Summary: Oscar and Ruggedly Handsome Man watch as the woman who's decided to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders lies unconscious while her body gets transformed into the most dangerous treasure map anyone's ever seen. Small appearances by pre!wipe Jane.
You Leave Us All Behind Because You're Certain of Who You Need to Be
"You promise to have my back out there," she says, states as a fact. And the bearded man next to her nods.
They're standing in the woods, a few hundred meters from the secluded cabin, the place that has served as their secret hideout, the place where they've been planning this mission for the better half of the last year.
She turns to look at him, seeking an answer in more than just his nod.
"Of course I will," he confirms, "when have I ever let you down?" he asks earnestly.
Her lips tighten in a straight line and she looks back out towards the horizon while he keeps his eyes strained on her. A moment passes and then she smiles, "well there was-"
"If you say Venezuela, I swear I'll punch you," he says playfully, "your version of that mission and my version are completely different. And it's not my fault you don't remember what happened exactly."
She turns back to him, all playfulness dropping from her face, "why don't you remind me?" She asks and he understands where this is coming from.
"Don't…" He says, a warning for both of them. They silently promised each other they won't go there.
"Please," she whispers.
The both know very well that in less than twenty four hours, this and every memory they've shared, every story, every successful mission, every failed mission and every battle they've fought side by side will cease to exist as shared memories. They will only remain with him, one sided stories with no one to verify and no one to share with. A lifetime forgotten, no one to reminisce with, laugh over drinks late at night or share the sorrows of lost one on the anniversaries of failures.
And so he tells her, as much for his sake as hers, because he too needs to be able to share the story with someone who's lived it with him, to remind himself that the life they've lived, the partnership they've forged has been real.
The two men stand solemnly watching the scene in front of the develop, feeling as the minutes become hours, watching her disappear. Neither can shed the unsettling feeling at the pit of their stomach. The sight of this strong, assertive woman, the self proclaimed control freak, lying unconscious on a metal slate, as a group of masked men and women transform her body into a treasure map of corruption and conspiracy, as they, with every minute, take more and more control of her body, of her life, of her future, stripping her of any and putting it in their hands, in the hands of whoever finds her tomorrow.
They have both known her for so long, never known her as anything but closed up, in control, shielded, never relenting her self preservation mode, and yet, there she lay, exposed, vulnerable, at the mercy of these people. Yes, this is her plan, her mission, the one she has been meticulously planning and designing for a year, and yet they know, and she knew, a few hours ago, when that needle got inserted into her arm, she no longer is in control, won't be for a very long time, or ever again, maybe.
They do not try to seek comfort in each other, both soldiers till they die. And they do not try to seek comfort in each other because, even though they've known each other for years, their relationship has never been this. Mutual respect and appreciation for what the other represents in her life for years, now they are just players in this game, each with a role, each with clear and specific moves they have to make. That's what they are now.
One of the masked men moves the towel off her chest and starts tracing a new pattern of her skin there. Oscar crosses his arms over his chest, taking a deep breath, trying the way his chest seems to tighten every time he tries to inhale. The bearded man next to him, clenches his jaw and looks away.
"This is wrong," he mumbles, "this is just wrong."
"It has to be done," Oscar says calmly, not looking away from her.
"It could have been in any other way, but not like this," he hears the other man behind him.
He turns to him, looks over his shoulder, sees the way the other man has his back turned, no longer able to look. "No it could not have been. This is the only way," Oscar says, "you know that. We've been over all the possible scenarios, all the possible…" His answers are practiced, memorised, as though he has a play book to work from. And in a way, he does. A play book designed and written by her for him to execute.
He sighs, "this is the only way. This is how it has to be."
The other man huffs, in frustration, in anger… in despair. "Well, you'll have to excuse me if its not as easy for me to watch my best friend get erased like this." He sighs, "she's the only thing that has been a part of my whole life."
Oscar hates that he always goes there, that just because he's known her longer then he knows her better. And he wants to throw it back in his face that growing up as the governments Guinea pigs doesn't mean they grew up together. Lab rats sharing a cage weren't a family.
But he also knows that she has always felt that way, being robbed of a real childhood, all the kids who were part of Orion had clung to whatever they had at those times. And as much as he wants to hurt the man next to him at this moment, he doesn't want to burn her too, or her past… Even though when she wakes up tomorrow, this won't be her past and these won't be her memories anymore.
So he keeps his reply to himself and turns back to watch her. He searches within him to find more comforting words.
"She knows what she's doing," Oscar says, his answers sounding less and less convincing. As the time passes. The fake confidence he's been waving edging towards dissolve.
"Does she? Do we?" The man next him asks.
Oscar stands in silence at his question. Not willing to lie. Not about this. The bearded man next thin takes his hesitant silence for apathy and snaps.
