Multi-part: Halcyon (NC-17 overall, various, Andy Roddick/Roger Federer) Title: Fallen (Halcyon 9) Rating: NC-17 Pairing: Implied Roddick/Fish, Haas/Safin, Roddick/Federer, Fish/Haas/Safin Summary: … The world ended. People didn’t. Not quite. Notes: AU fic set in a hypothetical post-‘apocalyptic’ near future (I do love my apocalypses and jumping on the current AU bandwagon seemed like a good idea.) But this is one plot bunny that hasn’t had enough caffeine to sort itself out yet and I’m still sorting the threads out, so bear with me. Disclaimer: Hasn’t… um, won’t happen to my knowledge, the various tennis players own themselves. Blame the plotbunnies. They started it. Warnings: Abuse, violence, deaths of various RL people you may be fond of, mentions of terrorism, voluntary/involuntary drug use, the world post-‘apocalypse', probably more I've missed. It’s all fun and games here.
Roger looks up slowly to find the source of the mocking voice standing beside the plane, wearing an immaculate black suit. He looks out of place on the dusty brown field but Roger knows instantly they won’t be escape him, notes the man’s utter confidence and aura of power despite no visible weapons. When he snaps an order in French, the two guards leap to obey, dragging Roger and Andy apart and holding them still as the man in the suit walks toward them. Roger glances over at Andy and guiltily meets the confused hazel eyes, Andy staring at him in bewilderment and more than a little fear.
“Roger?” he asks quietly. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, haven’t you told him yet?” The words are syrup-sweet and filled with mock-surprise, the corporation man smiling delightedly. “Would you like me to? I’m sure I can give an honest version of events-“
Roger snarls at him to shut him up, fighting against the painfully tight grip the guard has on his arms. He can’t let Andy think he wanted this to happen. He struggles harder only to freeze as the guard presses a gun to the side of his neck.
“Now Roger – can I call you Roger? Of course I can, I’m sure you don’t mind – please don’t give Jacques an excuse to shoot you. I’m so looking forward to doing it myself, after we’ve questioned you of course.” The corporation man smiles again but it’s humorless, cold and Roger shivers. “Now tell him why we’re all here.”
Roger shakes his head wordlessly, painfully aware of Andy looking at him. Corporation-man opens his mouth but Roger speaks before him, knowing that he has to let Andy hear what actually happened, not corporate lies. Not when they could easily be dead any minute. He doesn’t want Andy thinking he was willing to trade the American’s life away.
“They left me a note,” he says through gritted teeth, refusing to meet Andy’s eyes. The guard puts more pressure behind the gun and Roger hisses, keeps talking. “At Halcyon, for when we got back. They wanted me to bring you here tonight or they’d kill Mirka.”
“Mirka?” Andy’s tone is confused and Roger shuts his eyes, wills the tears burning behind his eyes not to fall. “How did they have Mirka?”
“Oh, we’ve known she was a spy for months,” corporation-man interrupts. “She’s not half as clever as she thinks she is. Although,” and his tone is still pleasant, his smile still bright and cheerful as he leans towards Roger’s bowed head. “She really can scream when you fuck her-“
Roger yanks free of the guard and throws himself at the man, swearing furiously at him in German. Corporation-man has a gun out before Roger’s even taken the first step but doesn’t fire, only watches with the same, small smile as the guard catches the Swiss by the hair and drags him back before he even gets close. Roger knows what to expect and bites back a cry as the side of the guard’s gun cracks against his head. He hears something that sounds like Andy struggling to get free but can’t open his eyes to look, the world suddenly unsteady beneath his feet, a sharp tang of blood in his mouth from biting his tongue and a headache already pounding behind his eyes.
“Such dramatics.” The light, pleasant tone hasn’t changed and Roger wishes he could kill the bastard, regardless of what happened to himself but Andy’s desperately asking “Roger?!” only a few feet away and he’s already put the American in enough danger, so he just lets himself give in to the dizziness, his guard forced to hold him upright. There’s another order in French that his head hurts too much to translate but Andy’s gasp has him looking up, forcing his eyes to focus.
