As the final preparations to depart began, Groza found herself a comfortable corner in which to sit. The aftermath of the absolute chaos of the previous days hung over the builds and Dolls in a pall, silencing most conversations, save those grim military exchanges that happened when patrols swapped, or someone needed fresh supplies. Even the overly energetic Honey Badger dulled in the face of such overwhelming dourness.
The closest thing to liveliness came from PPD-40 berating the locals for being incompetent and foolish, and otherwise playing drill sergeant. That, however, Groza folded into the background of a usual military operation. As such, she could, in her own way, call the base quiet. And quiet, in Groza's opinion, never ended well. Quiet meant trouble. And trouble meant nothing good for her personally.
True to those old sayings and expectations, SV-98 hunted her down. Groza expected something, but SV-98 took a seat, sitting, and watching. Which probably meant there was something on her long-time companion's mind, and the sniper either wanted to be prompted, or left to think.
So, Groza left her to think.
That, apparently, did not meet the expectations placed upon her. "I know I'm the worst person to say it, but you need to relax." SV-98 seemed to be searching for something, her stare unusually piercing, before huffing. "Damnit, Groza, I'm the moody, head up their ass one of the two of us, don't make me have to try and be the responsible, emotionally put together one of the two of us, because we both know I'll only screw that up." All things considered; Groza would give SV-98 that.
"You seem to be handling it better than before. Perhaps I wanted to give you practice." Groza countered, receiving a crude gesture as her answer. "It's quiet." Something in her tone caught SV-98's attention and the sniper paused, regard gaining weight, as she parsed the double meaning. Then, she sighed.
"Yeah, it's quiet." Somber, without any hints of mockery, SV-98's change of tone might have given a listening whiplash. "I guess we can't really get away."
"No." Unwilling to look at the sniper as she shook her head, Groza kept her gaze firmly in the distance. "Quiet means that somewhere, some officer is making a plan. A plan that I am going faithfully execute even as every fiber of my being screams against it." Her head jerked towards where she knew the Commander to be. "What is to stop tomorrow from being that day, when it all cracks at the seams, and-" Groza cut herself off. Irrationality served nothing, no matter how it pressed about the edges of her Neural Cloud.
Most people, Groza knew, would have told her she was a complete idiot. SV-98 probably thought she was an idiot, but kept that opinion to herself, instead holding her silence until it became apparent that Groza did not have more to say. "Well. I don't know of any Poles around here, so I think that's a knock on that kind of trouble." The utter absurdity of being attacked by the Poles while deep in Ukraine drew a snort of disbelief from Groza, swallowed quickly. SV-98 caught it, and seemed to take it as a good sign. "Second, do you really take KSG for the type to let that sort of thing pass?"
"I take KSG for the type to keep her own counsel." Trying to parse out just what went on behind KSG's eyes seemed impossible. In one way it made her more trustworthy, but in another it set Groza on edge. "And what can she do, if he decides to become that?"
"Slug him?" Groza's head whipped around, disbelieving. SV-98 met her disbelief with her hard stare of her own. "In case you missed it, she's not Russian, Groza, and it wouldn't surprise me if she doesn't have that little issue that we do."
SV-98 would think about those things, but it did not change the actual question. "Even so-"
"Groza." Sharp, perhaps even angry, SV-98 cut her off. "Captain. Stop. Thinking." Furrowed brow, hard set jaw, and hunch shoulders confirmed that yes, she had upset the sniper. "Yeah, Commander's a bit of a bastard, we don't disagree about that, but he's not Sidorov."
Even the name made Groza flinch. It had been years since she interacted with the man, even seen him, and just the thought made her twitch. "And what makes you so sure of that, SV-98?"
"In case you've forgotten, I was there." Softer, much less SV-98 the words carried a surprising amount of empathy, given how SV-98 conducted herself. "I watched that piece of shit screw you up. I might not have the sense of it, the…" SV-98 gestured wildly with her hands. "The experience. But I'm entirely sure that he's not doing any of that."
They both knew SV-98 to be correct, and the only mercy Groza knew she would get was that SV-98 wouldn't tell her she told her so. "Perhaps." A long sigh. "Thank you, SV-98."
"Don't start." At once the anger fled, replaced by something softer. "You've always looked out for me, Groza. Put yourself between my dumbass and the world at large. I can't exactly not return the favor."
"I didn't know anything else." Her eyes drift to the side. So many emotions were tied up on those memories, grim, tired, delighted, and the list went on. They were strange friends, Groza knew, both clinging to things they needed to be sane.
"Fuck you too, Captain." The quip felt forced, something they both knew SV-98 would say, but also didn't fit the moment in the least. "You aren't going to fuck it up, you know?"
Going entirely rigid probably gave the game away from the start, but Groza felt like she had to try and deny the sudden insight as best she could. "I don't-"
A sweeping gesture cut her off. "Groza. You hate quiet, sure. It is quiet. But that doesn't translate into you sitting in a corner jumping at the shadow of every imagined Polishman with a knife and vengeance on the mind." Pausing to gather herself, SV-98 carried on. "We're a pretty self sufficient bunch, so you have a lot of free time, and it doesn't escape my attention that you spend most of that time with FAL these days. And, it doesn't escape my attention that FAL isn't occupied, and yet you are sitting on a rock out here."
"Make your point." Groza didn't mean to hiss the words, it just happened.
