. Married โ he was pretty sure, neatly-keptโฆbut nothing else. French? Or something else? This man was too interesting, and it only broadened his smile at the opportunity to try to learn about someone like this. Then, because he quite enjoyed either catching people off-guard or appearing far too open, โGwyn Cadwallader. Formerly MI6.โ
He doubted that the man knew who he was. Who had time to pay attention to the top agents? Not him. Oh dear, if these people expected him to actually know what theyโd done, they would be in for a severe shock. Gwyn did not do well with news of spies, just with news ofโฆbirds? Maybe? Sometimes cool cases that caught his eye. Sometimes trending fashion, if he felt like pretending he had a sense of fashion. Again, his mind was off in a tangent โ but that was fine. Everything was fine! The man in front of him seemed far too interesting, heโd admit, but heโd probably find that with most people here.
|
|
โโะพฯ
![*](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/stars/star_silver.png) ![*](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/stars/star_silver.png) ![*](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/stars/star_silver.png)
ษดแด แดแด
แดษชแดแดแดษดแดแด แดxแดแดแดแด แดษด แดแดสแดส สแดsษชษดแดss
|
Post by โโะพฯ on Jan 2, 2017 17:19:38 GMT -5
Tring! The resounding first ring of the telephone was enough to break Aveset from a comfortable reverie. She jolted in her bath, nearly splashing half its contents onto her bathroom floor. She considered briefly the idea of grabbing a towel and running to answer the damn thing, but it was quickly rejected. Tring! It was likely Eloise wanting to know about Avaโs day. Picking up the phone would involve fabricating some lie about her โboring dayโ at her โboring secretary jobโ. It was a routine of theirs, but tonight she did not feel up to the task. Tring! It sounded a third time, and then a fourth and a fifth until whoever was on the other line gave up and the ringing ceased.
Ava sighed heavily and sank deeper into the warmth of the water. Being a tall woman, it was difficult to take a bath without banishing one part of her body to the cold air of her apartment. This time it was her knees that were forced to bear the Antarctic breeze coming from the open window across the room. She figured it was worth it in order to keep her torso warm, although she did realize too late it meant getting her hair wet again. She sat there for some time, flattening herself more and more to the smooth porcelain until even her chin and mouth were beneath the line of water. There she contemplated everything she could think that did not relate to her job. Of course she wasnโt really a secretary, but that much youโve figured out for yourself.
Instead of thinking about her most recent mission, or worse, any previous ones, she directed her thoughts to the water stains on the opposite wall and the accompanying shower curtain. Half an hour into that, she redirected her attention to the gash on her thigh. It was from a week ago, a successful mission, but it was refusing to heal properly. Going to any kind of doctor would involve fabricating a reason for the injury. Instead she reminded herself to ask a fellow agent to look at it the next day. And thus the thoughts of work were unavoidable. She wished sulkily that she had decided on a profession that did not involve constant contemplation. Of course, she usually enjoyed, no reveled, in the commitment. But lately it was feeling like such a strain. She blamed her stress on the fact she had no one to talk to when the work day was over. Eloise could no nothing of what she actually did and the fellow agents all disliked her for reasons that were out of her control. She found herself wishing she had a husband for the sole purpose of allowing him to take some of the weight onto his own shoulders.
The moment was gone as she heard a knock at the door. What followed was a moment of panic as she realized whoever was at the door would know she was at home given the lights were on. She lept out of the bath, snatching a towel from the rack and quickly running it roughly down her body. โOne minute!โ she called. She tossed on her shift, despite her wet hair and still-dripping legs. โBlast,โ she hissed, realizing the cold air was still pouring in through the open window. She ran over to close it, nearly slipping in the bathwater she had spilled earlier. Then she glanced in the mirror, mortified to find her hair soaked and her face splotched with the dayโs make-up. There was nothing to be done.
She continued to dry her hair with the towel as she made for the apartment door, traipsing across her living room rug and leaving watery footprints in her wake.
