"Can we find the lightning that shines inside our minds? Can we fight the dark side we've all been trying to hide? The many sleepless nights, the panic that rewinds, waiting for the sunrise as paradise arrives." Skeleton Key by Epica
American Barracks
London, England – 1943
1300 Hours
Victoria Bradleigh sat rigidly before Chester Phillips' desk, folding and unfolding her pale, slender hands in her lap restlessly. Phillips had summoned her to his office, but he had yet to make an appearance. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, willing her pounding heart to slow.
She had stood in the observation room mere hours earlier, among a sea of steely-eyed onlookers, hardened military officers without a shred of sympathy for the man that sat beyond the glass. It was painful to look at him – she could not look at his face without thinking of the man he had once been. And there was so much of that man left in the hooded, icy eyes that peered out from a grotesque crimson face. Anyone else would call her a fool for thinking that, and Victoria would not have blamed them. The gnarled face was jarring to uninitiated eyes, and in his prime, one would have been hard-pressed to find any humanity in Johann Schmidt.
But this man was different, somehow. He was tired and frail – the black silken shirt he wore had hung loosely around his shoulders, and the darkened hollows of his face had looked deeper and gaunt. And the tears that had streamed down his sharply protruding cheekbones had been very real, and raw. It was a rare display of emotion from a man who had resolved to turn his years of pent-up grief into dispassionate fury.
It had tugged mercilessly at Victoria's heartstrings, but she had held her own tears back. Her job required an extreme degree of guardedness and composure – she had learned that the hard way years before. There was a time and a place for her sorrow. And – as much as it pained her to admit it – as much as she still loved the man beyond the glass, it was no guarantee that he loved her in return. A savage, inhuman fury had burned within Johann Schmidt at their final meeting, and it had turned him into the wicked villain who only days ago had sought to destroy the world.
But the man that had sat beyond the glass had given her hope. The deep sense of love and protectiveness that Mina clearly evoked in Johann suggested that, perhaps, he had truly had a change of heart. Time would tell, but Victoria felt confident that Johann was capable of being redeemed.
Chester Phillips barged into the room, slapping a thick stack of files down onto his desk and falling heavily into his weathered desk chair. He did not speak until he had taken several gulps from a flask; he lit up a cigarette and, taking a long drag, fixed his steely eyes on her.
"I've got two things I need you to do for me, and you're not gonna like either of them."
Victoria sighed heavily. "Why am I not surprised?"
"For starters, Schmidt identified our killer, and how he's tied to Heinrich Zemo, our new public enemy number one."
"And?"
"His name's Wolfgang Hofstadter, and he just so happens to be –"
"Mina's father." Victoria did not miss a beat. "But that's impossible – he was dead before she was even born."
Phillips narrowed his eyes. "Well hell, Brad, it would have been nice if you'd told me you knew about all this shit beforehand, so I could have saved two hours just now instead of having to weasel it out of Schmidt."
"I only know that name because Johann told me how he was fired from the Gestapo. But he never mentioned it otherwise – he hated the man and refused to talk about him. And as for Heinrich Zemo, he never said a word about him."
"Well, apparently Hofstadter isn't dead and it's looking like his 'death' was a setup."
Victoria leaned forward in her seat. "And?"
"And we think he's leaving us a breadcrumb trail. He wouldn't have told us who he worked for if he wanted to remain incognito."
"Or, he could be setting a trap." Victoria countered.
Phillips was grim. "Lucky for us, we've got a bargaining chip. The plan is to use the girl to bait him – it's risky, but at this point I'm willing to hedge my bets on the emotional connection between them being strong enough to buy his loyalty. Or at the very least, information. Mina was able to turn Schmidt – imagine what she could do if it's her father."
"But you're also hedging your bets on her father wanting to help her. You're acting as though her father doesn't know that Mina exists – what if he does, and what if he doesn't care? What if he really believes in what Heinrich Zemo is doing? Then, you've got the absolute worst-case scenario on your hands. What if he takes Mina as a prisoner, or worse, kills her?"
"I know that, Victoria. But Mina is more than a perfect match to take on this guy – she has more power than all of my men and all of my weapons combined."
"But her power is exhaustible. You've seen that much on the battlefield – she can't withstand the force of her own abilities for too long."
"That's why she's not going alone. Leigh and Dog Company will go with her, on top of the recon team that's already out there - she'll have plenty of support."
Victoria sighed heavily, shaking her head. "I don't like it, Chet. You said this man mowed down an entire village. I can give you every weapon in my arsenal but even Howard Stark doesn't have fully-functioning androids at his disposal. The Germans have always been lightyears ahead of us – even if Mina gets her father on our side, I'd bet that those androids answer to one master only and that's Zemo."
"Well, then it's a good thing you're going to Germany to stop him."
Victoria scoffed, indignant. "Me? You want me to go to Germany and take out some psychotic megalomaniac, me, the engineering professor? Oh yes, absolutely, that sounds like a great idea, Chet, brilliant."
Phillips rolled his eyes. "Bradleigh relax, I'm not sending you out there alone. Because we both know how fantastically that worked out the first time."
Victoria bristled, but Phillips kept on.
"Schmidt's going with you."
Her eyes widened. "Absolutely not. Absolutely not, Phillips, I will not –"
Phillips held up a dismissive hand, making her blood boil. "Bradleigh, would you let me finish? Look, I'm not doing this just to be an asshole. Schmidt's the only one here who has a prayer of even finding Zemo, but I'm sure as hell not about to let him go alone. But I can't send him with a clunky security detail – I don't know about you, but a bunch of trigger-happy kids who can't speak a lick of German going deep into enemy territory makes zero sense to me. You speak fluent German, and – hear me out – as a woman, you're less likely to attract attention. Zemo's a fencing champion – you're highly trained in swordplay, so you're more than capable of going up against him or his cronies if you need to."
He paused for a moment, but Victoria said nothing.
"And – I'm willing to bet money that Schmidt won't try to pull any stunts with you."
"And what makes you so sure of that?" Victoria asked, firmly. "Phillips, I didn't exactly leave Germany on good terms with Johann. You're a fool to pin your hopes on him having even a shred of sympathy for me." Her last words cracked slightly, her throat constricting. Victoria cringed inwardly; her voice was betraying the warring emotions within her. "Besides, seeing as though I faltered so egregiously the last time – you need someone neutral to go with Johann, someone who can view everything he does objectively. And – I am not that person."
"Victoria, I need someone who is going to trust Schmidt entirely – because that's the only way he's going to trust us. That's why you are the person for this job. If I had it my way, I wouldn't trust Schmidt as far as I could throw him – but he's made it clear he's not gonna give us what we need unless the cooperation goes both ways. And – he's been a lot more willing to spill his guts than I thought he'd be."
Victoria looked at the ceiling, sighing. "Johann has always been willing to spill his guts if it's at the expense of one of his enemies. That's why the Nazis didn't trust him – he's always had his own motives and he's never made any attempt to hide them. That's why we chose him as a target for surveillance in the first place – he would have sold out Hitler in a heartbeat if he could have." She cleared her throat. "But I didn't expect him to be so forthcoming with you."
"He's willing to do anything to ensure his niece's safety, that much he's made clear. But Victoria – you are willing to trust him in ways that I'm not, in ways that my men are not. You know him inside and out, you know how his brain works, you know what makes him tick. You – out of everyone here, next to the girl – are the only person who is capable of knowing for certain whether or not he's telling the truth. And I think that you'll be able to hold him accountable, while still giving him the benefit of the doubt."
Victoria was silent for a moment, pensive almost. Her voice was strained when she spoke. "I can't spy on him again, Phillips, not again."
"I'm not asking you to be a spy, Victoria. I'm asking you to work with him. I trust your judgement with Schmidt and I'm willing to give you free reign in the choices you make. I'll sleep better at night knowing he's under your watch, rather than some inexperienced kid."
Victoria sighed heavily, closing her eyes for a moment, thoughtful. "Alright, I'll do it. But that's only one thing – what was the other thing that I'm supposedly not going to like?"
"I need someone – someone with a better bedside manner than me – to explain to the girl what's going on with her father. According to Schmidt, she probably thinks he's dead because that's what the official police report stated. No other investigations were conducted regarding Hofstadter's whereabouts – the case was closed almost immediately."
"Why me, as opposed to Johann? Of course, I'll talk to her, but – wouldn't it be better coming from him?"
"Victoria, as it is, the kid's probably damn near to reaching her quota of emotional revelations. This is one of those situations that really requires a 'woman's touch,' if you catch my drift. But I need it done quickly – and I need it done on the record this time. She won't be observed per se, but Leigh and I will be in the room – with a situation this sensitive, the Pentagon's gonna want it on the books."
XXX
Mina sat quietly in the boardroom, drumming her fingers listlessly against the table. Her eyes were glassy and dazed.
Somewhere in the distance, Victoria Bradleigh's voice echoed in her mind, but her senses were numb.