"My point is that you're sitting out here, caught in one of your patented self-destructive mental spirals as the implications of 'I'm in a relationship' sink in, and you realize that maybe you like being happy and you don't want to fuck it up." Stopping, with the false idea of letting Groza speak, SV-98 continued with her spiel. "This is the first time in a while you could just sit and think Groza, so that's what you're doing, and you're thinking yourself into a hole."
"I am not concerned about, as you put it 'fucking it up'." A brow rose. "And we both know you said that just to get a rise out of me."
"Nah." The sniper's elbows dropped onto her knees. "That was actually my guess."
"I'm glad you think so highly of me."
"I've watched you think yourself in circles. How'd long it takes for you to grow a pair and admit anything? I had my head so far up myself I couldn't see and I figured it out."
"It's not too late for me to have you thrown out of a helicopter."
"Can't be worse than getting my shit beat in by a Spetsnaz." Groza did not know what that referred to, but probably involved 74M.
"And so, you have some kind of sterling advice?"
"Me? Advice?" They both laughed. "Does, 'have a little faith in yourself' count as advice?"
"I believe it does."
"Blyat. Then don't do that." Groza gave her second a moment to think about what she said. "Any advice I give, unless it's about shooting things or maybe, I dunno, something weird, isn't good, we both know that."
"And now who needs to have faith in themselves." Again, the rude hand gesture. "I don't intend to stop trusting you, so yes, you do." Groza affirmed, with a sharp nod, before a realization hit.
"I know that look, and I don't like it."
"What about this look is so bad?"
From the look, SV-98 felt Groza should remember, but she genuinely couldn't. Although not knowing what this 'look' was did not help. "Last time you had that look on your face, what followed was the declaration that we were going out, and out turned into an entire production of finding a dress for us both, and then all this other bullshit, and by the time it was done, I wanted to shove a rusted bit of rebar through your eye sockets?"
"You never mentioned that last part."
"I believe I did." SV-98 cocked her head in thought, before feigning realization. "You may have been very drunk at the time, I don't quite remember if that was before, or after, the wine." Eyes dancing with twisted glee the sniper pressed her advantage. "And if you decided to let yourself, get drunk and forget things, that is not my fault."
"I'm sure." Groza drawled in return to the triumphant smirk. "It was just dawning on me that it has been a very long time since we talked about nothing."
"We went and turned into proper soldiers again." SV-98 pointed out. "So, there isn't much time for talking."
"Perhaps." Shaking her head, Groza made the choice there and then. "But we are not talking about work today."
"You're the boss." SV-98 mocking saluted, and now it was Groza's turn to fall to the level of her foe, and make a rude gesture, drawing more amusement from her second in command, and oldest friend. "Although in that case, it's your turn to buy."
"I'm never taking you to a bar again." Groza countered.
Entirely unbothered, SV-98 kept going, in a faux thinking tone. "Make it a whole team activity, you know. I'll bet PPD is hilarious after a couple shots."
"If you want to go find a bar dumb enough to let you four in the door, I am not paying for damages, but I will point and laugh at the aftermath." Pausing to let SV-98 start to look upset, Groza tacked on, "And if you think getting your shit beat in by a Spetsnaz is bad now, how do you think it'd be then?"
"At least I'd forget?" SV-98 tried to make that convincing.
"Truly, SV-98, I fear for whatever man or woman finally manages to catch your eye."
"I'd say the same, if I hadn't met your girlfriend." The smile took most of the sting out of it.
-Faded Glory-
"Are you okay with this?" KSG didn't even hear him approach. Then again, she'd been focused on other matters, but that didn't stop her from kicking herself for missing something so obvious. Turning, she fixed the Commander with her best piercing stare, one that would have brought any Marine, even Meadows, to his knees. Sadly, the Commander remained made of either sterner stuff, or even more oblivious to danger. "I never actually asked you that." He sat opposite her, matching her piercing look with one of his own.
"Define your terms before you ask open-ended questions, Commander." KSG folded her hands before her, content to play his game for now.
That did seem to be the right answer, based upon the upturn of lips and the soft laugh. "This being thrust into the role of playing buffer between me."
KSG nodded, knowing that was not what he meant. He meant something else, but he wanted to lead her there, or her to lead herself there. "You dug up my service history by now." He didn't move, not that she expected him too. "You've read my files." Still nothing, which left open the chance to do a little leading of her own. "Who am I?"
To some degree, KSG took pleasure in watching him twitch, as his own game got turned around on him. She shouldn't have, but she did. "You are KSG. That is not the name you started life with but is the name you have taken. You started out working data analysis for some corporation that thought it'd be patriotic and donate," He spat that word with commendable rage. KSG might even have believed him, "It's dolls to the military. You tested well for the things the Marines wanted and were fast tracked to them. There, you were assigned to be Staff Sergeant under the newly minted Lieutenant Nate Meadows. You would hold that position, and earn acclaim doing so, for the entire war."
Despite the desire, KSG kept her face entirely blank, only letting a bit of annoyance enter her tone. "I did not ask my history, Commander. I asked who I am."
"Who we are is our history." He countered, only relenting when KSG did not waver in her visible position. She wanted to know, just a little, what he thought of her. "You did not choose anything in your life. You are accustomed to things simply happening to you, and adapting to those things that happen, without any outside input." While she wanted to know, that did not make learning less of a pain. "You were sent to war without your input. Assigned to the Marines without your input. Saddled with your unit, without your input. Griffin sent you to Minsk, and then to here, largely as a series of choices from on high." His fingers drummed into the table, almost exactly twice as fast as his speaking rhythm. "The only thing in your history that you chose to happen to you, at a high level, is your departure from the Marines."