There were several locks in place on her door, as a precaution, and she undid them with haste. After a moment of struggling with the handle, she popped open the door and peeked out into the hall. โWho-โ she stopped abruptly as she realized the person calling on her was none other than her friend Matthias. โOh, hello, Matt,โ she breathed, cracking the door open wider so she could see him better. He was straight and tall and wonderfully familiar, though she wished he would leave her to her moping. โWhat are you doing here?โ
โSorry to intrude,โ he said apologetically. She could see in his eyes that he regretted coming. She positioned her body behind the door, but was relieved to see his gaze remained upon her face. โI just wanted to check in. Itโs been weeks since we talked, and I hoped you were okay. I didnโt like the way our last co-โ He paused, eyes fixing in the space behind her head. โIs that smoke?โ
Avesetโs gaze shifted to the kitchen, where a steady stream of smoke was sputtering from her oven. With a colorful curse, she abandoned her station at the door and tossed open the oven door, instantly enveloping the small kitchen in a puff of black smoke. The alarm sounded. Coughing, Ava reached for an oven mit and pulled out the culprit of the kitchen fire, the leftovers she had been meaning to eat for dinner. Cursing colorfully, she ran with the pan to the nearest window. Mattias met her there, and pulled up the window so she could place the smoking remnants of chicken on the sill. Blinking water from her eyes and exhaling ash from her lungs, she glanced up at her friend and former lover and released a defeated laugh. โThank you,โ she said.
Mattias smiled down at her, hand still on the window and eyes full of misplaced compassion. Ava cleared her throat and returned to the kitchen. She grabbed a hand towel and used it to clear the air below the smoke alarm. Within a couple of seconds, it ceased its beeping and Aveset retired to the couch. She fell back onto the cushions with her head on the armrest. Mattias crossed to her, bowing to pull her feet onto his lap and then sitting at the other end.
โAre you okay?โ he asked. His attention was on the record player to his right, with he brushed with his free knuckles.
Aveset sighed heavily and gave him a humorous look. โWell, Iโm a little hungry and my apartment is a mess. I think I need to take cooking classes.โ
He shifted his focus to her feet, doctorโs hands beginning to massage the soreness in her heels. Normally she would have pulled away, but his touch was a comfort she hadnโt realized she needed so desperately. โI donโt think you need cooking classes to know you shouldnโt take a bath while your dinner is in the oven,โ he said. โBut thatโs not what Iโm talking about. You seem preoccupied.โ
โYouโre a physician, not a psychiatrist,โ she refuted.
โYou donโt need a degree to be concerned for your friend, Ava,โ he said. Her nickname sounded so easy on his tongue. She wondered why she had never noticed he said it with such careful articulation.
โIโm fine, Mattias, really. Itโs just been a long week.โ
โYou donโt seem fine,โ he said a little more firmly. โIs it something to do with work? Are they treating you well at the office?โ
She huffed in annoyance, sitting up so she could pull her feet away from his grasp. โIโd rather you didnโt,โ she said tautly.
His pale eyes shifted to her, searching her face for some sort of clue as to what had put her in such an awful mood. He found nothing. โRather I didnโt what?โ
โI wish you wouldnโt touch me like Iโm your wife. I told you last time, I canโt see you that way.โ There was no hurt on his face, although her words were meant to hurt him. For the two years since the beginning of their friendship, he had always hinted that there might be something more. For a short time she had let him pamper her. He would buy her dinner and movie tickets, bring her flowers, and kiss her cheek. But before it could get any farther she had broken it off. โItโs not your business to ask if Iโm okay.โ
Mattias didnโt budge. She could see in his intelligent eyes that he knew she was hiding something. โOkay, I wonโt rub your feet. But tell me about work. You said last time that your boss was giving you trouble. Is that still true?โ
โNo, I mean, nothing has changed. Whatever trouble I get into I can handle.โ
โWhat do you mean, trouble?โ he asked, brows furrowing.
โI donโt mean anything by it, only that Iโm fine.โ
โBut youโre clearly not, Ava.โ
She glared at him, trying with all her might to hate his persistence. Her brain told her to jump to her feet and demand he leave, never speak to her again. But she couldnโt. She couldnโt because inside she was desperate for someone to talk to. She needed to vent about worrying her colleagues were plotting against her. She needed to tell someone, anyone, that feeling of watching her allies die in front of her eyes. Last week the mission was so precarious that she and her associates were seconds away from being shot and killed. And on the way home, none of them had talked to her despite the fact she was the one responsible for their survival. She couldnโt shake the feeling that everyone in the administration hated her for being a woman and for being a Jew. Perhaps they were jealous of the attention she got of the men in charge. Perhaps they were just waiting for her to make a wrong step so they could throw her to the wolves.