Mirka, looking like she’s asleep or, more likely drugged, is being carried down the steps from the plane by another guard, her head resting on his shoulder and her arms draped loosely around his neck. Roger’s so desperate to make sure she’s alive that he doesn’t look twice at the guard until he hears Andy hastily stifle a second gasp. Roger blinks and meets the dark eyes of Guillermo Coria, as always lightly crinkled with amusement around the corners though the rest of the Argentine’s face is solemn as he carries Mirka over to the corporation-man.
A tiny spark of hope flashes through Roger; there’s three on three now, enough to get away but he knows before he’s even thought the plan through that it’s useless. Coria is armed but he and Andy aren’t and more guards are already filing down from the plane, forming a loose but alert semi-circle behind them. Hope turns to despair and Roger lets himself slump again, eyes still on Mirka. He and Andy aren’t going anywhere. Mirka on the other hand, may still have a chance.
She’s breathing but it’s shallow, her chest barely rising with each breath. The corporation-man strokes her cheek and smiles at the resulting snarl from Roger.
“Such bad behaviour Roger, I’m almost inclined not to let her go. But you did bring us Roddick and since the note didn’t specify that you were going to be going along for the trip, I’m willing to give little Miroslava a chance. The drugs won’t wear off until the morning of course and I did hear that the wolves in this area were fairly vicious of late, but… a chance is a chance.”
“You fucking bastard!” Andy speaks up, glaring at him with hatred. “Selfish, conniving, filthy motherfucker, hiding behind your hired muscle and-“
Corporation-man covers the ground between him and Andy in two strides and the punch is impressive, Roger making a sharp sound of shock as Andy’s head snaps sideways. The American lifts it slowly to glare at the man, the red mark along his cheek already darkening to a bruise.
“Easy to hit me when I can’t hit back,” he hisses, struggling helplessly against the guard’s grip. Corporation-man’s expression darkens, no trace of a smile left.
“Easy to shoot someone when they can’t shoot back,” he growls in reply. “Can’t hide behind your snipers now Roddick.”
Andy looks at him blankly. “What?”
“Never mind.” For the first time the man looks briefly uncomfortable and Roger stores away the thought for later, wishing his head didn’t hurt so much as the man turns away from Andy, snapping something else in French with an impatient wave of his hand. Coria carries Mirka a short distance away to the edge of the trees, setting her down gently and Roger’s eyes follow him every step, guilt almost a physical ache in his chest. This is all his fault, if he hadn’t argued with her, if he’d realised what she was planning and tried to stop her-
“Get these two in the plane,” corporation-man snaps and Andy and Roger are dragged roughly up the steps, handcuffs snapped on as soon as they’re inside and the guards pushing them impatiently into a corner of the floor, standing back with guns held ready. Roger glances at Andy who’s leaning against him, hazel eyes filled with misery as he meets Roger’s gaze.
“I’m so sorry,” Roger whispers. Andy manages a crooked smile, leaning over to press a light kiss to the Swiss’ mouth, ignoring a disgusted sound from one of the guards.
“It wasn’t your fault,” the American murmurs. “At least Mirka’s okay.”
Roger nods, unable to speak around the tears he’s holding back. Okay if she makes it through the night. Okay if she can find the bunker and Andrew in the morning. Okay, okay, she’s about as far from okay as it’s possible to be without being him and Andy, but it’s better than nothing. She has a chance.
Which is more than he and Andy have right now. Roger kisses the American until one of the guards kicks him and another one drags them apart. There’s a brief moment when Roger considers fighting back, just to make them shoot him now rather than later but the corporation-man stalks in before he can move, closely followed by Coria. The plane’s engines are already running and Roger takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.