"I understand that this is a lot for you to process." She said gently, reaching out with a slight hand to touch Mina's shoulder. The touch jolted her from her daze, reminding her that Dr. Bradleigh was not far away, but indeed, sitting right beside her.
Mina laughed – it was a harsh, raspy chuckle that seemed to startle the people sitting around her – Victoria Bradleigh, Colonel Phillips, and Captain Leigh.
"Honestly, nothing surprises me anymore." She stared off into the corners of the room. "Did my uncle know that my father was alive? Is that why he has declined to tell me this himself?"
"He's insisting that he believed – along with everyone else – that Wolfgang Hofstadter was dead." Phillips said bluntly.
"Not everyone else." Mina said abruptly, turning her head to face Phillips.
"Your mother was right." Victoria said softly beside her, her hand still lightly resting on Mina's shoulder, as though to comfort.
"So. What am I supposed to do about this?"
Phillips sat back in his chair, looking relieved that the dramatic revelation was over – now they could return to business. "You, along with Leigh and some of the better fighters from Dog Company are going to be traveling back to the Alps – my recon leader has been tracking Wolfgang Hofstadter's movements and they've been hewing pretty closely to the more remote villages along the Alpine region. We suspect that Heinrich Zemo has at least one base somewhere around that area that would serve as a rendezvous point for Hofstadter and Zemo's androids and other personnel. I'm expecting to hear from the recon team by 2400 at the latest – last time they radioed in, it seemed like they were getting close to what might be a base of operations, but no sign for sure, yet."
"So we're going to be wandering around the Alpine region like chickens with our heads cut off until we find a concrete lead?" Mina flinched slightly at the sharpness of her tone, but did not move to soften it. She felt numb.
Phillips looked surprised, but did not rebuke her. "I appreciate your optimism." He said instead, flatly. "Look, this is the best lead we've got."
Mina sighed. "I understand. But what am I supposed to do if, by chance, I find… my father?" She struggled with the word, but she kept her emotions in check. "What do I do if I find him? If he is truly a cold-blooded assassin, don't you think it's foolish to believe that he will be moved by my appearance? What if he does not wish to help us – what if he tries to kill us? If he can withstand bullets, what if he can withstand my power?"
As she spoke, Phillips rolled his eyes to the ceiling, sighing exasperatedly. "So what do you propose we do then, Miss Hofstadter? Should we just sit here with our thumbs up our asses and wait until Zemo tries to take on the free world, or at least massacres whatever's left of the German population? Look, I'm gonna give it to you straight. If you find Wolfgang Hofstadter, I need you to appeal to him on an emotional level – isn't that what you wanted to do all along with Schmidt and you were all upset that I didn't trust you enough to let you do it? Well guess what, now I do. And now you're going to. Because that's the only prayer we have left – we don't have enough information about Zemo to know what he's doing and when. It took decades to build up insider contacts in the ranks of HYDRA – we didn't take down Schmidt in a day – it took literal years to get to this point. We don't have years anymore, I'm not even sure we have weeks. So yeah, we are gonna run around like chickens with our heads cut off because there ain't a hell of a lot else we can do."
The room went silent. Captain Leigh appeared stunned by Phillips' suddenly impassioned speech. Victoria looked uneasy, her shoulders tensed, as though she were about to speak – but Phillips held up a hand to silence her.
"Look. If it's true that my recon team has been able to find strong evidence of a base in the Alps, that's where you're headed. But as for how you treat Hofstadter – as for what you do with him, how you fight him – I leave that up to your judgement. I trust you enough to know that you will make the right decision at the right time. You led the initiative that finally took down Schmidt – it was your idea alone to play his game and fight him on his home turf, not mine, not anybody else's in this room. You have my complete support."
Mina met his gaze. "Alright. Let's do it."
Phillips nodded at her grimly and stood up, swiftly exiting the boardroom. Leigh followed, leaving just the two women in the room.
Victoria turned in her seat to face Mina. "Are you alright?" She asked, her expression that of a concerned mother hen.
"As alright as I'm going to be, I suppose."
Victoria looked pained. "I apologize for Phillips'… insensitivity. He understands that you've been inundated with a lot of information in the past few days. No, not days. Hours, even. That's a lot for anyone to process and you have every right to cry, scream, and bang your head against the wall if you want to. We all care about your wellbeing, Mina. I realize that Phillips looks like he's only interested in your usefulness as a weapon, but… acting like he's all business all the time is also how he processes everything. After you've been on the job for a while here you… you learn to shut out the pain. You desensitize yourself from everything, you depersonalize everything. Otherwise, if you let it get to you, it kills you slowly."
Mina inhaled deeply, feeling hot tears begin to well in her eyes. "I just – I don't know what to feel. I – my whole life, I've believed that my father was dead and now to find out that he's alive and that he's been turned into some sort of freak killer – I don't know what to do. Part of me feels like I should be hopeful – that maybe… maybe my father will be happy to know about me, that maybe I could… change him. But … I'm afraid, too. I want to believe that he doesn't know about me – that maybe he doesn't know that I'm alive, maybe he doesn't know about me at all. But if he does – if he does know about me, and if he's made no effort to find me – I worry that he will not want to help us if I am able to find him, that he will not want to be changed."
She cleared her throat, her voice shaky. "I know that Colonel Phillips thinks this will all be the same as it was with my uncle but – with my uncle, there was an already existing bond between us. I felt confident that I could change my uncle because there was already so much love within him, love for me, and my love for him. But – I don't know my father, and my father, even if he knows that I exist, doesn't truly know me. There is no preexisting bond between us that might persuade him to come to our side, and for that reason I fear that I will fail."
Mina took a deep breath, fighting back her tears. "Victoria, is there any possibility that I could speak with my uncle – alone? I just – my uncle is the only father I have ever had and… I am so very fearful of what is ahead of us – of all of us – and I… I just want his… his guidance. If someone must observe us, I understand but – can I please speak to him?"
Victoria gazed at her for a moment, her green eyes plaintive. "I think that can be arranged." She said, at last.
XXX
It was late in the day when Mina was finally allowed to speak with her uncle, having had to wait until the reconnaissance team radioed in to report their findings. The location of a suspected base had been discovered – evidenced by the appearance of androids. However, there had been no sign of the blond-haired assassin dressed in silver.
It was a good start. The coordinates were not specific and the radius was broad – it was unclear how far the androids had ventured from their hiding place, and it was far too risky for the small reconnaissance squadron to follow them up close, given the carnage of their previous attack. But, it laid the groundwork for an operation.
She waited outside of his cell as the young soldier who had been standing guard unlocked the door with a rattling of keys, as he ducked into the cell to notify the prisoner that there was a visitor wanting to see him.
The soldier ducked out of the doorway, closing the door slightly behind him, but leaving it ajar. "Phillips has agreed to about thirty minutes of free time with Schmidt."
She nodded. "Thank you." She said quietly. The soldier nodded in return, and gestured for Mina to enter the cell.
It was a small, cramped cubby-hole of a room; the cinder-block walls looked damp with moisture, and the single lightbulb that hung from the ceiling did little to illuminate it. The customary cot – a narrow metal bedframe with a sad-looking mattress – sat in the corner. Clothing was laid out on the cot – black leather and starched uniforms. Gleaming jackboots stood erect on the floor at the foot of the cot. A crimson swastika armband lay on the pillow, beside something that set her stomach to churning. A silicon mask, in pieces – the front facepiece, the neck and hair pieces that altogether would create the face of the man that had been the only father she'd ever known.
She must have been staring at it for some time – as Johann had moved from the shadows of the room to grasp her shoulders firmly, forcing her to face him.
"Mina? Mina, are you ill?"
A slender crimson hand grasped firmly at her chin, forcing her to look up into the hooded, ice-blue eyes that gazed down at her.
He appeared concerned – and irritated that she stood slack-jawed, unable to speak, not even to mumble a reply. The crimson hand ghosted across her forehead, as though to check if she were feverish. The long fingers started for eyes – but she wrenched her face away, lest he pry her eyelids open and examine her for jaundice.
"Why is – where are you going?" She stumbled over the words, her tongue suddenly thick and parched in her mouth. She looked to the clothes on the bed and – the silicon pieces.
Johann gazed at her, crimson skull cocked to one side, his hooded eyes still examining her face. He followed her eyes to the cot in the corner, briefly surveying its contents himself before his ice-blue eyes came to rest on the mask – a pause, and then, recognition.
"Well, you do not expect me to gallivant about Berlin looking like this, do you?" He asked at last. There was a touch of the old dark wit in his tone, but he spoke softly and guardedly.
Mina looked up at him. "They are letting you go to Germany? Why? What for?"
"To apprehend the Baron Heinrich Zemo, apparently." He paused for a moment. "I am surprised they did not tell you of their plans."
"Colonel Phillips explained his plan for me. I did not think that he would allow you out of his sight."
