One More Cup of Coffee
It was going on eleven in the morning when Tony Murchison tapped lightly on the door to Control's office and poked his head in, a cup of coffee in one hand. He was slightly concerned when he noticed that Control was standing by the window rather then sitting behind his desk, momentarily afraid that Control might be about to take another tumble. He let out a nearly silent sigh of relief when he saw that the window was safely closed, and therefore it was very unlikely that Control would be going for another dangerous six story fall.
"Good morning, Control. Is there something on your mind that is causing you to stare out of the window, or are you perhaps just enjoying the view?"
Control visibly started, one hand going up to rest on his chest as he turned towards the door. "Ah, Tony. You gave me quite a fright. I'm afraid that I was completely distracted and didn't hear you come in."
Tony frowned apologetically, carefully sitting the cup of coffee he had brought in for Control on the desk next to a small stack of pale blue folders. "I am sorry, Control. I didn't mean to startle you, and I must say that I am quite relieved that your window isn't open, otherwise my startling you might have caused you to fall out of the window again, and that wouldn't have been a good thing at all."
Control nodded as he moved over to his desk and sat down. "It's quite all right, Tony. And I must agree with you that falling out of the window again wouldn't have been a good thing at all. Though even if I had done so, it wouldn't have been your fault." He sighed, reaching out and taking a slow sip of his coffee. "I suppose you were wondering just what it was that had me so distracted, Tony."
Tony nodded, holding his hands behind his back at a sort of loose parade rest. "I must admit that I am curious, Control, but I wouldn't want you to be telling me anything that I didn't need to know, something that was a secret that only Control would need to know."
Control sighed again. "Unfortunately, Tony, this is something that you do need to know, even though I'm not ashamed to say that I rather wish you didn't."
"Whatever do you mean, Control?"
Tony's blue eyes were concerned, and Control had to take a deep breath and look away before he could speak again. "Do you remember two years ago, Tony, before you were assigned as the Subsection Chief of the East Germany and Related Satellites Department?"
"Yes, Control, as a matter of fact I do. I was working undercover in Eastern Europe before you so very kindly decided to give me a promotion to my current desk job. But what does this have to do with whatever it is that you wish that I didn't need to know, if I may ask?"
Control took another sip of his coffee, trying to convince himself that he wasn't stalling. It wasn't like he could somehow get out of explaining things to Tony, because he couldn't, no matter how much he might want to. "Well, Tony, there have been some developments lately that I'm afraid to say have our masters in Whitehall quite concerned about the way things are going in Eastern Europe right at the moment. And they have asked me to give you a new assignment."
Tony blinked at him in confusion. "What sort of new assignment, Control? Is someone unhappy with my performance at the East Germany and Related Satellites desk?"
Control shook his head, feeling quite bad about making Tony feel less than adequate, even inadvertently. "No, Tony, nothing of the sort. It's quite the opposite, in fact. Some people were actually so impressed by your performance undercover that they've requested that you be sent back under for a special assignment."
Tony's eyes widened, the bright blue going somehow a bit darker. "I'm being sent back undercover, Control? I had thought that once I came back to London and was assigned to the East Germany and Related Satellites desk that I wouldn't be sent out into the field anymore."
Control nodded tiredly. "That was my intention, Tony. I know that you didn't enjoy your time undercover, and I do wish that you didn't have to go back. Unfortunately, it's completely out of my hands. They asked for you specifically by name."
"Well, Control, I can certainly understand your reluctance to tell me what was bothering you. In your position, I wouldn't have wanted to tell me, either. But I suppose there's nothing to do but to buck up and get on with it."
Control was quite impressed at how well Tony was taking the news, and that just made everything harder. Control hated the fact that he would be sending Tony out into danger with no way for Control to keep him safe. That had actually been the most pressing reason he had moved Tony to the East Germany desk since it was a fairly safe, but still quite important, assignment.
He handed Tony one of the blue folders and flashed him an apologetic smile. "I really am sorry about this, Tony. If it were completely up to me I would find another agent to send out into the field, but it seems that our superiors consider you to be the only man for the job. All of the information you'll need for the mission is in that folder, and you have an entire week to prepare before you'll have to leave for Germany."
Tony opened the folder and glanced briefly over the top page. "Well, everything seems to be in order, Control. I suppose that I'll take this back to my desk and go over everything then."
Control nodded, fingers tightening slightly around his coffee cup. "If you have any questions about your assignment, or any concerns, please do come and ask me about them, Tony. The last thing I would want would be for you to go undercover and still have questions about the assignment."
Tony smiled, eyes lightning slightly. "Thank you ever so much, Control. If I run into any problems before I leave, you'll be the second one to know...right after I know about them myself." Then he dipped his head towards Control and quietly left the office.
Once he was alone Control reached up to rub one hand against the side of his face, still being careful not to muss his hair. After all, part of being Control was keeping properly groomed. He wasn't at all ashamed to say that he was worried about Tony, and the other man hadn't even left the building yet.
He'd had a fairly irrational desire to keep Tony Murchison safe and happy almost from the moment that he had first met the other man. He wasn't sure if it was the glint of innocence in Tony's big blue eyes that even years of working undercover hadn't managed to completely dim, if it was the sweet smile that Tony could flash him seemingly almost without thinking about it or if it was something else altogether. All Control knew was that he hated the idea of Tony in danger, and he had no choice but to send him out into it, completely alone.
He reached for his coffee and drained the cup in one long swallow. It was times like this that he really disliked being Control.
Tony was quiet as he made his way from Control's office back to his desk. He smiled automatically at Valerie as he passed by her desk, but most of his attention was focused on the innocent-looking blue folder that was resting under his arm. He had taken it for granted that once he was given a desk job that he wouldn't ever need to go undercover again. He knew that the undercover work was important, and he was comfortable enough with himself to admit that he was fairly talented at it, but he couldn't help but wish that someone else was taking this new assignment instead.
He forced back a shiver as he thought back to his last undercover assignment before Control had given him the promotion to the East Germany and Related Satellites desk. More things had gone wrong with that assignment than even Control knew, and Tony knew there was no way that he would ever tell Control the extent of the damage that he had suffered.
Tony took a deep breath, dropped the innocuous blue folder on his desk and made his way to the coffee making area. He glanced around to make certain that no one was paying him any attention and proceeded to make himself a hot cup of tea. He knew that it was rather silly to be afraid that someone would see him drinking tea, but the whole sorry thing was actually a bit embarrassing.
Despite the fact that Tony was known all around the Secret Service for his coffee-making skills, he never actually drank it himself. In fact, though he would be loath to admit it to anyone, he had only learned how to make good coffee for Control. It was a small thing that made the other man happy, and since Tony had always felt that he owed Control something for pulling him from undercover work and giving him a rather important desk job instead, he had learned how to make the perfect cup of coffee.
He made his way back to his desk, cup of tea in one hand. He would have to see if he could teach Valerie to make a proper cup of coffee before he left. After all, just because he wouldn't be present was no reason for Control to have to settle for mediocre coffee. Valerie tried quite hard, and he admired her for it, but her coffee just wasn't that tasty. Perhaps he would leave her a written set of instructions. He nodded firmly, then turned his attention back to the blue folder.
His hand shook slightly as he reached out to flip it open, and he slowed his breathing until his hand was finally steady. The file was clear and his assignment seemed fairly simple. He was to go to Western Germany and investigate the allegations of corruption among some of the other British agents. It seemed that certain Soviet agents were managing to slip in and out of the country much more easily than they should have been able to do, taking sensitive information that they should never have seen back with them. And the higher-ups were afraid that one or more of the British agents in the area had turned.
Tony's job was to find out, and if necessary to infiltrate their organization. He sighed softly. He wasn't looking forward to this assignment at all.
Tony left his office at five o'clock sharp, the folder with the information about his new undercover assignment tucked safely into his briefcase. He headed upstairs, lips curling up into a smile when he noticed Valerie still sitting at her desk in front of Control's office.
"Hello, Valerie. Is Control still in his office, I wonder?"
Valerie smiled at him, tucking a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear. "I'm afraid not, Tony. You just missed him. He said something about getting ready for a dinner meeting, and running some errands for Mrs. Control."
Tony sighed in disappointment. "Thank you anyway, Valerie. I was hoping to catch him before he left for the night, but I suppose I'll just have to speak with him in the morning when I bring him his coffee." He ran a hand through his hair and straightened his shoulders. "Good night, Valerie."
"Have a nice night, Tony. Do try not to work too hard."
He flashed her a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I shall do my best, Valerie. Good night."
He headed back out of the building, nodding absently to fellow agents as he passed them. He had wanted to discuss a few things about his new assignment with Control before he went home to his empty flat, though if he was honest with himself it was more that he wanted to spend time with the other man before he had to leave than that he had any real problems.
Even if this undercover assignment went off without a hitch, unlike the last one that he still hated to remember, it would be hard to be away from Control for however long it took to complete his mission. Plus, he would hate not knowing if anyone else was taking proper care of Control; making sure that he left the office on time, that he always got his cup of coffee before lunch and that he didn't take any more spills out of the sixth floor window.
He sighed as he got into his car, setting his briefcase in the passenger seat. He paid only enough attention to the road to keep from causing an accident, most of his brain occupied with compiling a mental list of all the things he would need to do before leaving at the end of the week. He would need to make certain that anything perishable was out of his flat, ask someone to come in every other day while he was gone to water his few small plants and pick up his mail, and in general just make certain that nothing was going to go wrong.
Tony supposed that he could ask his neighbor, old Mrs. Howlett, to check in on things, though he did hate to be a bother to her. After all, she was getting on up in years, and she did already have a young granddaughter that she often looked after during the day. He would hate to put more work on her, and he knew that if he asked she would most likely wind up completely cleaning out his flat just to be nice. And that simply wouldn't do.
He could ask Valerie to check in on things for him. She was a sweet girl, even if she did have difficulties making good coffee, and she would probably be perfectly happy to help him out. Though she might possibly be a little too happy to help him out, as Tony was growing a bit suspicious that Valerie just might have some romantic inclinations towards him, and asking her to take care of things in his flat while he was gone might be seen as an encouraging gesture on his part.
Tony liked Valerie well enough, certainly, and thought that any other gentleman would be quite lucky to romance her, but he simply wasn't interested. He wasn't sure how to explain it to Valerie without hurting her feelings, or even worse letting on how he felt about Control, so he simply pretended that he didn't realize what was happening when she tried to flirt with him. He knew it wasn't the best way to go about it, but he couldn't think of anything else to do.
He parked his car next to his building and got out, wincing as pain began to throb behind his eyes. He had known the headache was coming from the moment he heard about his new assignment, and it most likely wouldn't let up completely until after the entire undercover assignment was complete and he was back home safe in London, but he hadn't expected it to begin quite so soon.
The headaches were a leftover from his last undercover assignment, one of the things that he had never admitted to Control. He wasn't sure if there was still some physical cause, or if the headaches were now just a psychological response to the stress of even considering undercover work again. The doctor he had seen two years earlier had said that his head injury was completely healed, though he had stated that Tony would probably be more prone to headaches than he had been in the past.
The headaches weren't usually a problem, more often than not manifesting merely as a dull throb behind his eyes that could be cured by a mug of hot tea, a dark room and an occasional painkiller. Unfortunately, Tony was afraid that it wouldn't be the case during his new assignment. Between the stress of the mission itself and his painful memories of his last undercover mission he was more than likely going to spend the entire mission in quite a lot of discomfort.
He flinched as he slid his key into the door lock, even that small noise making the pain spike. Tony knew that he was heading for a full-fledged migraine, and it would only be through sheer luck that he might be able to avoid the worst of it. He carefully walked into his flat, closing and locking the door behind him and dropping his briefcase and jacket in a nearby chair. He headed straight for the bathroom, pulling out a bottle of painkillers and taking one dry, biting back a cough.
Five minutes later he was in bed, the covers pulled up almost to his nose and the curtains tightly closed to keep out the light. Eventually, the pain lost some of its sharpness and Tony was able to fall into an uneasy sleep.
He groaned when the alarm clock woke him the next morning. The sharp pain of the night before was gone, but it had left a vague feeling of nausea and a lingering tiredness in its wake. He pushed himself slowly out of bed, scrubbing both hands across his face and through his hair. Then he took a moment to just close his eyes and breathe. He would need to be on top of his game in order to hide his discomfort from Control.
After all, it simply wouldn't do for the other man to worry about him before his new mission.
It only took about half an hour for Tony to shower, shave and make his way into the kitchen. He wrinkled his nose at the idea of trying to eat his usual breakfast, and finally settled on eating a couple of pieces of plain toast with his morning cup of tea.
Twenty minutes later Tony was out the door, the briefcase containing the blue folder clutched in one hand. He spent the drive to the office trying to talk himself into a more positive frame of mind, though he only managed to convince himself that he was positive that something was going to go terribly wrong on his new assignment.
He managed to at least look like there was nothing wrong by the time he made it to the office, smiling genially at the other agents as he passed them in the hallway. He slid behind his desk with a soft sigh of relief, almost melting back into his very comfortable chair. He dropped his briefcase on the floor next to his desk, deciding on the spur of the moment that he wasn't going to even think about it until after he had eaten his lunch.
He buried himself in the other work on his desk; filling out forms and reading over intelligence reports, making mental notes of anything that he thought he should bring up in conversation when he brought Control his morning cup of coffee. He had gotten about halfway through the pile of folders on his desk when he finally glanced up at the clock.
"Oh, bother. It's already eleven o'clock, and I haven't brought Control his coffee yet. I do hope he isn't upset that his morning coffee is late."
He headed for the coffee making area, sighing in relief when he noticed that there was already a fresh pot of coffee made. He poured it into the cup, then measured out the precise amount of milk necessary and making absolutely certain to leave out the sugar. Then he made his way quickly but carefully up to Control's office on the sixth floor.
He tapped lightly on the office door before poking his head in and smiling at Control, who was sitting behind his desk and doing some sort of paperwork.
"Hello, Control. Sorry that I'm late with your coffee, but I'm afraid that I got caught up in my work and completely lost track of the time."
Control looked up and smiled, eyes lightning as he dropped his pen to the desk. "That's quite all right, Tony. I hadn't even noticed that it was getting to be that time. I was rather engrossed in my work as well."
This time Tony's smile reached his eyes. "That does make me feel somewhat better, Control. I admit that I was a bit concerned that you would be wondering where your coffee was since I hadn't yet brought it to you." He sat the coffee cup on the desk in front of Control, then stepped back and folded his hands behind his back.
"I do appreciate it, Tony, even if it was a few minutes late. After all, you don't actually have to bring me any coffee at all."
Tony flinched slightly at that, but quickly smoothed his expression back out. "I realize that, Control, but I rather enjoy bringing you coffee." He flinched again, desperately hoping that Control hadn't picked up on the wistful edge to his voice.
Apparently he hadn't as he just smiled. "And I must admit that I'm rather happy that you do, Tony, as I believe that I would miss it if you didn't bring me my morning coffee every day."
Tony's smile faded a bit at that. "I suppose that the next little while will be rather difficult for you then, Control, as I won't be here to bring you your morning coffee while I'm on assignment."
Control frowned, slumping a bit in his chair. "Oh, I hadn't thought of that. I will miss your coming into the office every morning and bringing me coffee, Tony, but I shall soldier on so long as I know that you'll be coming back. You will be careful while you're undercover, won't you, Tony?"
"Of course, Control. After all, the mission wouldn't be much of a success if I didn't remain safe in order to finish it properly and report back in." The idea that Control was concerned about his safety gave Tony a pleasantly warm feeling, though he was careful not to read too much into it. After all, Control was concerned about the safety of all of his agents, which was one of the things that made him such a good leader.
There was a slightly uncomfortable silence before Tony straightened his shoulders a bit and spoke again. "Well, I suppose I'd best be getting back to my desk, Control. I still have quite a bit of paperwork to finish up before I leave for my new assignment."
"I won't keep you then, Tony. But please don't hesitate to stop back by my office if you need anything before you leave." Control flashed him an earnest smile as he reached for his coffee and took a sip, his smile widening slightly as the taste of the coffee slid across his tongue.
Tony just dipped his head slightly as he turned to go. "Thank you, Control. I will." And before he could say something that he would regret, Tony slipped out of Control's office and silently closed the door behind him. He would go have an early lunch, then look carefully over the file with his new assignment.
The week passed by much more quickly than Tony had anticipated, and soon it was time for him to leave. He had finally asked Valerie to check in on his flat periodically despite his misgivings, and had made certain to give her a few coffee-making lessons which she had seemed to appreciate. Her coffee still wasn't quite like his, but he thought that Control would at least appreciate the effort she put into it.
He had done his best to avoid Control on his final day in the office, as he was quite worried that the stress of his situation might cause him to say something that he shouldn't. The last thing that Control needed was to be worrying about Tony's less than platonic feelings for him, and the last thing that Tony himself needed was to be worrying about Control's reaction to said feelings. Tony, at least, would be under quite enough stress as it was without going looking for more.
However, he hadn't been able to resist taking Control one last cup of morning coffee, though he hadn't stayed in the office very long for chit-chat. He had simply given Control his coffee, made a few comments about the weather, asked about Mrs. Control and left with a sad smile.
And now he was on a plane, winging his way towards Germany and his new undercover assignment. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back and squirming slightly in his seat in an attempt to get more comfortable, a feat which was quite difficult in the cramped quarters of the airplane. He finally sighed and admitted defeat, as there was no way that he was going to be able to shift his long legs into a comfortable position.
His contact was going to be meeting him at the airport, though the file hadn't mentioned just who that contact would be. He just knew that his contact was supposed to approach him once he got off the plane and tell him the code phrase, which he was supposed to answer with another code phrase. He hated to admit it, since he was a secret agent after all, but the lack of solid information and the cloak and dagger doings were making him a bit nervous.
He'd had a fairly steady headache ever since he'd first been told of his new assignment, though so far the pain hadn't gotten too intense. He was uncomfortable, certainly, but he had managed to push the pain back mostly through rest and tea. He did his best to keep the painkillers for the really bad headaches, and so far he had only had to indulge in them twice, which made him feel a bit better.
Though from what he had gathered from the file his headaches might actually make his masquerade a little more realistic. He was supposed to be undercover as a former intelligence agent who had been drummed out of the secret service due to a bungled mission which had resulted in several other agents' deaths, as well as injury to himself, and was looking for revenge. The fact that his headaches actually were the result of a mission gone awry was just this side of a cruel irony.