There’s always the back-up plan but it was a long shot to begin with and now there’s two of them, Roger is even less sure it’ll work. There’s nothing he can do but wait and hope. Reaching out behind his back, hoping the guards don’t see, he finds Andy’s cuffed hands and tangles his fingers with the American’s, squeezing comfortingly. There’s a soft sigh from Andy in response and the American squeezes back.
“Don’t shut the door.” The order has Roger’s head snapping up, his eyes fixed on corporation-man who’s still standing by the open door, peering out even though the plane is starting to move. Coria stands impassively next to him and Roger wonders suddenly what the Argentine is doing here. Last he heard Coria had disappeared mysteriously, possibly to work for another resistance network…
… which suddenly has Roger thinking of Marat and he blinks, surprised. He’d love to talk to the Argentine but there doesn’t seem to be much chance of that as corporation-man points out the door.
“Shoot her,” he orders Coria pleasantly. Roger’s blood runs cold, because there’s only one ‘her’ out there and Mirka can’t defend herself, is unconscious-
“Sir?” Coria asks with a trace of surprise and corporation-man narrows his eyes, glancing at the stunned Roger.
“Shoot. Her. Or I’ll do it myself.”
Coria swallows visibly but lifts his gun, stepping to the open door. He aims, face pale and reluctance still clear in his eyes.
“No!” Roger scrambles to get up only to be forced back down again by the guards, ignoring their efforts to keep him down. “Don’t, please-“
Coria flinches but doesn’t move. Corporation-man watches with a small smile as the Argentine sights and pulls the trigger, the shot echoing around the plane.
“No!” Roger is knocked backwards by a guard, rolling into Andy who curls around him, helplessly whispering “Sssshh Roger, it’ll be okay, shhh.” Roger buries his face in the American’s shoulder and sobs because it’s his fault, she should never have been involved and there won’t even be anyone to come and find her lying there. He resists as the guards try to pull him away from Andy and hears an impatient growl from the corporate official.
“Leave them but keep them quiet. They’ll be separated at Paris anyway. Anyone who touches them between now and landing, I’ll push out the plane myself.” He pauses and Roger can feel the cold eyes on him and Andy, even though he’s still sobbing quietly into the American’s shoulder. Andy brushes a kiss over his forehead with another helpless, ‘Ssshhh love, it’ll be okay.’ Roger wishes he could believe the American but he can’t even bring himself to hope.
There’s another growl from corporation-man and his footsteps stalk away, Roger refusing to lift his head to watch. “Remember, no one touches them. I want them able to talk when we get to Paris.”
~~~
25th August 2011, underground resistance camp, somewhere in South-west England
Mardy stalks through the underground camp with a distinctly bad-tempered stomp, people hastily scattering aside as he heads towards Marat’s ‘office’. It’s been a week since he talked to Andy and he knows Marat talked to the other American after Mardy had been firmly pushed out the ‘office’ by Tommy, knows the Russian had ordered Andy to do something and he’s frustrated that Marat refuses to tell him what. Mardy tells himself he’s just upset because Andy’s in danger, ignoring the fact that the immediate threat distracts him from the lesser problem of his own feelings for Andy, mixed up and confused after months apart. He adores the other American, loves him and always will but Mardy knows he himself has changed almost impossibly since he was caught in Texas months ago. He’s not shy to the point of being afraid to leave Andy’s side anymore, doesn’t jerk awake at night wondering desperately why he isn’t warm with the other American curled against him. He’s had screaming fights – and won them – with Marat, is the only person in the camp beside the Russian who can control Tommy when the German gets upset and he’s rescued almost two hundred people from the quarries with hardly any help at all. He likes who he’s become. He just isn’t sure that Andy will, or worse, isn’t sure how much the other American will have changed in Mardy’s absence.
His thoughts are jerked away from Andy by a scream ahead of him and he breaks into a run, arriving at the entrance to Marat’s ‘lair’ just in time to duck a heavy folder that sails over his head, scattering paper everywhere. There’s a shriek of angry German and Mardy winces as he straightens up, knowing Tommy’s lost it again.