"Neither did I. However, I should not complain. It will be nice to get some fresh air." He let his eyes flicker to the floor. "And as for you? Where will your travels take you?"
"To find my father." She flinched inwardly as her voice cracked with the words.
The hooded eyes slowly rose to meet hers. "Ah," he said softly. "So they have told you."
She gazed levelly at him. "Did you know that my father was alive, Uncle?"
Johann inhaled sharply. "No, Mina. I assumed that your father was dead. The official cause of death was ruled to have been a landmine explosion – no man could have survived the impact of a direct detonation, especially if left alone in a blizzard to fend for himself. Even if he had survived the initial blast, he should have bled out."
Johann must have noticed her apprehension, for he moved closer to her, reaching out with a slender hand to cup her chin once again.
"Mina," he said softly, "I would not lie to you about this. Regardless of the tensions that existed between your father and I, I understood how much your father loved your mother, how much he would have loved you had he known you. I have a committed a great number of sins, Mina, but I would not have laid a finger on your father."
He paused. "And, had I known that he had survived, I would not have kept him from you." A sorrowful smile appeared to ghost over his thin, crimson lips. "I am a selfish man, but even I would not stoop so low."
Mina pulled away from his grip, instinctively stepping backward. As she did so, a pained expression crossed Johann's features, his ghoulish face grimacing in the dim light of the cell.
She let her gaze fall to the floor, inhaling deeply. "I want to believe you – "
"I understand, Mina." Johann cut in, but his tone was soft. "Trust that has been broken must be regained."
She let her eyes meet his once again, and they gazed at each other levelly for some moments, in silence.
Though no words were spoken, there was a clear feeling of understanding between them, and Mina felt somewhat comforted by it. Johann understood her hesitance – her longing to believe him wholeheartedly, but also, her apprehension.
They both understood that the old bond of trust that had once existed between them had been shattered a thousand times over. They both understood – though Mina sensed that neither of them fully wanted to accept it – that they could never return to the past.
She longed for the fatherly love that Johann had represented in her life – the steadfast bulwark, the anchor.
And, Johann longed to be that bulwark, to be that anchor – to have her complete trust in him, to eliminate that painful, cold distance that divided them.
They both understood the gravity of the rift that separated them, that made them almost ill at ease in each other's presence, both hesitant, both deeply sorrowful, both longing in vain for what no longer existed.
Trust that had been broken must be regained.
Mina broke the silence. "You knew my father once. If it is true that Zemo created an assassin able to withstand all weaponry out of my father's ashes, do you believe that he kills out of his own free will? Or do you think that he is being controlled?"
Johann sighed heavily, turning back to the cot to absently fold up the uniforms strewn across it.
"Your father was a deeply conflicted man." He said. "That much was obvious, even to an outsider. I have never met a man so close to freedom and yet so wholly incapable of freeing himself. He had every opportunity to distance himself from Heinrich Zemo, and yet, he chose not to. Zemo appeared to inspire a sort of slavish sense of loyalty in him, a sense of deeply misguided hero-worship. Wolfgang was desperate to please his teacher; he would have gone to the ends of the earth if it meant winning Zemo's praise."
Johann paused, pensive. "He was afraid of Zemo – afraid of what Zemo would do to him if he did not live up to his expectations. And, I suspect that the fear was magnified when he married your mother."
"You think that Zemo would have hurt her?"
"I have no doubt." He said darkly. "And, perhaps he did, in the end. If it was Zemo who orchestrated your father's death, it would have been the ultimate revenge against your mother, for having distracted his prized pupil."
Mina shifted uncomfortably. "So… you think that he – my father – was acting out of fear, and not out of his own fanaticism?"
"I think that your father is being controlled by Zemo, yes. In the brief time that I came to be acquainted with your father, I got the distinct impression that he was not a leader, but a follower – totally incapable of freeing himself from Zemo's pull. Perhaps he chose that fate out of his own volition, but I am more inclined to believe that Zemo forced his hand."
He cleared his throat. "However, that he chose to spare the American reconnaissance squadron rather than murder them outright should not be taken lightly. That was a conscious choice that he made alone, without orders from Zemo."
"He tires of being the slave." Mina said softly.
Johann inhaled sharply, gazing at her with reluctant, but resolute eyes. "But you will not know anything for certain until you find your father and ask him yourself."
"Do you think that he knows about me? That I even exist?"
"Well, your mother was pregnant with you at the time of his… disappearance. They had made it a point to decide on your name before he departed."
Johann cleared his throat. "But, as for your other question, it is hard to say whether or not he would have sought you out, had he known that you had survived the birth. Even prior to his departure, it was clear that your mother's would be a difficult pregnancy. I suppose he could have had reasons to ignore your existence – perhaps to keep Zemo away from you, who knows. Perhaps he does not know – perhaps Zemo has kept secrets from him. It is impossible to guess."
Mina sighed heavily. "I fear that my name alone will not be enough to convince him that I am indeed his child. Especially given that I am an extension of American forces. Even if I am able to get close enough to talk to him, what compelling evidence do I have that could persuade him to come to our side? What if he assumes me to be an allied spy and refuses to hear anything I or anyone has to say – if he even gives us a chance to say anything?"
Johann sighed heavily, absently running his hands along the folds of the thick leather overcoat that lay on the cot.
"Then, my dear, you would have done all that you could. But – you managed to save someone who once thought himself beyond saving." He met her gaze with one of sincerity. "Someone who shut out every other voice of reason that begged him to stop on his path of self-destruction. But your voice was louder, and steadfast. Do not doubt your strength, Mina."
The sound of the cell's heavy steel door swinging open alerted them that their time was up. The young guard stood in the doorframe, the bright electric lights of the corridor illuminating the musty cell.
Mina met his eyes and held his gaze for a moment longer, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked and nodded minutely. She turned to leave, but Johann strode towards her, grasping her shoulders firmly and turning her to face him once again.
There was an expression of longing on his face – as though he desperately wanted to embrace her for a long time, to press a kiss onto her matted curls, as he always had before.
He did not now – perhaps because the looming presence of the guard discouraged him. However, Mina doubted that. The guard was but a child to her uncle, and one that he could easily pick up and send flying through at least several brick-and-mortar walls before he would grind to a halt, in a pile of dust and debris.
No, she suspected that this time he restrained himself out of respect for their silent accord. Trust that had been broken had to be regained.
Instead, he merely whispered, "Take care, Mina. Your father is a master swordsman – you may need to fall back on your knowledge of fencing to fight him, if it comes to that."
Her face must have betrayed her distress, as he squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. "And, if all else fails, shoot him."
"I thought he was unkillable?" Mina muttered under her breath.
Johann's thin lips quirked into a slight smile. "Yes, but it will make you feel better." He squeezed her shoulders one more time, and turned her about face, to the guard who stood waiting in the doorway.
Fencing. She loathed fencing.
XXX
Mina walked with Leigh to the boardroom, where Phillips was set to give a briefing of Dog Company's next move.
"I still don't like these odds." She mumbled softly.
"The confirmation of a base location is encouraging."
"You mean the general coordinates of a supposed base of operations?"
Leigh sighed. "Well, do you really want to just sit here and twiddle your thumbs while more Alpine chalets are blown to smithereens?
Mina scowled. "Of course, I don't want to, Captain Leigh. But I would also prefer not to have dozens of American soldiers running around the Alps and getting blown to smithereens by enemy androids simply because Colonel Phillips' or his bosses want us to find some half-robot assassin. We know what we're looking for, but where? You have said that they have been continuously changing the location of the android strikes so as to throw any spies off course, and we know of no base of operations for Heinrich Zemo. We don't know where the attacks are originating from or if there's any purpose to them other than to cause chaos. It seems pointless for us to try and chase them down, especially when we have no real strategy ourselves."
She sighed, running her hands through her hair. "Look, it was different with my uncle. With him, as Phillips said, you had years of espionage activity – and I had an emotional connection with him, something concrete that could compel him to come to our side. But now, we have nothing. So forgive me if I am pessimistic."
She could feel Leigh eyeing her, but she made no move to return his gaze.
"Mina, you single-handedly brought your uncle down – you were willing to give your life to stop Schmidt from destroying the world, when the rest of us had all but given up hope. Without you, we wouldn't have stood a snowball's chance in hell of defeating Schmidt. You had hope left when no one else did – you're the reason we won. And you never gave up on your uncle – you saw the man in him when all we saw was the monster. And your faith in him has shown us – all of us – a different side of him. But the fight isn't over, Mina. And we need your help now more than ever – now, look, tell me why all of a sudden you're obsessing over our odds? Is it because you don't want to face your father? Is that what you're afraid of?"