He was pulled out of his thoughts as the plane began to land. He made sure that all of his things were organized and put away properly, then clicked his seat belt closed. The landing was smooth, and soon the passengers were disembarking. Tony managed to slip through them, his height and natural grace making it fairly easy for him not to be trampled.
He had just managed to snag his luggage when a fairly nondescript man in a trench coat stepped up to him and gave him a bland smile. "Have you ever seen Surrey in the morning?"
Tony's pulse sped up very slightly. That was the code phrase that he had been told to listen for. "I prefer it in the afternoon, with a nice cup of coffee." He had thought that the return code phrase was a bit odd, and still did, but the words tripped off his tongue easily enough all the same.
His contact smiled, but it didn't seem to reach the rather cool green eyes. "Come with me, please, Mr. Murchison. We have quite a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it in." Then he turned and walked away, never even bothering to look back and make sure that Tony was following.
Tony just sighed, picked up his bags and began to walk after him, stretching his legs just enough to catch up without looking like he was hurrying. He could already tell that this assignment was going to be a long one.
It was half past eleven when Control was finally able to put his finger on just what had been bothering him. Tony Murchison was on a plane to Germany, and therefore had been unable to bring him his morning cup of coffee. That fact brought his mood crashing down as he couldn't seem to keep himself from thinking of all the things that could happen to Tony while he was away.
Eventually he shook his head, forcing the negative thoughts back down and picked up the phone. "Valerie, could you possibly pop in and bring me a cup of coffee? Thank you kindly, Valerie." He hung up the phone, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.
He truly had hated sending Tony back undercover, especially in an assignment where he had virtually no backup. He had his suspicions about what had happened to Tony on his last undercover assignment, though he had never asked the younger man about any of it. He couldn't help but think that perhaps he should have, but he couldn't bear the thought of causing Tony even more pain than he had already suffered, and forcing him to remember what Control feared had happened would certainly have done just that.
He blinked when his office door slowly opened, then smiled slightly when he saw Valerie carefully poking her head in. "Do come in, Valerie. I appreciate your bringing me some coffee, as it isn't actually part of your job."
She just smiled, setting the cup on the desk in front of him. "It's really no bother. Besides, Tony asked me if I wouldn't mind making sure that you had your coffee while he was gone. He even showed me how to make it just the way you like it. I hope I didn't get it too far off the mark."
Control's smile widened a bit at that. He had always known that Tony took good care of him, but he hadn't even considered that Tony would go so far as to teach Valerie how to make a proper cup of coffee. He took a small sip, and was pleasantly surprised. It still wasn't quite as good as Tony's coffee, but it was a fairly close facsimile.
"This is quite nice, Valerie, thank you. It tastes almost exactly like Tony's." He was exaggerating just a bit, but the brilliant smile on her face was worth the slight fib. And since the coffee did taste quite good, even if it wasn't just like Tony's, the fib was very small so he didn't feel too terribly bad about it.
Valerie's eyes were almost sparkling. "Thank you, Control. I was so hoping that I'd gotten it close to right. I'd best be getting back to work now. Do call me if you need anything else, won't you, Control?"
He nodded, taking another sip of coffee as she nearly skipped out of the office and closed the door. Once he was alone though, his smile faded. He couldn't help but think that Tony teaching Valerie how to make coffee the way he liked it was a sign that the other man was afraid that he wouldn't be coming back from this assignment, and the idea sent cold chills down Control's spine. He simply couldn't bear the thought that he might not see Tony again.
Control tried to push his worries about Tony to the back of his mind. He had enough problems of his own to deal with, principle among them being the lingering fear that something wasn't quite right here in the office. He was aware of the potential corruption that Tony was overseas investigating, but he had recently begun to fear that there was corruption in the London office, as well. He had no proof yet, but there was some sensitive information that had gotten into the hands of the Soviets recently that shouldn't have.
He couldn't help but wish that Tony was there to help him with the possible mole. Tony was the one person in the entire office that he knew he could trust absolutely, and the other man often had a fresh way of looking at things that would help Control to make the proper decision. Plus, he couldn't help but want Tony to be where he could see the other man and know that he was safe. Though if he was correct and there was a mole in the London office, neither one of them was particularly safe at the moment at all.
Valerie made her way back to her desk, still smiling. Control was finally pleased with her coffee, which she knew would make Tony happy. She thought it was sweet that he was so concerned about Control, and had put extra effort into learning how to make the coffee for Control properly. It was thrilling to know that her hard work had paid off.
As she slipped into her chair and smoothed her skirt she couldn't help but hope that Tony would make it back safely from his new assignment. She was terribly worried about him, and had decided only about an hour after he had left that once he returned she was going to tell him how she felt about him. It probably wasn't quite the thing to do since they did work together, but she didn't think she could stand to see him going off into dangerous situations without his knowing that someone loved him. It just wouldn't be right.
It had made her feel all warm and tingly when Tony had asked her to check in on his flat until he got back. She was trying not to read too much into it, but there had been a light blush staining his cheeks and he had had trouble meeting her eyes when he asked, which gave her hope.
And when he arrived back home, safe and sound, she would ask him straight out how he felt about her.
Tony hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was floundering. His contact, whose name he still didn't know, had placed his luggage in a car and then led him to a small outdoor cafe where the two of them had ordered food and then proceeded to simply sit in silence. He forced himself not to fidget, calling on all of his experience as an undercover agent to remain at least visibly calm.
His headache had grown more severe, and he knew that he was going to have to take a painkiller as soon as he was somewhere alone. Even if he hadn't been getting an odd feeling about his still-unnamed contact, which he was for some reason, he wouldn't even consider making a weakness like that public while on such a dangerous mission.
He picked at his food, the mixture of nerves and discomfort completely robbing him of his appetite. He wondered absently how Control was doing, and whether his coffee-making lessons had helped Valerie at all. He knew that it was important that he complete this mission, but he really wished that he was back home in London.
The longer they sat in the cafe in silence, the stronger Tony's feeling that something was terribly wrong got. His contact hadn't done anything overtly suspicious yet, but he also wasn't acting quite right either. It wasn't until he noticed the slowly growing smirk on the other man's lips that his suspicions turned into dread. Something was very definitely wrong.
Tony glanced casually around the cafe, his attention sparking on two men who seemed to be trying quite hard not to look at him. They were sitting at opposite ends of the cafe, each of them sitting alone with only an untouched cup of what he assumed was tea in front of them. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a large dark automobile slowly pulling up in front of the cafe. The two men he was watching noticed as well, and both rose to their feet and began making their way unobtrusively towards him.
He glanced back at his contact, took in the amused smugness in the other man's expression and bit back a mental curse.
'Oh, bother.'
It seemed as though the corruption was a bit more widespread than anyone had anticipated, and the fact that his contact (who might not even be his real contact, proper code phrase or no proper code phrase, for all Tony knew) was in on it did not bode well for Tony or his mission. The mission, however, could wait. Tony himself could not.
His thoughts whirled as he tried to figure out the best way for him to get out of the predicament alive. Finally he gave a mental shrug, reached for his practically untouched cup of coffee and flung the contents into his smirking contact's face. Then while the other man sputtered and frantically tried to wipe the lukewarm coffee out of his eyes, Tony jumped from his chair and dashed back into the cafe.
As much as he wanted to slip out into the Berlin traffic, something that would have made it much easier to evade his pursuers, it simply wasn't possible. Between the other two men still in the cafe and however many more might have been in the waiting car there was simply no way for him to escape that way. Instead he slipped inside, easily dodging tables and customers alike as he made his way towards the back of the building.
He ducked into the restroom, a small smile twisting his lips as he realized that he was inside the ladies' room rather than the mens'. If he was lucky, that might just confuse his pursuers enough to buy him another minute or two to escape. He looked quickly around the room, thankful that it seemed to be empty, and his eyes lit up when he saw the window in the far wall that looked just large enough for him to fit through.
He glanced around once more before sliding the window open, breathing a sigh of relief when it opened smoothly and quietly. Then he jumped up and pulled himself through, wincing as his stomach got caught momentarily on the sill. With one final jerk he managed to free himself, then twisted as he fell so as not to hurt himself when he landed on the rough pavement below.
The alley he was in was luckily not a dead end, so Tony snuck quietly but quickly towards the exit furthest from the men he knew were following him, making sure to stay close to the wall. Once he made it, he poked his head around the corner and let out a silent sigh when he couldn't see anyone suspicious. He ducked back into the alley, straightened his clothes, took a deep breath and marched out onto the street, doing his best to look as though he belonged.
His heart was pounding in his ears as he walked, but no one seemed to take any notice of him. He tried to keep his breathing even and his pace steady, as the last thing he needed was to look as though he were in a hurry. Anything that drew attention to himself needed to be avoided at all costs.
Tony kept walking for about ten minutes, not really concerned about the fact that he was getting progressively more lost as the minutes rolled by. So long as no one found him, he could deal with getting lost. After all, he was fairly good at getting himself un-lost, so it wasn't really a worry.
Eventually he decided that he had lost his pursuers and started looking for a phone. He only had access to what was in his pockets as all of his luggage was still in the car that the man he had thought was his contact had picked him up in at the airport, so there was no way that he could leave on his own. His only hope was to get in touch with Control, who he knew would do anything in his power to help, even from back in London.
He finally found a phone booth and stepped inside, rummaging in his pockets for enough change to make the call to London. He cradled the receiver between his shoulder and his ear, then slid the coins into the slot. He punched in the proper numbers almost without thinking, and his breath rushed out when he finally heard Control's voice.
"This is the Secret Service. Control speaking."
Tony closed his eyes in relief, leaning his head against the side of the phone booth. "Hello, Control. I do so hate to be a bother, but I'm afraid that I've run into a slight problem."
He could almost picture Control frowning at him when the other man answered. "Tony, is that you? I had thought that you were supposed to be on assignment in Germany, unless I'm quite mistaken about that."
Tony shook his head even though he knew Control couldn't see it. "You're not mistaken at all, Control. Unfortunately that is the problem that I've run into. I have reason to believe that the man that was sent in as my contact is actually a double agent, and that he had intended to capture me, more than likely in an attempt to discover more of our secrets. I was only barely able to escape."
"Are you quite all right, Tony?" The concern in Control's voice made Tony feel quite warm and safe, even though Control countries away. "I must say that I never would have sent you on this assignment if I'd had any idea that something like that would happen."
Tony's lips curled up in a small smile despite the precariousness of his position. "I'm all right for the moment, Control, though I certainly can't make any promises of that if they should happen to find me. Unfortunately all of my luggage and things are gone, as they were in my contact's car, and I have no way to get back to England on my own. I am sorry to be so much trouble, Control, but I'm going to need a bit of help."
"You aren't any trouble at all, Tony. If anything this whole sorry predicament is my fault for not checking up on things properly." Control paused, and Tony could hear the faint sound of files rattling through the phone. "Philip is currently in Paris, and he can be in Berlin within only a few hours to get you. Can you manage to avoid detection until then, Tony?"
Tony almost collapsed under the weight of his sheer and utter relief. "Of course, Control. I shall make my way back to the airport and await Philip's arrival. I do hate that my assignment had to end this way, though."
Control sighed. "I know, Tony, but it isn't your fault. It seems as though we shall simply have to bring in the entire German network and reassign a whole new group of agents until we can determine which are still loyal and which are not. The very idea is absolutely galling." His voice gentled slightly. "Philip should be in Berlin soon, Tony, and he'll get you back here safe and sound. I'm going to call him just as soon as I finish speaking with you."
"Thank you, Control. I'm not at all ashamed to say that I feel much better now knowing that you're taking care of things. I suppose I should stop talking so that you can get in touch with Philip now. I should be in the airport waiting for him when he arrives."
A slight smile was audible in Control's voice. "Philip will be there as soon as possible, Tony. Then you'll be back home and we can put this whole sorry mess behind us. Do be careful until Philip gets there, though, won't you, Tony?"
Tony nodded. "Of course I will, Control. If all goes well I should see you back in the office in the morning." He paused for a moment, trying to soak up all of the reassurance that he could from Control's presence on the telephone. "Good-bye, Control."
"Good-bye, Tony. Everything will work out, you'll see."
Even after he heard the click that signaled that Control had hung up the phone Tony remained standing in the phone booth for another few minutes. He had run an emotional gauntlet in a very short period of time, going from suspicion to utter terror and then to wonderful relief, and he wanted to be certain that he was once again steady on his feet before he tried to move.
He finally forced himself to walk away, hands in his pockets and shoulders slightly slumped. He was tired, and trying not to draw attention to himself, and for once simply couldn't be bothered to try to stand up straight. He started heading in what he was fairly certain was the general direction of the airport, not even bothering to try to get a taxi since he had virtually no money. It wasn't so far that he couldn't walk, and it would be easier to avoid any other agents on foot.
Keeping one eye focused on his surroundings, Tony couldn't help but wish that he were back home, making Control a cup of coffee. Though hopefully he would be back in London soon enough.
Eric pressed the stop button on the recorder that was hooked up to his tap of Control's office phone and smiled with satisfaction as he reached for his own personal phone. He knew that his superior would be most pleased with his information, especially in light of the retrieval team's dismal failure. None of the agents in Germany had thought for a moment that someone like Tony Murchison would be able to escape them, and had therefore ignored his warnings.
But Eric had seen Murchison in action, though that had been about three years previous, and he knew that even two solid years flying a desk wouldn't strip the other man of his abilities in the field. He had tried to tell them that Murchison would catch on to their rather simplistic plot, that the other man was surprisingly good at disappearing into thin air no matter where he was, but they hadn't listened.
Now the other field agents would be in a great deal of trouble, and he would be the one to save their proverbial bacon.
"It's Red Riding Hood. Murchison got away from the retrieval team, but he's going to be waiting for a pick up in the airport. You need to snatch him before the next flight from Paris arrives and he meets up with Philip. You should have a few hours."
He listened for a moment, nodding at his contact's instructions, then hung up the phone. The new plan had been set in motion, and there was no stopping it. He almost felt bad for Tony Murchison and what the other man would have to endure once his associates caught him, but he put the faint stirring of sympathy out of his mind. He had a job to do, and there was no place for soft feelings anywhere in it.
Control sat the phone receiver down and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The call to Philip had gone off without a hitch, and the other man was already on his way to retrieve Tony. Philip was completely aware of the possible danger, and had reassured him that he would be in and out of Berlin with Tony as quickly as possible and no one would be the wiser.
However, the fact that Tony had needed retrieval so soon, or at all for that matter, was weighing heavily on Control. He hadn't wanted to send Tony on an undercover assignment in the first place, especially not one where the other man would be trying to ferret out British agents who had defected to the East. It was simply too dangerous, and if there was one thing that Control hated it was the idea of sending Tony into danger. Unfortunately he hadn't had a choice, and as he had feared, things had simply fallen apart.
He jerked his head up when he heard the door open, and tried to smile when he saw Valerie coming in. The smile faded completely, though, when he noticed that she was bringing him a cup of coffee.
She frowned as she sat the cup down on the desk. "Is something wrong, Control? Is there anything I can do?"
Control shook his head and reached for the coffee cup. "I'm afraid that Tony has run into some problems with his assignment, Valerie, and I'm a bit concerned about him. It's nothing for you to worry about, though." He did hate fibbing to her like that, but telling her the truth wouldn't have done any good and would just have made her worry as well. Besides which, there were some things that Valerie simply wasn't supposed to know.
Her eyes widened and she reached up to twist a lock of blonde hair. "Oh, how terrible. I do so hope that everything turns out all right."
Control forced a rather weak smile. "I'm sure that it will, Valerie. Tony is, after all, a very good agent."
She smiled and nodded. "Of course, Control. You're quite right. I suppose I had best get back to work now. Enjoy your coffee." Then she slipped back out of the office, closing the door behind her.
The smile virtually fell from Control's face the moment Valerie was out of sight. He had a bad feeling that something still wasn't right, that Tony was still in danger and there was nothing that he could do about it. All he could do was sit and wait. And sitting and waiting for news about Tony was something else that Control hated, almost as much as sending Tony into danger in the first place.
It took Tony almost two hours to reach the airport, and he was extremely thankful that it didn't seem like anyone had followed him, as he was simply too tired to even consider anymore daring escapes through bathroom windows. He made his way towards the gate where Philip's plane would be landing and almost fell into a chair, dropping his head back to rest against the wall and closing his eyes.
He didn't think anything of it when someone sat down in the seat next to him, but his eyes snapped open when he felt something poke him in the side. He glanced down, and his breath caught when he realized that it was the barrel of a gun.
"I wouldn't make any sudden moves, Mr. Murchison, if I were you."
The voice was familiar, and Tony slowly looked up and met the icy green eyes of his German contact. This was not good at all.
"And just so you don't get any bright ideas about making a run for it again, please take a look around."
He did, and went pale when he realized that there were at least three other agents milling around among the oblivious travelers.
"If you try to escape again, Mr. Murchison, we are fully prepared to simply open fire right here, with all of these people around. And somehow I don't believe that you want those innocent lives on your conscience. Now, come with me and no one will get hurt."
Tony deflated, then slowly nodded his head. He was well and truly caught this time, and there was no one there to save him. He could only hope that Philip would figure out what had happened and get word back to Control. And hopefully Control would be able to think of some way to rescue him, before it was too late.
He slowly rose to his feet when his contact prodded him with the gun, and let the other man slide in behind him as they began to walk. The gun barrel pressed insistently against his ribs, and he knew that if it wasn't for the threat of their killing civilians he would have easily been able to disarm the other man, a fact which made the whole sorry affair even more grating.
His headache was returning with a vengeance, though he did his level best not to show it. He did wish, however, that he had taken the opportunity to take a painkiller when it had presented itself. Though he supposed that if he had, while it might have relieved some of his pain it might also have slowed his mind, which was something that he couldn't afford.
Tony let the other man lead him out of the airport, spine almost ramrod straight as he walked. No one was paying them any attention at all; which on the one hand was a relief in that it meant that there was no reason for the corrupt agents to shoot anyone, but on the other hand was a bit disappointing in that it also meant that no one was going to try to help him because they didn't know that anything was wrong.
He briefly considered an escape attempt as they reached the car, but quickly realized that it would be doomed to failure. There were still enough people wandering around to make an attempt at escape simply too dangerous, and he would either be shot and killed or fairly easily recaptured. No, he would have no choice but to go with them and just hope that an escape opportunity would present itself later. Or, of course, that Control would somehow find a way to rescue him.