"How can you be so cold about this? So distant? She's not just another soldier," he says, his tone accusing but more so… scared. "For God's sake, she's your-"
"Don't say it! Don't you dare even say it!" Oscar bites back. "You think I don't see my fiancé down there? You don't think this is killing me with every passing moment?" He closes his eyes and tries to calm himself down. "But we are soldiers, how dare you forget that? How dare you let anything else cloud your judgement? Don't you dare forget that out there! We are just soldiers, and we cannot let anything else distract us."
The bearded man unconsciously pulls back, an emotional outbreak from Oscar not something anyone sees often.
A heavy silence falls between them again as more minutes pass.
"Do you trust him?" The bearded man asks, not specifying who but Oscar knows exactly who he's referring to. Kurt Weller. The man they are trusting her with. Will he protect her? Will he keep her safe? Will he believe her? Will she be just another case for him? A piece of intriguing evidence? Will he ever be able to see her for who she really is? See the amazing woman, the amazing woman she was, beneath the layers of intrigue and mystery?
Oscar buries his fears, returning to the play book he's memorised, "yes."
"But why?"
"Because she does," Oscar admits.
"And that's enough?"
"Yes," Oscar hisses, "of course it is! Since when has it not been enough for you? You've spent your entire life trusting her blindly, what's changed now?"
"What's changed? What changed is that when she wakes up, she's not going to be the same woman I've known my whole life, the woman I've trained with and fought with and who's saved my life more times than I remember. Don't you see that, Oscar?" He replies.
"I know that," Oscar replies, his voice shaking with the reality.
"Do you, though? Do you really understand that? That… That she's not gonna wake up one day and come running back into your arms? That the woman you fell in love with, the woman you planned to spend your life with is being erased in there, right now, as we speak and will never come back?"
Oscars jaw tightens, anger seething through his veins, not as much as the words being thrown at him as it is about the truth, about how much, subconsciously he's been fighting the truth. "I do," he replies monotonously, his voice almost robotic.
"Is that why you're wearing that ring in a chain around your neck?"
He turns angrily towards him, fuming, and it takes everything not to punch the man in front of him, but what he sees in his gaze, the others mans own pain and loss mirroring his, pulls him back. "You deal with this your own way, I deal with it I my own," Oscar says, his hand traveling to his chest, tracing the contours of the ring that sits snugly under his shirt.
Oscar allows himself to think of Kurt Weller then, one of the many wild cards they've decided to play in this dangerous game they've chosen to play. He doesn't know how it will work out, sending her to this clueless man, he doesn't know what role he will play and how he will play it, he doesn't know exactly what he will become in her life. Turning to the man to his left, he shakes his head. He will always be sharing her with some one else, in one way or another.
He's sitting at the small dining table when she comes in, a forgotten cup of tea cooling in front of him. She know's he'd been watching them through the small window, his new job already going into full gear. She would joke and call him her guardian angel, but he'd hate it, and she wasn't one for joke, especially not now. "Everything's ready," she half asks, half states, and he nods, watching as she slowly comes to sit in front of him, their knees brushing briefly.
They sit in silence for a long time, neither willing or ready to do what they know needs to be done. "I trust you, you know that, right?" she whispers, her gaze dropping to her lap, avoiding his. And he nods, of course she does, and of course he knows. They wouldn't be sitting here if she didn't. Hell, he is pretty sure he wouldn't still be alive if she didn't.
"Everything ok out there?" he asks, gesturing to the silhouette of the man still standing at the edge of the woods. She catches his gaze again. She knows he never really understood their bond, and she doesn't blame him. After all, Oscar grew up in a real home, a real family, surrounded by parents and siblings; blood relatives who shared a last name, had family dinners every day and went on family vacations every summer. She never had that. The bearded man standing out there, never had that either. Sometimes the lack of certain experiences bonds people together stronger than the existence of shared ones.
She reaches towards him, a tentative hand on his knee and says, "This has to work. This will work," she emphasises and he studies her, her resolve, her strength, her confidence. The woman he fell in love with. And he nods. "It will," he assures her. "You'll do whatever you need to to make sure everything goes as planned," she says. He knows she is saying these things as a reminder for both of them, as a comforting reminder, that even though they're trained soldiers, tacticians who have planned this to the last minute detail, in the end what they're doing is risky game, based completely on variables and parameters they have absolutely no control over in any way or shape or form. "Of course," he whispers.
She smiles, "We can do this," she says.
And he tries not to cringe at her choice of pronoun, try to shove the bitter feeling back down before it takes over him. In less than twenty four hours, they will no longer be a "we". There will be him. There will be her, whoever she wakes up as. But there will never again be a "them", not in any sense of the word that they have ever been. Not as a team, not as partners, lovers or a family.