“Tommy-“ he tries but just gets a double mouthful of German and Russian abuse, some of it quite inventive. Marat looks desperate, backed into a corner with his hands raised but still screaming right back at Tommy. Mardy fights down the urge to run across the room and hit the Russian to make him shut up because when Tommy gets upset, yelling at him just makes it worse. Sure enough after a particularly long stream of Russian, the German snatches up a rock and hurls it at a nearby computer, shattering the screen. There’s a long moment of awed silence, all three of them staring at the damage in shock. Then Marat snarls, glaring at Tommy.
“Have you quite finished being childish now?” he snaps sarcastically. Tommy’s reply is rude enough to make Mardy flinch and a second later the German pushes past him, stumbling down the corridor in tears. Mardy glares at Marat in disgust for a second before taking off after the upset Tommy.
“Tommy, hey, hey,” he murmurs soothingly as he catches up, careful not to reach out until Tommy turns and recognises him. He came with half an inch of being stabbed last time he made that mistake. The German blinks at him through the tears then throws his arms around Mardy, sobbing heartbrokenly against the American’s shoulder and mumbling German curses every few seconds. Mardy cradles him close. He’s lost count of the times he’s had to do this over the last few months.
“Ssssshh babe,” he murmurs, stroking the German’s hair. “He doesn’t mean it, you know that. He’s stressed right now.”
“He doesn’t love me,” Tommy sobs in English. “He throws things and yells and-“
“Sssh I know. It’s not your fault.” Mardy shifts his arms a little to get a better grip in case the German decides to take his hurt feelings out on the nearest person, like he did the first time Mardy had to do this. Mardy still has a few interesting scars from that encounter. “He’s an asshole and I’ll go kick his ass for you if you want. You’re gorgeous and wonderful. Ignore him.”
Tommy shakes his head but his sobs are quieter, his grip on Mardy no longer quite tight enough to leave bruises. Mardy waits for the first brush of lips against his neck and detangles himself, stepping back.
“Tommy don’t,” he says gently. “You know I can’t.”
The German wipes his wet cheeks with the end of his sleeve, resentment and hurt in his eyes. “Marat doesn’t mind. It’s because you don’t like me that you won’t. Please Mardy?” His tone turns wicked and he sidles closer, arms slipping around Mardy’s waist. “If I can make Marat scream, I can make you scream too. Please? Don’t you like me?”
“I love you sweetheart.” Mardy’s breath hitches as Tommy trails kisses along his jaw, the German’s mouth still wet with tears. “But not like that Tommy, I’m Andy’s. Please stop it.” He leans back and Tommy glares at him, refusing to loosen his arms around Mardy’s waist.
“Andy’s not here. He couldn’t even find you and I did. Please Mardy, I want…” He leans in and Mardy barely avoids the kiss, Tommy’s mouth trailing wet across his cheek instead. Over the German’s shoulder he sees Marat, leaning against the wall with a small smile.
‘Fuck. Off.’ Mardy mouths silently, not wanting the Russian’s presence to set Tommy off again. Marat shakes his head slightly and Mardy grits his teeth, trying not to moan as Tommy nips at his neck.
“Tommy stop that or I’ll tell Marat.”
“He won’t care. He wants to fuck you too,” Tommy mutters and Mardy sees the shock cross the Russian’s face, feeling the same shock rock him backwards. Tommy’s been getting more and more affectionate the more Mardy gets to know him but Marat hasn’t shown the last sign of wanting to touch him, except perhaps to want to hit him after some of Mardy’s more inventive annoyances. Mardy notes with surprise that the Russian won’t look at him as he steps forward, clearing his throat.
“Tommy,” he says softly and the German moans, hiding his face in Mardy’s shoulder. “Tommy I’m sorry I lost my temper.”