"Significant choice, yes." Denying the implicit question-statement served nothing, and anyone with more than one braincell would recognize the lie she told. And, for whatever faults the Commander had, he had at least two braincells.
"I cannot readily access those documents, so I don't know exactly why you left." A pause, one he no doubt wanted her to fill. KSG arched a brow, receiving a small raise of a brow in challenge, but continued to keep her silence. "My speculation started with two ideas."
Purely out of curiosity, KSG made the choice to explore that speculation, given that it would lead down the roads she wanted. Also, she needed to give the man at least a little something to go off of, before he decided to match her directly. "Interesting that you narrowed it down to two. Most come up with at least three."
"Most people are small-brained and incapable of logical thinking." He countered without heat, a phrase that brought KSG a mental smile, if only for matching her thoughts previously. Not that she let that show, unwilling to yield anything just yet. "I'm sure the usual theories are that you didn't enjoy being a soldier, you didn't want the promotion they tried to offer you, and that you were pushed out for being a doll." He ticked them off on his fingers.
Small brief smile, let him know he'd gotten that one right, then back to normal, so he didn't think he'd gained any actual points. "A perfect score."
"You, to my knowledge, have no major feelings about the general act of soldering." The Commander folded that finger in again. "If anything, you enjoy at least some aspects of it." Not quite, but KSG didn't see a reason to correct the record on that. "You were not pushed out. Damn near every soldier you served with wanted to keep you."
"I believe the phrase you are looking for is lost puppies." They were a bunch of lost puppies half the time. Murderous, gun toting puppies.
"Quite." His smile proved brittle, gone nearly before it formed. "The third theory, that you didn't want the promotion they offered you, I don't see as right either."
"And why not?" She did find herself curious just where he was going with that idea. Even if it verged into dangerous territory. "They offered it, as part of that pilot program, and I turned them down. Open and shut."
"You did." He waved that counter aside. "However, what that fails to realize is that you were planning to leave before that, weren't you?" Nothing could prepare her for the immediate jump to the truth, and there was no doubt the Commander saw her spine stiffen. How he figured that out, KSG didn't know, but the surety of his tone told her the statement was not a wild guess, and for the first time, KSG felt she'd chosen the wrong game to play. "Which is why my first idea is that you left for RFB."
"But you worked out that we didn't start dating until after I joined Griffin." KSG settled back, stilling her racing thoughts to focus on the moment, where she could at least speed through events.
"Indeed. Also, nothing suggests that you were involved with anyone prior to that, leaving me to search elsewhere. So theory one, that you left for love, or at least lust, went out the window. That left theory two." Here, he paused, fingers again drumming into the table surface, what KSG started to realize was a gesture of thinking, or perhaps discomfort. "One of the things that every report, document, and file on you emphasizes, is that you are analytical. You think, and think, and think, until every aspect of a situation is worked over, details assessed, plans made, and actions accounted for. You were created to be a data processor, and you are, by all accounts, frighteningly good at it. Even better is that you do all that thinking in fractions of seconds, as compared to us meat bags."
"A useful talent when your platoon leader is likely the craziest man in the entire force." Her joke would not land, they were both overly serious, but it felt important to say it. To his credit, the Commander treated those words to a solemn nod and moved on.
"An interesting hypothesis, given the reports of things you suggested." The Commander didn't let her reply to that one, forging ahead. "What I find noticeable, in all those reports, all those stories, is that your role is always, to be the person behind the person. You stay out of the limelight, out of the lead, always letting Meadows have that, even if you doubtlessly walked him into the plan by the nose, and then gave him a slap on the ass to send him on his way."
Again, he said it with too much confidence for this to be a guess. And, again, KSG felt like she'd chosen the wrong game, as all she was learning was that this man proved extremely thorough, and frighteningly perceptive. If he wanted to talk about that, they wouldn't be doing it via double talk and subtext. "If you are going to insinuate things, Sir, just say them straight."
"I'm getting there." Of course, he wouldn't give up the advantage of getting under her skin. "It's funny, you can tell which reports you got ahold of before Meadows sent them out. If he wrote them, he extols your virtues, talking up your leadership," KSG felt herself twitch, "And heroism. That the men trust you. If you touched them, they talk up him, and downplay you. If I didn't know better, I'd have assumed they were written by a man deranged for how radical the tone flips."
"So, Meadows had a high opinion of me." KSG shrugged. "That doesn't prove a whole lot."
"By itself, no, the opinion of a man as judgmentally compromised as Nate Meadows doesn't. But others do the same. And you recognized that, long before it happened. You knew that when everything was over, Meadows would be headed for a Captaincy. Despite his flaws, he fit the bill well, and a decorated war hero would fly through the paperwork involved. Which left his slot open. And, you also knew, didn't you, that he would push to have you fill it. That you were being groomed to take his spot. It matched all the textbooks, everything you knew."
"The point?"
"Your Echelon, Wolf, is a strange one. There is no listed Captain on file. Apparently, you refused it, Alfa refused, MG4 refused, and SRS didn't make the cut. Nobody is going to offer it to Honey Badger. Yet, nobody with a brain is going to look at your four and think anything but you are the leader. Across your service history, there is a trend, KSG, of you ducking, dodging, and dancing to avoid official positions of direct responsibility without someone immediately over you who is more in charge than you are."