The hand on the back of his head as he slid into the car made him flinch, especially when he felt the other man's fingers hesitate for a long moment in his hair. The pain in his head spiked suddenly, making his vision temporarily white out, and when he could see again he was squeezed in the backseat of a nondescript car with a silent agent on each side boxing him in. He jumped when he felt cold metal snapping around his wrists, a small bit of hope dying when he looked down and saw the handcuffs binding his hands.
Escape was still possible, but it was looking more and more unlikely.
Control sighed as he read the same sentence for what had to be at least the fifth time, and he still didn't know what it said. He glanced up at the clock, rubbing his hand over his face when he realized that it had only been five minutes since the last time he had looked. He had told Philip to call him the instant he retrieved Tony, and he still hadn't heard from the other man. It was very worrying, and the longer it went with no word the more worried Control got.
He very nearly jumped when the silence of his office was suddenly broken by the ringing of the phone. He reached for the receiver, frowning slightly when he noticed his hand shaking.
"This is the Secret Service. Control speaking."
The voice on the other end of the line was tired. "Hello, Control. It's Philip. I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you."
Control's blood suddenly ran cold, and he had to force his voice to remain steady. "What exactly do you mean by bad news, Philip? What has happened to Tony?"
Philip sighed, and Control could just barely hear the sound of the other man running a hand through his hair. "That's the thing, Control. He's not here. From what I've been able to piece together he was here, but then he left with someone else." Philip paused. "One of the people I talked to said that it didn't look like Tony went with him willingly."
For a long moment Control forgot to breathe. "How did they manage to find him, Philip? He was certain that he had evaded them completely when he managed to call me."
Control could almost hear Philip's apologetic shrug even through the phone line. "I wish I knew, Control. I've checked and double checked lately, so I know it wasn't anything on my end. And I highly doubt it was Tony. He's too good of an agent to be caught out like an amateur that way."
That was certainly the truth. Some of the other agents might think that Tony was a bit quirky, especially because of his extremely polite way of speaking, something that Control had always rather liked, but everyone agreed that he was an exemplary agent. And if he had believed that he had managed to get away from his pursuers, then he had. Which meant that something else had happened to give Tony away.
He heard a faint clicking over the phone line, and his eyes widened when he realized what it must have been. He had been correct in his suppositions that there was a mole in his office, and the mole had tapped his phone. The mole had heard his conversation with Tony, and had sent his fellow double agents to capture him just when Tony would have felt safe.
"Yes, Tony is a good agent, Philip." Control did his best to keep his voice level so as not to reveal to the listening mole that he was aware of him. "I'm sure that if there is any way at all for him to escape, that he will manage to do so. In the mean time, I shall do everything in my power to find him."
Philip seemed to catch on that something wasn't quite right. "Of course, Control. I have a few extra agents that I can bring in to Berlin to do some legwork for you." His voice was sympathetic, though thankfully not overly so. "We'll find him, Control. Just you wait and see."
"Thank you very much for that, Philip. I do appreciate all of your hard work. Now I had best go and make my report. I'm afraid that our masters in Whitehall won't be happy with this at all." He hung up the phone, mind whirling as he tried to figure out the best way to find out just which of his agents had gone rogue. He needed to know as quickly as possible since Tony's life could very well be at stake, and Tony was not something that Control was willing to risk.
He had just started to get up when his office door burst open and Eric came in, one arm wrapped around a terrified Valerie's throat and a gun pointed at her head. Control froze in his seat, hands on the arms of his chair. Apparently he wouldn't have to go searching for the rogue agent after all. Instead, he would have to try to talk him down long enough to save Valerie, and hopefully find out what the other man knew about what had happened to Tony.
"Eric, what do you think you're doing? Please let Valerie go. She hasn't done anything to you."
The other man sneered, never releasing his hold on Valerie. "Oh, hasn't she? I've lost count of the number of times that I tried to get closer to her, tried to let her know how I felt about her." He tilted his head forward to speak directly into her ear. "And every time you blew me off in favor of Tony Murchison. Nothing I did was ever as good as him, and he was too oblivious to even realize it. I've been the laughingstock of the secret service, and I just couldn't take it anymore."
Control sucked in a loud breath, inching one hand closer to his desk drawer. "You're the one who told them where Tony would be, aren't you? You set up a fellow agent of the Queen simply because you were jealous of him."
Eric tightened his hold on Valerie, causing her to gasp for breath. "I wouldn't have had to set him up if he had just had the decency not to escape the first time. It was sheer luck that I was monitoring the tap on your phone when he called for help. I shall be greatly rewarded by my superiors for delivering Murchison to them. They were quite eager for the chance to grab him."
Control's hand was still slowly heading for his desk drawer, but it almost jerked to a halt at the sheer malice in the other man's voice when he spoke of Tony. Then his fingers brushed the drawer handle, and he glanced to the side to meet Valerie's frightened eyes. She was visibly trying not to hyper-ventilate, but she looked at him bravely and gave the barest of nods. She was still utterly terrified, but she would be ready to move when he gave her a signal.
Then the choice was taken out of his hands.
Eric tightened his grip on Valerie's throat once more, then turned the gun on Control. "You should be thankful that I'm willing to make your death quick and painless. Murchison will be begging for death by the time they're finished with him."
The sudden roaring in Control's ears at that almost drowned out Eric's grunt of pain as Valerie viciously slammed her elbow back into his stomach. The rogue agent practically flung her to the ground, gun swinging to aim at her rather than at Control. For his part, Control jerked open the desk drawer and grabbed the gun that he kept concealed there, bringing it up to aim at Eric.
Then the sharp crack of both guns firing echoed through the room, and Control watched dispassionately as Eric slowly toppled to the ground, Control's bullet in his heart. A pained gurgle brought Control sliding out of his chair and onto his knees next to a bleeding Valerie. She coughed wetly, and Control grimaced at the blood that flecked her lips. The bullet had apparently struck a lung, and Valerie was currently dying on his office floor.
She tried to smile up at him, reaching up to try to rub off a bright drop of blood that had landed on his cheek when she coughed. "You will save Tony, won't you, Control?" Valerie's voice was weak and breathy as she tried to talk, and Control had to lean down to make certain that he heard her. After everything she had done, the very least he could do was to make sure that her last words were heard.
"Of course, Valerie. Tony shall be back in London safe and sound before you know it." They both knew that he was fibbing again, but he thought that she probably appreciated the sentiment anyway.
"Thank you, Control." She coughed again weakly, more blood dribbling down her chin. "And when you find him, would you please tell Tony that I love him, and that I'm sorry that I couldn't tell him myself?"
Control didn't bother to ask her to tell Tony herself. They both knew that she was dying, and Control wouldn't cheapen her death by pretending that it wasn't happening. "I promise that I will, Valerie." He ignored the sound of pounding footsteps heading for him, and leaned down far enough to press a kiss to Valerie's forehead and lightly grasp her hand. "I am so very sorry that things had to turn out this way, Valerie."
She chuckled faintly. "So am I, Control. So am I." Then her breath hitched, her eyes slid closed and her hand slipped limply out of Control's grasp.
Control closed his eyes, forcing back tears as he let the newly arrived agents pull him away from Valerie's body. Then he took a deep breath, reached for his dropped gun and pushed himself to his feet. He ignored the questions that the other agents were practically shouting at him and virtually marched out of his office, his back ramrod straight.
He had a promise to keep, and a missing agent to find.
Tony hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was afraid. The men who had taken him had blindfolded him only a few minutes into the car trip, tying the scarf almost too tightly across his eyes and completely blocking his vision. Then they had driven for what had felt like hours, but with the number of turns they had made they could have taken him almost anywhere in or around Berlin. Which meant that he had no idea where he was.
When the car had finally stopped he had been pulled out roughly, his bound hands making it hard for him to get his balance. They dragged him along by the handcuffs, never bothering to remove the blindfold. Eventually he was shoved down in a chair, one wrist released just long enough for them to pull his arms around behind his back and cuff him again with the handcuff chain attached somehow to the back of the chair.
Then they had left him, still blindfolded and bound to the chair. He was able to stretch his legs out, but that was about the only movement he could make. The blindfold kept him in complete darkness, and if anyone was still in the room with him they were making no noise. It was extremely unnerving.
He forced his breathing to remain slow and even, twisting his hands to see if there was any way for him to get out of the handcuffs. After a few minutes he was forced to admit that there wasn't, but he kept trying anyway, being careful not to rub his wrists raw.
The longer he sat in silence the faster his heart began to race, no matter how he tried to calm himself. And the more the pain in his head began to spike and throb in time with his pulse. He finally closed his eyes under the blindfold and began mentally chanting to himself in rhythm with his breathing.
'Control will find me. Control will find me. Control will find me.'
His mantra was interrupted when what he assumed was the door to the room slammed open, loudly banging against the wall and making him jerk in his chair. He could hear two pairs of shoes tapping against the floor as the men circled him, neither of them saying a word. He turned his head, trying to keep at least one of them in what would have been visual range had he not been blindfolded, but it was difficult when they were circling his chair in opposite directions.
Then suddenly one of them shot out a hand and hit him across the jaw, making his head rock back and bright sparks explode behind his eyes. Only an instant later, the other one (at least Tony assumed that it was the other one) hit him open-handed across the back of his head, forcing his body away from the chair and putting painful pressure on his bound wrists and arms.
The beating soon moved away from his pounding head as punches were aimed at his chest and abdomen, though none of the blows were quite strong enough to break any bones. In the back of his mind he theorized that they were attempting to cause the maximum amount of pain with the least amount of actual physical damage. And unfortunately for him, if that was indeed the case, they were both very talented.
They seemed to decide that it was time for a break when one blow nearly knocked his chair over backwards, something that more than likely would have resulted in at least one broken arm. They steadied his chair, gave him one last smack across the mouth that split his lower lip and walked out of the room, closing the door behind themselves.
The entire agonizing scene had been acted out in a complete silence that had only been broken by Tony's gasps of pain.
Tony absently licked his now-bloody lips as he tried to squirm into a slightly more comfortable position in his chair, and failed miserably. No matter how he twisted and shifted his entire body hurt, the majority of the pain focusing on his pounding head and aching chest. He took a deep breath, hissing when his almost-certainly bruised ribs protested.
They hadn't asked him any questions, hadn't made any demands. Either they were simply attempting to loosen him up a bit before starting on the actual interrogation, or there wasn't going to be any interrogation at all, and he was being used as an object lesson. Either way, things weren't looking very good at all.
But one thought kept repeating in his mind and kept him from giving up all hope. Control knew that he was missing, because Philip would have told him. And Control would eventually find him and save him. He just had to hang on until then. He wouldn't let Control down.
Control quickly made his way down to the sub-basement of the Secret Service building, completely ignoring anyone who tried to talk to him. The speed of gossip was faster than light even among intelligence agents, and he could almost feel the pity that his fellow agents were sending his way, though whether it was pity for his murdered secretary or his missing and captured agent he didn't know, nor did he particularly care.
All he cared about was getting the equipment that he would need to mount a rescue mission, getting to Berlin and then getting Tony back in one piece.
If it had been any other agent who had gone missing Control would have left the retrieval mission to other agents who were still out in the field, a fact he freely admitted. But he couldn't find it in himself to leave Tony's rescue to anyone else, even though it had been years since Control had been out in the field himself. He simply couldn't trust Tony's safety to anyone else.
Which was why he was going to fly out to Berlin and take over the rescue mission personally.
Of course, Control was well aware of the fact that his being behind a desk for the past few years would make his rescue operation a bit more difficult, which was why he was going to make absolutely certain that he was properly equipped. It simply would not do for him to get to Berlin and then be unable to rescue Tony due to a lack of proper equipment.
He pushed open the door to Arthur's office, ducking automatically as something he didn't bother to identify came sailing out of the office and over his head. Arthur was the Secret Service's version of Q, so everyone mostly ignored his idiosyncrasies. Even the ones that had an unfortunate tendency to explode, which was quite a few of them.
Control had barely managed to get the office door closed behind him when Arthur himself suddenly popped up from behind the desk, a pair of odd-looking goggles hiding his eyes. "Control, what can I do you for today? It's not often that you pay anyone down here a visit." He grinned, shoving the goggles back to rest against the top of his head.
Control tried to smile back politely, but couldn't quite manage it. "I am in desperate need of assistance, Arthur, and quickly. I have an agent to rescue, and not much time to do it in. I shall need a complete outfitting, I'm afraid."
The smile almost fell from Arthur's face and he grew quickly serious. "It's young Murchison, isn't it?" He chuckled dryly at Control's mildly shocked expression. "You care about the safety of all of your agents, Control, but there aren't many that you would go out into the field for, and Murchison is at the top of the list. What sort of trouble has he gotten into now?"
Control sighed. "I'm afraid that he had been captured by enemy agents, Arthur. He would have managed to save himself if it hadn't been for a mole in my own office. Now, what will I need to rescue him?"
Arthur practically dove into a large box and began riffling through the contents, muttering to himself the entire time. From time to time he would pull out an object, tilt his head at it in thought and either drop it back into the box or sit it on his desk. The small pile of miscellaneous objects on the desk grew until finally Arthur sat back on his heels and nodded in apparent satisfaction.
"Here's what you need, Control. There's even a couple of things here that I wouldn't normally give to anyone, but I'm making an exception for you. Anything at all to help Murchison." He reached for one of the smaller items, holding it up for Control's inspection. "This is an electronic bug detector. It looks like an ordinary wrist watch, but if you press this button on the side of the watch face the hands will move to tell you whether there are any microphones within one hundred yards."
Arthur then reached for something else while Control slipped the bug detector on his wrist. "Now this looks like an ordinary belt with which you hold up your trousers...which it will certainly do. However, there is also a very thin, very strong rope within the belt which is attached to the buckle, which doubles as a grappling hook. The rope is virtually invisible, but is sturdy enough to hold the weight of four grown men safely."
Control arched an eyebrow as he reached for the belt. It didn't sound like something that he would need, but it was better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. And if he didn't have it, the odds were quite good that he would indeed need it.
"Now this you'll need to be extra careful with, Control. It looks like a perfectly ordinary ink pen. However, if you click the button twice, it turns into an armed grenade. You'll have thirty seconds after arming it before it explodes. If necessary, you can disarm it by clicking it three more times." Arthur reached out and tucked the pen bomb into Control's shirt pocket.
Finally he picked up a small plastic case and popped it open. "And this is my personal favorite: the skeleton key lock picks. There hasn't been a lock invented that these picks can't open. It sounds to me like you'll need them."
Control took the case and slipped it into his coat pocket. "Thank you very much, Arthur. I'm certain that these will help tremendously. I must be on my way now, though. I'm afraid that Tony may not have much time left, and I still do not know exactly where he is."
Arthur's lips twitched up in a small smile as he patted Control on the arm. "You'll save him, Control. And he knows that."
Control nodded, thanked Arthur again and walked out of the office. Arthur just shook his head in wry amusement. Perhaps once Control had rescued young Murchison the two of them would finally realize how they felt about each other. Though that might be giving the two stubborn and oblivious men just a little bit too much credit.
Tony had no idea how long it had been since the men had left him. The blindfold was still tied tightly across his eyes, and his arms were beginning to ache from being pulled behind him. And no matter how hard he had tried, his wrists were painfully raw from rubbing against the handcuffs. On top of the bruises that he could feel rising across his torso and his lingering headache, Tony was one big ball of discomfort.
His head jerked up when he heard the door open, and he sputtered when a bucket of freezing cold water was unceremoniously dumped over his head. He choked as some of the water went down his throat, his coughing making pain flair hotly in his bruised ribs. He jerked his head back when he sensed a hand moving towards his face, but suddenly a hand gripped his chin hard, holding his head still. Then the blindfold was yanked off.
Tony blinked as he tried to shake the water out of his eyes so that he could look around. The room he was in was very small, nothing but bare concrete walls and no windows. One bare lightbulb hung over his head, leaving the room somewhat gloomy looking.
There was one man standing in front of the closed, and Tony assumed locked, door with his arms crossed over his chest and virtually no expression on his face. The other man was standing in front of Tony, the wet blindfold still clutched in his hand. Unlike the door guard, this man had what could only be described as an evil smile on his face and his cool blue eyes were lit with an almost unholy mirth at Tony's pain.
Tony took a deep breath, mentally reminding himself once again that Control would eventually find him, and focused on the man in front of him. "I don't know why you felt the need to kidnap me, sir, but I feel that I should warn you that if you did so in an attempt to gain some useful intelligence, I'm afraid that you shall be sadly disappointed."
The man chuckled, and the sound sent shivers up Tony's spine. "The problem with that supposition, Murchison, is you are assuming that we want to make you talk. While that would be a nice bonus, I will admit, that isn't the main purpose behind grabbing you." He shook his head, reaching out to slide a finger down Tony's cheek before suddenly backhanding him and once again splitting his lower lip.
"What we want is for you to suffer, Murchison."
Tony licked the blood off of his lips with a grimace. While it was a good thing that he wouldn't have to watch his tongue quite so diligently to make certain that he didn't spill any important national secrets, the idea that they were going to torture him simply for fun filled him with an icy dread. He could only hope that Control would arrive soon.
Once Control left Arthur's office he took only enough time to make a few vital phone calls: one call for Mrs. Control to let her know that things at the office had taken a bad turn and that he wouldn't be home for a while, and one call for Philip to let the other man know that Control was on his way to Germany, and that he should put together a report on what he had discovered while searching for Tony to be available as soon as Control arrived. The call to Mrs. Control at least had been short; oftentimes she either didn't expect him to come home or she wasn't home herself as she spent a great deal of time off visiting her sister.
The call to Philip had been short as well, though not nearly so simple. The other man had managed to find a few leads, but he wasn't overly optimistic about them, something that it was fairly obvious he hated having to tell Control. It seemed as though Tony had simply vanished into thin air, and finding him was going to be difficult. And adding to the uncertainty was the very real possibility that the longer it took to find him the more likely it would be that he would no longer be alive for them to find.
Control had to forcibly avoid thoughts like that, as every time he started to worry that Tony might no longer be alive the mental image of a bloody and broken Tony would appear in his mind, complete with whispered accusations that Control simply hadn't tried hard enough to find him, that it was Control's fault that he was dead. And while he knew that the real Tony would never blame him for his predicament, Control couldn't help but at least partially blame himself.
He hadn't wanted to send Tony back undercover, and he had known that Tony was loathe to go back under as well, no matter how the other man had tried to hide it. But he had felt that he had no choice, and despite his misgivings he had sent Tony out with minimal information and no backup into a very dangerous situation that had almost immediately blown up in his face. And no matter what his mind told him, Control knew that if anything happened to Tony he would never be able to forgive himself.
