Salt and Iron

Subtle missions required subtle people. Anyone who saw Ivan and Alfred function in their day-to-day lives would never believe they were capable of being anything but ostentatious, but their capacity for subtlety was, itself, discreet. It showed in their typical politician answers of vagueness and misdirect; it showed in their guarded postures, arms folded over their hearts, feet always spread just so to be ready for anything; it showed in the precautions they took in their private lives, like always changing their routes to work, using fake names when conversing with strangers on the street.

It granted them safety and it made them good at their job with the agency.

But sometimes however good you are, the enemy was just as crafty.

Donned in their freshly pressed suits, Ivan and Alfred were a sharp sight indeed. They maintained a respectable distance in the main hall, but always close enough to keep the other in sight.

"Guy on your left as a knife sheathed up his sleeve," Alfred murmured into his wine glass. He was at a slight disadvantage in this mission, needing to observe through his peripherals, but needing to look through his glasses to see well. He didn't like relying on contact lenses; last time he had, they had popped out. No lenses stayed in his eyes for long.

Ivan, for his part, had been more than willing to accept this mission. Their target's sprawling manor rested near a beach, and slivers of it were visible through the crystal-clear windows framed by heavy curtains of a rich red. Sandy shores and spacious seas were a favorite of his, even if he did not get to see them enough.

Their eyes met for half a heartbeat across the hall, and Alfred saw as Ivan's gaze travel on the taller man scratch unassumingly at his nose.

All clear.

Alfred feigned fixing his tie.

Let's go.

Without missing a beat, Ivan extricated himself from their fellow partygoers, striding off through a side door. Alfred, meanwhile, pretended to inquire as to where the bathroom was. As if he had not poured over a map of the entire premises for hours upon hours with his three companions: Ivan, coffee, and pretzels.

Bladder not remotely full, Alfred did not stay in the restroom long, instead quietly exiting, locking and closing the door behind him as he navigated his way to where Ivan was heading for. Their target boosted a strong ego, sure that through extensive screening everyone with an invitation would pose no threat to him. As such, the bulk of his security was focused on the main area of the party to do crowd control if anyone got rowdy. It was easy for Ivan to work the lock on the door, and just as easy for Alfred to hack the number pad and disable the digital lock.

And it was easy to enter the room and not leave a trace of themselves, as their prize- a simple painting, hung front and center right across from them. The door was closed quietly behind them as the two snuck in and removed the painting from the wall.

"Where is it?" Alfred voice was barely a breath. "Where's the money?" He looked up and down the frame, along the back, the sides.

Slipping on a pair of gloves, Ivan's fingers ghosted carefully over both sides of the canvas. He paused, gaze distant as he felt. "It…is in here. There's another layer of canvas- the money is hidden between them." He pulled out a knife. The tearing of the canvas filled the silence of the ornate office as, just as he'd predicted, one layer of canvas was peeled away to reveal wads of hundred-dollar bills.

Alfred whistled. "That's exactly how much the chief said there'd be." He began bagging the stolen funds as Ivan tore away the rest of the second layer and unfurled a stretch of fabric. They had brought that with the intention of using it for a quick escape or cut away swatches as gags or tourniquets, but Ivan's intention would require all of it. "Not exact but it will do," he muttered as he began stretching it over the frame as a replacement to the ruined canvas he had removed.

"Not quite."

Both their heads snapped up, hearts pounding as their target frowned at them, a machine gun already aimed right at them. "I worked hard to get that money and I intend on using it," he said coolly. "And I'd rather not worry about you two blabbing."

"Law enforcement will love locking up an egomaniac prick like you," Alfred shot back, eyes narrowed. He reached for his gun, stomach squirming as he watched the gunman smirk, and knew he would not have time.

"I think I'll kill the mouthy one first," the man said casually, as if debating what to order at a restaurant.

Alfred felt Ivan tense beside him. The gun was raised.

Barely three seconds passed as the world erupted into chaos. Shots rang, audible across the world, but Alfred did not see them coming as Ivan threw himself in front, pulling out his own gun. Something of the momentum must have misbalanced him, because he stumbled past Alfred rather than fire, but it made no matter because in the time Ivan's distraction granted him, Alfred grabbed his own gun and fired. He hit his mark.

"GUARDS!" the man screamed, collapsed on the floor clutching his gut and thigh.

"Music is a bit loud, buddy, don't think they'll hear you for a bit," Alfred gloated.