"And you couldn't prove any of that concretely." The sharpened tone served as a warning KSG didn't want to give, but the topic drew it from her lips nonetheless. It took conscious effort to avoid cracking the table in her grip.
"Not in a court of law, but well enough that I can walk you into tacitly admitting it." And not even a hint of shame to that statement. "If you end up in such a position, either as a Staff Sergeant, or leading a Griffin Echelon, you are pushed into it, and are just told that you do this now, and you go along with it." At this point, denying that fact would be pointless, so KSG nodded. "My theory, then, is that you already planned to leave the Marines, because you knew they would try and push you into being a Lieutenant of some sort, and it is not that you didn't want it, but for some reason, you felt like you shouldn't be there. You didn't feel comfortable taking the role, and so, you contrived a situation to avoid it."
"That I informed them I wouldn't be renewing my enlistment at the same time they offered me that position is a mere coincidence." Keeping her words clipped, to match her growing feelings of upset. No matter how much she wanted to move on, she'd put herself at the mercy of a shark who smelled bloody, and the bastard knew it, having turned her own game back around on her. A tactical error on her part that she would need to adjust for going forwards.
"Indeed." Luckily this time, the Commander took the hint. "Upon arriving in Sector 9, you stayed out of the way, helping when needed, but you made no moves to advance yourself beyond where you were. Then, Groza and FAL approached you, saying there needed to be someone who took charge in the field, a single point of contact. Both unqualified, they argued, despite decorated histories to suggest otherwise, even if you didn't know it then."
"I cannot imagine a Russian ever swindling someone." KSG didn't see it that way, but the quip fit the moment. Seeing the Commander smirk briefly counted as a win.
Smirk or not, he didn't reply for a while, searching her. "They didn't really ask you, they pushed you to be the person in charge. The one dealing with me, the one giving orders. Something that your history suggests that you really don't want to be." Holding up a hand to stop her speaking, his voice softened. "I am asking, KSG, if you are truly, genuinely, alright with the position given to you, by the others."
"Does it matter if I am not?" No bitterness, she told herself, no feelings. Just a question, however cold it ended up being. The cracked voice told her she failed.
"Yes." A simple, direct word. KSG searched for the lie. She'd gotten adept at spotting the man's little tells, at least, the ones he let on, now that she'd had time. The way his voice turned, eyes narrowed, shoulders were set, even how he played with his hands, to hide the small feelings that he didn't want known. Here, he sat across from her, hands folded in a mirror to her own, eyes more open than she'd ever seen, expression set in a serious, but open manner. Shoulders hunched forwards, a suggestion of discomfort, likely at the topic. "I may be a bastard, KSG, and I accept that accusation with all the truth it carries, but I will not force you to be someone you are not comfortable being." He paused, adding, a clear afterthought. "Keeping you as my official adjutant is preferable, but if you are not comfortable with it, that is that."
Her lips twisted, uncomfortably. Until now, she'd been able to ignore that feeling, nagging at her gut, only upwelling when Suomi started throwing taunts. "If you would prefer it-"
"My preference is irrelevant." He cut her off. "I mean that genuinely. You have worked out by now that I can, will, find a solution if you say you aren't comfortable with it."
"And the others?"
"I seem to exist to gain and burn goodwill with them in equal measure." He waved that aside."
KSG could tell he meant that too. He would, if she said she wanted to step back into shadow, burn down every drop of good will earned with FAL, Groza, and the rest to let her do so. He'd lie, beg, borrow, and cajole. In that, he reminded her of Meadows: willing to stick out his neck for them, even if they didn't quite realize just how much he was doing it. Less of a bullheaded idiot, but the care was there, and she could not find any hint of it being feigned or manufactured. Which, in its own way, supported the way he worked through events in the past.
"You are a slippery bastard, sir." That drew a small smile. He had been honest with her, and KSG felt like she owed that much in return. "I…will never be entirely comfortable." He nodded, accepting that without question. "But, for now, I am willing."
Another, long, searching look. Then, the Commander nodded, a considered firm motion. "If you change your mind, I stand by my word." KSG nodded. He stood, intending to leave, then stopped.
"If you have something more to say, Commander, just say it."
"No, merely thinking." She didn't believe any part of that. "I hope, KSG, that you will one day find the faith to take that step." Before she could counter, he was gone, boots thumping against the tiled floor.
KSG watched the retreating back, fist clenched, quelling her rising ire. Doubtlessly, he said it to get to her, just to see what happened. Honesty did not change his nature, after all.
"Slippery bastard." This time, she said it almost admiringly, for just how quickly the man could flip from place to place and point to point. "Absolutely slippery bastard."
-Faded Glory-
From a window, FAL watched SV-98 and Groza talking, a bit of a smile on her face. She knew something troubled Groza since returning to Sector 14, following the chaotic mess that was that operation, but without any of the context that SV-98 no doubt had to assess it. Groza lived in her head, as much as FAL wished she did not, which left FAL in the position of knowing on the surface but getting none of the detail, until Groza was ready to talk.