He sighed as he stepped onto the plane that would take him to Berlin. All of Arthur's gadgets were secreted on his person and he had the preliminary reports of corruption among the German agents that Tony had gone to investigate. He hoped that between the information he already had and the information that Philip was collecting for him he would be able to at least come up with a place to start.
And a place to start was all that he really needed. As uncomfortable as he often found it, so long as he had access to one man who was involved in the plot to kidnap Tony he would be able to find out everything that the man knew. Control may have hated having to preside over interrogations, but that didn't mean that he couldn't do it. And for Tony he would be willing to do almost anything. He only needed a chance.
And perhaps, if he did get Tony back safely, he would finally tell the other man just how he felt.
The second time the two men had left him alone in the small room they had also left the blindfold off, though it didn't make things very much easier for Tony. While he could see, which was certainly nice, there was simply nothing in the small room for him to look at and nothing for him to use to measure just how long he had been trapped there. He was still chained to the chair, and everything that wasn't bruised beyond belief was starting to violently cramp, especially his bound arms. He was hungry, he was thirsty, he was tired and he was terribly frightened.
Eventually the door opened again, and this time a woman entered. She was small and thin, with large blue eyes and a long, dark brown braid hanging down her back. She stared at him in silence as she closed the door behind her, then shook her head and clicked her tongue at him.
She walked around behind him and started moving things around that he couldn't quite manage to see. After a moment she came back, a glass of water in one hand. All without speaking, she knelt in front of Tony's chair and pressed the glass to his lips, tilting it up slowly so that he could drink.
The pressure of the glass split his lower lip yet again, and the blood that oozed out of the cut stained his mouth and flavored the water with the almost sickening taste of iron. He gulped the water anyway, his thirst canceling out any real concerns that the water might be drugged. Drugging him didn't seem to be these people's style anyway, so Tony felt it was worth the risk.
After he had drained the glass, the woman stood back up and once again walked around behind him. When she appeared the second time, she was holding a piece of bread which she held in front of his mouth just close enough for him to stretch his neck out and eat it. And once he had finished, she reached out to pat his head before pulling a new blindfold out of her jacket pocket and fastening it across his eyes again.
Once she was certain that the blindfold was secure she patted his head again and then walked towards the door. While Tony couldn't see, he could hear the door open and what sounded like footsteps going out before the door closed again, leaving him alone once more.
Tony was fairly certain that he knew where this new angle was heading. The two men would beat him, and then the woman would come in and feed him, make him a bit more comfortable. He would eventually come to rely on her and appreciate her. Then they would allow her to join in on the beatings, or perhaps they would pretend that they were going to beat her while forcing him to watch. Either way, he was fairly certain that she was in on the whole sorry thing, and would do his best not to fall for any of their tricks.
He sighed, shifting in his chair and trying to take some of the pressure off of his arms. He just had to hang on long enough for Control to find him. Though if he could find some way to save himself, it would make things so much easier for Control. He would wait, though he didn't have much of a choice in that regard, and watch for an opportunity to escape. And in the meantime, he would simply try to survive.
Philip was waiting when Control's plane landed in Berlin. The other man was pacing in the arrivals area, a briefcase clutched in one hand while the other hand was constantly running back and forth through his straight blond hair. He had a worried frown on his face, and from the dark circles under his eyes it was obvious that he was exhausted.
Control walked quickly towards him, sighing when he saw Philip's apologetic head shake. "I'm sorry, Control, but we still haven't been able to figure out where Tony's been taken. We have a few more leads, but nothing concrete."
Control just patted Philip on the shoulder. "It's not your fault, Philip. I know that you are doing your best, and I'm certain that Tony knows it, as well. We shall persevere."
Philip nodded and handed over the briefcase. "Everything that I've found so far is in there, Control. And I've informed all of my agents that are still out in the field investigating to inform you the moment they have any additional information. If you have any questions, all of the agents' contact information is in the briefcase, in code of course."
"Of course." He sighed, straightening his already straight suit jacket. "Is there anything else, Philip?"
Philip glanced around the busy airport, then stepped closer to Control and lowered his voice. "Well, there is one more thing, Control. This is completely unofficial, and if anyone asks neither you nor I had anything to do with anything, but there is a safe house just on the outskirts of Berlin that is fully stocked with anything you or Tony might need, including weapons. Just in case. Directions are in the case, along with a key."
The barest of smiles twitched Control's lips at that. Philip was ignoring several rules and regulations in telling him this, and Control greatly appreciated the risk the other man was taking. "Thank you, Philip. I can't tell you how much this means to me."
"Just bring Tony back, Control. He's worth it, and a lot more besides."
Control nodded. "Yes, he is, isn't he?" He shook Philip's hand, expression almost unnaturally calm. "Thank you again, Philip. Hopefully, all of this won't be necessary."
Then as Control walked away, Philip stared after him and shook his head, voice so low that no one else could hear him. "Somehow, I don't think you're going to be that lucky, Control. I just hope that this doesn't push you too far."
Tony had just barely managed to doze off despite the ache in his head and arms when the door to his cell slammed open, the noise causing him to jerk his head up too quickly. He hissed at the new pain in his neck, then grunted as a hand suddenly appeared on the back of his head and pushed him as far forward on the chair as his bound hands would allow. One cuff was unlocked, and his arms were unceremoniously pulled in front of him and then recuffed.
The hand moved from his head to his elbow and forced him to lurch to his feet. His legs were cramped from being unable to shift them enough, and Tony stumbled sideways into his captor, earning him a sharp smack across the mouth. The blindfold was yanked off, and he blinked rapidly in the sudden light.
One man was holding his arm, while two others were standing guard at the door. The room itself was empty except for his chair, a small table sitting against the back wall and a rather ominous-looking bucket over in the far corner. He grimaced when he was dragged over towards the bucket, painfully aware of what its purpose more than likely was. When the man at his elbow smirked at him and gestured towards his belt, Tony knew that he was correct in his suppositions.
He kept his eyes trained on the wall in front of him as he unzipped his pants. As humiliating as the whole experience was he was forced to admit that at least it was somewhat less horrific than the alternative. He did his best to ignore the other men in the room, though it was rather difficult with one of them still tightly gripping his arm.
Once he was finished he was allowed to re-zip his pants, then he was dragged back over to the chair and virtually dropped into it. They repeated the uncuffing and recuffing ritual again, though while they forced his arms back behind him again they didn't attach the handcuff chain to the chair. Then they retied the blindfold tightly across his eyes.
Unlike the last times he had been visited in his cell, he didn't hear the door open. Instead, he heard the barely-there footsteps of one of the men walking slowly around his chair. He tried to brace for the blow that he knew was coming, but it was much more forceful than any of the others he had suffered.
And because he was no longer chained to the chair he slammed painfully into the floor. He just managed to twist as he fell so that he wouldn't land on his bound wrists, but the impact still jarred his arms as he couldn't catch himself properly. He heard the chair scraping the floor as it was shoved away an instant before a booted foot kicked at his ribs. He could hear one rib crack as pain flared hotly in his chest, made even worse by his instinctive inhalation.
The blows continued to rain down, though none of them were quite as damaging at the first kick. Tony tried to curl around his injured midsection, but that only encouraged his captor to move his blows to his back and sides.
The beating continued for several minutes, though his captor was careful not to break any more bones. Eventually, one blow missed its intended target and slammed into his head, dropping Tony into blissful unconsciousness.
Control glanced around the hallway as he slipped the key into the lock. The building certainly didn't look like it contained a safe house, which he supposed was the point of putting it there in the first place. But since the key that Philip had given him fit the lock perfectly, he gathered that it was indeed the safe house he had spoken about.
He opened the door quietly and stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he looked around the room. The front room looked like any front room in any flat, and it only became evident that it wasn't just any ordinary flat when Control entered the bedroom.
There were all sorts of medical supplies against one wall that Control very fervently hoped that he wouldn't need, even though he had a sinking suspicion that he probably would. Though when he gave it a bit more thought, he wouldn't actually be upset at all at having to make use of the medical supplies if it meant that Tony was alive for him to use them on.
On the other side of the room from the medical supplies was the weaponry that Philip had promised him. There was a little of everything there, from normal pistols to at least two different sniper rifles to knives of all sizes to what looked like a crossbow. Control wasn't sure what sort of situation would call for a crossbow, but he supposed that whoever had supplied the safe house had simply been covering all of the bases.
There were various other things around the room, and a quick glance at the kitchen showed that there was enough food stockpiled to feed a small army for several weeks. Control nodded in satisfaction; all he would have to do was find Tony and bring him back to the safe house. They would be able to remain there safely for as long as it took for Tony to be able to travel.
All that was left for Control to do was to find him and rescue him.
The first thing Tony was aware of when he finally returned to consciousness was pain. It radiated through every part of his body, though the pain was especially strong in his head and his chest. He tried his best not to move, hoping that if there was anyone watching him they thought that he was still unconscious. He strained his ears, keeping his breathing shallow so as not to aggravate his cracked rib.
After a few moments of silence he finally decided that he had once again been left alone in his cell. He carefully blinked his eyes open, sighing when he realized that the blindfold was still covering his eyes. He shifted slightly on the floor to try to take the pressure off of his somewhat numb arm, wincing as a pins and needles feeling began shooting up from his wrist.
He jerked when he heard the chair scrape backwards on the floor. Apparently he wasn't quite as alone as he had thought.
"So, how are you enjoying your stay here, Murchison? Having fun yet?"
Tony raised his head, turning in the general direction of the voice even though he couldn't actually see the man who was speaking. "I must..." He coughed then, trying to clear his throat. "I must admit that I'm not exactly enjoying my stay here at all. The accommodations leave something to be desired, I'm afraid to say."
His head rocked back when a fist connected with his already sore jaw. "I hate to admit it, but I'm impressed with you, Murchison. I didn't think that you would still be capable of snark like that. Of course, I didn't know that you were ever capable of snark, so who knows if perhaps your captivity is having an effect on you, after all."
That statement had Tony somewhat confused. The man's voice wasn't familiar, so he had no idea where the man might have known him from, or even if he had known him at all. He supposed that he might have worked with one of the other rogue agents before, and they might have told this man what he was like.
Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders, and Tony was manhandled until he was on his feet, teeth clenched at the increasing pain in his chest. Then he was forced down into the chair, the whole time still completely blind. A glass was pressed to his rather dry and cracked lips, and water was poured into his mouth. Unlike when the unnamed woman had aided him, the water was poured too fast for him to drink, causing it to spill down his chin.
He choked slightly on the liquid, the sudden coughing putting even more pressure on his sore ribs and burning his throat. He shook his head in an attempt to shake the water from his face, but strong fingers suddenly tightened in his hair, holding his head still. Then they yanked his head backwards, the angle straining his neck.
Even though he couldn't see, he could sense the other man's face mere inches from his own. "Stay still, Murchison. If you won't behave, steps will have to be taken."
The other man's voice was cold, but Tony could hear a hint of amused malice in it, making him shudder. The fingers were still tightly gripping his hair, keeping him from moving his head even a little bit, and that small loss of freedom made Tony's blood run cold.
"Now, are you going to be a good boy, Murchison, or am I going to have to teach you a lesson?"
Tony didn't say a word. He simply tried to relax his neck muscles in order to loosen a bit of the tension that resulted from having his head pulled so far back. It didn't really work all that well, but he figured that any lessening of pain would be a good thing. Then he shuddered as the fingers that had been gripping his hair began stroking through it instead. He was fairly certain that this new twist was simply an attempt to unnerve him, but that knowledge unfortunately in no way kept him from being unnerved as his captors wanted.
He was actually somewhat relieved when the hand finally left his hair and struck him across the mouth instead. The pain of a beating he was at least familiar with, and while he would certainly never choose it, he had to admit that it was better than what the fingers in his hair had intimated.
It was only a moment before he received a blow strong enough to fling him from the chair again and drop him to the floor. He didn't quite manage to twist properly this time and landed fairly hard on his bound wrists, though thankfully not quite hard enough to break any bones, though from the pain shooting up his arms it was a close thing indeed.
His captor managed to avoid striking his head this time, so Tony was forced to remain conscious during the entire beating. He gasped when he felt another rib snap, and from the sharp pain it was fairly obvious that this one wasn't merely cracked. Another kick caught his knee, and he could feel the joint wrench painfully.
An indeterminate amount of time later the beating finally stopped. Tony was curled up on the floor still trying to protect his ribs, a feat made more difficult since he couldn't use his arms as they were still cuffed behind his back. He flinched slightly when the other man spit at him, just barely managing to jerk his head out of the way.
He followed the sound of the other man's footsteps as he walked towards the door. The man paused when he reached it, and Tony could feel the weight of the other man's gaze as he stared back over his shoulder at him.
"Enjoy your reprieve while it lasts, Murchison. We've been lenient so far. It won't last for much longer."
Tony heard the door open and his captor walk through. Then it closed with a loud bang, leaving Tony all alone with only his thoughts and his pain for company.
Control was somewhat nervous as he sat in a corner of the small cafe. It had been some time since he was last out in the field, and he hated the fact that his return to fieldwork was brought about by Tony's going missing. Well, he would have hated the idea that Tony had gone missing no matter what, but he especially hated the fact that Tony's well-being depended on his somewhat rusty undercover skills.
He glanced casually around the cafe, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man he was looking for. Philip's information had stated that one of the men that they suspected of being involved with the ring of rogue agents that Tony had come to investigate often frequented this cafe, and Control was planning on having a stiff word with him should the other man show up.
Every few moments he would glance down at his wrist, where the bug detector disguised as a watch rested, but so far there was no electronic activity. The belt that Arthur had given him was safely around his waist, and the pen bomb was tucked in his shirt pocket where he could get to it quickly in the event of an emergency.
He absently took a sip of his coffee, grimacing once again at the taste. It wasn't nearly as good as Tony's coffee, but it was almost instinctive for him to take a drink if he had a coffee cup in front of him. He only ever realized what he was doing when the rather bitter taste exploded across his tongue.
Control was beginning to consider moving on to his next target when the man he had been waiting for finally entered the cafe, thankfully alone. He waited for the other man to take a seat, also over in a corner, then rose to his feet and made his way to the other man's table.
He sat down across from the suspected rogue agent, allowing his jacket to open just enough for the other man to see that he was armed. The other man's eyes widened slightly, and Control allowed himself to feel a hint of satisfaction. Perhaps he wasn't completely rusty at this, after all.
"What do you know about the British agent that was kidnapped? If you tell me everything you know, I shall be nice and let you go. Otherwise, I will be forced to become violent, something that I would rather not have to do."
The other man stammered for a moment, but apparently something in Control's eyes told him that he was serious. He glanced furtively around the cafe, then leaned forward and began to speak in a hushed tone of voice.
"I don't know much, and that's the truth. All I know is that a group of guys grabbed him at the airport and took him somewhere in the city. I got no idea who's behind the whole thing, only that this wasn't a mission approved by any of the Russian higher-ups. Whoever's doing this, it's personal."
Control's blood ran cold at that thought. He had assumed that Tony had been taken simply because he was a British agent, and the Soviets intended to interrogate him. The idea that someone had taken him instead simply because he was Tony Murchison was almost more than Control could bear.
"Do you know where he is?"
The other man shook his head. "All I know is that he's probably still alive. I got the idea that they wanted him to suffer before they finally killed him."
All that Control could hear for a long moment was his own blood roaring in his ears. His eyes went cold as he stared at the rogue agent in front of him. "You will leave here, you will not speak to anyone and you will not tell anyone that you have seen me, or I shall have to track you down and kill you."
The rogue agent hesitated for only a moment before he stiffly rose to his feet and left the cafe, glancing over his shoulder at Control the entire time. For his part, Control simply took a long sip of his rather bad coffee, and tried to decide who else on Philip's list might have the information he needed.
Philip sat on a bench in one of Berlin's small parks, trying to decide what to do with the information he had just been given. One of his most trusted agents had finally returned from an intelligence gathering mission, and had told Philip the one thing that he had not been prepared to hear. He now knew the identity of the man who was ultimately behind Tony Murchison's abduction. He knew why the whole sorry incident had come about.
The only question now was how he was going to tell Control.
The tall man quietly opened the small window in the door to Tony's cell and peered inside. The British agent was sleeping fitfully, curled up on the cold floor and still wearing the blindfold over his eyes. His hands were still cuffed behind him, and he looked completely and utterly miserable.
The man smiled as he slid the window closed again. So far things were going almost exactly as he had planned. Even Tony's initial escape had worked to his advantage since Control now knew that his prized agent was missing, and assumed to be in enemy hands. Control would be tearing himself up wondering just what was being done to Murchison, wondering whether the other man was even still alive or not.
He had been wanting to find the perfect way to show Control his appreciation, and then Murchison had practically walked right into his hands. He only wished that he would be able to see the expression on Control's face when Murchison was finally returned to him, bloody and broken. If everything worked out properly, Murchison would only live long enough for Control to see him one last time, making his death even more traumatic.
He smiled coldly, reaching up to straighten his tie and brush off his jacket. Perhaps he would sit in on the next session and offer some suggestions. He eagerly looked forward to the moment when Murchison was finally allowed to see his face.
It always was so nice to raise someone's hopes and then see those hopes dashed to the ground. It gave him a sort of warm, fuzzy feeling right in the pit of his stomach. He liked that, quite a lot.
Control's second meeting with a suspected rogue agent hadn't been much more informative than the first had been, though he had learned for certain that Tony was still alive. Unfortunately, the second agent couldn't give Control any kind of idea about how long Tony would remain alive.
The third agent, however, had a great deal more information to give him. He had apparently been approached by one of the men who had taken Tony and asked if he wanted a part in the operation. When he had found out that it was a personal mission, headed up by one man who seemed to have a score to settle with Control, he had wisely bowed out.
After pumping the man for everything he knew, which wasn't all that difficult as the man seemed to want to talk which always made interrogations so much easier, Control was feeling cautiously optimistic. He had a whole new list of names that he was fairly certain were actually involved in Tony's disappearance, and he even knew where to find most of them.
All he would have to do would be make them talk, and as much as the idea normally made him slightly queasy, this time it was completely different. This time, it was for Tony.
Tony woke suddenly when a bucket of cold water was dumped over his head. He tried to jerk away, but between the pain in his ribs, his knee and his bound arms he didn't get very far. A pair of hands was suddenly at the collar of his shirt, and as he tried to lean back and away from whoever was in front of him, the man yanked on his shirt forcing the buttons to fly off and his now-wet shirt to split completely open, exposing his chest.