"Of course, that's what I'm afraid of." She snapped. "My father was like a storm cloud hanging over my childhood, don't you understand? My mother never, ever accepted his death – because the SS did nothing to investigate what had happened to him. They pretended to investigate it for a month or so and then, it was done. They immediately declared him dead, and that was that – my mother received nothing by way of closure. Oh she received my father's pension, of course that helped financially – but my father was not supposed to die. There had never been any reason for his death. The Nazi party was in its infancy at that time, Hitler hadn't even been declared chancellor then. There was literally no reason on earth for his death, and yet, when the Nazis did come to power officially, they did nothing to investigate his disappearance. It was swept under the rug, and it was made to look as though my father had never existed."
She inhaled sharply, catching her breath. "To find out now that my father is not only alive, but that he is murdering innocent Germans? To find out that I might be forced to confront this man, and to kill him or at the very least injure him, because he might kill me or you or your men?"
"Look, I get it, Mina," Leigh started, but she cut him off abruptly.
"I know what I have to do, Captain. I just… need to detach myself, emotionally, from all of this. To view my father as a stranger, and – as an opponent. Because that is how he will view me, how he will view all of us."
"But that's not what you're afraid of." Leigh replied. "Phillips wants you to get close to him – if you can, without getting killed of course. To establish that emotional connection in order to persuade him to defect from Zemo and give us the keys to taking him down – that is, if he holds those keys at all. You're not afraid to fight your father – you're afraid to confront your father with the knowledge that you are his daughter. You're afraid of how he will react to that, if he'll react at all. If he'll react with empathy or apathy – that's what frightens you."
Mina closed her eyes for a moment, before stopping and turning to face Leigh. "It was easier thinking he was dead." She shook her head. "I don't think my mother ever fully recovered, emotionally, after my father's disappearance. Because she refused to accept that he was dead. Everyone around her, even my uncle, believed that he was dead and tried to convince her that he was dead. But she wouldn't accept it. And when everyone around you is telling you that it's a lost cause, that you're wasting your time – it gets to you."
She cleared her throat. "We are here." They stopped before the board room doors, the din of gossiping soldiers within only slightly muffled.
Leigh looked at her, concerned. "Mina,"
"I'm fine, Captain. I'll be fine, I just… have to look at it like Phillips does. It's just business."
He held her gaze for a moment, still unconvinced, but he nodded. "We've all got your back, Mina. And we trust that you have ours."
Trust. Such a simple word, so easily taken for granted.
Trust. Trust that has been broken must be regained.
"Thank you, Captain. I appreciate that. We should go in now, yes?"
XXX
The boardroom had filled up once again – young men in uniform chattered anxiously amongst themselves, whispering or muttering under their breath, standing in clusters or seated around the table. Phillips stood at the head of the long boardroom table, hands splayed out across its surface. He assumed a commanding posture – he surveyed his kingdom grimly, and with impatience. Wilhelmina sat at Phillips' right hand, the young Captain Leigh beside her. They talked quietly, but their words were lost among the din of conversation reverberating across the cramped room. But none of this attracted Johann's interest; there was only one person – a woman, seated alone at the far end of the table – who held his attention with a suffocating grip.
Impossibly small and lithe, like a pixie – he could have snapped her in two, like a twig, with but one hand. Pale, alabaster skin framed by fiery red hair, woven into a braided chignon at the nape of her neck. She stared at the table before her, wringing her slender hands. She was thin and frail, her sharp jawbone even more pronounced, her angular face drawn. She looked sickly. Dark circles filled in the hollows of her eyes. Her emerald green irises – the memory of which was imprinted in his mind – were veiled by long red lashes. She said nothing and spoke to no one, and no one spoke to her, as though she did not exist.
But for him, she was far too real.
The two of them bathed in Alpine moonlight, her laughter tinkling lightly in his ears, his lips on her lips, on her neck, her forehead, every inch of her – all his.
Dressed all in seductive crimson, her red hair a tangle of luscious waves tumbling across her breast and down her back, his slender fingers splayed across her hip as they twirled about the Berghof ballroom.
Blood smeared across her face – she clutched her tear-stained cheek and sobbed in agony as he stormed out of the darkened hotel room, a glittering silver and diamond ring glinting from his gloved fingers.
He held her tightly against his chest, the tip of his dagger licking at her breast, her shuddering breaths as he whispered to her, his lips mouthing hungrily at her ear –
Alone, in his alpine fortress, on his knees weeping, her loss – nay! Her betrayal! – too much for him to bear, his sorrow palpable in his raw, piercing howls.
She was a spy. She had betrayed him – she did not love him, no, it had never been about love. Only lies and deceit – she had stolen everything from him, she – she! – she was the beginning of it all, she had lit the spark that had ignited in him a cold passion, a lust so savage and cruel, a lust for utter destruction.
But… the rage that normally colored his dreams of her no longer burned with its former intensity. The cold fury of old was dulled within him and replaced by a hollow sadness.
Because, had he not deceived her, also? Had he not betrayed her, also? The tip of his dagger pressed against her, his slender gloved fingers longing to plunge it deep into her chest. The blood smeared across her face had been from his hand, which had struck her so savagely in the heat of anger.
The image of the two little redheaded girls – Cynthia and Abigail, his daughters – flashed across his mind's eye, and he shuddered inwardly. Victoria, beaten and bruised by his hand, the little girl screaming in terror over her near-dead mother's body, cowering from the hideous, crimson beast that desperately pleaded with her to calm down.
The guard that had escorted him from his cell silently gestured that he take the seat beside the redheaded woman.
She stiffened visibly as he sat down, her spine going rigid. She stared intently down at her folded hands.
Johann gazed at her curiously, examining the woman who had once been his beloved, over a decade ago. Briefly, he contemplated averting his gaze – lest his clearly prying eyes be noticed by someone else at the table. But the agonizing desire that had begun churning in the pit of his stomach won out over his cautiousness. He would have spoken to her, if he could have found the words – but here and now, this was not the time. And from the rigidity of her posture, he suspected that if he were to speak up, she would jump out of her seat in fright.
She was exactly as he remembered her – beautiful, wisps of dark red hair framing her pale face, her skin so white as to be almost transparent. Waiflike, ethereal, almost elven in her tiny, slight proportions. But she was thin – so terribly thin, and drawn. She looked tired, staring down at the table before her, her pale lips pursed tightly. She stared with such intensity, her thin shoulders visibly tensed – perhaps, as though willing him away.
Or perhaps wanting to meet his gaze also, but like him, afraid of being observed.
He could hope.
But there was something else – something familiar, that glinted at the hollow of her slender throat.
The slightest glimmer of ruby red, just barely visible beneath the collar of her blouse.
As though sensing his gaze, her pale hand flew to her neck. She clutched the trinket, from where that tiny glimmer of red radiated brightly. The way her slender fingers grasped it seemed almost protective.
Colonel Phillips' gruff voice cut through the din, immediately silencing everyone in the room.
"Alright boys and girls, let's get down to business. We've narrowed down a solid fifty-kilometer radius in the Alpine region of Germany that Zemo's goons might be skulking around. The tricky part is narrowing down a point of origin – androids show up on the radar in clusters along the base of the mountains. The recon team doesn't have the men or the means to stake out each group – which means Dog Company will have to fill in for them."
Phillips raised his eyes, coolly surveying the room. "Our target is a man named Wolfgang Hofstadter." Phillips raised a photograph of the almost white-haired man, his sharp features clear in the moonlight in which the photo had been taken. A long, lethal blade protruded from his wrist, his gloved fist raised toward the sky. "This man appears to be a Nazi super-assassin – virtually indestructible by bullets, capable of withstanding direct gunfire – "
A pause.
"Caught a bullet that was fired at the back of his head from five hundred yards."
"Caught? Like a baseball?" A young corporal piped up.
Phillips narrowed his eyes, grim. "That's right."
A chorus of muffled exclamations picked up in the room.
"This man fights with swords not guns – you'll see in the photograph" here, he casually tossed the picture across the table for the young men to examine, "two retractable blades, one at each wrist. Not as visible, but there are two katana blades strapped across his back – you can start to make out the hilts around his shoulder-blades."
"This is the guy who mowed down a whole village isn't it?" One of the soldiers peered with wide eyes over the photograph at Phillips. "Colonel, how the hell are we gonna take him out if our guns don't do jack?"
"Because the initiative is not to take him out, it's to lure him out. You're right, this man mowed down an entire village in less than 45 minutes. But he also had the opportunity to mow down our entire reconnaissance team and he chose not to. He also – very helpfully I might add – told us who he worked for, and it's not Adolf Hitler. Now why would a man in his position tell us that?"
"To trap us?" A lieutenant blew a puff of blue smoke into the air, letting his eyes slowly trail from the end of his cigarette up to those of his commanding officer.
"Come on, Lieutenant, be a little more creative than that."
"You're saying he wants to defect?" Another asked.
"Why would he show his hand like that if prior to, we had no idea who he was? Why would he give up that anonymity? And even if he wanted to bait us, what good would it do? Even if we go out there and get our asses squarely handed to us, at the end of the day, both his and his boss's cover is blown."
