Identity

He doesn't tell me where he's going. Adam isn't the type to do that. You're more likely to wake up one morning and find him gone than you are to wake up and find him wherever you're staying. He's fighting in his own way. Sometimes I think that he's getting even less sleep than I did back during Operation Snake Eater the way he disappears at all hours of the day and night, never checks in unless he needs something from me. "I work alone" he tells me. And I believe him. Ocelot is a terrible team player. He likes to be in charge and if he's not then nobody will get anything done until he is. I'm not surprised when I wake up and he's not in his room but I am when I see him sitting in the living room.

"You aren't going to sleep?" I walk up to him and he just smirks.

"Sleep is for the weak."

"Are you heading off again or will you be home in time for dinner?" he shrugs. He doesn't care about me. Not really. I'm a means to an end and to me he's the last thing that connects me to Big Boss. We use each other. Love doesn't bloom on this kind of battlefield.

"Adam, what are you planning?" I should know better than to ask but the heart, the mind work in mysterious ways. I care for him of course. I want to see him survive whichever missions he inflicts upon himself but I don't love him. Not in the same way I love Snake.

"None of your business so butt out."

I should know by now that that distance is just a way for him to keep from getting attached-it's not a spy's job to fall in love only to make others fall in love with them. I've never succeeded with him. in the 60's there wasn't a man alive who could resist my charms. Except Ocelot. And he isn't the type to be swayed by emotions other than pride and anger. Adam could care less if EVA died but her connections, her ways of getting the information we need; he doesn't want to lose that.

~**~

He's not a very good smoker. One puff and he's trying to cover up coughs and watering eyes. I think he only tried to take it up because Snake smoked cigars-even his mother smoked cigars. I didn't tell him that but he knows about her. I don't know how. But I'm not entirely sure how Adam does anything.

"Adam, why don't we go out? The mission can wait a couple of hours can't it?"

It's a joke because I know he would never say yes. He doesn't laugh.

"…You know…We haven't gotten a lead in over a year."

"I know that!" he's tired, hungry, frustrated at the lack of progress and it shows on his face. It's not my job to take care of him so I don't. if he wants food he makes it, if he wants a drink he pours it. this cohabitation is forced and convenient.

"I could try."

"Ha! Listen, if I wanted you to go in there and fuck around with things I would tell you to."

I don't know if it's twisted affection or thinly veiled malice hidden behind his words. I don't bother trying to talk to him anymore today. Best to just go back to my own work and let him throw his tantrum. He's not the kind of man to cry though sometimes he looks like he wants to he gets angry and goes out to break someone. I know about the torture but I keep quiet about it. It's no secret. I close the door behind me. The next morning I wake up and he's gone.

I don't see Adam for 2 years. He doesn't call or write. He disappears off the face of the earth like a ghost. When he comes back he's dressed differently-not like his style at all. A smile curves his lips upwards and in his mouth is a cigar.

He's not Adam anymore.