“You don’t love me,” Tommy accuses, sounding so pathetically forlorn that Mardy hugs him tighter, despite still being in shock after the revelation about Marat. “I’ve ruined your office and you won’t like me anymore…”
“Sssh love, I always like you,” Marat says softly, now standing right next to them, only Tommy separating him and Mardy. The Russian finally glances up to meet Mardy’s eyes with an apologetic smile and a shrug. Mardy raises an eyebrow in response. “I love you and a fight won’t change that, ever. Let go of Mardy now. He’s not ours to play with.”
“He is.” Tommy tightens his grip. “We rescued him. Andy isn’t even here and he has Roger now anyway.”
This time Mardy makes a soft sound, of shock and hurt as he sees the wince cross Marat’s face and knows it’s true. Marat risks placing a careful hand on Tommy’s shoulder, trying to ease him away from the American who can’t believe what he just heard.
Andy and Roger… Andy had hardly mentioned Roger when they talked, except to praise the Swiss for saving his life on more than one occasion. It makes sense; of course Andy would’ve moved on, he thought Mardy was dead for months and it’s not as if Mardy can judge, Tommy wrapped around him this close but… it still hurts. More that Andy hadn’t told him Mardy thinks, than that it happened at all, but it still hurts regardless.
“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” Marat tells him softly, still trying to prise Tommy loose. “But before you do anything, you need to know-“
Tommy chooses that moment to protest Marat’s attempts to move him, yelling in German and snapping at the Russian’s hand, managing to catch a finger in his teeth. Marat yelps and yanks his hand back, blood already welling up and instantly Tommy is contrite, hiding his face in Mardy’s shirt again.
“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry-“
“It’s okay,” Marat says through gritted teeth, pulling a rag from his pocket and wrapping it around the bleeding finger. “My fault. Come on now Tommy, let’s go to bed and leave Mardy in peace.”
“No.” Tommy seems to be in an especially childish mood tonight and although all Mardy wants to do is go away and think about what he’s heard, the German refuses to let go. “He can walk us to our room.”
Marat sighs heavily. “Mardy, I sorry about this.”
“Don’t be an idiot; I can walk you to your room.” Mardy shuffles his grip on Tommy again to let himself walk, the German stumbling along beside him. Marat seems to be fighting to say something and Mardy glances at him with a frown.
“What?”
Marat opens his mouth then closes it, shaking his head. “Mardy I don’t know how to say this but-“
“He wants you to make us a threesome,” Tommy interrupts seriously, voice faintly muffled by Mardy’s shirt. Marat hisses in frustration.
“Tommy that is not what I was going to say.”
“It’s what you were thinking.” Tommy lifts his head enough to peer at Marat. “I do too. I still don’t see what’s stopping him.”
“Little thing called being involved with someone Tommy,” Mardy tells him gently but can’t give the word any sincerity. Andy and Roger. He’s been forgotten, abandoned, and Andy didn’t even tell him when they talked. Mardy knows he’s being irrational – what was Andy supposed to do, drop it casually into conversation? “Oh yeah, and when I thought you were dead I fucked Roger Federer. Sorry.” No, he can almost understand why Andy didn’t tell him.
Almost.
They reached the smaller cave that Tommy and Marat share as a bedroom, a rough door fitted across the front to give some privacy. As the effective leaders of the camp, they even have a proper bed, heaped high with furs and pillows. Mardy is thinking longingly of how soft they must all be and how nice it would be to sink into them to forget Andy’s betrayal – no, not betrayal, that’s not fair because the other American had honestly thought he was dead – to forget about Andy for a while, when Marat looks at him for a long moment. Mardy meets the dark eyes and suddenly feels out of breath. Marat is gorgeous. He’d never realised…
“You’re welcome to join us,” the Russian murmurs softly. “If you want to.”
“Please Mardy.” Tommy kisses his neck again, mouthing the kisses wetly across Mardy’s skin. “Please.”
Mardy hesitates. He stills loves Andy, knows deep down that he’s only considering this because he knows that Andy has Roger and part of him, most of him actually, not caring that it’s because he’s hurt he’s considering the offer. He should be shaking his head and walking away but he isn’t. He’s still standing there holding Tommy, thinking…
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Okay. If you want me to.”
