A/N: All chapters prior to this were written before the release of the show's final season; the rest of the chapters were written after.
"You'll get me out of here. You promised."
"Wow. I wish I had your confidence."
Mirko smiled to himself, a smile Palermo might not have seen. He seemed distracted, even distraught, his wounded eyes overbright as they flickered across the library, over Mirko's many wounds and the attached medical devices. He looked exhausted, strung out, like wire stretched too thin. Mirko's own body echoed this sentiment- though, he didn't really feel the pain of fatigue any more. He didn't feel the pain of anything, not even his smashed leg, he was too well drugged. He felt deeply stationary- whatever was happening with the heist, with the war, he couldn't bring himself to mind it now. His confidence was in Palermo, in the Professor, in the gun he held. Somewhere along the way- perhaps, when Palermo had lifted the pillar from him under threat of gunfire, eyes wild and limbs straining- he had lost his last doubts. Just then, he had no worries at all, and hardly any thoughts, save one: it would be nice to kiss Palermo now. He was all edges, Mirko could see his fingers trembling on the grip of his gun. To hold him and settle him, that would be good, stroke his hair and comfort him like he was a nervous animal…
Then, the library exploded.
Mirko didn't even really see what happened, his brain lagged behind, struggling slowly like a swimmer through deep water. The injured soldier had a seizure, and Palermo was shouting, and then a body launched from the upper level and there were guns pointed everywhere and Palermo was on the floor. The soldier-woman who had caught him had a pistol jammed in the back of his head and she looked back at Mirko, lips curled in a snarl, eyes on fire. A cougar had captured his little fox in her jaws.
"Put your weapons down, or I'll blow your boyfriend's head off."
"No- shoot them, Helsinki, shoot them-"
Mirko was paralyzed for a moment, dizzy; he wondered for an instant if he was dreaming, he had to blink, but nothing he did made the scene any clearer. It was hard to think. All Mirko could see was Palermo pressed to the ground, trapped and helpless, there on the knife-edge that was the line between life and death…a bullet at that distance would do far worse than blind…a bullet at that distance would not miss…
There was no choice, it had already been taken. Mirko lowered his guns, and they surrendered without a single round fired.
After that, they were hustled away from the library at gunpoint, Mirko didn't care; he wanted to take hold of Palermo but he was ever just slightly out of reach. They arrived at a door- doors- and there they were separated, the soldiers intended to put Mirko and Palermo in different rooms, no-
Palermo caught Mirko's eye, his own brilliant in their colour and their brightness, dizzying. It was strange, the expression on his face- not frightened, not really. He looked like he had a fever, and like he knew something. Something Mirko didn't.
'Calm.'
Mirko saw this word traced by his lips.
'I love you.'
Mirko tried to reach out again, tried to move his own mouth, wanting to return the message in full- but it was too late, Palermo had been shuffled away, Mirko was being dragged from his stretcher, laid out on the floor of a bathroom. The many pistols in the room clicked, they were all pointed at his head, but in that moment Mirko didn't care.
His confidence hadn't wavered, not even slightly. Palermo would get him out, Palermo had promised. Palermo knew something he didn't, and Palermo loved him.
Perhaps it unnerved the soldier who stood watching him, but Mirko didn't care- he relaxed against the bathroom tiles, and smiled.
