Red and Black – Chapter 20
Sorry I've been out for so long, but if you've been on my profile recently you'll seen that I've taken up daily prompt writing on top of this, hence my extended absence. Writing more of this story was actually on one of the prompt cards so, here I am!
In which Gordon inevitably misses his bae…
The month of active duty went slowly, day in and day out Gordon was flying around the world to pull people out of piles of rubble and push them out of the way of burning beams. It wasn't that it was unfulfilling; he just detested staying away from someone that he should be close to. As the month marker approached Gordon and Tim texted each other more avidly, hungry to see each other again.
However, it wouldn't be that soon if Virgil had anything to say about it. A broken leg thanks to a rescue in Peru meant that Gordon was forced to stay on duty in his place for another six weeks, and by the time the end had rolled around he had probably apologised profusely to Tim every day for not being with him.
They had been going out for a little over six months by the time the day came that Gordon could arrange his leave. One night Gordon came home after rescuing a doomed airliner over the Atlantic, as soon as he managed to wring a little of the sea out of his hair he flopped down on his bed and tried to call Tim. The beeps sounded with seemingly endless pauses in between them, finally Gordon heard scratching over the other end of the line.
"Hello?" he asked, wondering what was going on. But there was no reply, just more scratching and the sounds of the phone being scraped around with no words.
"Tim?" he asked sheepishly, hoping that Tim had picked up without realising it. He waited anxiously for a reply but only heard what he though was a punch, and a deep yelp as it hit skin. Someone was fighting, and Tim was at least nearby. A distant voice, barely audible, sounded away from the phone.
"Schta hoches?" The voice was angry, but also displayed a hint of fear, and it was not one that Gordon recognised.
"On zjeli da nam pomogne." It was a quieter voice, a woman's voice. Gordon didn't know what was being said, but he assumed that it wasn't good.
"Britanske tajne sluzjbe zjeli da vam pomogne da ih zadrzji van, znam da su deo otpora, i znam schta da radim." Gordon inhaled suddenly and turned up the volume on his phone, the accent didn't match the other two and he prayed that it was Tim, but he couldn't be sure. Some rough footsteps scraped against a presumably concrete floor, and voices got louder as they edged their way towards the phone.
"And how do I know 'zat I can truss' you?" The first man said. Gordon waited for an English reply to confirm his presumptions.
"You don't, you'll just have to." Gordon had to put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from audibly gasping, it was him. Gordon knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good, but he didn't even know how to ask or what to say.
"Kada mozjemo posheti?" The woman asked, they were getting closer to the phone, and Gordon didn't know if they'd be able to see that he could hear them.
"Uskoro." He heard Tim say. Gordon ended the call and sat up against the board of his bed, panting slightly.
It looked like that maybe, just possibly, Tim wasn't entirely who he said he was.
And he had no idea what to do.
Sorry the Serbian is romajicised. But can Gordon still trust Tim? Will he find out who those people are? And is Tim really the good guy?
FIND OUT IN NEXT WEEK'S EPISODE OF HAPPY WHEELS
"Schta hoches?" – What do you want?
"On zjeli da nam pomogne." – He wants to help us.
"Britanske tajne sluzjbe zjeli da vam pomogne da ih zadrzji van, znam da su deo otpora, i znam schta da radim." – The British Secret Service wants to help you get them out, I know that you're part of the resistance, and I know what to do.
"Kada mozjemo posheti?" – When can we start?
"Uskoro." – Soon.