Marat blinks. “Mardy before you decide, I should tell you-“
Mardy leans across and kisses him, suddenly not able to bring himself to care about Andy or ‘shouldn’t’s or anything but the two men in front of him, Tommy still kissing his neck and rubbing against him with a soft, continual purr. Marat opens his mouth in shock as Mardy kisses him over Tommy’s shoulder and the American slides his tongue into the Russian’s mouth, unable to hold back a groan. It’s been months and he’s missed the contact. He realises just how much he’s missed it when Marat regains his balance and kissed him back harder, one hand coming up to pull him closer. Tommy’s already pulling at his clothes and they half-fall through the door into the ‘bedroom’, dim light coming from a bare bulb overhead, one of the few wiring feats they’ve managed in the vast system of caves. Marat lets go of them both to shut the door and Tommy guides Mardy over to the bed.
“Thank you,” the German whispers, unbuttoning Mardy’s shirt as Mardy kisses him. “We’ve wanted you for months.”
Mardy can’t think of anything to say to that so he just tangles his hands in Tommy’s hair and pulls him into a deeper kiss, not even breaking it when Marat’s arms wrap around his waist and start to undo his belt. Between them Tommy and Marat undress him with ruthless efficiency and Mardy is a little surprised to find himself completely naked, being pushed back onto the bed. Tommy discards his own jeans and joins him, sitting across Mardy’s hips and letting his hands explore, raking nails across the American’s nipples but teasingly avoiding his cock. Mardy whimpers into the German’s mouth, arcing up in search of contact. Marat’s mouth brushes his ear, the Russian nibbling his earlobe before whispering a question.
“What do you want Mardy? Anything you want, we’ll do.”
“I don’t care.” Mardy grinds up against Tommy, moaning as the German teasingly moves just out of reach. Marat starts to say something else but Mardy shakes his head against the soft pillows, shutting his eyes. “I don’t care Marat. Fuck me or let me fuck one of you or both or something else, just do something.” He cries out as Tommy licks his cock and arcs up, begging. “Tommy, don’t tease…”
“Go on Tommy,” Marat says softly and Mardy screams as Tommy swallows him completely, the German deep-throating him with the ease of practise. Mardy whimpers and begs with his hips bucking up, Tommy’s mouth moving wetly and hot over his cock and he’s oblivious to what Marat’s doing, flinches in surprise at the first oil-slick finger pushing against his ass. Marat rolls him gently onto his side on the soft furs and he goes, Tommy following the movement without removing his mouth and Mardy can feel the pleasure racing through him, Tommy changing the pace and sucking. It’s too much after so long and Mardy’s coming before he realises, clenching around the two fingers Marat has in his ass and whimpering as Tommy sucks him dry. The German eases off after, crawling up the bed to kiss Mardy slowly, painting the taste of cum across the American’s lips with his tongue.
Marat angles his fingers and the sound from Mardy as the Russian hits his prostate is almost a scream, everything still too sensitive. Marat kisses the back of his neck apologetically, brushing aside Mardy’s hair with his free hand.
“Sorry love,” he murmurs, easing a third finger in. Mardy hears Tommy’s breathing speed up in front of him and opens an eye to see the German with two fingers in himself, frowning in concentration. With a twinge of nerves because he hasn’t done this in months, Mardy slides a hand down Tommy’s side and over his ass.
“Let me?” he asks softly and Tommy grins, presses a small bottle of some sort of oil into Mardy’s hand. Coating his fingers in it, Mardy leaves slick trails over Tommy’s skin as he reaches behind the German, pushing in one finger. Tommy moans and arcs against him, his stiff cock rubbing Mardy’s that is already hard again. Marat’s fingers are almost enough to make him come a second time, stretching and twisting in his ass and Mardy pushes back on them desperately, adding a second finger into Tommy who whimpers. There’s briefly no sound but heavy breathing from all three of them, Mardy watching bliss flash across Tommy’s face as he pushes his fingers deeper in, reaching down to rub the German’s cock with his other hand.