The room was silent.
Phillips rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly. "Look, is it a stretch? You're damn right it's a stretch. But everything we've been doing in the past month has been a stretch and so far the odds have been in our favor. We've got no other leads on this guy, and Washington's lighting a fire under my ass to stop the new Nazi nutcase of the week. So here's the plan. We go in guns blazing and bait the sons of bitches out. The initiative is not to fight to win. It's to create a distraction and ultimately, to capture Hofstadter. Dog Company's number one responsibility is to distract the androids – give them something to chew on while Athena takes on Hofstadter. She's the only one capable of fighting him and she's the only one capable of appealing to whatever second thoughts he may have about Zemo."
"Why, cause the bastard's got a sick sense of honor and won't kill a woman?" One of the soldiers muttered under his breath.
Phillips paused for a beat. "Because she's kin."
Another round of muffled exclamations. Johann watched his niece's gaze falter from across the room, her eyes dropping to her lap, shoulders hunching forward.
Phillips remained steadfast. "Wolfgang Hofstadter is apparently Mina Hofstadter's father – he disappeared in 1926 and was pronounced dead. Turns out he's been operating incognito for quite some time – the Germans allegedly know as much about him as we do. If we can get to him, we have a chance at getting to Zemo."
The colonel cast his steely gaze towards Johann. "According to our new friend here, Hofstadter's been Zemo's personal goon since before the war. If we can get our hands on this guy, the information he has on Zemo could be invaluable."
A measured pause, and Phillips' gaze turned to Mina, her eyes still boring intently into her lap.
"Do you understand what is expected of you, Miss Hofstadter?"
Mina lifted her head, grey eyes somber, but she held the colonel's gaze without faltering. "Yes, Colonel. While Dog Company devotes their energies to keeping the androids at bay, I will deal with Hofstadter. If he expresses a willingness to be reasoned with, I will offer him the opportunity to come with us of his own accord. If he does not – then I will use whatever means necessary to subdue and capture him."
Phillips nodded at her. And then, his steely gaze returned to Johann. "Meanwhile, our new informant will be headed to Germany – under lock and key – for the purpose of collecting information on the whereabouts of Heinrich Zemo."
Another chorus of muffled exclamations.
"Colonel, you're sending Schmidt out into the field? You don't honestly trust him, do you?" One of the soldiers in the back of the room spoke up.
Phillips offered the soldier a cool smile. "Schmidt? I don't trust him as far as I can throw him. But I do trust the agent that will be accompanying him and – trust me, Schmidt won't be wanting to pull any stunts around them unless he wants to be returned to London in a body bag."
Tension in the room was palpable, the air almost buzzing. Phillips pursed his lips. "Bottom line is Schmidt is the only person here aside from Athena who has a snowball's chance in hell of being able to pass through Germany without drawing too much attention to himself. He may not be popular with the Nazi party, but he's sure as hell going to be able to keep a lower profile than a bunch of green enlisted men who don't speak a lick of German and don't know the first thing about German politics. Like it or not, this is our best shot to figuring out where Zemo is or what he's up to."
"Who's the unlucky bastard who gets to be his chaperone?" A wiry young man mumbled, nursing his cigarette butt.
The redheaded woman abruptly stood up from her seat, tucking a portfolio of documents under her arm with hands that trembled violently. Without a word, she marched out of the board room, eyes cast intently downward. But as she slipped past his chair, Johann turned ever so slightly in his seat, finally catching a glimpse of her full face.
Deathly pale, the woman looked as though she had seen a ghost.
But that was not what caught his eye. The ruby red glimmer at her throat became just visible as she darted past him, confirming his earlier suspicions.
A pendant – a small skull with swirling tentacles, covered in tiny crimson gemstones.
The sound of someone noisily clearing their throat broke the sudden silence that had overtaken the room.
"That's on a need-to-know basis, Corporal." Colonel Phillips' catty tone cut through the quiet. He shuffled his papers into neat stack. "And you don't need to know. Dog Company, you have your marching orders. Meet at the south side of the base at 2300 hours, you depart at midnight for the alps. You're dismissed, head to the armory to get suited up."
One by one the soldiers filed out of the room, Mina and the young captain taking up the rear. Johann caught Mina's gaze as she neared the exit – he held it for as long as he could, before she offered him a quick nod and ducked out of the room, hurrying onto her next assignment.
Johann stood stiffly, his wrists chafing under the heavy cuffs that bound them.
He waited silently for Phillips to meet his gaze. "Presumably my marching orders are to be on the next flight to Berlin, although you've also yet to reveal to me who my – chaperone, as it were – will be. Surely you are not putting me on a plane with my only instruction being to seek out the esteemed Barron Zemo."
"Oh, your chaperone?" The colonel's nonchalant tone set Johann's teeth to grinding. "You just missed Bradleigh. Don't know what set to her leaving so quickly though, she must not have appreciated the Corporal's tone. You'll have to forgive me for not bothering with formal introductions but I'm a little pressed for time here and I understand you two have already met once or twice before, isn't that right?"
Johann bit back the snarl that threatened to twist his features, instead forcing his mouth into strained smile. "In another lifetime, you might say." He uttered the words through gritted teeth.
Phillips offered him a serene smile in return, tucking his own sheaf of papers under his arm. But as he turned to stride out of the room, Johann spoke up.
"But I must question your judgement, Colonel. Don't you think it rather unwise for a – scientist, a woman no less – to be embarking on what is expected to be a clandestine mission? I would prefer to be able to focus my energies on the task at hand, which I understand to be obtaining intelligence as to Zemo's whereabouts and his plans – not having to worry about rescuing a damsel in distress from the Gestapo. Especially a woman as… petite as your colleague."
Phillips had turned to face him, and they now stood nearly toe to toe. Phillips chuckled quietly to himself, and said in a hushed tone, "I wouldn't spend too much time worrying about Doctor Bradleigh if I were you. She can take care of herself just fine. And more importantly, she can take care of you if you so much as try to step out of line."
The colonel stepped back, smirking openly now. "But I think you know that as well as I do."
And with that, the Colonel turned on his heel, whistling as he strode out of the room. "Auf Wiedersehen!" He called over his shoulder.
Johann ground his teeth hard, seething.
XXX
French-German Border – The Next Day, Approximately 0800 Hours
The flight to the Allied base of operations on the French-German border was mercifully uneventful. Conversation was impossible due to the pulsating rumble of the cargo plane that was to transport them from London. The deafening roar of the propellers was enough to drown out the loudest of thoughts that swam round Victoria's brain in a near-constant stream. She had thumbed through the passport she had been given at least three hundred times over the course of their journey – anything for her to avoid the piercing, ice-blue gaze of the man that sat directly opposite her. Bedecked in an uncomfortably familiar black SS uniform and his painstakingly sculpted silicon mask, Johann looked like a vivid ghost from her past. But he was no ghost – he was real. Although flanked by two especially stocky soldiers and his gloved hands manacled, she could feel his eyes boring into her, never once averting his gaze.
And yet – when she did chance to catch a glimpse of his face, she did not see rage there. There was no anger in those ice blue eyes, no contempt or hate. Just… pensive. A pensive stare that betrayed no particular emotion. But his eyes never wavered from her, that much she could tell out of the corner of her eye or if she dared raise her head to look across the aisle at him. He seemed to be sizing her up almost – perhaps curious. And perhaps he had reason to be – after all, it had been well over a decade since they had last met.
Careful, Kleine – the tip of a knife licking her breast.
Victoria seized violently, her body lurching forward, crumpling in on itself.
"Are you alright, Ma'am?" The soldier sitting beside her gently laid his hand on her shoulder to steady her.
"I – uh, yes, I'm fine, thank you. Must have started dozing off." She offered him a halfhearted smile.
The ice-blue gaze still bore into her, but it seemed to be tinged with concern.
The intercom rasped to life, straining over the din. "Preparing for landing. Landing gear deployed."
"Best strap in, Ma'am, it's about to get bumpy!" The soldier beside her shouted into her ear as the propellors roared louder.
XXX
The final stretch of their journey to Germany, as agonizing as it felt to Victoria, was sadly one of the easier parts. Once they crossed the border into Germany, the Allied safety net would give way to a wide-open frontier of uncertainty.
It did not help matters that the very embodiment of that wide-open frontier happened to sit beside her now, in the civilian vehicle that ushered them through checkpoints to the train station in Saarbrücken, where they were scheduled to board the eleven o'clock train to Berlin.
They were to pose as husband and wife, both German citizens, returning from a holiday in France. Her passport stated that her name was Victoria Braun, and that she had been born in the United States (to account for her decidedly foreign accent), but had emigrated to Germany after the Great War where she had met and married her husband, Johann Braun, an Obergruppenführer in the SS. She had renounced her U.S. citizenship and allegiance to the United States at the start of the war.
