Disclaimer: Spooks is owned by Kudos and the BBC.
Sasha and Erin are a fairly odd pairing, I know, and they might not be to everyone's taste. However, the plot bunnies have taken hold and won't let go. This is my first Spooks fic, so feel free to offer advice and criticism. Hope you enjoy!
Pain. And shouting. That was all Sasha was aware of. He vaguely recalled the events of the past few hours, but the pain was drowning out his grief, making it less difficult to focus on.
He blinked. The sky was bright – too bright. Closing his eyes, he tried to listen. Who was shouting...was it Harry?
Now it was a woman talking. Perhaps it was the woman with ridiculous hair. He couldn't remember her name. She was standing close to him, but he didn't open his eyes. It was peaceful like this.
He could feel the blood. It felt hot against his skin – or were his legs just getting colder? It must be the shock. He knew he was going into shock; he had felt it before. The talking was getting quieter, fading. His eyelids felt suddenly heavy. Maybe he should try to open them, one last time?
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
'We should leave them be,' Calum said, leading Erin away from Harry. Dimitri had already gone back inside to find Ilya Gavrik.
Erin could hear choked sobs behind her, and moved further away without turning back. She knew that Harry had always loved Ruth – everyone had known that, it was the worst kept secret in the whole of MI5.
Calum's phone beeped. He seemed dazed as he answered it, then relayed the news to Erin.
'It's the helicopter. They'll be here in 3 minutes.'
Erin sniffed and tried to hold back her tears. Considering Harry's current situation, she decided that it was up to her to take charge. 'Tell them we have 3 casualties. Then help Dee get Ilya and Elena out.'
He nodded and jogged back to the bunker, still looking like he was in a dream. He stumbled slightly. She glanced up into the sky. A black shape seemed to be approaching, but it was too far away to be sure. Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she crouched next to Sasha.
He looked so pale. His dark hair had fallen across his eyes, making the skin beneath seem so white in comparison. The anger and confusion had left his expression – he looked peaceful, almost beautiful.
She tried to shake those thoughts from her head. He was a murderer. His country had always been at odds with hers. It was wrong of her to think like this.
She grabbed his shoulders and roughly pulled him up into a half-sitting position. His eyes flickered slightly but didn't open, and he slumped backwards against her. As if to prove she felt nothing for him, she didn't bother being gentle as she yanked the side-arm holster off his shoulders. She didn't want the paramedic team to find him wearing it and start asking awkward questions.
She realised the futility of this action almost as soon as she'd done it. 8 people were in the middle of nowhere, outside a disused military bunker. 3 of them were Russian. All the men were wearing suits. 1 had a gunshot wound. 2 women were dead. How on earth would she explain this?
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
It was surprisingly difficult to open his eyes. His leg hurt. He felt dizzy. It was much easier just to relax, to sleep.
Suddenly his body jerked. Someone was lifting his torso off the ground. The arms felt warm and safe. Maybe it was his mother. Maybe he had died and they were together again now. It seemed like quite an appealing prospect.
But, no. The arms were too rough. It was definitely a woman though; he could smell her perfume. Her small hands were pulling on his shoulders – what for?
His brain felt fuzzy, like a badly tuned radio. It hurt. His whole body hurt. He was cold, so cold. Those arms were still around him though. It gave him a small amount of comfort. A strand of her hair had fallen against his face, tickling his cheek. It was the last thing he remembered before drifting into unconsciousness.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
The holster lay abandoned beside her. She knew she should let go of him. She should throw him to ground and leave him there, as punishment for killing Ruth. But she didn't. His breathing was light but steady. Focusing on it helped to calm her. He had slumped back against her chest; she rested her chin on the top of his head.
Dimitri was walking towards them, carrying Elena's body in his arms. Calum followed, leading an exhausted-looking Ilya, whose hands were bound together with a tie-wrap. Erin mentally chastised herself. That was the correct way to treat a Russian spy - with hand cuffs and suspicion. Not sympathy and comfort.
Despite this, she couldn't bring herself to let go of Sasha until the helicopter had landed. Two paramedics bustled past her and tended to him, fitting an oxygen mask to his face and easing him onto a stretcher. The helicopter was bigger than she expected. The three stretchers easily fitted in. Harry climbed in after Ruth without question. One of the paramedics turned to Erin, gesturing that she could accompany them as well if she wanted to. Erin blushed slightly as she realised that they had assumed she and Sasha were a couple.
'Go with them,' Calum's voice was soft, 'Look after Harry. We'll sort everything out here.'
Erin nodded and climbed into the helicopter. As they lifted off, she could see Calum and Dimitri leading Ilya back to the cars. The bunker got smaller and smaller, until it was just a dot on the horizon.
Please leave a review if you have time - it would really make my day :)