Thus, seeing that weight lifted, and the somewhat strange sight of the usually dignified and composed Groza flipping someone off, lightened FAL's own burdens in turn, albeit raising several additional questions along the way. But, questioning why Groza made vulgar hand gestures at her friend could wait, as FAL had more important problems, including finding the Commander.
"You noticed as well?" Or the man himself would find her, which may have saved FAL the step of finding him, but did not make the situation more comfortable in her opinion. Doing her best to ask the question nonverbally, with her eyes, FAL felt some relief that he picked it up. "Things bothering Groza."
"I should hope." From the way his eyes danced in the weak light, that answer amused him deeply. "And it is good to see people have genuine friendships."
For the first time she could recall, FAL realized she'd caught him off guard. The answer came slowly, and with a more deliberate weight than his previous words. "You say as if you do not."
"That is not a question, Commander." While giving him leverage to continue the conversation, FAL would let him decide whether they continued it.
"Is it not?" Searching for a while longer, it appeared that they would be continuing. "Why would you speak of it as if you do not?"
"I find putting precise terms to my relationship with my companions is rather bothersome." Or, more accurately, her relationship with Five-seveN, which he doubtlessly already figured out. "We are beneficial to one another and have been together for a long time, and for our purposes, that is sufficient."
"To be together for a long time is a logical consequence of a war, and does not explain why you would stick together so long after it." The Commander countered. "There are more than just the results of being together for years on end, and everyone with eyes can see there is more than just that to your relationship with Five-seveN."
"Perhaps." Explaining the intricacies of that relationship did not strike FAL as an enjoyable way to spend her day. Not this day, if nothing else. Digging into those dynamics, the strange power plays that underpinned it all, that underpinned how she felt about it all. "Those are longer stories, Commander, not suited for a hallway away from the privacy of our own home."
FAL could not say if that huff suggested anger or amusement with her reply. "There aren't many here whose stories aren't." That sounded like acceptance of her request, at least.
"What can I do for you, Commander?" They both knew he was not there just to trade verbal barbs. He wanted something, or intended something, in spite of the start to the conversation. If FAL were feeling less charitable she'd guess he timed his approach specifically around these moments, to get something. If she were feeling less charitable.
"I believe the question is what can I do for you, FAL." And, in typical fashion, he couldn't be bothered to answer the question someone asked him. "Besides approving off base time." FAL opened her mouth, then stopped herself. Him working that part out made sense on its face, as they had, again, been involved in a great deal of chaos, and based on a guess at something troubling them both the rest would follow.
"This is why KSG calls you what she does."
"KSG is kinder than she should be, but we forgive her for her faults." The Commander took a spot more directly at her side, giving FAL a better look at the genuine amusement on his face. "Much as you forgive her," A nod to Groza, "And she you." FAL didn't reply.
"What do you want, Commander? I have already worked out what I am looking for." FAL decided to be blunt for the first time. "Because I firmly believe you are not here merely for intelligent conversation."
"No, although that is a bonus."
"Is it now?"
"Quite. Most people will not indulge me in three layers of verbal dueling." Dipping his head in, well FAL couldn't quite work out what. She knew there was another layer to that, one beyond, as he put it, three layers of verbal dueling. "Which I find surprising, considering you spend all your time around Five-seveN."
"Five-seveN is simple to handle when you are familiar with her. She wants to be me." Truth, with a lie.
"If she wanted to be you, she would have done that already. That your little bunch is only less of a mess than the rest because you all worked out all your mess a long time ago, and that mess is secondary to the mutual goal of survival." FAL's fingers curled.
"If you have a point." She bit the words off.
"That you've been stuck in survival mode for so long that you've forgotten how to be anything else." He nodded out towards Groza, who was again flipping off SV-98. "You're little thing with Groza, while firmly grounded in actual feelings now, started from the seed of 'there is a better way out of this'."
Pushing down her anger, and retreating to the more reasonable way of engaging with the man made the answer easier to find. "How do you presume that?"
"The same way that you know that KSG undersells her insults of me." A surprising tacit admission of just what the point of this talk really was. "My experiences, training, and life made me into what I am. You are the way you are for those reasons, but also because when all those other lifelines ran out, you needed to survive, and whatever that cost you personally would be worthwhile to protect the others."
"One of these days Commander, you could try and simply ask us questions, instead of covertly digging into our pasts."
He didn't refute her accusation, but also did not accept the point. "You are a hard woman to track down, you know." FAL would hope so, given how much effort they put into it. "Do you truly not consider Five-seveN a friend?" And, they circled back around again, likely to his real objective.
"I do not believe friends are out for one's job, as a general rule." That drew a snort. "Nor does one become accustomed to such things."
"I'm told that no that isn't usually the case." He was told? Not that he knew? Her confusion obviously showed, if the small laugh and shake of the head were any indication. "I don't think me being a dysfunctional human is a secret FAL."
"Anyone who has talked to you for any length of time knows that." Stopping, FAL sighed, shaking her head in turn. "If your question is whether Five-seveN is going to cause trouble with her little infatuation with Kalina, the answer is no."
"Oddly, I am not worried about that at all." One of her brows rose, letting him know that FAL did not believe that for a second. "Kalina's a big girl, even if she didn't quite know what she got herself into. And, I don't see that lasting, do you?" No, FAL didn't. She knew it wouldn't in fact. While FAL didn't mind using herself to get what she wanted, she didn't turn that way without a good reason. Five-seveN meanwhile, did whatever she needed to do to get what she wanted, be in money, power or the tiniest edge on FAL herself. "So no, I'm not worried about that."