Phillips had deemed it too risky for them to be flown directly into Berlin – where Allied planes faced unfriendly skies. Taking the train in from the border would allow them to more seamlessly blend in with vacationers and civilians, and it would buy them valuable time to plan out next steps. While they traveled, Allied reconnaissance teams on the ground in Berlin would be gathering intelligence on the social and political calendars of Hitler's inner circle – pouring over everything from gala guest lists to Nazi rallies in order to weed out potential hot spots in which Zemo or his contemporaries might be likely to make an appearance.
Of course – it was all maddeningly uncertain, and the Allies were very much running about like chickens with their heads cut off. In a manner, Phillips was putting the entirety of his trust into Johann Schmidt's ability to ingratiate himself with and successfully infiltrate the innermost reaches of Berlin's political sphere. No small task for a man who despised the Nazi inner circle as much as they despised him.
And, Phillips was putting the entirety of his trust in her, to make sure that Johann did not attempt to jump ship the minute they set foot on German soil. If he was indeed being true to his word, Johann would honor his vow to help the Allies, without deception or malicious intent.
But Victoria had trusted him before. Was he truly any different from the man that had threatened her at knifepoint all those years ago? Had he truly seen the error of his ways, was he now truly committed to changing for the better? Her heart ached for her to say yes. Her intuition firmly said no.
The man that sat beside her now gazed out the car window, his elbow propped up against the windowsill, chin rested in a gloved palm. If he had been making designs to escape, he had missed several opportunities to do so – the minute they had removed the shackles from his wrists, he could have easily overpowered the small troop of soldiers that had accompanied them on the plane. Or even now, what was to stop him from taking out the driver and commandeering the vehicle for his own purposes? He had not been granted access to any weapons, no, but with his enhanced strength, he didn't need them.
As for Victoria, well – truth be told, she was far too mired in her own thoughts to be able to closely scrutinize his every movement. The very thought of stepping out of that car and onto a train for a six-hour journey alone with a man she had loved, feared, mourned, and at one time, even reviled – terrified her. Six hours alone confined on a train and then what? How many more days, weeks, months would be spent alone with him in Germany, far from the safety of the Allied headquarters, far from the safety of Ithaca, New York, far from the safety of home and routine? Venturing ever deeper into the cavernous maw of enemy territory, with a man who, up until 72 hours earlier, was the enemy? Chester Phillips was once again throwing her into a storm-tossed sea, unprepared to confront the man she had thought she would never see again.
But if she was being entirely honest with herself – the impending confrontation was not what frightened her. Rather, it was the prospect of rejection that did. The possibility that this man, whom she had once loved and deep down still loved, might receive her with apathetic indifference, if not outward contempt. Against the backdrop of a still-raging war, Victoria knew how silly and insignificant the fear was – but that didn't make it any easier.
What if Johann had moved on, while she had spent all these years mourning what might have been between them?
The car jolted to a halt, and the driver cut the engines. The rhythmic chugging of the trains grew louder in her ears.
She felt a hand brush her shoulder and she flinched against the touch, snapping to life. Johann was already out of the car, his gloved hand outstretched, beckoning her to exit the vehicle.
It was time. The safety net was dropping out from beneath them, and the wide-open frontier rose up to greet them.
XXX
Boarding the train turned out to be relatively painless, the train conductor evidently satisfied with the validity of their papers. The Gestapo soldiers who meandered about the platform were of the class Johann so despised – lazy, and arrogant. They smoked, chatted amongst themselves, catcalled and hassled unaccompanied young women barely older than his niece. They lazed about, blissfully unaware of the fact that not one, but two, Allied agents had slipped under their noses and had secured passage to the capitol of the Reich. Four, if counting the driver of the vehicle that had chauffeured them there, and his comrade.
But, though they had mercifully gone unnoticed thus far, his titian-haired companion was doing a poor job of affecting nonchalance.
Deathly pale and practically trembling, Victoria looked as though she might jump out of her skin if someone so much as sneezed in her vicinity. She very nearly did when he rested a hand against her back, nudging her towards the impatient conductor waiting to punch her ticket. She had managed to squeak out her name at the departures desk, but her body language pegged her as petrified of her own shadow. They had made it this far without calling too much attention to themselves, but Victoria's jittery countenance still concerned him. If they stood out at all as even slightly suspicious, the Gestapo would pounce upon them.
Or at least – those who were actually paying attention would.
The Americans had been so gracious as to provide them with enough currency to procure tickets for a private compartment, so as to avoid prying eyes and ears. Victoria's passport marked her as American by birth, which would theoretically allow them to converse in English without arousing too much suspicion. Of course, any discussion of strategy would have to be discrete – but, looking at Victoria now, he wasn't entirely confident that the woman would be able to string a sentence together without bursting into sobs.
He eyed her warily as she settled into her seat, pressing herself close to the window. She was dressed in a charcoal grey skirt-suit, her titian hair woven into a chignon at the nape of her neck, with a simple veiled hat perched atop her head. Her makeup was subtle, save for an almost brash swipe of cherry-red lipstick. It perfectly matched the glint of rubies at her throat.
But her mouth was pursed and her eyes were downcast, her shoulders hunched forward, her body almost folding in on itself. She shifted the gray valise that sat at her side, secured with a combination lock. It had been peculiarly heavy as he had silently taken it from her grasp as they boarded the train. She had not protested, but he noted that he had to tug it from her fingers, as though she were loath to let it out of her sight. No doubt, it held all sorts of materials not meant for his – a prisoner's – eyes.
Johann moved to sit opposite her, removing his cap and resting it on the table that separated them. He reached into the pocket of his long leather coat, fingers curling around the pack of cigarettes and the lighter that Captain Leigh had given him the day before. He placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag – perhaps to try to expunge the all too vivid memory of those cherry-red lips from his psyche. He leaned back against the wall behind him, silently appraising the woman that sat before him.
They sat in silence for a while, the train picking up speed and then gradually settling into a rhythmic chug. The bustling urban sprawl of Saarbrücken gave way to wide open pastures and verdant countryside, though the weather was positively dreary. The gray skies that had welcomed them to Germany now filled with heavy storm clouds, and in the distance, a fine drizzle began to make contact with the earth.
Victoria said nothing, pressed against the windowpane, her eyes staring intently beyond the glass. From this angle, the ruby and diamond pendant at her throat was obscured by the lapel of her jacket, but he did not need to see it to know what it looked like. He had designed it himself, and every detail was imprinted on his mind's eye, as vivid as the day he had given it to her.
Johann finished his cigarette, putting it out in the ash tray positioned at the center of the table. He waited a moment, measuring the silence that had hung heavily between the two of them.
At last, he cleared his throat. "Well, are we going to talk, or are we going to stare at each other for the next six hours?"
Victoria turned to look at him directly for the first time, her emerald eyes gleaming. There was a quiver in her voice when she spoke, her voice soft and strained. "I…I have so much to say."
Johann cocked his head. "We have time."
There was a loud knock at the door to their compartment. Victoria tensed, her hand instinctively flying to the handle of her valise.
Johann held up a hand and stood up, striding to the door.
A wiry train attendant pushing a refreshments cart stood beyond the threshold, bearing coffee, tea, and other items for purchase. Johann cast a glance over his shoulder at Victoria, who stared intently at him, a hand splayed protectively over whatever it was in that valise.
Johann smiled coolly, first at her, then at the attendant, and quietly requested coffee for himself, and tea for the lady. He exchanged a handful of bills for a tray of two steaming cups but lingered in the doorway to the compartment until the attendant had disappeared down the corridor.
"You shouldn't have done that."
Johann elbowed the door shut behind him, setting the cup of tea down before Victoria. "Is it a crime to want a cup of coffee in the morning? Considering that I cannot recall the last time I actually slept."
"You should not have opened the door in the first place. You're not armed, what if it had been a trap? What if it had been the Gestapo?"
Johann smiled to himself as he shook a packet of sugar into his coffee. "Firstly, if the Gestapo had caught onto us, they would have apprehended us at the station instead of waiting some forty-five minutes into the train's course. Secondly, I find it rather amusing, if not a little offensive, that you think I need a gun to disarm a few Gestapo officers."
He took a tentative sip of his beverage. "Or are you worried about my safety?"
Victoria glared at him. "You should be worried about your safety."
Johann stifled a chuckle. He met her gaze, cup half raised to his lips. "Is that a threat?"
Victoria's steely glare remained. "Do you not understand that you are a prisoner? I cannot allow you to act as a free agent – if either of us acts on our own without informing the other, we put both of our lives in danger. This is not your operation; you are not free to do as you please."
She exhaled deeply and set to preparing her tea. "I am trusting you to not abuse the freedom you are being given. That freedom can be taken away just as quickly. For your own sake, I ask that you be less cavalier about your actions."
"Do you trust me, or are you merely reciting what your commanding officer told you to tell me if I misbehaved? Presumably he is the one who assigned you to this mission, yes?" He eyed her levelly over the rim of his cup. "Surely you did not choose this fate on your own, given that your last clandestine mission seems to have left a bitter taste in your mouth."