With the blindfold still over his eyes he had no idea just how many people were in the room with him, a fact that was somewhat unsettling. His ribs ached, his knee throbbed, his arms were almost numb and it felt like shards of ice were stabbing him in the temples in perfect time with his heartbeat.
Then he gasped as something drew a fiery line across his already injured ribs. An instant later, the coppery scent of his own blood filled his nose, making him slightly queasy. Apparently, simply beating him wasn't enough anymore and his captors had brought out a knife.
They kept the cuts shallow, just enough to hurt but not enough to cause any permanent damage. The cuts never strayed from his chest and stomach, but were connected to each other in what felt like intricate patterns. Or possibly words, though he didn't like to think about what that possibility might mean for him.
Tony hated the fact that they never asked him any questions. At least if they were interrogating him he would have some idea of exactly what they wanted him for. Plus, he had been trained in enough interrogation evasion techniques that he could give away just enough information to keep himself alive long enough to either escape or be rescued.
But they weren't asking him any questions; in fact they had specifically stated that they had no desire to ask him anything. They had only bothered to speak to him at all a handful of times. Most of the time he was beaten in almost complete silence, which when added to his current blindness made him feel especially helpless.
Tony always had hated feeling helpless.
He knew that unless his condition changed rather dramatically for the better he would have no choice but to wait to be rescued by Control. He had no idea where he was, he was locked in a small room with no windows and his hands were constantly cuffed behind his back. Though even if he could somehow get his hands free, he had no guarantee that he would be able to use his arms as he could barely even feel them anymore.
Tony was pulled back to the present when one of the men chuckled darkly, right before another bucket of water was flung over his head. However, as the cuts on his torso began to sting and burn he realized that unlike the last bucket of water, it had been filled with salt water. He sputtered and hissed, trying to ignore the laughter of what sounded like three different men.
After a moment, though, Tony froze in disbelief. One of the men sounded hauntingly familiar, though the ill-concealed malice in his laughter was foreign. He shook his head roughly, firmly telling himself that he hadn't actually heard what he thought that he had. It simply wasn't possible. There was no conceivable way that it could possibly be the man that he thought it was.
Then the blindfold was unceremoniously jerked from over his eyes, and he blinked at the sudden light. An instant later, the light was blocked by a tall man with a very familiar silhouette. He reached down, gripped Tony's hair tightly and pulled his head back until their eyes met.
"Hello, Tony. Did you miss me?"
Tony's eyes were wide as he recognized the other man, and he tried to shake his head in desperate denial even with the tight grip the other man had on his hair. Images from his last undercover mission began swimming through his mind, all of the things that he had tried so hard to forget in the two years since he had escaped. Things that the man standing in front of him had done, laughing all the while.
He recognized that he was starting to slide into a flashback, and Tony tried to control his breathing as the other man flung him to the floor and chuckled dryly.
"Surely it hasn't been so long that you've forgotten all about me, Tony. I would have thought that I was fairly memorable." He smiled as he knelt down and ran a possessive hand over Tony's bowed head. "Well, no matter. I'm confident that we can rectify that situation before you are forced to leave us again. I for one am quite looking forward to it."
Then he rose confidently to his feet and walked towards the door, turning to glance over his shoulder at the other men in the room. "Do try not to break him too terribly much just yet please, gentlemen. My colleague still has other plans for Mr. Murchison here."
And with a flourish, he was gone and the door swung shut behind him, leaving Tony alone with the other two men, both of whom were wearing anticipatory smiles on their faces.
Tony tried to brace himself when he saw one of the men heading towards him, the hated blindfold in one hand. Knowing what he did now about at least one of the men who was behind his kidnapping, Tony could not simply take yet another beating without at least making an attempt at fighting back. Not anymore.
It was difficult to maneuver without being able to use his arms, but Tony managed to shift up onto his knees just in time to ram his head into the stomach of the man with the blindfold. The man grunted in pain, and Tony tried desperately to rise to his feet. He had just managed to get steady when the other man aimed a strong kick at his already swollen knee, almost dislocating the joint and sending him crashing back down to the ground in pain.
Once he was down, the other man joined in on the act, seemingly wanting to make up for Tony's having caught him off guard. After several painful kicks, the larger of the two men hauled Tony up by his bound arms and practically threw him into the wall. Tony only had an instant to feel the pain of his bloody and bruised chest hitting the wall before his head impacted as well, sending him into unconsciousness once again.
It had taken Control an entire day of waiting to finally find the first man on his new list. He hated that the longer he waited the longer it would be before he found Tony, but it was necessary, no matter how distasteful it was. He had found a bench that was close enough to the man's small flat that he could see anyone who entered or left, but not so close that he looked like he was keeping it under surveillance, even though he actually was.
The sun had just begun to set when the man finally appeared, walking quickly towards his flat door and never even glancing around at his surroundings. It was shameful behavior for a secret agent, and especially so for a rogue agent, but it did make Control's job quite a bit easier.
He slipped up behind the man, shaking his head slightly as the man never even seemed to notice that Control was there. Until, of course, he jerked as Control pressed the muzzle of his small service pistol into the man's ribs.
"I would make no sudden movement if I were you, sir. Otherwise, my finger might slip on the trigger, and that would cause quite a mess. And we wouldn't want that, now would we?" When the man carefully shook his head, Control nudged him towards the flat door. "Then let us retire into your flat. I have some questions for you, and I will not be leaving until I get the answers I need. Am I understood?"
The man nodded, then reached out slowly to open the door. Control kept close enough to the other man's back to easily keep him covered with the gun, but not so close that there was a real danger of the other man taking his gun from him. Once they were inside and hidden from prying eyes, Control gestured for the other man to sit down, taking a seat himself on the other side of the rather bare-looking room.
"Now, I have come to understand that you were in some way involved in the kidnapping of one of my agents, Tony Murchison. I want to know where he is, and I want to know who ordered him captured."
The man flinched slightly and bit his lower lip. "I don't know where he is. All they wanted me for was to be some extra muscle in the airport when they finally snatched him. They didn't need me after that, and I haven't heard from them since."
Control frowned, eyes darkening. "Who contacted you about this job? Who is in charge?"
He shook his head. "I never saw him myself. Never even heard his name." He paused, deep in thought for a long moment. "But I do know where you can find one of the guys who does know. He goes to a little club called the Razor down in Mitte every night. His name is Stephen; you'll be able to recognize him by his rather unique looking leather jacket."
Control simply stared at the other man in silence for a moment, trying to determine whether he had told him everything or not, and if he had lied. Finally he nodded, satisfied that he had been told the whole truth.
"Very well. However, should anyone discover that I am looking for these people, I will know who told them. And then I will be forced to come back here, which is something that you do not want. Am I being understood?"
The man nodded frantically. "Absolutely. No one will hear anything from me. In fact, I think I may take this opportunity to go on that vacation that I've been wanting to take, out of the country."
Control's lips curled up in a small bland smile. "That might be for the best. Thank you for your assistance." He rose fluidly to his feet and walked towards the door, never quite turning his back on the room just in case. After all, now was not the time to be taking unnecessary chances.
Tony returned to consciousness slowly, not even bothering to try to move from where he was curled in a bloody ball of misery on the cold floor. Almost his entire body hurt, and the pain was varied enough that it didn't manage to all lump together into a general, and somewhat more manageable, discomfort no matter how much he wanted it to. His chest ached dully, though sharp spikes of pain radiated from his ribs with every wheezing breath. His knee throbbed, a fairly steady pain that only increased when he shifted his leg, so he took extra care not to move it. His arms were virtually numb, and he was somewhat afraid that the constant cuffing was causing him permanent damage.
But it was the pain in his head that was causing him the most worry. He could feel his pulse pounding between his ears, and it felt like someone was shoving an ice pick in behind his left eye. Or at least it felt like he thought it would if someone was shoving an ice pick in behind his left eye; since no one had ever actually done that to him before he was forced to make an approximation. What worried him the most was the fact that he wasn't sure just how much of the pain was due to his current head injuries and how much was simply remembered pain from his ordeal two years ago.
He could feel the material of the blindfold, so he didn't even bother trying to open his eyes. He simply lay on the floor, trying to keep his muscles from tightening up too much and attempting to come to grips with his new knowledge of his captor's identity.
The last person he had expected to see standing over him was Robert Sullivan. As he had recovered from his last undercover mission he had been assured by the agents involved in his rescue that the man was dead, that he had nothing to fear any longer from the man who had tortured him nearly to the point of death before he was rescued. He had been able to put the whole sordid affair behind him, well mostly behind him, because of that rather welcome knowledge.
And now he discovered that somehow his tormentor had escaped death and returned, intent on causing him even more pain.
Tony had no idea just how long it had been since he had been taken, between the time he spent unconscious and the blindfold it was impossible to tell time. The constant pain also made whatever time did pass appear to pass much more slowly, further warping any idea he had of the passage of time. And though he truly hated to admit it, even to himself, he was beginning to have doubts as to whether Control would be able to save him or not.
Oh, he had no doubts at all that Control was searching for him, that Control would do whatever was necessary to find him. That was just the kind of agent that Control was, and it was a very comforting thought. However, even Control was only human, and considering the kinds of difficulties the agents had been forced to overcome when trying to rescue Tony from Sullivan the first time, he had to accept the possibility that Control would simply not be able to find him in time, no matter how hard the other man tried.
But however he tried to justify it to himself, it still felt incredibly wrong to be doubting Control like that. He had spent two years working very closely with Control, and he had never felt doubts like this before. It left a somewhat uneasy, unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach that blended sickly with the pain in his head to leave him feeling vaguely nauseous.
He lay silently on the floor for another moment before he realized that the faint humming wasn't just in his head. Someone was actually in the room with him, somewhere off behind him from the sound of it, and they were humming. When he focused more on the sound, he recognized not only the song but also the man who was humming it.
Robert Sullivan was somewhere behind him, humming the very same song that he had constantly hummed two years earlier while he had tortured Tony.
Tony could feel the panic welling up in his chest and tried desperately to push it back down, to no avail. His breath sped up, coming in swift, shallow pants as he tried not to hyper-ventilate. His rapid breathing intensified the pain in his chest, which in turn simply added to his panic, throwing him into a vicious cycle. A moment later he could hear Sullivan's humming dissolve into dry chuckles, and that sound finally tipped him over the edge and into a flashback.
*Flashback*
Tony's wrists were rubbed completely raw, blood still trickling down from where the cuffs were cutting into the thin skin. He had managed to get his feet at least partially under him again so that the pressure on his arms was lessened a bit, though his arms were still holding most of his weight. He didn't know how long he had been hanging like that, but he was starting to find it difficult to breathe.
The cut on his forehead had finally stopped bleeding, which was a blessing since that meant that it was no longer dripping blood into his eyes. He had tried initially to shake his head enough to force the blood to drip elsewhere, but he could no longer move his head without fairly extreme pain.
He knew that the hair at the back of his head was completely matted with blood, and he could still occasionally feel it ooze onto the back of his neck. His captors hadn't made a great effort to avoid striking his head, and he was fairly certain that he had suffered a concussion within the first few hours after he had been taken. The last blow he had taken to the head, however, he thought might have actually fractured his skull, though he was finding a bit difficult to think coherently enough to decide for sure.
But the one thing that Tony thought might truly drive him completely mad was the constant humming. His main tormentor seemingly could not enter the room with Tony without starting to hum, almost as if the very thought of causing Tony pain made him so happy that he was forced to expel some of the excess good feeling. It was always the same song, and when Sullivan got especially into his work he would even begin to sing.
Tony couldn't help but fear that should he ever manage to escape alive that he would never again be able to hear that particular song without breaking into a cold sweat. Which he couldn't help but think was a shame, since he had rather enjoyed the song before.
'There are places I remember
all my life, though some have changed.
Some forever, not for better.
Some have gone, and some remain.'
Tony flinched the moment he heard Sullivan begin to sing once more. Actual singing rather than the continual humming always heralded something incredibly bad for Tony, and this time was no exception.
He jerked forward, or tried to at least, as the cold knife blade began sliding down his already bloody back. It seemed almost like Sullivan was attempting to write on his back with the blade, a thought that made Tony shudder. A hand suddenly gripped the hair on the back of his head and pushed it forward, the dried blood crackling slightly. Then there was even more pain as some sort of symbol was cut into the skin at the back of his neck.
'All these places have their moments
Of lovers and friends I still can recall.
Some are dead and some are living.
In my life, I've loved them all.'
The other man suddenly pressed up against him, the stiff fabric of his shirt rubbing roughly against the painfully tender skin of Tony's bare back. One hand slid around to grip Tony's throat, putting just enough pressure on his windpipe to make him slightly dizzy.
"You have held on longer than almost anyone else ever has, Tony. But even you have a breaking point, and I will find it." He tightened his hold on Tony's throat, cutting off his air completely. "And I shall greatly enjoy watching you finally break, Tony. I truly will."
Black spots had danced in front of Tony's eyes for a moment longer, and then he lost consciousness.
*End Flashback*
Tony snapped back to the present with a violent jerk as he felt a single finger tracing the two-year-old scar on the back of his neck. "I was so disappointed that you and I weren't able to finish what we started two years ago, Tony. But rest assured that we will not be interrupted again."
Then the finger disappeared, and after a hand ruffled his hair almost affectionately, Tony could hear Sullivan rising to his feet and heading for where Tony assumed the door was, since he had no idea which way he was facing anymore.
The door swung open, the hinges squeaking slightly, and before Sullivan left him in darkness once again, Tony could just faintly make out his singing:
'But of all these friends and lovers,
there is no one who compares with you.
And these memories lose their meaning
when I think of love as something new.
Though I know I'll never lose affection
for people and things that went before.
I know I'll often stop and think about them.
In my life, I love you more.'
Tony shifted around, ignoring the pain that movement brought to his chest and knee, until he was able to figure out where the wall was. He wriggled towards it, moving despite the increasing pain, and only stopped when he was able to press his aching back against the rough concrete. The extreme discomfort was a small price to pay for the small bit of security afforded by having his back to the wall.
Then he lowered his head, and tried to pretend that he couldn't feel hot tears spilling over his cheeks to wet the fabric of his ever-present blindfold.
Since Control knew that he would have to wait in order to find Stephen, the man that would supposedly be able to tell him where Tony was, he had agreed to meet with Philip when the other agent had rather hesitantly called him. Something in the other man's tone of voice had told Control that Philip had stumbled across something important, something that he didn't want to tell him.
Control really didn't want to think about just what Philip might have discovered that he thought was so terrible, but he just couldn't seem to help himself. All sorts of horrible scenarios played through his head, all of them ending with Tony dying alone and in pain. It was a thought that Control couldn't bear to contemplate.
He was waiting in a small park for Philip to arrive, sitting on a bench and absently feeding the pigeons. It wasn't the same as feeding Simon from his office window, but it did make him feel just a bit better. He didn't look up as Philip dropped tiredly down onto the bench next to him, trying to focus on the hungry birds rather than the expression he feared was on the other agent's face.
After a moment of tense silence, Control finally spoke. "What have you discovered, please, Philip?"
The other man sighed, running a hand through his mussed blond hair. "I don't know quite how to tell you this, Control. One of my best field agents managed to find out who one of the men that was behind Tony's abduction is...and something of why he was involved."
Control waited for a moment for Philip to continue, finally looking up when the other man didn't. "Please just tell me, Philip. I need to know."
Philip nodded slowly, mouth turned down in a grimace. "I know you do, Control. But I do so hate to be the bearer of bad news."
"Whatever you have to tell me isn't your fault, Philip. I'm not going to blame you for telling me the truth, no matter how upsetting it is."
Philip sighed again, then pulled a folder out of his briefcase and handed it to Control. "My man made certain to take photographs, as he felt that we would need some concrete proof of his allegations. Just look, and then I'll answer any questions you have."
Control's hands shook slightly as he reached for the folder, and he hesitated for a moment before opening it. When his eyes focused on the photograph that was on top, he understood just why Philip hadn't wanted to show him anything. He recognized the man who was standing next to someone he assumed was Stephen, the man in the unique leather jacket that he was planning on finding later on that night. The man who was holding Tony's bloody jacket with a small smile had a very familiar face indeed.
It was the same face that Control saw every time he looked in a mirror.
Sullivan entered the sitting room of the small house they were using to hold Tony with a flourish, still humming Beatles songs under his breath. He had just come up from the small basement where Tony was being held captive, and he was still in an excellent mood. He nodded his head at the only other occupant of the room and went to pour himself a cup of coffee.
"I think everything is going quite well, don't you? Young Murchison should be completely broken long before Control is able to track him down."
The other man shook his head, a small smile twisting his lips. "You do not know my brother, Robert. He will stop at nothing to get young Tony back; he will do whatever is necessary to save him. That is why I agreed that taking Murchison was the best way to meet both of our goals. Nothing else would cause Control quite as much pain as this."
Robert nodded thoughtfully, slowly sipping his coffee. "That reminds me; there is something that I must admit has me curious. Why on earth did your parents name both of you Control, if you don't mind my asking?"
"If you were wondering why they chose Control rather than some other name, I'm afraid I couldn't tell you, as I do not know myself. I do know that they gave us both the same name, though. It was mostly so that they wouldn't have to bother with remembering more than one name, or trying to tell us apart." He snorted elegantly and reached for his tea cup. "That is why I finally decided to change my name from Control to Oversight. I didn't want to be constantly reminded of my so-much-better brother."
"Ah." Robert smiled slightly, relaxing further into his chair. "I had thought it might be something like that. Personally, I rather like the change. 'Oversight' just seems to have more character than 'Control', doesn't it?"
Oversight nodded with a small smile. "I certainly thought so." He drained his tea cup and pushed himself slowly to his feet, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh. "Well, I had best go and see just how our little friend is doing. It will be so much fun to raise his hopes and then dash them. You know, it's times such as this that I truly love my work."
Control was in shock, there was no other word for it. He had always known that his twin brother resented him somewhat; after all Control was the head of British Intelligence and his brother was a simple mural painter. But he had thought that his brother had finally found some peace in that, that he was happy in his life of art. Apparently, Control was quite wrong.
He took a deep breath, trying to stop his hand from shaking and turned towards a silently-waiting Philip. "Thank you for telling me, Philip. I know it must have been quite difficult for you. I certainly wouldn't have wanted to give me news like this."
Philip flinched a bit at that. "Well, Control, the thing is that I haven't quite told you everything just yet. I'm afraid that there is still a bit of bad news left."