"But you are worried about something."
"As an officer it is my contractual duty to be worried about things." A bunch of pointless words, but they did expose something of a truth. "Let us do away with doublespeak."
"If you wish." FAL didn't know where this conversation would go from here, but if nothing else it kept her mind from wandering.
"Sometimes the most effective way to convey that you care is not material, or something you can plan meticulously out." FAL opened her mouth to speak then stopped, caught in place by a frightfully intense look. A jerk of his head towards Groza followed, and FAL's throat closed, unsure quite how he'd managed to walk her to this point, despite being quite accurate.
By this point they were in deep enough, FAL knew that she couldn't avoid it, and by her estimation engaging with the Commander would make him go away faster. "As you pointed out, Commander, I live in pursuit of survival and the protection of others, and have crafted myself in that manner. Very little is done for myself, and my own desires, irrespective of the need to translate those needs to someone else."
"And that makes to be concerned, afraid even, understandable, and perfectly normal." His eyes drifted away, looking out into some far distance that only the man himself could see, pain starting to form on his face for the first time FAL could remember. "What we have to understand in turn, is that we cannot always remove those things from the situation, and at some point, action must take over, before we manage to talk ourselves into inaction."
FAL didn't speak. Those words cut, past everything else. How the man knew exactly what went on behind FAL's façade, she did not know, yet his guesses were direct and accurate. The small, lingering worry that she would make a mess of the first good thing she'd had in a while, simply because she was selfish, cold, and willing to do awful things, both to herself and others.
"We are more than just this." He wasn't really speaking to her, but then he was. "It is easy to forget there is more than self-concept." There was an honest pain there, as if he were remembering something from the past, or some painful mistake.
"You…" FAL considered her words, then stopped. "You do not strike me as someone to be caught up in that sort of problem, Commander."
"Am I not?" He turned to her, eyes still dark, but no less weighty. "I scheme, think, and plan. I do not like to act without complete information, nor to risk without, to be blunt, an assured outcome." He turned away again, voice dropping. "Nor do I move quickly. This is…not conducive, I think is the best word, to most relationships."
Nor the implication being, was FAL's method where she thought, schemed, planned, and never did anything if it didn't have some kind of self-benefit and everyone around her knew it. It practically defined her relationship with Five-seveN, her lack of relationship with Ballista, and so it went.
Of course, she would probe this bit of advice for everything she could, lure too strong for FAL to resist. "And what did you do?"
From the twitch, he knew what she was doing. "Made a mess of it. As I tend to do." That didn't quite explain the feeling in his voice, but FAL would keep her peace, having gotten a small tidbit to go on. "Important decisions required being sure, knowing for sure, and with people you can't be sure, so I wavered, and thought, and wavered, and thought."
"And thought too long because you couldn't take that leap." FAL took her guess.
"Correct." A small dip of his head confirmed the words more than the actual words themselves.
"And so, you would suggest that I come to terms with myself, and that I cannot control everything."
"No." He shook his head. "Or at least, you wouldn't listen if I did, any more than I would." FAL could give him that. "Rather, don't let that consume you, or trick yourself into believing that the only thing you are is a selfish bitch." She jerked. "Give me a little credit FAL."
"I did." Her eyes narrowed. "Obviously I should have given more."
That prompted a barked laugh once more. "Harsh, but fair. But yes. There is more to you than just that selfish core." His piece said, the Commander turned, set to depart.
"Commander." FAL called out, watching him freeze. Turning, she got the full weight of one of his searching gazes again. "You could stand to talk a little more. Those of us who aren't tragically damaged might trust you more as a result."
Amusement crossed his face, just for a moment. "I'll take that under advisement."
-Faded Glory-
"Commander?" M4 double checked that no one else was around when she approached the man, shortly after their return to Sector 9. The man looked up, eyes pinning her in place as he searched her for something of note. Apparently not finding it, the weight left, his eyes and shoulders dropping, in a complete inversion of everything M4 knew about him.
"What can I do for you, M4?" His right hand flexed repeatedly, before dropping the pen to the desk. M4 got the impression that he wanted to rub his temples, in a way that made her think of Persica.
Which did lead her thoughts to the point M4 wanted them, in the end. "I want some time to talk to Persica." From the twitch and widening eyes, that caught him off guard.
Surprised or not, the question came at once. "With, or without your sisters?" Straightening in the chair, the man seemed to recognize that the situation merited a more serious response.
"Alone." Again, small gestures that suggested she's surprised him, and M4 hastened to explain her request, words spilling out almost before she could stop herself. "AR-15 said something, and I want to know if it's true."
"If you don't mind the assessment, AR-15 seems to say a lot of things not worth worrying about." While flippant, M4 got the feeling he intended that as advice, and in spite of the nature of it, M4 didn't find it bad advice.
"When she says that I should leave her to die if it keeps me safe, and that that is her purpose?" The following stare seemed intent on peeling back the layers, laying bare whatever lurked beneath the surface of her words, and expressions. AR-15's words did not seem to concern him in the way they did M4 herself, all that attention remained focused on her, and her alone. She squirmed, unable to shake his measuring up, nor the feeling that she didn't meet the required standards.