It was a wonder Victoria did not drop her cup. The look in her eyes made him cringe inwardly – his words had been harsh even to his own jaded ears, and the sudden palpable sorrow in her emerald eyes made him wish he hadn't spoken up.
Johann sighed heavily, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers. "We have to talk about it at some point, Victoria. I am as loath to reopen old wounds as you are, but I think that we both know that we will never be able to trust each other fully until we've come to terms with our past."
Victoria sat back in her seat, her slender hands trembling. "I know," she said softly. "I just… wish I'd had more time."
She cast a doleful glance out the window. "But I suppose you're never really ready."
"You still wear the necklace." He observed quietly.
Victoria turned back to face him, pale fingers reaching around her neck to unclasp the silver chain. She held it up to the light, the tiny gemstones twinkling almost playfully.
"I have worn it always." She said quietly. "I have never been without it."
"That must not have made you very popular with your colleagues."
Her lips – albeit briefly – quirked into an almost wistful smile. "No, it did not."
Victoria returned the necklace to its place. As she did so, she spoke softly. "You knew I was a spy."
"At the time, no – although, I should say I was suspicious. And afterwards, well…" He chuckled to himself. "I was a fool not to have guessed sooner. The whole arrangement made little sense. Why all of a sudden would the United States take such an interest in me – a nobody in Germany as much as to the outside world – as to send one of their own scientists to… observe my work? And at such a politically opportune time, when Adolf Hitler was sizing up mainland Europe for his empire? That was no coincidence. But it has always been easier for me to play the victim rather than admit that I was unwilling to see the truth."
He cleared his throat. "I daresay that you were successful in your mission. I was so smitten with you, I'm surprised I did not personally hand over every blueprint to your American overlords myself."
"But I was not successful." Victoria said quietly, not meeting his eyes. "I was recalled to America because I had failed." She paused for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath. When she met his eyes, her emerald green ones shone with tears. "I fell in love with my target. I fell in love with you knowing damn well I would have to betray you in the end. And I will never forgive myself for that."
A single tear trickled down her cheek. Another soon followed it, and yet another still. She did not move to wipe them away. "I loved you then, and I love you still, and I will always love you. Because… no matter what forces conspire against us…"
"I will always love you." He said softly.
"Not a single day has gone by where I have not thought about you, Johann." She said. "Not a single day has gone by where I have not thought of… what we could have had, in a better world. I'm sure your feelings for me faded – I certainly don't blame you if they did – but… the love that I felt for you and still feel for you, it is real. It has always been real. I'm an engineer, not a spy – I didn't know how to play politics. I was trying to be the idealist – I loved you so much I was desperate to find a way to… save us. I deluded myself into thinking that I could make it all work out, that we'd have our happy ending. Instead, I fouled things up pretty spectacularly."
She took a deep breath, and reached out with slender, pale hands, her fingers lightly curling around his gloved ones. "But I have always loved you, Johann. Please, please know that. It was never my desire to cause you any pain – the idea of hurting you devastated me. To have to betray the confidence you put in me, and after everything you had already suffered – I've never forgiven myself for that. I've spent so many days, nights – wondering what I could have done to fix things, what I could have said, wanting to tell you the truth. Wondering if I'd ever see you again. Wondering if you'd ever want to see me again."
The tears flowed freely now down her ashen face, her breaths choked. Her pale hands trembled.
Silently, Johann moved to close her hands in his. "Do not weep for me, Victoria." He said softly. "I am not worth anyone's tears, certainly not yours." He paused for a moment, then tentatively raised his hand across the table, lightly cupping her cheek. He held it there for a moment, savoring the touch, the familiarity of her face and with it, vivid memories, flooding his mind. Victoria did not pull away from his touch, either.
After several moments, reluctantly, he drew back, leaning back in his seat. He sighed heavily. "You are far too quick to apologize." He said finally. "What you perceive as a "betrayal" was driven by necessity – survival. You were doing your job. I would have done the same had I been in your place."
Victoria did not look convinced.
"Besides, did I not I do worse to you?" He said softly. "I promised you that I would keep you safe, that no harm would come to you in my presence. I promised that I would love you even if politics or war forced us apart. Only to break those promises soon after, and for what? Because you had disrupted my vision. I had made you an integral part of my plans for the world, and when you refused to be a part of them, I could not accept it."
The two of them alone in the hotel room, his arm wrapped tightly around Victoria's shoulders, dagger held taut against her chest.
"I went to your hotel room with every intention of killing you if you did not give me what I desired." He smiled, though it was humorless. "So much for love."
"But you didn't. You didn't kill me. Perhaps you considered it, but in the end, you stopped yourself from doing it." Victoria said.
Johann chuckled quietly. "You say that as though it redeems me."
"To me, it means a great deal more than you think." She said firmly. "And I believe it did for Mina, too."
"For Mina?" The words tasted bitter on his tongue. "I spared your life only to destroy hers. You escaped your fate with me. Mina was not so lucky."
"Johann, Mina is the reason you are here right now. Everything she's done has been for you. Because she loves you. Mina saw the good in you when no one else did, Mina knew that in your heart, even if you weren't willing to see it, you were a good man. And do you think she would have done that if there hadn't been a reason for it? Johann, you are only the person she has left in this world. And you loved her – you showed her love and kindness and empathy. Mina believed there was good in you and she knew that you could be redeemed. She would not have fought as hard as she has if there wasn't something in you worth saving."
"I can't imagine that made her very popular with your colleagues, either." He smiled ruefully.
Victoria sighed, exasperated. "My colleagues trust Mina. They view her as one of their own."
"Well, of course they do. She is their new star-spangled man – or woman, I should say. In case you have not noticed, my niece is the proverbial poster girl for everything the American cause strives to embody. Compassionate, selfless, innocent – the epitome of wholesome unity and whatever other cheerful propaganda the Americans peddle."
Victoria rolled her eyes. "Has it occurred to you that you might have had something to do with her being compassionate and selfless? You have raised her since she was a child, you're the only father-figure she's ever had. Don't you think that compassion and selflessness may have been due to your influence?"
Johann scoffed. "Her mother had ten years to impart all of the compassion and selflessness she'll ever need, thank you. Along with her affinity for being an obstinate brat. I'm sure you've seen how well she listens to authority."
"You'd really just as soon shoot yourself than admit that you're capable of empathy, wouldn't you?" She crossed her arms, sighing heavily. "Well, considering you've signed yourself over to the cause that you so disdain, I suspect the foreseeable future will be a long and painful ordeal for you."
"Penance for my sins." He said, more to himself than to her. "Though it won't be nearly enough."
A silence fell over them, Victoria turning her gaze to the window, Johann examining his gloved hands folded before him.
"Do you truly believe… that I am capable of being redeemed?" He asked finally, his tone almost sheepish. He did not meet Victoria's eyes when he spoke, but he could feel her piercing gaze turn onto him. "After everything I have done? I betrayed you, I failed my sister, I manipulated and deceived Mina. I promised my sister that I would look after her when in truth, she was probably better off in the orphanage. I left her for months on end, shrouding myself and everything I was working towards in secrecy and for what purpose? I was so terrified that she would discover who I truly was and turn away from me in disgust like everyone else had. You know, the serum was designed to amplify a person's traits – to make them a better version of themselves, without flaws or weaknesses. It turned your Captain Rogers into a living saint and look what it did to me."
"Johann, your dose of the serum was –"
"Flawed?" He practically spat the word out. "But was it? Or was it simply the purest representation of what I am – this corrupted creature? Had I truly been capable of good, would it have made me this monster?"
He let out a harsh laugh. "And to think all these years I had deluded myself into thinking that HYDRA was a humanitarian effort, that I was actually doing something decent for the world. I was the last person to see what everyone else saw plainly – I am not a good man. I'm bitter, hateful, spiteful – jealous of the world around me. I have squandered every good thing I've ever had – perhaps because I was so afraid of losing it, I figured it would be less painful to bear if I just destroyed it myself."
He turned to gaze out the window, sighing heavily. "Every person I have ever loved has been doomed to suffer in some shape or form. Do you know that I let those American soldiers aboard my aircraft, with Mina? I knew they weren't soldiers of mine. The truth was that I wanted them to stop me. I wanted them to kill me. I wanted them to destroy me for once and for all so that Mina would finally stop trying to save me. To finally be free of me, to finally be free to live her life, to stop wasting it on someone who is far past the point of redemption."
Johann turned finally to look Victoria in the eyes. "Perhaps I held you at knifepoint all those years ago because I wanted you to see me for the delusional madman I was – so that you would be so terrified of me that you'd run and never look back. That you'd forget about me and move on with your life. So that I would not be able to destroy you, too."
Victoria looked utterly stunned by his outburst. He could not say that he blamed her.