"Just tell me, please, Philip. I don't know if I can stand much more of this waiting."
Philip closed his eyes, hunching his shoulders a bit in anticipation of Control's reaction to the rest of his news. "Your brother was the one who decided that they should kidnap Tony. He wanted Tony specifically; he chose him in order to hurt you more."
Control kept himself under rigid control, though his hands did begin to shake again, this time in anger. "I was afraid that you were going to say something of that nature, Philip. Did you happen to discover anything else that might be of use?"
Philip shook his head. "I'm sorry, Control, but that was all I was able to find out. Perhaps you will have better luck."
"Well, I have been told where to find the man who was in the picture with my brother, which is a great help." His eyes went cold and his spine straightened a bit. "He will tell me where they are keeping Tony, and then I will go and rescue him."
Philip shivered a little at the expression on Control's face, but he still nodded. "Once you find out where he is, call me. A few of my men have decided to stay here until Tony has been recovered. They all want to help in his rescue." His lips curled up in a small, sad smile. "They all like and respect him quite a bit, you know."
Some of the ice left Control's expression at that. "Yes, Tony always has been fairly well thought of around the secret service, hasn't he? It is quite lovely for your agents to want to help him." He took a shaky breath. "When I find out where he is, I promise that I shall call you immediately, Philip. But I can make no promises about waiting to rescue him until your men arrive."
Philip nodded, not having expected anything else from Control. "They wouldn't want you to, Control. Just, if you can't wait for them, if you could leave them a few of the rogue agents for them to vent their frustrations on? I know they would appreciate it quite a lot."
"Yes, I think I can do that for them, Philip. After all, they are being so helpful that it wouldn't be fair to leave them with nothing to do." This time the smile he flashed Philip was just slightly bloodthirsty. Under other circumstances Philip would have been rather appalled. But now, he simply smiled back.
Tony was dozing fitfully when the door to his cell opened with a low squeak. He raised his head, looking towards the doorway even though he couldn't see it. The movement was slow; lack of sleep, lack of food and continual pain sapping almost all of his strength. He could tell by the complete lack of anything resembling music that it wasn't Sullivan coming back for more, but something about the sound of the footsteps was familiar.
He was prepared when a hand reached out to remove the blindfold, but he was definitely not prepared for what he saw once he had blinked the excess moisture out of his eyes. For a bare instant he thought it was Control, come to rescue him, but something in the twist to the man's lips or the chill in his eyes stripped that hope from him almost immediately. No matter how the man looked, he wasn't Control.
"Hello, Tony. It has been quite a long time, hasn't it?"
The voice was very like Control's, but there was some indefinable something that made this man's voice different, and not in a good way. Then he realized where he knew the man from: he was Control's brother.
Tony blinked up at him in silence, almost afraid to try to say anything. He had only met Control's brother once, that he knew of at least, and he knew almost nothing about him except that he looked remarkably like Control. Which meant that he had no idea how he would react to anything, and would have to be careful not to assume that he would do what Control would do.
Oversight clucked his tongue in disappointment. "Oh, Tony. I was expected a much more animated reaction at seeing me. I must confess that I am disappointed, very disappointed. And I do so hate being disappointed."
He suddenly lashed out, backhanding Tony across the mouth and causing his head to bounce off of the wall. It wasn't quite enough to make him lose consciousness, though Tony rather fervently wished that it had been. While he was still trying to recover, Oversight pushed his head down and made a show of inspecting the scar on the back of his neck.
"I must say that I'm impressed with Robert's work here, Tony. This is really a very lovely brand, and it scarred so very nicely. I shall have to see about asking him to mark you at least once for me, as well."
Tony bit his lower lip, grimacing as the action split the tender flesh once more and blood began oozing into his mouth. The very last thing he wanted was a life-long reminder of his time here as he had from his captivity two years earlier. He especially didn't want a life-long reminder from a man who looked almost exactly like Control. He didn't think he could take it.
"I think I shall leave you for now, Tony. But never fear, I shall return shortly. Ta." Then Oversight rose to his feet and walked gracefully towards the door. He flashed Tony a gay smile as he walked out and closed the door, leaving Tony alone for the first time without the blindfold.
Somehow, the sight of the four gray walls, the rickety chair in the corner and the small, bare table didn't make him feel any better.
It was just barely dark when Control made his way to the club where he had been told he would be able to find Stephen. He had been especially eager to talk with the other man ever since he had seen the photograph of him with his brother, holding Tony's bloody jacket. He was determined to get all of the information he needed, and he didn't particularly care what he had to do in order to get it. As far as Control was concerned, Stephen had given up any expectations of fair play the moment he became involved in hurting Tony.
He was loitering outside the entrance to the club when he finally saw Stephen approaching, the leather jacket making him stand out from the crowd. Control slipped in behind him, got an iron grip on the other man's arm and yanked him sideways into a nearby alley, completely ignoring the other man's protests. Then, once they were far enough away from the club so as not to be heard, Control spun the other man around and slammed his back into the brick wall.
"Where is Tony Murchison?"
Stephen stared at Control coolly, then smirked. "Who?"
Almost before the word was completely out of his mouth Control had an arm across the other man's throat, almost but not quite cutting off his air. After all, how could he tell Control where Tony was if he could no longer breathe enough to speak?
"Now, I know that you helped to take him, Stephen. And I know that you are working with my brother." He pressed a little more firmly on Stephen's throat, finding some cold satisfaction in the way the other man's face started turning red. "Now I shall ask you again: where is Tony Murchison?"
Stephen began to sputter as he tried to push himself away from the wall. However, Control's grip was very firm and he could barely move. So he resorted to other means of convincing Control to let him go.
"You think you're going to be able to save him? He's a broken and bloody mess by now. And by the time you manage to find him, there won't be anything left."
Control pushed his arm up further against Stephen's throat, forcing his chin to tilt up painfully. "I think you're bluffing. Now, tell me where he is, and perhaps I shall let you live."
Stephen sneered. "You wouldn't kill me. You don't have the nerve." Then he spit in Control's face.
Control's expression never changed as he leaned back just far enough to draw his arm back and backhand Stephen, smiling slightly when blood began to trickle down from the other man's nose. "You still haven't answered my question. That isn't very polite of you, now is it? Where is Tony?"
Stephen spit again, and this time it was tinged with blood. "He took Murchison because of you, you know. Your brother, that is. The other guy just said that he was unfinished business, that he still had art to make, or something weird like that."
"What other guy? Someone besides just my brother is behind all of this? Who is he?"
The sneer was returning to Stephen's face at the realization that Control didn't know quite as much as he thought that he did. "I never heard his name; he never told me. He just said he was a walking dead man. And as scary as he was, I didn't ask." The sneer melted into a wide smirk. "He was really looking forward to spending some quality time with Murchison, though. Seems like they had some sort of history, if you know what I mean."
Control felt his entire body going cold at the other man's insinuations. He leaned forward until they were nearly nose to nose, his forearm tight against Stephen's throat. "You will not enjoy it if you force me to ask again. Where is Tony?"
Apparently Stephen decided that he wasn't bluffing, after all, as he finally spoke. "There is a small house just outside the city to the north. The deed is in the name of Arthur Holmwood. Murchison is being kept in the basement."
After a long, silent moment, Control decided that he was telling the truth. "Very well. Thank you for your assistance."
He started to step back, and was unprepared for Stephen to suddenly push off from the wall and lunge forward, one hand going for Control's throat and the other aiming for the handgun that was holstered at Control's waist. Control managed to avoid the first hand, but was unable to keep Stephen from getting a loose grip on his gun. Instead, as soon as the gun cleared the holster Control twisted sideways, sending the gun skittering out of Stephen's grasp and out into the darkened alley.
A moment later Control found himself thrown into the nearby wall and bouncing off of it slightly, landing down on his knees. One hand fell on some sort of wooden stick, and Control blindly swung his makeshift weapon up towards the advancing Stephen. What Control hadn't realized, however, was that the implement that he had grasped was a shovel, and the metal end slammed into the side of Stephen's head, killing the other man almost instantly.
Control blinked down at the body for a long moment, then turned to stare at the shovel in his hands as though he had never seen one before. Then he shrugged, tossed the now-bloody shovel to the side, straightened his jacket and walked out of the alley. He had the information he needed, and as far as he was concerned, Stephen had only got what was coming to him.
Now he had an agent to save. He would call Philip as he had promised, but after that he was going to rescue Tony. And there wasn't a moment to spare.
Tony was lying on the floor against the wall, shivering as the chill of the concrete seeped into his body. Most of the pain was fading, but only due to the cold and his extreme exhaustion. It seemed like every time he managed to slip into a light sleep at least one of his tormentors would slam the door open and begin beating him again.
He was almost asleep once again when the door opened and Sullivan almost waltzed into the room. After one look at the expression on the other man's face Tony began instinctively trying to push himself further backwards, only managing to rub and scrape his bloody back against the wall.
Sullivan smiled at him serenely, dropping into a crouch in front of him and reaching out to stroke over Tony's hair. "Our dear Oversight has made a request of me, and since he was kind enough to deliver you to me, I'm inclined to provide him with what he wants. Now, where should I make his mark, hmm? Any suggestions, Tony?"
Tony simply continued trying to push himself away from Sullivan, though he did attempt to shake the other man's hand out of his hair. Sullivan ignored his attempts at escape and merely gripped Tony's shoulders in order to pull him away from the wall. He looked over Tony's bare and bloody torso with a critical eye, before finally smiling with satisfaction.
"Ah, I have the perfect place. Now, do try not to move. You wouldn't want to ruin it, now would you?"
Tony wasn't entirely sure about that, but he decided that it would probably be in his best interests to just let it be. After all, the last thing he wanted was for Sullivan to decide to punish him. That would not be conducive to Tony's continued survival, and after escape (which he had mostly decided wasn't going to happen) survival was a prisoner's first objective. Besides, how could Control rescue him if he wasn't alive to be rescued?
He flinched when Sullivan began humming as he wiped off the blade of his favorite knife. Humming was never a good sign, though he had to admit that it was a slightly better sign than actual singing. His eyes closed almost automatically when the knife blade approached, and then he grimaced in pain as the blade started carving slowly into his chest, right over his heart.
And then Sullivan started to sing.
'There are places I remember
all my life, though some have changed.
Some forever, not for better.
Some have gone, and some remain.
All these places have their moments
Of lovers and friends I still can recall.
Some are dead and some are living.
In my life, I've loved them all.'
In the two years since he had last dealt with Sullivan, Tony had almost managed to tame his violent aversion to the Beatles. But now it seemed that all of his hard work was being dismantled with every painful slice into his chest.
Sullivan had just put the final flourishes onto the new mark on his chest when the door slammed open again and Oversight strode into the room, a dark frown on his face. He crooked his finger at Sullivan, and even though the other man glowered at him, he still rose to his feet and made his way over to the side of the room where Oversight was standing. They talked very quietly for a moment, and even though he couldn't hear them it was obvious to Tony that something had happened that had Oversight very upset.
Once they finished talking Oversight left again, making certain that the door was firmly closed behind him, and Sullivan walked back over to Tony, an almost insane light in his eyes.
"Well, Tony, it seems that we shall have to cut our fun short, I'm afraid. It seems that one of our associates has gotten himself into a bit of rather fatal trouble, and Oversight is concerned that it means that your dear Control is a bit closer than we had anticipated." He crouched back down next to Tony and leaned in close. "I shall miss you, Tony, but I will make certain that this last interaction is most memorable."
Tony barely had time to flinch at that rather worrying statement before Sullivan suddenly grabbed his hair and flung him down onto the floor on his stomach. His knife blade whirled as he began cutting random patterns on Tony's back, every now and then simply stabbing the blade into the fleshy parts of Tony's arms and legs seemingly just to hear him bite back screams.
The door suddenly slammed open again and Oversight staggered into the room, grappling violently with what could only be Control. Sullivan took one look and practically flung Tony against the wall, slamming Tony's head against the concrete and leaving him dizzy and dazed.
Tony blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision, but it only partially worked. He managed to see Sullivan easing out the door while Control and Oversight were busy trying to kill each other, and then Control's gun go flying from his hand and onto the floor with a clatter.
He pushed himself to his knees, hoping that the other two men were too busy to notice him. Then he closed his eyes, clenched his jaw and forcibly dislocated his left shoulder. The pain was intense, even more so when he dropped onto his back so that he could slip the handcuff chain under his feet and pull his arms in front of himself again. The action caused even more pain to shoot up from his still-bound arms, but he forced himself to ignore it and reach for the abandoned pistol.
When he turned his attention back to the fighting brothers, he realized that he only had a moment to act. One of them, which he was fairly certain was Oversight, was reaching for another gun that he had holstered at the small of his back and the other, who he was also fairly certain was Control, hadn't noticed. So Tony did the only thing he could think of to do.
He raised the gun with both hands, held it rock steady and fired twice, striking one of the men full in the chest. Then his ordeal caught up with him and he collapsed, his last thought a fervent hope that he had indeed shot the right man.
Control blinked at the sudden silence in the wake of the two gunshots. His brother was on the ground, two bullet holes in his chest and, from what Control could tell, not breathing. Though he found that he didn't particularly care about that little fact at the moment.
Tony was also on the floor, though Control could just see the slow rise and fall of his chest. He knelt on the ground next to him, mentally cataloging his injuries and wincing at each one. Tony's left shoulder was dislocated, there were cuts all over his bare torso, some of which looked to actually be stab wounds on closer inspection and the blood matted in his hair evidenced at least one head wound.
He jerked his head up when he heard footsteps pounding towards the small room, but relaxed somewhat when he realized that it was only Philip. The other man skidded to a stop in the doorway and simply stared at the tableau in front of him. Then he shook his head, stepped over Oversight's body and crouched down next to Control and the unconscious Tony.
"How is he, Control? Did we get here in time?"
Control nodded tiredly, rubbing one hand over his face. "We did get here in time, Philip, but just barely. I hate to even think of what they were doing to him before we arrived. And he was still able to save my life."
Philip's eyes widened as he glanced down at Tony. "How on earth did he manage that in his condition, Control, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Tony was the one who shot my brother, Philip, just as my brother was getting ready to shoot me." Control paused for a moment. "I think that Tony somehow managed to dislocate his own shoulder in order to get his hands in front of him just so that he could do that."
Philip just shook his head. "I can't say that I'm altogether surprised, Control. It's a well known fact around the secret service that Tony would do almost anything for you." He smiled slightly at Control's somewhat confused expression. "Come on, Control. We've got to get him out of here. I don't think we managed to apprehend all of those involved, and Tony needs medical attention."
Control nodded his head firmly. "You're quite right, Philip. Do you think we can take proper care of him at the safe house, or would he be better off in a hospital?"
"I think that between the two of us we can manage with him well enough. A hospital would be just a bit too public for my tastes right now, with some of the men who did this to him still on the loose."
Control frowned at that, but nodded. He wanted Tony to have the best medical care possible, but he supposed that it wouldn't do any good if some of the missing men found him and finished what they had started. "Very well, Philip. We will have to pop his shoulder back into place before we can move him, though."
Philip nodded, then produced a set of keys. "Let's get those handcuffs off of him first, Control. That should make things a bit easier, as well as make Tony feel better once he wakes up."
"Yes, that does make sense, Philip." He waited for Philip to remove the handcuffs, wincing at the blood staining the metal. Then he maneuvered Tony properly on the floor, braced himself, closed his eyes and quickly popped Tony's shoulder back into place. He checked the other man over gently to make sure that he hadn't inadvertently caused any more damage, then sat back on his heels.
"Well, Philip, please help me to carry him. I don't want to cause him any more pain than is absolutely necessary."
"Of course, Control." Then between them they managed to get Tony up, and they carefully carried him out of his cell, neither of them bothering to look back.
It was quite difficult getting a stubbornly unconscious Tony out of the basement and into Philip's car, but the two men managed it. They stretched him out in the backseat, being especially careful of his damaged shoulder. Then they both slid into the front seats and drove away, heading for the safe house in silence.
Philip was careful to take the long way to the house, not wanting anyone to follow them there. The drive took longer than either man wanted, even though Philip was driving as fast as he dared. Control was constantly looking over his shoulder into the backseat, frowning as Tony continued to remain stubbornly still and silent.
Almost an hour after they had rescued Tony they finally pulled up in front of the complex that contained the safe house. It was even more difficult getting Tony safely out of the car and into the building than it had been getting him out of the basement and into the car in the first place. Control and Philip were on either side of him, but Tony's continued limpness made moving him quite hard, especially since they had to try to keep his injured shoulder as still as possible.
They finally got him into the building, and both men were silently thankful that the flat they were heading for was on the first floor so there would be no dealing with either stairs or elevators. Though they still had to be very careful to be quiet, even though the flats on either side of theirs were empty. After all, it just wouldn't do for one of the neighbors to poke their head out of their door and see them just because Control and Philip were being a smidgen too loud.
The absolute last thing they or Tony needed was suspicious neighbors, especially since they had no idea just how long they would have to make use of the safe house.
It took a bit of juggling, but Philip just barely managed to pull out his key and get the door unlocked without either of them dropping Tony, though it was a close thing. Then once they got inside they gently laid Tony on the sofa, feeling a little better when the movement prodded a slight groan from the unconscious man.
For a long moment they simply stood there in silence and looked at Tony, thankful that he was finally safe even if he wasn't in very good condition at the moment. Then Control shook his head and pulled off his jacket.
"We need to get his wounds looked at, Philip. Some of those cuts may need stitches, and we need to make certain that there aren't any other injuries that we aren't yet aware of."
Philip nodded tiredly, running a hand over his face. "Yes, we should. I'll gather the medical supplies and any other necessary items while you see to Tony, if that's all right."
Control nodded, waiting for Philip to leave the room before looking back down at Tony. The other man was already shirtless, and Control tried not to look at Tony's bare torso as the sight of the bloody cuts made him feel a bit queasy. His shoes had also gone missing somewhere during his captivity, leaving only his trousers for Control to deal with.
He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and then reached gingerly for Tony's waist. Removing Tony's trousers was incredibly awkward, partially due to his being unconscious and therefore unable to help and partially due to Control's trying his best not to look at anything. It just didn't seem proper to be getting a glimpse of Tony's body, even just for medical reasons, while the other man wasn't awake and the whole idea made Control very uncomfortable.
