The Russian was practically delirious with fever by time he stubbed upon the small, snow blanketed village of Painswick.
He usually avoided churches but since the last thing he could recall was collapsing into the snow Red highly doubted he had walked in here of his own will.
Someone had likely fount him and brought him here since all churches where considered sanctuary- a place of peace and rest to all.
Despite that he doesn't feel safe here.
He doesn't belong here but he's too weak to leave.
He can't even move his fingers- despite his best efforts they won't even twitch- let alone manage to sit up.
He hates it.
Hates feeling so weak, unable to defend himself should anything happen.
Loathes the sense of vulnerability that comes with the knowledge that anyone could just waltz in and kill him.
But there's not much he can do about it right now.
All he can really do is stare at the wodden ceiling above his head and wait patiently for his mind to drift back into the dark abyss known as sleep.
Thankfully the sweet release of sleep comes sooner than he expected as the rouge finds himself drifting off only minutes after waking.
It was weeks before he could leave Painswick on his own two feet.
Moths before he crossed paths with Nigel again.
The Spy's rage seemed to have calmed with time but the anger - the looks of betrayal- was still there.
The playful taunts and teasing look within those emerald jewels had been replaced with harsh words and a glare of stone. Each move was meant to maim and every word- every gesture- meant to cut him down.
Red had little doubt that vengence was the only thing on the elder's mind.
Victories became empty and hollow. Losing was never an option but now was less of one. And being Captured was a Nightmare.
Appearently he didn't deserve to die.
He deserved to suffer.
And suffer he does.
He's not sure which hurts more:
The blade as it cuts into his skin
or
The fact its his spy wielding the blade with a satisfied gleam in his eyes that only grows with every cut he makes.
He wants to be angry at the spy but he still can't find it within himself to do so.
The guilt of Luna's death weighs down on him more than the spy could ever guess. Its his fault, he knows that now that he had a chance to actually look on the USB drive.
All his fault.
Maybe if he had never told her about his suspicions she wouldn't have dared to dig so deep and paid the ultimate price.
He killed Luna.
He orphaned his Godson.
That knowledge hurts him more than any weapon ever could.
So Red doesn't make a sound, no matter how angry it make Nigel or how much force the elder adds to the blade as it cuts into his face, his chest, arms, legs, stomach, back.
Why should he?
He deserves it and so much more.
