She could not die... She could not die...
The lives that she had taken, the men, women and even children that she killed... It was a sacrifice that she had to make. A sacrifice that they had to give... Makarov was a terrorist that had to be taken down, they were the sacrifice, she had to sacrifice her very own soul, to stop his reign of terror.
She would save many, many lives if she did so.
"Maria, we're so proud of you! An Army Ranger in our family... Who could have imagined?"
"Hmph... She's wasting her degree!"
"Howard, it's what your daughter wants, if she's happy, then let her be!"
Those were her parents, on the day that the acceptance letter came. She was now a US Army Ranger, assigned to the 75th Battalion. Her sapphire eyes were filled with confusion then... Was it a good thing, or a bad thing? It was the only place where she could find hope... Why couldn't her father see that she would be making a difference?
"Men, we have a new recruit, meet Maria Allen."
"She's a freaking girl!"
"I bet you that she's very hot underneath that uniform."
She was now an Army Ranger... It was her first day on the force. She had been the proverbial FNG, and like the rest of her team, she was based in Fire Base Phoenix, in Afghanistan. She was trained to be a sniper, and in the end, she turned out to be best among those in the Rangers.
She had only been a Ranger for a year, but she was already a Corporal, having gone through officer training, and having showing her prowess, and she caught the eye of the general that headed their force... After defeating the Pit in less than half a minute, she was assigned to the "prima donna squad"...
The Task Force 141...
She killed two men from the Task Force 141. Meat and Royce. She had fired at the Captain, and the Lieutenant...
"Remember, no Russian..."
"Anya..."
"We are all human..."
Makarov... Everything happened because of him. Why was she with him? Why was she even working with him? There had to be other ways... There just had to.
"Traitor!"
That was Dunn. Her best friend in the Rangers.
"You were supposed to leak information back to us, not fall in love with him!"
Fall in love? Was she in love with him?
"You have betrayed the United States of America!" That was Foley, her CO...
No... Shepherd betrayed you, not me!
"Maria... Our daughter's name is Maria, not Anya."
I am Maria... I'm still Maria!
"Maria Allen is dead... I'm Anya now..."
She could hear only voices, but not the faces of those who spoke them. In her mind's eye, she could see all of them... Her parents, Shepherd, her friends, Makarov... She could see all of them, and the expressions on their faces. She could see the people that she had killed, innocents, militants, Ultranationalists... She could see all of them.
Every single emotion, every single feeling...
She opened her sapphire eyes, and bolted up from the bed. She could feel the cold sweat running down her back... "Anya... Anya..." It was Makarov... His arms were around her, his head resting on the crook of her neck... He was telling her something... The warmth of his body, somehow, it comforted her.
"My name is Maria..." she murmured. It was as loud as thunder in her mind, but to Makarov, it was merely an inaudible whisper. "My name is Maria..." It always had been Maria... Since when did she change her name?
Makarov held her in his arms, right until her breathing and her heart rate returned to normal. "It's only a nightmare," he told her, turning her towards him to kiss her forehead. "You are safe with me."
Whoever she was, she did not struggle, and allowed him to press his lips against hers, in a chaste, reassuring kiss, tears streaming down her sapphire eyes. "I have to kill him..." she murmured against the skin of the base of his neck. If she did not do so, she would have more nightmares like this, she was sure of it...
"And you will, my dear," Makarov replied, leading her back onto the bed. "But now, you must rest." She had been through hell and back, he should have known that the stress would be too great for her to handle in such a short time... However, he had seen how resilient she was, and he knew that this would be nothing in the long run.
She, on the other hand, knew that she would not be able to keep up this ruse... One day, sooner or later, she would break, and she did not know what could happen then.
"Would you care to tell me what you saw?" Makarov asked her, causing her to jump a little. There was genuine concern, in both his eyes, the green and the blue, as well as in the tone of his voice. She looked at him and hesitated for a moment, before looking away.
"I can't," she replied, her voice slightly breaking. She knew it; she was not as strong as she would think herself to be, not as strong as he had given her credit for. His fingers guided her sapphire gaze back to his own, and she knew that he was trying to figure out what was wrong with her, what she was feeling. "Don't worry, I would not jeopardize your plans," she reassured him.
At those words, Makarov kissed her deeply, silencing her. He knew that this was not the fiery woman he knew that was talking to him, it was the result of all her emotions that she had kept deep within her exploding in one go. Ever since she had arrived by his side, she had only allowed herself to truly feel, and the conflict deep within her was aroused.