โI canโt,โ she said softly, and to her dismay she felt her voice cracking. โI canโt talk about it.โ
She could see in Mattiasโs face that he knew he had won. He shifted so his body was angled toward her, his eyes pinning her to the armrest. โYou can tell me anything. Is your boss mean to you? Are you discriminated against? Ava, there are agencies that protect against that kind of thing. I can call a lawyer if theyโre not treating you fairly. What are you not telling me?โ
Aveset struggled under his gaze. She, a woman who had made a career of lying her way out of sticky situations, didnโt know what to say. โI-I it has nothing to do with work.โ
โWhat is it then? Are you seeing someone and youโre afraid to tell me?โ
โWhat?! No, Mattias, Iโm not seeing anyone.โ Her mind was racing. She needed to find a way to change the direction of the conversation or she knew she would end up saying something she would regret. He was too good, too sincere, too protective of her. If she said anything at all he would find a way to get the truth out of her. She racked her brain for a legitimate excuse. โI...I wouldnโt see anyone, Matt.โ Faking a look of loving compassion was far too easy. โI couldnโt do that to you.โ
Now his expression was one of confusion. โI thought we were just friends. Didnโt you say that two minutes ago? Aveset, you are the most paradoxical woman I have ever met.โ There was a hint of hope now in his voice. Her conscience cursed her. The last thing she had wanted to do was give him false hope, or at least, thatโs the last thing she wanted logically. It was foolish to go down that road. A person in her line of work needed to eliminate all forms of unnecessary connection. To have a boyfriend or a husband would be adding a weakness for her enemies to target. At the same time, she found herself wondering if it would be such a bad thing to have a confidant. The more it seemed a possibility, the more she found herself longing to release everything that had been driving her mad. She imagined telling Mattias everything, and then giving herself over to him for all of eternity. They could be married and have beautiful, tall children. She could leave the UDBA and become a lawyer or a nurse. They would move into his house, the one near the park, and grow old together. Domestic life had always sounded terrible to her, but now it had a safe allure.
They shared a long look, both imagining what would happen if they could belong only to the other. Beethovenโs Moonlight Sonata was playing . The smoke had siphoned out the open window, and the heater against the wall buzzed familiarly. Aveset sat forward, placing her weight on her knees. Mattias opened his arms and she sagged against him, forgoing an apology for the wetness of her hair.
Together they sat for several minutes without speaking. Soon the song ended, and the record player was silent. And they were silent. And the city was silent. โIโll get it,โ said Mattias, referring to the music. He planted the lightest kiss on the top of her head and the untangled himself from her grasp. She nestled back the warmth he left on the couch, closing her eyes and listening to his footsteps as he changed the record. Then his steps returned to her and paused. She opened her eyes, expecting him to be looking at her face admiringly. Instead his gaze was was lower. She unconsciously reached for the edge of her shift, checking to be sure it rested safely on her legs, and it did.
โWhat?โ she asked. There was an emotion in his eyes she could not quite place. Anger? Fear? She followed his gaze and with alarm realized he was staring at the wound on her thigh. โOh, thatโs nothing, jus-โ
โThatโs a knife wound,โ he said.
โNo. Well, I mean, yes, but itโs nothing to worry about. Itโs nothing.โ If he could sense the alarm in her voice, it did not show on his face. His expression was still unreadable.
โWhere did you get that?โ he asked.
โI...I fell! I was chopping vegetables in the kitchen. You know me, Matt, Iโm a terrible cook,โ the lie sputtered from her lips in a voice that gave away her lie. And then his eyes were on her face. For the first time in many years, she felt a pang of genuine fear. Not that he would hurt her, but that he knew what she was. That he knew she had been lying to him all along.
He was silent.
They regarded each other in the low light, her watching her vision of domestic life slipping away with the seconds and him realizing he had been wasting his time on a woman that did not love him.
โAre you in danger?โ he asked eventually. The question broke Avesetโs heart. Even in realizing they could never be together, he was concerned for her safety.
She nodded, unable to manage a mere โyesโ. Instead, she stood, brushing past him to make for the door. โI think you should go,โ she said softly.
When he did not follow immediately, she glanced back. He was watching her, jacket in his hands. โIโm not going to ask what you do,โ he said. โBut I want you to promise me that if youโre ever genuinely afraid, that youโll call me. I-I know this isnโt going to work. I can see now you never had any intention of telling me the truth about yourself. But please, Ava, consider the fact that there are people who worry about you.โ
She turned and opened the door without another word. As he walked by her and into the hall, she felt her chest tighten. She said nothing before closing the door behind him, locking the three locks, and leaning her weight against the door. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. There she stood for over a minute, repeating in her mind that this is what she had truly wanted. Her job was the most important thing. It was bigger than herself. To fail would be to resign herself to normality, and ultimately it would mean letting down those whom she had sworn to herself she would protect. Her duty was to her country and to her people. Not to herself, or any one person.