"Why do you believe that? Why do you think you would have destroyed me?" There was a deep sadness in her voice.
"Because I have seen what could have been." The grief in his voice was plain. Though he wanted almost desperately to look away from her, to look at anything else, he forced himself to keep his eyes level, meeting her gaze. "I have seen what I would have done to you. What I would have done to what… we could have had. Before I woke up in London – I… had visions. Perhaps they were hallucinations, but they were so vivid as to have been real. And they showed me what you and I would have had, had things ended differently between us. If I had gone to America with you. In the vision… we were married, with two daughters. Both… beautiful, and charming, like their mother. And for a time, it was… it was a happy vision. Peaceful, almost. To see the life we could have had together, the family we could have made. Until it wasn't."
He drew in a sharp breath. Victoria's piercing emerald gaze did not waver, her pale hands folded before her, patiently waiting for him to finish.
A bitter smile twisted Johann's features – though the silicon mask separated his true, ghoulish physiognomy from the outside world, he knew how monstrous he truly looked underneath the surface.
"But of course, like everything else, I had to destroy it. Because one good thing is never good enough. I wanted more. So, I took more. I took the same dosage of flawed serum. I became the same monster I am today. I still built HYDRA into an organization capable of world destruction. You discovered the corruption inside me and you were disgusted – just as you had been in that hotel room all those years ago. And just as I had threatened to kill you then, so I did in this story. I beat the woman I loved, the mother of my children, to a bloody pulp when she did not praise my vision for the world. I beat her to the point of unconsciousness while my child watched. I watched my child scream in terror at the monster that I had become – both physically and mentally. And to think that all of that was not terrible enough – I would later abuse and torture that child the way I did my niece, desperately trying to use a child's body as a conduit for the power of the tesseract. Mina survived that torture. This child – my child – would not."
He stared unblinkingly into Victoria's vivid green eyes. "I would kill my own child just to have a fleeting taste of the gods' power, Victoria. So, I ask you: do you truly believe that I am capable of being redeemed?"
Victoria was silent for what felt like an eternity. Her eyes did not waver from his, but though her crimson lips parted as though to speak, she said nothing.
Johann sat back in his seat, resting his head against the wall behind him. He closed his eyes, exhaling.
"I will take that as a 'no'." He said finally.
He thought he heard Victoria clear her throat faintly.
"What were their names?"
Johann cracked an eye open, then sat forward in his seat. "Whose?"
"Our daughters – in the dream – what were their names?"
"What does it matter?" He snapped bitterly.
Victoria was silent for a moment. "Were their names Cynthia and Abigail?"
Johann cocked his head. The look on his face must have betrayed his thoughts, for Victoria continued on.
"I have had a similar dream." She said quietly.
"And it, too, ended tragically?"
"No." She said, firmly. "No, it did not." She cast a wistful glance out the window at the scenery beyond. "It showed what could have been and what we could have had – happiness."
"And what of Cynthia and Abigail? What happened to them?"
Victoria turned to meet his eyes, a small, soft smile playing at her lips. "They flourished. They grew, they thrived. And so did you. You let go of the struggles that held you back. And you used your talents – your brilliance, your creativity, your passion – you used them for good, instead of for evil. You let go of the hate and anger that you had held onto for so long, and you finally thrived."
She reached across the table to grasp his hands firmly. "So yes, Johann. I do truly believe that you can be redeemed. You see, there are two sides to every coin. You have chosen to only see one side of yourself, while I and Mina and your sister chose to see the other. Now, you are being given a second chance. There is still time to make things right. And I promise you – I, and Mina, will be at your side to see it through."
She paused for a moment, though her eyes did not waver from his. "But you have to want it, Johann. You have to make that choice, I can't make it for you. And neither can Mina. But I knowthat if you won't do it for yourself, you will do it for her. This is your chance to do right by her. Don't forfeit it."
Johann looked down at her pale, slender fingers, intertwined with his. He sighed.
"Haven't I been given enough second chances? I've certainly been given more than my fair share."
"Don't you think there could be a reason why you keep getting all these chances?"
Johann raised an eyebrow. "What, the cosmos is conspiring in my favor? I am a scientist, Victoria. I do not believe in superstition."
"Oh, so spending the majority of your career chasing after a relic of Norse mythology, that wasn't superstition?"
"A relic of Norse mythology that turned out to be real after all, and is no doubt sitting in a very secure Allied laboratory being studied as we speak. So no, I do not classify that as superstition."
It was Victoria's turn to sigh. She massaged her temples. "You can't make this easy, can you?"
"Where would the fun in that be?"
"Johann, just – do what you're told for the next… however long this" she paused to gesture broadly, "takes, and there's a decent likelihood you'll be granted immunity for your services to the Allied cause."
"Is everybody getting immunity these days? Perhaps I should have jumped ship earlier, I could have secured myself a mansion in Martha's Vineyard by now."
Victoria was not amused.
He offered a sly grin. "Haven't you learned that your motivational speeches are lost on me? Your optimism is evenly matched by my cynicism, my dear."
"Well lucky for me my font of optimism is bottomless, and you happen to be stuck with it for the foreseeable future."
"I suppose I should get used to it then, since we will apparently be spending so much of our time together. Something I would have looked forward to." He sighed wistfully. "Though the drudgery of staking out Heinrich Zemo does put a damper on things, does it not?" He cast a sidelong glance out the window. "I do not envy Mina's position, though. It's almost cruel, really."
"You didn't know that her father was alive?"
"No. I thought him dead like everybody else – well, except for my sister I suppose. But I fear that Mina's appeals to him – if he even gives her the opportunity, that is, which is highly unlikely – will go unheard. Wolfgang's loyalty to Zemo was… unwavering. It was the most perplexing thing – the man wouldn't trust his own shadow if Zemo did not tell him to first. God knows it drove a wedge in his marriage. My sister felt that she was more or less the other woman, while Zemo dominated Wolfgang's attention. I don't know if it was for lack of… self-confidence or just being brainwashed that Wolfgang would die for Zemo without a second thought. To hear that he's his killing machine now is about as unsurprising as anything."
"But it seems as though he's growing tired of it – why else would he let our recon team go untouched? Knowing full well they'd witnessed all that carnage?"
"That is what perplexes me more – the breadcrumb trail. He either wants to be caught, or he's laying a very elaborate trap. One that Mina might be walking right into."
Johann felt Victoria's hand rest atop his, as though to reassure.
"She's more than capable of taking him on, Johann. And she's not going alone – those boys in Dog Company, they care for her. They will protect her at all costs."
"Her safety… worries me less, ironically. What I put Mina through… it was living hell. And I was the one person in this world who she believed she could trust. She has suffered more than any child should ever be asked to suffer. And now, she is being made to suffer more. To find out that her dead father has been alive all this time, and that he's gallivanting about Europe killing civilians for Zemo's entertainment? What is she supposed to make of that?"
He cracked his jaw, probing at his mask. "I am not entirely certain that she believes that I did not know about him. The last thing I want her to think is that I had anything to do with his disappearance. As it is, I'm fairly certain your Colonel Phillips' is convinced that I had the man taken out myself. To his credit I probably would have if the circumstances had been different."
He sighed. "I suppose I wish I had… more time with her. Of course, I don't know that she would have wanted more time with me, had we had it."
"She needs time, Johann." Victoria said firmly, but there was a gentleness to her tone. "Time apart from you, time to make sense of all of this for herself. In many ways, I think she feels as lost as you do. Lost without you. And I can tell that you feel lost without her. You both depend on each other – she is your anchor and you are hers. But right now… your relationship is fragile. It needs time to heal."
"You are right, I suppose. I should not worry so much about her – she seems to have thrived all these months without me breathing down her neck, after all. Perhaps that is what I am fearful of… that she will realize that she can thrive without me and then… no longer have use for me."
"And you need time to heal. You see – that's the kind of thinking that got you here in the first place. You have spent your entire life constantly looking over your shoulder, second-guessing the intentions of every person you have ever let in, if you let them in at all. You have pushed people away both because you are afraid of hurting them and because you are afraid of getting hurt yourself. You hold everyone at an arm's length and don't trust their actions for a second, and yet deep down, you want to let someone in, and to have someone let you in in return. Now, that's an awful lot for a grown adult to process – think about what it must have been like for a ten-year-old girl. You are not an easy person to like, Johann. And yet Mina cares for you more than anything else in the entire world. And… so do I. Well – when you're not being a conceited ass, that is."
She offered him a wry smile.
Johann eyed here levelly. "You are right, your font of optimism is indeed bottomless."
"If the motivational speech has thus far been ineffective, I can always resort to more violent means."
He held up his hands, though he chuckled to himself. "I would like to avoid your ire, at least for today."
He held up his wrist, glancing at his watch. "However, I believe we have expended enough time reminiscing. It would behoove us to move on to discussing whatever in God's name it is we're doing when we get to Berlin."