A pained moan reached his ears. Alfred looked over to see Ivan slowly, slowly dragging himself to his feet, arm wrapped around his torso. Ivan, tall, strong, stubborn Ivan, as immovable as a mountain and enduring as the most ancient trees, stumbled.

"Take it easy, big guy, we can-"

Blood leaked between Ivan's fingers from several bullet wounds, the round balls of metal piercing fabric, flesh, and bone alike. Ivan swayed, face twisted as he coughed. Red stained his hand as he drew it from his mouth.

"Ivan!"

Ivan's choked grunts of pain were drown out by a cackle, and Alfred saw the triumphant smile of their target as he lowered a walkie talkie.

Heart hammering, Alfred flew over to Ivan, wrapping his arm around the other's back and grimacing at the aching cry it drew from his partner. "C'mon, Ivan, let's go, come on, we have to get out of here now. Come on, I'll get you out of here." Ivan nodded, teeth clenched. Alfred snatched up the unused fabric and began slowly helping Ivan out the door. Already he could hear shouts.

"Chief! Chief, come in, we-"

"I know, Alfred," their boss's voice said in his ear. "Listen, just get out of there, get somewhere open, we'll send the chopper to pick you two up. Don't worry about anything else, just get the two of you out of there!"

Alfred worried Ivan could feel his shaking as he navigated them through side doors and obscure hallways, all the while aware of the distant shouts of more gunmen. Heart hammering, he leaned Ivan against a pillar just feet from the exit and hastily used their cloth to make a makeshift bandage. Ivan nearly screamed, cut off by his own bloody coughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Alfred said over and over, drawing Ivan back to him. Outside. They were outside. In the trees. They had cover now. But Ivan's blood was dripping even with the cloth- and he hadn't even be able to thoroughly wrap all his wounds. The world jerked to a halt when Ivan's dragging feet stumbled over the uneven terrain, eliciting a broken sob as he tipped forward. Alfred hastily caught him, feeling cold and clammy yet like every nerve was on fire. His ears filled with the sound of Ivan's cries as he carefully picked the other up, glad for his remarkable strength, and carefully guided them further and further away from the damned mission.

Ivan's breathing turned into short, shallow puffs of air as he fought, always fighting, through the pain, hands shaking like leaves as they pressed cloth and shirt to his wounds. Every pause in that ragged panting made Alfred's own heart stop. "Just gotta get to a clearing," Alfred murmured to Ivan when the other quieted. "Ivan? Hey- you gotta stay awake until the chopper comes, okay? Don't close your eyes until a doctor looks at you."

"Would doctor…looking at me…make you jealous?" Ivan hissed through the rattling of his teeth.

"Not today, big guy. If you just stay goddamned awake."

A horrible silence greeted Alfred's words.

"Ivan? You have to stay awake I said. For the doctor." For me.

Ivan's words were soft, gentle almost, like the salty breeze caressing them as it wound through the foliage. "I can't promise that."

"If you die, I'm gonna kill you," Alfred growled.

Ivan's bloodstained lips opened in a smile, chest quaking in an agonizing, wet chuckle. Alfred shook his head, casting another furtive glance around. "Come on, just a bit further," he muttered, to himself or to Ivan, he had no idea anymore. He wasn't even paying proper attention to his surroundings; the only thing he saw was the color draining from Ivan's face, the only thing he heard was his weakening breath as it rattled from his lungs, the only thing he felt was Ivan's quivering. Centuries of careful treading, a thousand of Alfred's broken sobs as he tried and failed to move as gently as possible, only imagining the discomfort it caused his partner. He was near, Alfred knew it. They had to be near. Alfred could hear the teal dance of the waves in their uncaring sway.

Warmth bathed their broken spirits as Alfred dragged them both beyond the treeline and onto the sandy beach.

"Look, big guy. The beach. You can rest here. You get to see the beach up close now. That's why you took this mission, yeah? Now you can rest here and- and we'll go to a better one when you feel better. Catch some sun, cool down in the water. Look how beautiful it is. This- oh god…this…this suits you, all this sun and color. I'll take you to the beach when you're better." Alfred's voice broke. He looked down.

Even with his eyes glazed over, long since unseeing, Ivan's smile from before remained lighting his lifeless face. Alfred's empty threat had been the final thing he heard in this world, unaware now of the anguished wail just beside him.

THE END

Based on the prompt line: "If you die, I'm gonna kill you."