“Mardy,” Marat whispers to him, trailing kisses across Mardy’s shoulder and up to his ear, breath hot against the American’s skin. “Can I…?”
“You can fuck me on one condition,” Mardy gasps. He feels Marat go still behind him, fingers stilling in Mardy’s ass and free hand tightening around the American’s hip.
“What?”
“I get to fuck Tommy at the same time.”
Marat relaxes with a chuckle and Mardy briefly has time to wonder what the Russian thought he was going to ask for before Tommy is pushing his thighs apart and Marat is sliding into him from behind, slowly to let Mardy adjust. Mardy barely has time to whimper at the faint pain before Tommy sinks onto his cock in front in one smooth motion. The angle is awkward but Mardy doesn’t care, warm, tight heat around his cock and Marat slowly starting to rock against him from behind, the Russian gasping in tiny moans as he moves. Tommy reaches over Mardy to rest a hand on Marat’s side, finding the rhythm as the three of them move, Mardy whimpering as Marat slams in harder, sending ripples of pleasure racing through him. Tommy kisses him again and leaves teeth marks in Mardy’s bottom lip as the American rocks his hips faster from Marat’s thrusts, groaning loudly as his muscles flex around Mardy’s cock and he starts to come. Mardy follows him with a cry a second later when Marat slams hard against his prostate and the Russian comes with him, muffling his scream against Mardy’s shoulder.
There’s a minute where none of them move, tired, sticky and sated. Marat pulls out first and wraps an arm over Mardy’s waist, pressing his body close to the American. Tommy slides off Mardy and curls against him, kissing him once last time with a murmured ‘thank you’ before closing his eyes to fall asleep.
Mardy lies awake, waiting for the inevitable guilt. All he can find is a vague sense of disapproval, that he’d take advantage of Tommy and Marat but even that doesn’t feel right because he genuinely loves Tommy, adores the German even when he’s screaming in different languages and throwing things because it’s all part of the same person, the same person who curled around Mardy beside the campfire last week and fell asleep listening to him play guitar. Not loving Tommy is impossible, but Marat is more of an enigma – Mardy knows the Russian is gorgeous and can be wonderful to watch with Tommy sometimes but his temper and his pride… Mardy knows the Russian has done something cruel to Roger recently because he heard him arguing with Tommy about it, the German in tears again but Mardy missed most of the details. It was enough to reinforce his belief that Marat had a streak of utter ruthlessness but everything he’s seen suggests it’s the Russian’s pride that makes him misuse it and do stupid things.
“What are you thinking about little Fish?” Marat asks softly. Mardy shifts a little, trying not to disturb the sleeping Tommy.
“You. This. What I’ll say to Andy.” He knows from Marat’s silence that there’s something wrong. “What?”
“I tried to tell you earlier,” Marat whispers. He tightens his arms around the American who’s gone tense, fear shivering through him. He doesn’t want to hear this, he knows he doesn’t but he can’t stop listening. “Andy and Roger… Roger left a very rude message for me yesterday afternoon, that wasn’t like him at all and every time I called back, no one answered. Then I had some reports come in, mainly one from Coria in Paris. He said the corporation…that…”
“No,” Mardy whispers. “Marat don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say-“
“That Roger had given himself and Andy up and the corporation had taken them to Paris. I called the bunker again and got an earful of abuse from a girl who hung up on me, so I don’t know if it’s true but-“
“No.” Mardy drags himself free of both Tommy and Marat’s arms and sits up, staring blankly at nothing. Andy and Roger caught and taken to Paris while Mardy fucked around for revenge without even a thought- “So they could be dead? They could be being killed this very second and you fucked me and said nothing?”