Eventually Tony was left in nothing but his boxers, which luckily completely hid any naughty bits, making Control feel just slightly better. Then Control's attention was snagged by the quite painful looking swelling and bruising around Tony's right knee. He gently touched it, grimacing at the heat under his hand and at the quiet but pained moan Tony gave off in reaction. It didn't feel like anything was broken, but Tony would need a brace, and more than likely crutches in order to walk for a while, though with the current state of his shoulder he might be better off with a cane instead.
He was pulled out of his musings when Philip reentered the room, his hands full of medical supplies. He sat them down on the coffee table and went back towards the kitchen, reappearing a moment later with some soft cloths and a bowl of warm water. He shrugged slightly when Control blinked at him inquisitively.
"We'll need to wash the blood off before we can do much of anything else."
Control merely nodded and took one of the cloths when Philip handed it to him. He let Philip work on cleaning the blood off of Tony's chest while he focused on gently removing the blood from Tony's face. While he didn't seem to have any injuries there other than a puffy lower lip, Control was certain that Tony would feel much better, even unconscious, if he were completely clean.
Once they had cleaned Tony up, Philip looked him over critically. Since Philip was more familiar with the types of medical practices needed in the field, Control let him conduct the examination in silence. After a long moment, Philip finally spoke.
"His knee and shoulder will need to be wrapped, and so will his ribs. I think the one is just cracked, so it's not all that serious just yet, but without the proper precautions it could easily get worse." He paused for a moment. "Most of the cuts on his torso should be fine with some ointment and bandages. But there are a few that I'm fairly certain need stitches."
Control frowned, profoundly grateful that Philip was there. Control could have stitched Tony up if it was absolutely necessary, but he hated the idea of causing him any more pain, even if it was only to help him. It was a relief to give the task to someone else. So he simply sank into a chair and watched Philip slowly and carefully stitch the worst of Tony's cuts, all the while hoping that the other man wouldn't wake up just yet. Anything to spare him unnecessary pain.
All Tony was aware of was the pain and the heat. He thought he could hear voices, familiar voices at that, but he couldn't quite make out what they were saying. One of them sounded like Control, but then he heard the man laugh and something deep in his chest broke at the sound. Because no matter how much the voice had sounded like Control, the laugh proved otherwise.
Then the last few moments from before he lost consciousness returned violently, and Tony had to bite back a scream. He had been so certain that he knew what he was doing, that he could identify Control no matter what the circumstances were. And he had apparently been mistaken. He had shot the wrong man.
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to ignore his surroundings completely as he fought back tears. But then he heard something that made his blood run cold.
'There are places I remember
all my life, though some have changed.
Some forever, not for better.
Some have gone, and some remain.
All these places have their moments
Of lovers and friends I still can recall.
Some are dead and some are living.
In my life, I've loved them all.'
He very nearly whimpered. This couldn't be real. It just couldn't be. And yet, it apparently was. His throat tightened, and no matter how hard he tried, Tony simply could not manage to take a single deep breath. His chest ached from the effort of trying so hard to breath, and his head began to swim. Then he heard something that seemed to cut right through the sound of Sullivan's singing, making the terror-inducing noise fade almost into nothingness.
"I am so sorry, Tony. I shouldn't have let them send you undercover like that with no backup and no information. I never would have allowed you to go had I any idea that this was going to happen to you. Please wake up so that I can apologize to you properly."
It certainly sounded like Control, and there was no way that Tony could mistake the voice for Control's brother. The knowledge that Control apparently wasn't dead after all helped Tony to calm down, and finally he was able to breath without too much effort. The panic receding also allowed him to think a bit more clearly, and he finally came to a realization.
If Control was alive, then that meant that he had indeed shot Control's brother. If he had shot Control's brother, which he had already decided that he had, then Control's brother could not be there. And if Control's brother wasn't actually there after all, then nothing he was hearing was real. And if nothing he was hearing was real, then Sullivan wasn't actually there either.
With that thought, the sounds of singing faded completely, and Tony slipped back into a more welcoming darkness.
Philip had finally finished bandaging Tony, and Control couldn't help but think that the other man looked a bit like an Egyptian mummy, though he didn't like to follow that particular thought to its logical conclusion. After all, Tony wasn't dead and Control was going to make certain personally that he didn't become so for a good, long while. With the amount of trouble that Tony could find himself accidentally getting into, it looked to be a full-time occupation for Control, but he didn't mind. In fact, if he were being completely honest, he rather liked the idea of looking after Tony. Tony certainly did a good job of looking after him.
Control shook his head to clear his thoughts and leaned forward to pull the light blanket a bit higher on Tony's chest. The other man was still dressed in only his boxers, and it wouldn't do for him to get cold. Plus, on a purely selfish note, the blanket helped to hide the true extent of the damage that had been done to Tony, and Control didn't particularly want to see it. Partially because he wanted to hunt down every man who had helped to put those marks on Tony and do incredibly violent things to them, and Control didn't like that feeling.
He blinked, suddenly realizing that he had been running his fingers lightly through Tony's hair without thinking. He froze when Tony shifted, head pushing slightly into Control's touch, then carefully began moving his fingers again. When he saw Tony's lips curl up slightly he let out a soft sigh of relief. In his own small way he was helping Tony, making the other man feel at least a little bit better even while still unconscious.
And that feeling he liked rather a lot.
This time Tony was fairly certain that he was dreaming. And unlike the last time, he rather wished that he wasn't. This he wanted to be real.
He was sitting in what he thought was Control's dining room, though he had never actually been in Control's dining room before so he couldn't be certain. This was how he thought that it would look, though. The table was a lovely dark wood, covered in a simple white tablecloth. The light in the room was muted without being too dark, and there were two white candles in silver holders in the middle of the table.
Soft music was playing in the background, though Tony couldn't identify what either the song or the artist were. He could smell something delicious and mouth-watering coming from in the kitchen, and then he could see Control standing in the doorway wearing a frilly apron over his dress shirt and a slightly embarrassed smile.
Tony rose from his seat on impulse and walked slowly over to Control, bolder than he would have been able to be had it been real. He placed one hand on Control's shoulder and the other on his chest. Then he leaned forward for a kiss.
A moment before their lips would have touched Control stiffened in his arms, a pained grunt escaping his lips. Then his weight fell against Tony, who automatically put his arms around Control to hold him up. Tony frowned when he felt a sticky wetness on Control's back, and pulled his hand back around to look.
His eyes widened when he saw the bright red blood staining his fingers, and he looked up at Control in shock. The light was fading from Control's eyes, and he was going limp in Tony's arms. Then he seemed to vanish completely, leaving Tony alone in the room.
A moment later Tony heard a familiar laugh. He looked around frantically, but couldn't see anyone. The room was growing warmer and warmer until it was almost stiflingly hot, and the air was almost too thick to breathe. Suddenly, Control's brother was standing in front of Tony, a blood-stained knife in his hand.
"See what happened because of you, Tony? Control's going to be hurt one of these days, and it will be all your fault. You don't want that, do you, Tony?"
Tony shook his head automatically, trying his best not to listen to Oversight though the words still pricked his conscience a bit. Especially since the voice they were spoken in sounded so much like Control's.
"Of course you don't. Now, what are you going to do to make certain that you can't hurt him, hmm? What will you do to save him?"
Tony shook his head again violently, almost as if he were trying to shake Oversight's words loose. The heat was nearly all-encompassing, and everything seemed to blur around him, making him dizzy and slightly nauseous. And then, with Oversight's words still ringing in his ears, everything faded to black once more.
Control was still brushing Tony's hair back from his face when his fingers strayed onto Tony's forehead. He frowned at the heat he felt emanating from the other man, sliding his hand around to brush against Tony's cheeks as well, then down to his neck. He was entirely too hot, and Control rose to his feet and made his way into the kitchen where he looked around for a bowl and a clean towel.
Philip had left the flat less than an hour before in an attempt to check on the status of the clean-up that the two of them had left behind for other agents in their rush to get Tony to safety, and Control was alone in the flat except for the unconscious and now feverish Tony. Which meant that Control would have to try to take care of Tony himself.
He filled the bowl with cool water, trying to make sure that it wasn't too cold as he was fairly certain that too-cold water would be bad for Tony. Then he carefully carried it back out into the sitting room, sat the bowl on the coffee table and knelt on the floor next to the sofa where Tony was lying. He dipped the cloth in the water, wrung out the excess liquid and began to wipe down Tony's face and neck.
He grew more worried when Tony began to shift around, making soft distressed sounds as his head tossed back and forth. Finally he began wiping Tony's face with one hand while running the other through his hair, only stopping when he needed to wet the cloth and wring out the water again. And after a few minutes Tony started to calm down, though he still made those same soft sounds that almost broke Control's heart.
Eventually his temperature seemed to go down a bit. Control thought that Tony was still a bit feverish, but he had slipped into what seemed to be a more comfortable sleep and finally had stopped making those heartbreaking noises. Control would keep a close eye on him to make certain that he didn't get any worse again, but for the moment he would relax a bit.
Unfortunately, not having Tony's needs as an immediate focus gave him time to focus on all of the things that he would really rather not focus on. Things like his brother's sudden and violent betrayal, which he still couldn't understand. That same brother's death, which he still wasn't sure how he felt about. On the one hand the man had been his brother for his entire life. On the other hand his brother had kidnapped Tony and tortured him for days. And on the third hand, which Control didn't actually have and wasn't quite as important as the second hand anyway, his brother had tried to kill him.
Then there was Valerie's sudden and tragic death. He still wasn't sure just how he was going to tell Tony about that. After all, Tony had often worked more closely with Valerie than Control had. Many of the things that Valerie would normally have brought into his office in her role as his secretary Tony had intercepted and brought in for her. Before he had left for his assignment Tony had even given Valerie coffee-making lessons that he didn't think Control knew about.
And then there was Valerie's dying request that he tell Tony that she had loved him. He really didn't want to think about that, or about the fact that he had promised her that he would tell Tony. He didn't like to admit it, even to himself, but if it hadn't been for that promise he might very well have simply neglected to mention anything about it to Tony at all. After all, he didn't really think that finding out that Valerie had loved him would make him feel any better about her death. In fact, it very possibly would make things even worse.
He would tell Tony, since he had promised Valerie. But he would wait until Tony was recovered. The very last thing he wanted was to make Tony's condition any worse if it wasn't absolutely necessary.
Control glanced down at Tony again, slightly relieved to see that the almost perpetual frown that had been twisting Tony's lips was finally gone. He looked around the empty room for a long moment, then leaned down quickly and pressed his lips against Tony's forehead. He told himself that it was just to check Tony's temperature the way his mother had always done for him, but he knew it was a lie the moment he thought it.
He had simply wanted to be able to feel Tony's skin under his lips, to give himself a little bit of extra reassurance that Tony was present and safe, and had taken what he thought would probably be his only opportunity to find out what it felt like. He felt immediately guilty, mostly due to the idea that he was taking advantage of Tony.
But even his guilt couldn't erase the feel of Tony's slightly damp skin that still clung to his lips.
When Tony regained consciousness he was finally certain that he was actually awake, mostly due to the pain. His knee ached, though the painful throb from earlier was dulled somewhat, for which he was thankful. His chest and back were a mixture of aches and sharper pains, and his first attempt at a deep breath told him that his ribs had been wrapped, which meant that someone was finally taking care of his injuries.
His shoulder was also wrapped tightly, for which he was extremely grateful. He could remember intentionally dislocating it, and he knew from prior experience that it was going to be quite painful for a while yet. His head was throbbing in time with his pulse and he was feeling vaguely nauseous, which he knew meant that he had a concussion, a fact that wasn't in the least bit surprising considering the number of times that his head had come in violent contact with something hard in the past little while.
He felt someone's hand running gently through his hair, the repetitive motion helping to ease some of the pain in his head. He took a slow, shallow breath, the familiar blend of ink, pine and coffee that had always been Control to him lingering under his nose. With that he was finally able to completely relax, sinking bonelessly back into the sofa.
Control had indeed come to rescue him, and he was safe.
He kept his eyes closed, partly to keep his nausea down and partly so that Control wouldn't realize that he was awake and stop petting his hair. If Control knew that he was awake then he would more than likely get embarrassed about it, and Tony didn't want that. He rather liked it when Control ran his fingers through his hair, and he didn't want the other man to stop.
Eventually though Control removed his hand from Tony's head, and Tony could almost feel the concern that Control was sending him. He certainly didn't want to worry the other man, so he slowly opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light. Then the brightness was gone, and Control was leaning over him with an almost painfully hopeful expression.
"Tony? How are you feeling, if you don't mind my asking?"
Tony couldn't suppress a small smile, even though it hurt his lower lip. He tried to speak, but his throat was terribly dry and he started to cough. Almost before he realized it, Control had dashed into the kitchen and come back with a glass of water which he held to Tony's mouth and gently tipped it up so that he could drink.
Tony suppressed a shiver at the inadvertent reminder of the woman who had done the same thing for him after he had been captured and slowly drank, eyes closing in relief as the wetness eased the discomfort in his throat.
"Thank you, Control. I feel quite a bit better now." He looked around the room, but didn't see anything familiar. "Where are we, if you can tell me, that is?"
Control frowned a bit at that. "Well, we are still in Germany, in a safe house. You still aren't in any shape to travel back to London, I'm afraid, and Philip and I were too concerned for your safety to take you to a hospital, though I will admit that when we first found you it looked rather like you might need one."
Tony blinked slowly, his pounding headache muddling his thoughts slightly. "Philip is here as well, Control?"
Control nodded. "Yes, Tony. When he realized that you had been kidnapped he remained here and organized the effort to locate you. He is the one who discovered that my brother was behind your capture, and together we were able to find out where you were being held." He closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head and focused on Tony again. "Now, tell me honestly, Tony. How are you feeling?"
"Well, Control, my knee does hurt a bit, and so do my chest and back." He shifted slightly, wincing as the movement pulled on his shoulder. "My shoulder, while it seems that someone relocated it quite well, is still somewhat painful. And I have a concussion." He paused for a moment, closing his eyes as the room began to slowly spin, making him feel a bit sick. "Control, it might be a good idea to get a bucket or something similar and place it on the floor near me. I fear that I may become ill in the not too distant future, and I would hate to make a mess."
Control hesitated for a moment, then reached forward and lightly patted Tony on his good shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Tony. I shall find something, and even if you did make a mess it wouldn't be your fault. You're not well, and your fever just recently came down to a safe temperature."
Tony simply watched Control look around the small flat for a bucket of some sort from his place on the sofa, trying to figure out just what it was that was making Control so fidgety. He doubted that anyone else would have noticed anything out of the ordinary, but he had spent enough time watching Control, without the other man's notice of course, that he felt he was something of an expert in Control's behavior. And the other man was acting decidedly nervous to Tony's way of thinking.
After a moment of thought, he finally decided what it must be. Control was uncomfortable being around him now that Tony had killed Control's brother, even if Oversight had been a traitor. The man was still Control's brother, after all, and Control couldn't be comfortable taking care of the man who had killed him, even if the action had saved Control's life.
He kept quiet as Control returned holding a plastic bucket in one hand and a fresh glass of water in the other. If he was correct in his suppositions then he had no idea what to say to the other man to make things right. He couldn't really apologize for killing Oversight as if he had it to do over again he was certain that he would not do anything differently. He was sorry that Control's brother was dead, but wasn't sorry that he had killed him. It was an odd dichotomy, and Tony didn't know the proper way to reconcile the two emotions.
It turned out that his worry over Control's state of mind was the last push his rather upset stomach needed, and he grabbed the bucket with his good hand as he pushed himself up to lean over the edge of the sofa and violently lost the rather small contents of his stomach.
Since he had eaten virtually nothing since his capture he was expelling mostly bile, which burned his throat and caused him to cough and choke. He kept his eyes closed as he heaved, tears wetting his lashes and then spilling down his cheeks. Eventually the cramps in his stomach lessened, and he felt the water glass being pressed to his lips.
"Here, Tony. Sip and spit until your mouth is rinsed out and then drink a bit to help your throat."
Tony did as instructed, nearly groaning in pleasure as Control took a slightly damp cloth and wiped his face, erasing all evidence of his tears. Then he flopped back onto the sofa, hissing slightly as the movement jarred his shoulder. He closed his eyes, his good arm coming up to cover them.
"Thank you, Control. I feel a bit better now."
Control patted his good shoulder again, then rose to his feet with the bucket and cloth. "I'm glad, Tony. You try to rest. I will be back in a moment."
Tony could hear Control puttering around in the kitchen, and despite his concern about the other man the sound helped to relax him. There was just something soothing in the idea of being taken care of by Control, and there always had been. He was almost dozing when his breath caught in his throat and his pulse began pounding in his ears as he finally remembered something.
While Oversight was dead and could no longer hurt him, Sullivan was still very much alive and as far as Tony knew, free as well. He had seen Sullivan slip out the door while Control and Oversight were fighting and he was fairly certain that the other man would not have gotten caught, not even by Philip and his men as good as they were at their jobs. He was simply too smart for that. After all, Sullivan had done it before.
But what frightened him the most was the absolute certainty that if Sullivan was still alive, free or not, he would be coming after him again. He had waited two entire years to find Tony again this time. He would be perfectly willing to wait once more.
Which meant that as long as Robert Sullivan was alive, Tony wasn't safe. And that meant that neither was Control, as Control had made it obvious that he was more than willing to do whatever was necessary to save Tony. So Sullivan would happily go through Control in order to get to Tony, and Tony could not let that happen.
His only problem now was trying to figure out just how he could keep Control safe without the other man knowing what he was doing, since if Control did discover Tony's plans he would most certainly not let him go through with them. Of course, Tony didn't actually have any plans yet, but the principle was still valid.
He sighed, shifting slightly on the sofa. It was then that he realized that he was shirtless, and after another quick wriggle realized that he was also missing his trousers. While he knew intellectually that in order for Control and Philip to have taken care of his injuries they would have had to undress him, he still found the idea that the two men had seen him in that state rather embarrassing, especially since he had been unconscious at the time. It wasn't that he was completely adverse to the idea of Control seeing him while not fully dressed, he just didn't care much for the circumstances, especially since Control would have seen Sullivan's rather distinctive 'artwork' And that was something that he would rather not have to explain.
He opened his eyes, starting slightly when he saw that Control was back and standing over him with an odd expression on his face. Control then bit his lip lightly and seemed to steel himself.
"Tony, I do hate to ask you this, but if you feel up to sitting for a bit, I rather need to check on the state of the cuts on your back and chest. While first aid is not my forte, Philip left me strict instructions on how I was to care for your injuries, and I need to make certain that you aren't bleeding into your bandages."