Once her breath had slowed, she began walked back to the restroom to drain her bath. She was halfway there when she heard a sound at the door. She turned, eyebrows pinched. Was it Mattias? Had he returned to pull her into his arms, pledging to forgive her lies if only she would become his wife? Her body compelled her to walk back, and she did.
On the floor, inches from the bottom of the door, was an envelope. She paused before bending to pick it up, flipping it over to read the writing on the front. It was addressed to her, and the return label she did not recognize. By the time she unlocked the door and threw it open, the hall was empty. She walked back inside, questions swirling around her head. Quietly, she opened the letter and walked to the kitchen where the light was better for reading.
The note was originally written for her boss, David Gruber. The contents were so confusing that initially she did not understand what it had to do with her. Essentially it spoke of a secret agency run by the UN in need of the worldโs best spies. They were writing to every available nation, asking for the โbest of the bestโ to be recruited to their ranks. The idea of it made Aveset forget all about the perplexing events of the night. She reread it twice, scanning for any indication of how it might pertain to her. Then she flipped it over.
On the back was a handwritten note in Davidโs familiar, slanted hand.
Aveset ---
This letter was sent to me yesterday and I thought immediately of you. Are you up for the challenge? I know you are. I know it has been difficult for you to assimilate completely with the crew here in UDBA. I had hoped our agents would put aside their judgements and recognize your talent, but it has become clear to me that your skills will serve you better elsewhere. I mean this in the most loving possible way. You are capable of great things, Ava, and I would hate to restrict you only because I selfishly want you for our team. I enclosed a note with all the details and I hope you will accept my nominating you for this coveted position.
David G.
Despite her successful efforts to hold down the tears after Mattias left, she felt hot droplets running down her cheeks. She dropped the letter on the kitchen counter and dropped her face into her hands, crying a much needed cry. This was exactly what she hadnโt known she needed. An opportunity to place her focus elsewhere, to leave the city that for her was full of so much baggage. To have her efforts recognized and to be given such an honor lifted a much needed weight from her shoulders.
She wiped the tears off of her cheeks with the back of her hand and then gave a determined sigh. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she reached for the note containing the details of her new position.
In a matter of days, she would pack her most important belongings. A small note to Eloise explained she was returning to France to be with her family for a while. She asked her neighbor, Jonas, to look after her apartment while she was gone. She considered writing something to Mattias, but ultimately could not summon the courage to lie to him again. The day before she left, she hugged David Gruber and thanked him for all he had done. And then, luggage in hand, she set off.
Aveset arrived in Norway a week before the meeting. She wanted to give herself time to settle into a new place and to explore the city. She had no idea how long it would be necessary for her to live in the country, so she decided to rent an apartment in the town closest to the headquarters. She had more money than she could ever possibly need spread over several accounts, and decided she might as well dip into one of them in order to buy a nicer space. Aveset had always been more on the frugal side. In fact, her father often poked fun at her for her small apartment in Vienna and for her rundown car. It was all completely unnecessary, the spy business paid very well (as one would expect, given she lived in a constant state of paranoia). But she had always been that way. She supposed it was a product of growing up during the war. It ingrained in her a certain sense that at any moment she should be prepared to pack up and leave. She told herself that it was important to never be too attached to wherever she was living, so it was deliberate on her part to live in places that were difficult to fall in love with.
That said, as soon as she landed in Norway she felt a twinge of homesickness for her apartment with the tiny bathtub and the faulty oven. Norway would be a whole new experience, in fact she had only been there once and it was decades ago. But mixed with her trepidation was a more overwhelming sense of freedom and excitement. It was a chance to reinvent herself, and to make this version better than the last.
The first morning of her arrival, she took a car into the city and asked her driver to drop her off at the nearest realty office. There, a nice woman with short red hair agreed to show her to a few available places in the downtown area. The woman introduced herself as Camilla and because Ava liked her energy, she offered to buy her coffee before they went out on their house hunting. The first two flats on the list were quite nice, although Aveset decided as they took a walk around that she would prefer something with a lot of light. So Camilla showed her to a loft overlooking the water on one side and the mountains on the other, and Aveset offered immediately to buy it.
(Well that's as far as I got! When I get home from the movie I'll make an effort to get to the Agency gathering c: WIP, obviously)
|
|