Vyacheslav entered the flat and closed the door behind him leaning against it for a moment. He could hear Alex and Yassen in the kitchen discussing something and after a moment joined them. Alex was sat on the kitchen table in a jumper and his boxers with Yassen's hands on his injured leg just above his knee.
"It hurts but not that badly…" Alex said wincing and then looking at Vy. "Morning."
Yassen turned his head and smiled. "You know that physiotherapist I saw after I dislocated my shoulder?"
"Yes."
"What do you think about Alex going to see him?"
"I don't know." He pulled a chair out from beneath the table and sat down staring out the window.
"What's wrong?" Yassen asked.
Vy shook his head. "I don't know about the physio… I suppose there's no reason that he would talk to anyone. Is it that bad?"
"It's his shoulder, I think he's done something to it."
"When the ropebridge snapped…" Alex supplied.
"I actually thought you would have broken something."
"Well…" The assassin began.
"My leg isn't broken Yassen." Alex cut in.
"We can't risk a hospital anyway." Vy said. "And I have something else I need to talk to you about."
Yassen turned, hand still resting on Alex's skin. It was so easy for them… fingers resting on skin, feather light, relaxed. Comforting.
"Wilson knows we're friends. Says he's known for a year."
"Shit." Yassen ran his hand through his hair. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I really don't know." That choking powerless feeling had begun to rise up into his throat, he swallowed once and then again but it did nothing. His hands were shaking. He got up. "I need to think."
He walked through into the bedroom, heart rattling in his chest and his breath speeding up. Wilson could already know…
"Calm down…" Yassen turned him around and pulled him into a hug. "It's okay…"
"I can't… No one can know…"
Alex stared at the two of them for a moment. It was strange to see Yassen hugging someone… Wrong even. He'd never seen him interact physically with anyone but him before. Vy was shaking, muttering in Russian into the front of Yassen's shirt while his hands fisted in the material at the back. It was uncomfortably intimate to watch and Alex threw on clothes quickly, nkvd hat and jacket the last to go on. He was out the door and ripping the badges off the coat and hat while he limped down the stairs.
"Christ."
The temperature was a proverbial kick in the bollocks. It took him a couple of seconds to remember how to breathe, then he wedged his hat on his head, buried his face in his collar and hunched his shoulders against the icy breeze.
Walking out of the courtyard Alex turned right towards the canal and, pulling his hat down lower over his face wandered a little way along it before wrapping his coat around himself and staring out over its frozen surface with his good eye. He wondered what was going on…
Wilson had to be the man that Vy was working with in Egypt… Dark, if he remembered, with a Mediterranean look to him. The fact that he knew that Vy and Yassen were friends was obviously a problem, though he couldn't see how… It obviously had more to do with the threat to Shadowy persona that the intelligence expert had cultivated than to Yassen. The question was what was he hiding? I found out that he'd… Well I never thought he'd forgive me, I still don't think he has…
Alex was at a loss… Yassen had left Vy in Moscow when he'd been recruited to Scorpia and something had happened… Something that Yassen felt he was to blame for. He was missing something.
"Hello kid."
Alex jumped and then instantly regretted going out, it was Wilson. He leant against the railing beside him and his heart began hammering in his chest.
"You ought to be careful leaving the apartment… this is a bit close to the Kremlin for a face as famous as yours."
"I guess."
"I suppose they're discussing whether or not to kill me."
"I don't speak Russian." His teeth had begun to chatter.
"Are you cold?"
"I'm not used to it."
"Come… I'll buy you a drink." He turned from the canal.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?"
"Far from it… You've proved yourself an intelligent resourceful dangerous individual, what could I do to you?"
Alex looked at him; there was none of Yassen's easy, powerful grace and he didn't seem as cold as Vyacheslav. "You could drug me."
"And what good would it do me? I want an alliance with Fonetico not his animosity."
"He hates me…"
"But Yassen is his best friend… Come on, a coffee… It's cold out here."
Entirely against his better judgement Alex checked that his father's knife was indeed in his pocket and followed him.
The cafe was retro with yellow tables and orange plastic seats, they took one by the window. Alex checked the other coffee drinkers surreptitiously. The two teenagers, the only other customers, seemed far too into their loud conversation to be listening in. Remembering the bar where Yassen had been taken he kept his hand on his knife regardless.
"So… Don't you have an input in their conversation?"
"I don't speak Russian." Alex repeated. "Are you Spanish?"
"No, I just like the word fonetico… I have to call him something."
"I don't know his name if that's what you want." Alex said.
"I wasn't going to ask… It'd be nice to know I admit but I doubt that will happen."
"So you want an alliance?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
He sighed. "Because I'm sick of working for someone else, having to do what they say."
"Me too." Alex studied him. "Some risk you're taking though… I've never met anyone so cold in my life."
"That's true, we watched someone being tortured once… Not even a flinch, he wasn't enjoying it... It's more like the link between action and emotion's been cut."
"So why now? It's hardly the best time…"
"Au contraire. Now is perfect… there's something only I can help him with, well help him and Yassen."
"What is it?"
He looked surprised. "A hit."
"For Yassen?"
"Yes. Didn't he tell you?"
"I left."
"Ah." He smiled a little, face too drawn with anxiety for it to be anything more than a stretched grimace. "Why?"
"I needed some air."
"Right. Now that you know you don't want to weigh in on the discussion?"
Not if Vyacheslav was still a shaking mess in Yassen's arms… the whole image was so wrong he couldn't get his head around it. "I trust Yassen to represent my interests."
"Which would be?"
"None of your business. Who's the hit?"
"Putin."
His heart thumped in his chest as adrenaline flooded his system. It was bizarre how one word could send so much fear slamming through his body.
"For what?"
"Protection for the two of you and money."
"It's suicide." The words popped out of his mouth before he could recall them and suddenly he wanted to be back in the apartment.
"Not with good planning."
Yassen wouldn't be that stupid… Surely. But then how had he expected this to work? He knew with a sudden overwhelming wave of self-ridicule that he'd unconsciously been expecting Yassen get a normal job and maybe he'd go back to school. A void of uncertainty opened up in his mind that abruptly became a huge crack to which all his thoughts were drawn to. A blind, consuming panic filled him.
Jesus. What the fuck were they going to do? An assassin and a spy… The world wasn't a big enough place to hide from all the people that wanted them.
"Are you alright?"
His breath was coming short in his chest, he fought with it and succeeded in reducing it down.
"I'm fine."
"What do you want?"
"Sorry?"
"What coffee do you want?"
Alex stared at him, then at the waitress and got up. "Got to go."
"Wait. Take this." He held out a memory stick. "There's something for all of you on there."
"Right."
He left without a further word and limped a shambling run back to the apartment, he almost collided with Yassen on the stairs.
"Where have you been?"
He just stared at him. "What are we going to do?"
"Did anyone see you?"
"I mean it… What are we going to do? I can't go back… I can't, and we can't and… Christ. Do you have a plan? What was your plan if I had come with you?" he leant against the wall. "How can I only be thinking about this now?"
Yassen wrapped his arms around him. "Calm down."
"How? How can you be calm?"
"Do you want to be with me?"
Alex was vividly reminded of a street corner that, while not so long ago, felt a million miles away. He stared up at Yassen, a killer, a man double his age and the only person he had left in the world. He was never one to make the same mistake twice. "Yes."
"Then everything else is secondary."
And he kissed him.