“Mardy, please-“ Marat sits up and puts a hand on Mardy’s shoulder but the American pulls away, scrambling to the edge of the bed and searching for his clothes, half blinded by tears. Andy could be dead and all he’d been able to think about was getting petty revenge. He could be i>dead</i>. Mardy swallows a sob and stands up, dressing with quick, clumsy movements. He feels rather than hears Marat come up behind him, feeling the big Russian’s warmth against his back he’s so close.
“Mardy, I tried to tell you.” Marat sounds desperate. “I was angry and then Tommy-“
“Don’t you dare blame this on him,” Mardy hisses, turning sharply. He catches sight of a wide-eyed Tommy watching them from the bed. “This was you thinking with your dick and me thinking with- I don’t even know what I was thinking with, if I was thinking at all. Now you are going to call that bunker back and demand that whoever answers tell you exactly what is going on, now.”
“We should leave it until morning-“
“Now Marat!”
“Calling now won’t save Andy for fuckssake!” Marat snaps. Mardy looks at him blankly for an entire second and then hits him, as hard as he can. His fist makes a satisfying smack sound as it meets flesh, knocking the Russian back towards the bed. Tommy makes a muffled sound of shock, one hand over his mouth as he stares at Mardy, wide-eyed. Marat glances up at the American in blank amazement, blood trickling from his split lip.
“We are going to call the bunker, and demand to know what is going on,” Mardy says in a soft, icily calm voice, ignoring the tears still streaking his cheeks. Tommy slides off the bed and takes a few, hesitant steps towards him but Mardy shakes his head, stepping back. He doesn’t want the German to touch him, not now, not when… He cuts the thought off. “And then I am leaving. I don’t care how, but I am. Now move.”
~~~
26th August 2011, Paris holding cells, France
When Roger wakes up he’s chained to a cold, dank wall with a headache that feels like it’s about to burst through his skull. For a brief, wonderful second, he can’t remember where he is or what he’s doing here until it all comes back to him, the plane, Andy, Mirka… He glances frantically around but the room he’s in is tiny and empty except for himself. They must have put Andy somewhere else. He can’t remember landing or even most of the journey, so they must’ve been knocked out pretty quick. Which means he has no idea how much time has passed and no idea how long until the backup plan is supposed to start, or even if the time has been and gone and nothing happened. He fights down the niggling voices that whisper he’s just going to stay here, hoping Carlos will manage it and nothing ever happening, hoping until the very last moment when… a gunshot echoes through his head and he closes his eyes. Mirka. Please let her have survived, let it have missed, let something have happened… it’s all my fault…
“Awake are we Roger? That’s good. I thought we might have given you a little too much.”
The smooth, flat voice is familiar and Roger groans as the corporate-man from the plane moves out the shadows by the door, still dressed in an immaculate suit and polished shoes. Roger wonders idly if the man even owns a pair of jeans or is there’s some corporate rule against it. “You’ll be glad to know your boyfriend woke up before you. Haven’t got him to scream yet but challenges do make life interesting, don’t you think?”
“You’re lying.” Roger smiles, even though his voice is hoarse. He’s been dealing with politics for years now and even though this man is good, he’s not perfect. “Andy’s not awake yet and you haven’t touched him. And you won’t because I’ll kill you if you do.”
“Is that what you said to Miroslava?” the man asks pleasantly and Roger throws his weight against the chains, fighting the restraints in helpless frustration. “Calm down. I’d hate to have to tranquilise you again, because then I’d have to question your little boyfriend and you don’t want me to mar his pretty skin do you?”
Roger leans back against the wall and inwardly smirks because the man’s just confirmed his suspicions – Andy hasn’t been touched yet. “So you’re saying…”
“If you tell us everything we need to know?” The man spreads his hands with a shrug. “There’ll be no need to hurt Roddick. That’s how it works, you help us, we’ll help you.”
“I want to see him,” Roger demands. “It doesn’t work unless I can see he’s unharmed.”
“No.” The man’s smile disappears. “First you tell us what we want to know, then you get to see him, if you’re both on your very best behaviour. Now,” and he leans in, holding Roger’s stare. “What is Marat Safin planning and when is it going to happen?”