"I have the utmost confidence in you," he whispered into her hair, his fingers entangled in her golden strands of hair. Now, there was the tricky part. He had always convinced himself that she would be a valuable ally, because of her skills and talents, but now that he had seen that she was internally torn apart, he still believed in her. What did that even mean?
It did not matter. Come to think of it, since when did he ever take a course of action when it put him at a high disadvantage? Whether or not he was feeling anything for her, he already knew that he would be able to secure her talents for his own advances. One moment of weakness, was not enough proof for him that she was no longer a reliable form of expendable aid to him...
Whether or not she was Anya, or Maria, it did not matter. She was still a soldier, highly trained, capable of anticipating and retracing the steps of others. "You have not cheated death to falter from your goals now," he added, forcing her to look into his eyes. "I know you won't."
She did not reply, she did not say anything. She only returned his kiss, and wrapped her arms around his neck. This time, the kiss seemed to last forever, continuing on and on, while the two of them wrestled for dominance on the bed, to the extent that the bedsheets were almost removed in their struggles. "Make love to me," she then whispered into his ear, almost pleading him, her long, white fingers burrowed into his short, dark hair. "Please..."
There was no need for foreplay, no need to build what was already there... Makarov positioned himself above her, and gently thrust his manhood into her heavenly depths, kissing her yet again. She was so beautiful to his eyes, particularly at the height of passion, when her fair complexion was reddened in the heat of things, golden hair sprawling in every single direction imaginable, sapphire eyes glazed with desire and need.
It was as if they had come to one another as per Mother Nature's iron will, the two of them, two souls that never should have crossed paths at all. Soon, her seductive moans became nothing but breathless pants, her arms, wrapped around his shoulders. She was close to reaching her peak, he knew it. Within mere moments, they came to their orgasms at the same time, screaming one another's names.
"Thank you..." she murmured, the very moment he had pulled himself out of her, as spent as she had been. He smiled, and caressed her face before kissing her forehead. This young woman, she had already dominated all his senses, and his thoughts, when he wished to admit it. He led her head onto his chest, and watched her fall asleep, with an arm around her, her hand in his.
Deep down, he knew that he was the cause of all this. He should have killed her when he had the chance. But when he saw those sapphire eyes, he knew that he could not live another moment without knowing that he could see them again, whether or not he wished to acknowledge that fact head on.
"Anya or Maria, you are still the same," he murmured into her ear, even if he knew that she would not be able to hear him. Thus, he too, was plunged into the deepest ends of what sleep could bring, relieved, by the fact that she did not wake again that night.
Capt. John "Soap" MacTavish
Task Force 141 Submarine – Location classified
Maria Allen was alive... Those words came from Kamarov himself... MacTavish did not know whether or not to believe those words, but there was one thing about his old friend that he knew was certain: that man would never take a course of action that would not bring benefit to anyone, be it himself, or others.
"You should be sleeping right now, Captain."
A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts, and when he had been aware of it, Shepherd was right opposite him, pouring a generous shot of the whiskey that he had on the table. They were in the mess hall, while the others were most probably asleep in their quarters.
"Nah, can't sleep," he replied. When there were only the two of them, there was no use for military honorifics. "Shepherd, has anyone told you where Maria Allen's body is?" he asked Shepherd, cutting straight to the point. "I mean, you won't let the Russians keep her there like that, would you?"
For the slightest moment there, MacTavish seemed to detect that Shepherd was rather apprehensive about the subject. But whatever appeared on the older man's face had disappeared almost immediately, and was replaced by worry. "In fact, we've been trying to get her back to our soil," he answered. "She's a good patriot, loyal and willing to do whatever it takes..." So, Shepherd was leaving her in Russia... Did he even know that she was alive? "MacTavish, you're a great Captain. You take care of the soldiers under you even before you've even met them."
"It's all in a day's work," MacTavish answered. "Well then, I'd better turn in," he said, rising and walking back towards his quarters, leaving Shepherd there in the mess hall, no doubt dwelling deep in his own thoughts, while he delved into his own.
If Allen was truly alive, then there was something very, very wrong in the picture. It was obvious that they would have a traitor among them, because Vladimir Makarov obviously knew that she had been an American agent. Of course, the main suspect would be Shepherd, if this was all true, but yet another question came into his head:
What would be Shepherd's motive? What would he gain when the two greatest countries on the face of the world was locked in the heat of war, as they were now?