Well, that rather explained the expression on Control's face. Tony could feel his face heating with embarrassment as he struggled to sit up, the blush growing even hotter when he felt Control's hands on his bare skin as the other man helped him to sit up. Between the pain the movement caused and Control's hands on his sides Tony was hard pressed to keep his breathing relatively even.
Control started with the cuts on his chest, making distracted noises in the back of his throat as he checked for any bleeding. When he was satisfied, he helped Tony turn enough so that he could check his back, a fact that Tony was grateful for as it meant that Control could no longer see his red face. After a few minutes Control started to help him lie back down, but he stopped and ran his fingers gently over the scarred design carved into the skin at the back of Tony's neck.
Tony froze when he felt Control's fingertips tracing the design and almost forgot to breathe. The very last thing that he wanted was for Control to ask about that particular scar, but he was fairly certain that the other man was going to.
"Tony, I've noticed something rather worrying just now. I realize that you most likely don't wish to discuss anything that has happened since you were captured, but I can't help but notice that this scar on the back of your neck is very similar to the fresh cuts on your chest, specifically the ones right over your heart." He eased Tony back on the sofa, his concerned expression doing little to ease Tony's growing panic. "You don't have to say anything about it if you don't want to, Tony, but if you should then I would be more than willing to listen."
The air went out of Tony's lungs in a rush and then his throat tightened. There was simply no way that he would be able to tell Control about the matching scars as that would not only mean explaining how Control's brother had wanted to permanently mark him, but also explaining about Sullivan's place in not only this mission, but also his last mission. It would mean explaining things that Tony had done his level best for two years to forget.
His breathing started coming in shallow pants, his chest so tight that he simply could not get enough air no matter how he tried. Even the knowledge that he was having a panic attack did little to alleviate the situation. His vision started going dark as he wheezed, and then he felt himself being pulled forward into Control's arms. One of Control's hands rested on the back of his head while the other ran up and down his back gently, trying not to press too hard on any of the bandages.
Eventually the tightness in his chest loosened a bit, and Tony was finally able to take a deep breath, or at least as deep a breath as the wrapping around his ribs would allow. He slowly raised his head from where it had been resting on Control's shoulder, but he couldn't bring himself to meet the other man's eyes.
"It's all right, Tony. I'm not going to make you talk about it, especially if it is causing such a severe reaction. If there was something that I needed to know right now, though, you would tell me, wouldn't you?"
Tony paused for a long moment, then nodded. He still didn't really want to tell Control about Sullivan at all, but it would be safer for Control if he knew that there was still one of the ringleaders on the loose. Plus, there was no way that he could keep quiet after Control had asked him that. "There is one thing, Control. While your brother was one of the men behind my capture, he was not the only one. His partner managed to escape while you were...indisposed."
Control grimaced. "Thank you for telling me, Tony. Once Philip returns we shall see what information he has about any of the rogue agents who managed to escape. Though I doubt that we shall have anything to worry about."
Tony flinched, but didn't tell Control any differently. Explaining that Sullivan would come after him again would mean going into detail about what had happened two years ago, and Tony simply could not bring himself to do that, not even for Control. Not yet, anyway.
Tony dozed off and on for the rest of the night, never feeling quite comfortable and secure enough to get any solid sleep. Eventually he decided to simply lay on the couch with his eyes closed and try to rest even if he couldn't get any sleep. And about an hour later he had almost managed to fall asleep when Philip returned.
He kept his eyes closed, content to continue pretending that he was asleep while Control and Philip talked. It seemed that Philip's team had managed to round up most of the rogue agents that had been involved, which was certainly a good thing, though from what he was able to figure out Sullivan had disappeared without a trace.
He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and tried to focus on something a little less terrifying. After all, Philip and Control were there and he was perfectly safe for the moment. And he needed to rest and regain his strength, because he had the feeling that the whole sorry mess wasn't quite over just yet.
They stayed tucked up in the safe house for two more days, with only Philip ever venturing outside to check in with his team and make arrangements for getting Tony and Control back to England. Tony was quite impressed with Philip's ingenuity; the other man had managed to charter a small private plane to take them to London and one of his agents would pilot it.
The trip to the airport was extremely uncomfortable, with Tony's cracked ribs and battered knee making it rather loudly known that they didn't approve of his going anywhere. Though once he was on the plane he was able to relax a bit, mostly because he could finally stretch his legs out properly, which eased the pain in his bad knee quite a bit. Unfortunately there wasn't really anything he could do about his ribs, his rather severe headache or what he feared was a rising fever other than indulge in a pain pill or two.
He managed to drift off fairly early on in the flight, though he was fairly sure that it was only due to Control's comforting presence in the next seat. He never managed to fall completely asleep, but as time passed he also found it increasingly difficult to pull himself back to full consciousness. He was exhausted and in pain, and his fever was sapping what little strength he still had.
By the time they finally landed in London Tony was only partially aware of his surroundings. He knew in the back of his mind that this wasn't a good thing, but he just couldn't seem to muster up enough energy to care. Besides which, he had a vague feeling that Control was worrying enough for the both of them.
Tony tried to force himself to pay attention when he noticed Philip and Control debating whether he was in need of professional medical attention or not, and whether or not it would be safe to take him to a hospital, but he wasn't entirely successful. Control and Philip seemed to notice, which cut their debate short as they both agreed that he needed more aid than they could give him. The only question that remained was just where they should take him.
Tony tuned back out of the debate at that point, all of his concentration focused on simply remaining conscious. Unfortunately he couldn't quite manage it, and could only hold on to consciousness long enough to slide into the backseat of the car that Philip had waiting for them at the airport. And the moment his head made contact with the cool leather of the backseat everything went blessedly dark.
Tony had no idea just how much time had passed when he finally began to swim back towards consciousness, but even in his current condition he could tell that it had at least been long enough for Control and Philip to get him medical attention. He was flat on his back in what felt like a hospital bed, an IV attached to the back of one hand and an oxygen cannula sitting uncomfortably at his nose.
All of that faded into the background, though, when Tony noticed that his free hand was being carefully held by someone that could only be Control. He wasn't quite sure just how he knew that the hand in question belonged to Control, since from what he could recall Control had never held his hand before, but he was certain that it was Control none-the-less.
His theory was proven correct a moment later when he heard a very familiar sounding sigh very close to his left ear. "Oh, Tony. I do so wish that I had listened to my instincts and refused to let you take this assignment. I'm afraid that it's all my fault."
Well, as much as he'd like to simply slide back into sleep there was no way that Tony could possibly let Control continue to believe something so utterly silly. So he forced his eyes open, blinking uncomfortably at the too-bright lights until Control's face suddenly appeared and blocked the lights.
"It's not your fault, Control." Tony wanted to say more, but even those five words made his rather dry throat burn and he felt the beginnings of a coughing fit deep in his chest. But before the coughing fit could really get started there was a cup of water pressing gently against his lips and Control was helping him to lean forward and drink.
Tony's eyes nearly rolled back in relief as the cool water soothed his throat, and he smiled up at Control as he settled back on the bed. "Thank you, Control. That's ever so much better."
Control smiled, though in Tony's opinion there was something tight about Control's expression. "How are you feeling, Tony, if I may ask?"
Tony frowned, shifting on the bed in an attempt to figure out what still hurt. "You certainly may ask, Control. My knee still aches a bit, my head throbs some if I move it too fast and I think that once these very nice painkillers wear off that my shoulder will be quite sore. I do feel much better, though."
"That's very good to hear, Tony. I'm not at all ashamed to admit that Philip and I were quite worried when you passed out in the car, and I'm certainly relieved that you seem to be on the road to recovery."
It was fairly obvious to Tony that there was still something bothering Control, but he felt that it would be rude to pry so he just pretended not to notice. "Thank you, Control. Would you happen to know when I might be released from here? I only ask because I'm certain that I would be much more comfortable in my own flat." He paused. "I shall have to make certain to thank Valerie for looking after it for me."
Control flinched, refusing to meet Tony's eyes. "I'm afraid that I have some rather bad news, Tony. I had hoped that I wouldn't need to tell you just yet as you're still not well, but it appears that I won't be able to put off telling you any longer."
Tony waited patiently for a long moment for Control to continue with his bad news, but the other man remained silent. Finally, he decided to try to move things along a bit. "Perhaps, Control, you should just come out and tell me the bad news. Unless, of course, it's going to get less bad as time goes on."
"No, Tony, I'm afraid that my bad news won't get any less bad." He sighed, going so far as to run a hand through his hair. "You remember how your mission was to attempt to discover the rogue agents in Berlin, Tony?"
Tony nodded. "Yes, Control. Though I'm not entirely certain what my mission has to do with your bad news."
"It actually has quite a bit to do with it, Tony. You see, it turns out that there was also a mole within the office in London, which was how the rogue agents knew that you would be in the airport after you escaped the first time." Control sighed again, raising his head and forcing himself to meet Tony's eyes. "The mole came into my office, using Valerie as a human shield."
Tony's breath caught painfully in his throat and he had to forcibly unclench his hands from around the blankets. He was terribly afraid that he knew what Control was about to say, and he couldn't help but wish that he didn't have to hear it. "Control?"
"I was able to neutralize him, but unfortunately not before he shot Valerie." Control absently reached over and gripped Tony's hand. "I'm afraid that Valerie didn't survive, Tony."
Over the sudden roaring in his ears Tony could just make out Control apologizing, saying something about not being fast enough, not being clever enough, but all Tony could focus on was the pounding of his own pulse. "Control, could you possibly give me a few moments alone, please?"
He was distantly aware of Control squeezing his hand and making his way over to the door, murmuring something about getting a bit of fresh air, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was focused on trying his best to remember Valerie as she had looked the last time he saw her: smiling brightly at him as he gave her a few, last minute tips on preparing Control's coffee then tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before stretching up and pressing an embarrassed kiss to his cheek.
She had practically squeaked, cheeks heating with a blush as she ducked her head and scurried off, glancing back over her shoulder once as she turned the corner. He hadn't seen her afterwards before he had to leave for Berlin, and now he would never see her again. It just wasn't right, and it made all of his own problems pale in comparison.
Tony was still lost in his thoughts when the door opened again. For a moment he thought that it was Control, or possibly Philip, coming to check on him. Then he heard a familiar chuckle, and his blood ran cold.
Somehow, Robert Sullivan had found him yet again.
When Control left Tony's hospital room he let Philip lead him to the coffee machine down the hall, even though Control had no intention of getting a cup. He just needed something to do to try to get his mind off of the shattered expression on Tony's face when Control had finally told him about Valerie. It wasn't working exactly, but he felt that it was worth a try.
"Tony's going to be fine, Control. He'll be back on his feet and in the office in no time."
Control sighed, so tired that he didn't even feel bad when his shoulders slumped and he leaned back against the wall. "I'm afraid, Philip, that Tony's physical condition isn't all that I'm concerned about." He sighed again. "I just told him about Valerie."
Philip grimaced. "Ah. I imagine that he didn't take the news well, then."
"About as well as could be expected, I think." Control closed his eyes, shifting so that he could rest the back of his head against the wall. "He asked me to leave him alone for a bit after I told him, and I thought that it was the least that I could do for him."
"Yes, I suppose so." Philip took one last gulp of his coffee and carefully tossed the empty cup into the nearby bin. "Still, it's probably best not to leave him alone for too long, especially since he's still not recovered."
Control nodded. "You're quite correct, of course, Philip. We had best get back to Tony's room and check on him." He pushed off from the wall, taking a deep breath and straightening his shoulders. Tony needed him, whether the other man realized it or not, and Control was going to make certain that Tony had whatever he needed.
The closer they got to Tony's room the more certain Control became that something was terribly wrong. There was no real reason for the growing feeling of unease in his stomach, but after everything that had happened there was no way Control was going to ignore his intuition. And by the time they reached the now-closed hospital room door there was no doubt.
There was an odd scuffing sound coming from inside the room, along with what Control was terribly afraid was Tony grunting in pain. And over it all was the incongruous sound of someone humming cheerfully in rhythm with Tony's groans.
Control glanced over at Philip, feeling somewhat better when he noticed that the other man was quietly reaching for the gun under his jacket. Control gripped his own gun, having to force himself not to hold it too tightly in his concern over Tony's welfare. He looked back over at Philip, and when the other man silently nodded, Control forced the door open.
Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw in the room. Tony's hospital bed was empty, the blankets flung off the bed and a bit of blood staining the white sheets. Tony himself was on his knees in the corner, blood oozing from a cut on his forehead and another man's arm wrapped around his throat from behind.
The man grinned at Control from over Tony's shoulder, an insane light in his eyes. "Well, it looks like everyone's here, Tony. I do so hate to cut things short, but I'm afraid that this is it for us. I am sorry that things had to end this way, but no matter."
Before Control could even thing about moving the other man had shifted around, bringing a gun up and shoving it under Tony's chin. The blood drained from Control's face, but he forced himself to at least attempt to remain calm. Were Tony's life not at stake Control was fairly certain that he wouldn't have managed to do so, but then again if Tony's life was not at stake it wouldn't have been necessary.
"Whoever you are, I do hope that you realize that you will not be able to escape. It would be in your best interest to release Tony and give yourself up."
The man looked puzzled for a moment before his eyes went wide in realization and his grin turned sly. "You haven't told them about me, have you, Tony? Everything we've been through, and you never even mentioned me." He moved the gun so that the barrel was pressed against the side of Tony's head and wrapped his other arm around Tony's chest so that he could grip Tony's throat with his free hand. "I think I'm insulted, Tony."
Control frowned, the implications of the other man's words chilling him. But since he didn't know exactly what the other man was referring to, he decided the best course of action was just to ignore what he'd said and concentrate on getting the gun aimed at something other than Tony. "At the moment, sir, I don't particularly care who you are. Though I'm certain that once you surrender the other agents will be very thorough in ascertaining your identity."
The man chuckled, turning his attention to Tony and practically stroking his throat. "You know, Tony, I'm now very tempted to drag this out a bit longer." He leaned closer until he was speaking directly into Tony's ear. "I'd like to see the expression on your dear Control's face when he realizes just who I am, right before I kill the both of you."
Control could tell the instant that Tony decided to act. The blue eyes went flinty and narrowed slightly, and Tony's entire body tensed right before he threw himself backwards and slammed the back of his head directly into his captor's shocked face. The man's gun went flying, and Philip dashed forwards to kick it under the bed while Control pulled Tony away and stepped in front of him.
For a moment Control thought that everything was going to work out without any other problems. Then the man growled and lunged forwards, heading directly for Tony. Control reacted almost without thinking, and two gunshots echoed through the air, one immediately after the other.
Control let out an almost silent sigh of relief when he realized that the other gunshot had come from Philip. Both bullets had struck the enemy agent in the chest, and the man was sprawled on his back on the floor, eyes wide and staring. Control wanted to be upset that the man was dead, and partially at his hand, but with Tony shaking against his back he just couldn't seem to care.
He let Philip deal with the dead man, which mainly involved calling in a clean-up team to take care of the body and deal with the hospital staff. His main concern was Tony. He helped the other man into the nearby chair, trying his best to block Tony's view of the dead man.
"Are you all right, Tony? I feel so very terrible that an enemy agent was able to slip past Philip and myself and get to you."
Tony was still shivering a bit, but was obviously trying to get himself back under control, and Control couldn't help but feel a hint of pride. After a moment Tony managed to straighten his shoulders and raised his head, looking Control straight in the eye.
"I think I'm all right, Control. Or at least as all right as I was before this whole sorry mess. Thank you for your concern. And you shouldn't blame yourself for anything. It certainly wasn't your fault that he managed to get past you." He was very obviously trying to keep from glancing over Control's shoulder at the body, but his voice was steady and his shivering had eased.
"I hate to ask this, Tony, but do you happen to know anything about him? I only ask because as things stand there is no way for him to be interrogated, and I rather need to know how he managed to find you and whether we can expect anyone else to do likewise."
Tony had to fight back a grimace at Control's final question. He still had absolutely no desire to drag up the events of his last disastrous undercover operation, and with Sullivan now very dead he didn't really see that it was strictly necessary to mention it to Control. And really, the more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that the information would only make Control feel worse, and that simply wouldn't due.
In the end, Tony decided to simply omit anything referring to his previous assignment, unless of course Control asked him specifically about it, though Tony didn't feel that was likely.
"His name was Robert Sullivan. He and Oversight were the ones directly behind my abduction in Berlin. He is the one that I mentioned earlier that had escaped."
Control winced, more than likely at the mention of his late brother. "This was the man that you were so concerned about earlier, Tony?"
Tony nodded, wincing a bit as the movement irritated his pounding head. "Control, would it perhaps be possible for me to go somewhere else now? I'm afraid that I'm rather uncomfortable in this room right at the moment."
Only a few minutes later Control seemed to have taken care of all of the details and was ushering Tony out of the room. Then, after a quick examination by a doctor who admitted that Tony was recovered enough that he would do just as well out of the hospital, Control had Tony bundled into the passenger seat of his car heading for Control's house.
Almost before Tony had a chance to think they had arrived and Control was showing him to the guest room. "Here we are then, Tony. Now, you may remain here until you have completely recovered, just in case."
Tony frowned. While he certainly appreciated the thought of staying with Control, he didn't want to be a bother or put the other man out. "I'm sure that's not necessary, Control. I'm certain that I'd be perfectly comfortable in my own flat, and I wouldn't want to be in your way."
"You would never be in my way, Tony." Control glanced around, not meeting Tony's eyes. "Besides, I'm not ashamed to say that I'd feel quite a bit better knowing exactly where you are and that you're safe."
There was a long pause where it seemed to Tony that Control was searching for just the right words and not quite finding them. "Control?"
Control sighed, squared his shoulders and looked Tony in the eye. "I was so terribly worried about you while you were missing, Tony. And I don't want to ever feel that way again."
Tony blinked, feeling a stirring of hope deep in his stomach. "What exactly are you saying, Control, if you don't mind my asking?"
Instead of words, Control cupped the back of Tony's head and pulled him in for a gentle kiss, being extra careful of Tony's injured lip.
When they finally broke apart, Tony smiled, fully relaxing for the first time since Control had mentioned his undercover assignment. "I had rather hoped that was what you meant, Control, but it's very nice to have it confirmed by you."
"Yes, Tony, I suppose it is." Control smiled. "Now, how about I bring you a nice cup of coffee, Tony?"
For a moment Tony thought about admitting to Control that he didn't actually care all that much for coffee, but once he noticed the hopeful expression on Control's face he decided not to. "Of course, Control. A cup of coffee would be very nice."
After all, there would be time for embarrassing confessions later.
The End