Eventually that search ended, and he moved on. "That aligns with every other assessment of her that I have received." Standing, the Commander gestured for M4 to follow, and set off at a swift pace through the base, with M4 having no choice but to follow along, to whatever destination he had in mind. They stepped into the sun and made their way to the perimeter. Once there, he turned, facing M4 with an expectant gaze.
Realizing he wanted her to elaborate more took longer than it should have, M4 unable to meet his eyes, looking elsewhere. "That fight. Apparently, Alfa said that she'd get someone killed." She didn't intend to start there, but those words came out first.
"You don't need me to tell you that is true." Firm, but not accusatory, in the way that seemed to fit the Commander.
M4 wanted to defend her sister, but she knew full well that any such defense would ring hollow. "I tried to point out that if we weren't lucky she could have died, and she said-" The words caught in her throat.
"Some garbage about being a Doll and fighting and dying being her purpose?" She nodded; thankful he didn't have the same hangups. "I'll warn you right now, if anyone else catches her saying that you'll have a lot worse of a fight on your hands." M4 gulped, trying to decipher if that included him. Whether it did or not, he pushed past, and onto something else. "Those are all things I'd expect, but I'm getting the feeling there is more."
M4 called up the exact quote in her mind. "That caring about her was my problem, and I'm the only important one." Mismatched eyes gleamed in the early morning sun, dancing with a mix of softer sympathy and a sharper anger. "I want to know what she meant, and she told me to ask Persica."
"Hence asking the cat eared idiot." The commander didn't ask, but M4 nodded anyway. "I can make it happen, provided a bit of a selfish request."
"I can try?" M4 didn't know what she would do that the Commander couldn't. After all, she was only a Doll, he had the resources, and the information, and if the others were to be believed, the man could get his hands on whatever he needed.
"I want to sit in." Of all the requests that M4 expected, she did not see that one coming at all. Based on what she'd been told, the Commander didn't like Persica very much and wanted to stay as far away as possible. "I've gone a few rounds with Persica over the weeks, and frankly, this aligns a little too well with some suspicions I have about her, and our situation in general."
"Huh?"
Pulling a face, the Commander reluctantly went on. "Hopefully, an old man seeing ghosts, that's all. But, if I'm right, we may be in for quite a bit of trouble. Saying that, without any proof beyond my suspicions, I would rather not say anything, so as not to taint your, or anyone else's, perceptions of the situation."
"Okay." M4 could accept that, given that the Commander seemed to know what he was doing and, it seemed a small price to pay in return for a favor.
"Thank you. It will probably take a few days to arrange for things, after filing reports, and all that nonsense, but I'll do my best to be expedient."
-Faded Glory—
When all four Echelon leaders met outside the Commander's office, they stood staring at each other a bit stupidly for several moments. All of them had different reasons to be there, and none of them seemed keen on saying anything. Before someone could speak, and break the tension, an unexpected voice did that for them.
"You are a snake tongued son of a bitch, that is what you are." All four squad leaders traded looks, at the muffled words, that were very obviously from the Commander. As one, they moved to the door, straining to hear whatever might come next. "How the hell did I let you talk me into this…"
"What else would you have done?" The counter, a deeper, gruffer, voice, came at once, a voice that none of them recognized immediately, which raised questions, as they did not have any visitors. "You are not the type of man to sit around and waste away your days doing nothing, and while you could have continued your work with the Germans you were also not pleased with it."
"I'd have worked something out. Consulting paid good money, and never left me bored." They could all imagine the Commander waving his hand to dismiss the point, the tone obviously unconcerned with the attempt to deflect an accusation.
"I seem to recall a very annoyed American sitting in Lviv and regaling me how many hours he'd spent that day doing nothing but babysitting a 'snot nosed, piss brained, educationally deficient pile of nepotistic Soviet sludge' and, with a couple drinks in him, he went on to propose that if that is the sort of slug we fought and died for, the world would be doomed to burn in the next few decades." Groza's eyes widened just slightly, only shrugging at the inquiring looks. If nothing else this seemed like it would provide valuable insight into the Commander's life and history but hearing him speak that way stood entirely at odds with all else, they knew.
"An interesting summation, given that I know you wrote something very similar in more than one report." Report implied that, whoever the Commander was talking to, they held a position of at least some importance. "How did it go again? Ah yes 'I cannot in good faith accuse him of treason, for treason requires a level of intellect and intent that his dalliances prove he is not capable of', or something to that effect?"
A rumbling laugh answered, along with the rueful comments, "Truly, a pair of patriots we make."
"Who is he talking to?" FAL asked in a low tone, looking to KSG who could only shrug with the rest of them.
"You were the one for patriotism and idealistic nonsense." Everyone could detect the softening in the Commander's tone, another thing that caught everyone off guard. "I'm just a pragmatic bastard."
"And yet here you sit."
"Again, you are a silver-tongued sonofabitch." The words lacked heat. "Honestly, when I agreed to something backwater and quiet, that did not include any of this nonsense."
"Didn't it?" The other man sounded amused. That this person was responsible for the Commander being, well, the Commander took them all by surprise. "Sector 9 is a backwater, and any excitement you stumbled upon is not my doing."
"No, it is not your doing that a delusional coffee addict with a cat ear fetish came knocking. Nor is it your doing that Sangvis decided to wage open war shortly after, and made unusually good tactical choices." This time, the more experienced dolls recognized that tone shift, from friendly to razor edged in the span of a syllable. "What I find interesting however, is that I can backtrace a lot of orders, and events. I sighed on the same day, less than forty minutes before really, the agreement to provide fire support to M4A1's little excursion was minted. You knew the location of that mission, the parameters, all of it, when you, personally, put me down here." KSG sucked in a breath. "Likewise, strategically putting me here is odd because I am a veteran soldier, so why put me here off the front lines, except to have me mobile, and able to respond to bullshit."
The pause, obviously to allow for a reply, gave the listening dolls time to process everything they just learned, or at least parts of it, before the Commander forged ahead.
"Hell, even the Dolls here are an interesting selection. Some Russian infantry, experienced in holding the line, with a pilot to go with? Reinforced by a fucking Spetsnaz Doll? An additional squad of shock troops? I'm not some newly minted butter bar with more balls than brains, I'm quite aware of when I'm being played."
"And, by extension, you know why you are being played." Where that tirade would have folded more people, if the glare to go with were as intense as they expected, the riposte did not seem intimidated. At best the speaker conceded the point being made.
"I might." That was the pettiest thing they'd ever heard him say. "You really are a bastard, you know that?" A long silence. "You do understand, this is going to blow up in your face. Me, here, in plain view of the Soviets? The politicians won't take it kindly, and I don't see the FSB playing nice either. Hell, I half expect the military to put a goddamn hit on me."
"I will handle the politics, and they are less fussed than you believe. Some would want to convert you entirely." From the sounds of it, the man didn't think that likely.
"Idiots are a plague upon us all, and should be discarded as such." A beat of silence. "And fair weather should not be trusted."
"Not all friends are fair weather."
"No, but politicians are." Not even a rebuke, just a statement of fact. "I trust you, but I don't trust a damn one of them, and it's a lot more than my life on the line there."
There was a long, grim silence. "You are not the sort to be so forthright, Blackwood."
"Back in that bar, in Lviv." Silence, long, heavy. "The first time we ever talked honestly."
"You made for a stranger man than I expected. But a good one."
"Yes. That." Chuckle "After all that, when things turned serious again, what did I tell you?"
"That somewhere, somehow, you knew that some idiot was attempting to recreate the Gunpowder Plot, with substantially more interesting things than gunpowder." None of the assembled dolls recognized that reference, trading quick looks and shakes of heads. "And then, a few weeks later, that bunch of morons tried to Collapse Bomb the city."
"Truly, they were the pinnacle of our species." He snorted. "It's the same thing now. That's why I'm here, isn't it. You know it's coming, and you don't think you can dance well enough to save it."
The other man did not verbally answer.
"And they call me a slippery bastard." The Commander sounded impressed. "Just so you know you can explain to Eva when I get shot."
"She'll forgive me, I'm sure."
"Bold prediction." They both laughed. "How bad is it actually?"
"It's been worse." KSG, FAL, and Groza preemptively shrugged to one another, and M4.
"Then give it to me straight, how much…meddling…do you want me to do?" Blackwood.
"I want you to do as you believe is right, Blackwood."
"You remember what I did to you bastards in Africa. I thought that was 'right'. Don't see it flying today." KSG made a small gesture to suggest they did not want to talk about that now, pushing out a network update to tell them to not ask the Commander any probing questions about Africa. "Bloody hell, you're fucking telling me that you want me to treat this as if things never stopped."
"Did it stop?" That question silenced the Commander entirely, and M4 could see all three soldiers freeze in place. "The world must move on, but you are well aware there are many who refuse."
"And this is a PMC."
"And this is a PMC."
"I promise nothing." Apparently, that got a positive reply. "And have demands."
"Of course. We can settle those in a conversation that is about work." Kryuger.
This wasn't about work? The hell was it about then? Did these two just sit around and talk about such heavy topics for fun?
"We can." The time passed with much greater weight than before. "You do know they think I'm a right bastard?"
"Helian thinks that you are a right bastard." Came the immediate retort. "Because, by your own admission, you are a 'right bastard'."
"Yeah yeah." Everyone could see KSG smirking. "And I didn't mean Dolls. Place is full of foot soldiers, I'm special forces, I'm over a barrel just for that. I meant other humans."
"Maybe." There was a pause. "You know what else they think of you?"
"Contrary to popular belief, I don't monitor every channel of communication, or reports." The Commander sounded like he rolled his eyes. "And I don't usually care to read aspersions cast upon my character."
"While there is agreement that you are a bastard, you are also seen as dependable, if vicious. You have good insight, and experience, and, to quote one of our newer Commanders 'I thought we were going to die, and his response to death was to mutter curses in two languages and decide that he'd rather shoot it'."
"Oh joy, I impressed a rookie." The Commander drawled.
"As your friend, Ian Blackwood, I would ask that you do not abuse yourself near so much." No doubt that earned a dismissive gesture. "And you are within your power to change how others see you."
"Yeah yeah." Another drawn out sigh. "They do say old dogs can learn new tricks, don't they?" The other man did not reply to the Commander's question. "I'll take the under advisement."
They could hear footsteps, and as one, the four Dolls scattered, minds all racing from what they'd learned, their linked minds churning the information at a breakneck pace.
AN: Whoever gets the reference in the chapter title can have an internet cookie. Otherwise, we have a bit of downtime between the action before the demands of story march on, and we're off to visit some fun locals, and probably not set the entire continent of Europe on fire in the process.
Please pour one out for Branded, I was drunk on commas writing this and hopefully they didn't kill him.