Chapter Text
Normally Owen Carvour would be delighted to take a trip to the United States, that wasn’t the case this time.
That was of course understandable, as he was currently standing in front of the grave of the person who caused that delight. As he stared down at the headstone he couldn’t help thinking Curt would hate it. It was so plain. So boring. A grey slab with only his name and date of birth and death carved into it in a typical font. There was no personality to it. It didn’t represent his late lover at all.
Owen held back his tears as he laid a bouquet, strikingly similar to the one meant for Curt that was now wilting in his flat back home, down in front of the cold slab. The funeral had been a few days ago. Owen could barely recall it. Had no recollection of what was said. He had sat numbly beside Curt’s mother. Somewhere deep down he wished to reach out to the devastated woman to comfort her but he just couldn’t. What could he possibly do or say to ease her pain? He knew nothing could ease his.
The drive to the graveyard had been the worst of his life, including all the times he had driven away with people shooting at the car. The events in the graveyard had been even worse. Despite logically knowing the coffin was empty, due to the hostilities between their countries and the one the mission had taken place in they couldn’t even go retrieve Curt’s body, his heart had screamed in protest as it was lowered into the ground. He just wanted to crawl into it and be lowered down too.
Given all the people around he hadn’t been able to say a proper goodbye to Curt then, hence why he was back today.
“Hi Curt. I….I’m not sure if you can hear me right now. But I really hope you can because there are some things I need you to hear that I should have told you before…..before this.” He paused for a moment, taking in a shaky breath. “First off I hope you know that I love you. I love you so fucking much. More than I have ever loved anything or anyone else in this world. I am so sorry I didn’t say that enough. I am so sorry for what I did say the last time we spoke. I was just so angry and scared...but that’s no excuse. Just like I have no excuse for not coming to see you after to apologize. And not calling you when I got back home. And…”
Owen choked up and a few tears slipped out as he continued. “And I’m so sorry for not taking the mission. Maybe if I had I could have saved you. Maybe there was nothing I could have done but even then I would have been there with you at the end like I should have been. Doing everything in my power to keep you safe. And I wouldn’t have to question whether or not you knew how much I cared for you when you left this world.”
Owen stopped again. “I don’t know how I am going to go on without you. I’ll never have another partner like you. Another friend like you. Another lover like you. You brought so much joy and light to my life and now that you are gone I can only see a murky grey future. I’ll find a way though. For you. To keep going. To live a life worthy of you. And then someday….someday when my time comes I hope you will still be waiting for me on the other side. Please wait for me, love.”
The tears streamed down faster now, only to be interrupted by a beep from his watch signaling his flight home was fast approaching. He had only been able to take a few days off, any more might have seemed suspicious. “I have to go now Curt, but I will try to come back sometime and you’ll be in my thoughts always. Rest in peace, love, I’ll see you on the other side. I love you.”
He walked away from the grave, knowing he had left a large chunk of his heart behind.
Cynthia Houston had never broken that unspoken golden rule of being the Director of The A.S.S., don’t get emotionally attached to your agents, before Curtis Mega had come along.
Then again she supposed Curt had been the exception to many rules over the years, so why would that one be any different? She hadn’t been able to help it. Ever since that day in his first few months with the agency that he had shown up to go on a mission sick as fuck, throwing up blood and all sorts of other symptoms that should see him heading for a hospital, and refused to go home. Said the mission was more important. She ended up dragging him back to her house and forcibly caring for him with Susan’s help. She had soon got her Agent fighting fit again but he had somehow wormed his way into her notoriously hardened heart.
She had never really regretted that until right now. That heart of stone was cracking. She had to pretend it wasn’t as she sat at her desk, on the phone with Mi-6 Agent Carson, who had been brought in to tell her exactly what had happened to the agent she thought of as a son.
“We had found the targets and were completing our objectives when we were made. We managed to take out all of the targets but were pursued by their guards. We split up to escape them, planning to meet at the entrance to the compound. When I got there Agent Mega…” The British agent paused, clearly trying to collect himself. “Agent Mega had been shot in the leg and the chest. He was dead. I tried to take his body with me but they were gaining on me and I had to leave him behind. As I was driving away, the building exploded. I didn’t do that so I can only assume they did to cover up some sort of evidence they would have left behind.”
Cynthia hid her sadness and rage behind a professional gaze. She didn’t even know who had killed him. Who she should be going after. “You’re certain he was dead?” She already knew the answer but had to ask. “The shot was straight to his heart and he had no pulse. He was dead. I’m sorry I didn’t see who did it.” Cynthia nodded to herself before speaking again.
“Thank you for your time Agent Carson. I’ll contact you again if I have any more questions.” She stated with finality. “Of Course, Director Houston. I am sorry for your loss. He was a good Agent.” Cynthia hung up. A good agent. Certainly he was, but he was also much more than that. If only she had listened to her gut and not sent him on that mission...
She felt tears stinging her eyes and wiped them away. She refused to cry again. Especially not at work. She had a reputation to maintain.
Despite saying this to herself a few tears slipped down her face as she added ‘Killed in Action’ to Curt’s file.
“This should be more than easy, even for you.”
That’s what Cynthia had said about this mission and to be fair to her, she was right, until it all went wrong anyway.
They had broken in, no problem. Located the targets, no problem. Curt had shot his first target, no problem. Agent Carson had shot his first target, no problem. Curt had shot his second target, no problem. Agent Carson had shot his second target, problem. Major Problem.
To be entirely fair to the British agent, it wasn’t his fault. The target just so happened to move at the last second when he’d already fired his kill shot. As a result the target was still hit but not immediately killed. Curt quickly tried to cover but it was too late. By the time he had buried a bullet in her skull she had already screamed, alerting the guards who had been standing outside the door as their charges discussed deals with each other.
It didn’t take them long to realize where the shots must have been fired from and they were soon headed right for him and Agent Carson.
Curt had been the one to suggest splitting up. Confusing the guards. They would meet at the entrance of the facility. Agent Carson had agreed. Curt had practically flown through the facility, not knowing how close the guards were. He moved as silent as possible so he would hear their approach. He almost sighed with relief as he reached the entrance.
Agent Carson had yet to show so Curt hid and waited. A few minutes later the other Agent ran in. Curt was just coming out of his hiding spot to greet him when he saw a guard enter behind Agent Carson and begin to take aim. Curt ran forward and tackled Carson to the ground, taking a shot in the leg as he did so. He raised his own gun and shot the guard from the ground. He couldn’t get up on his own and waited for the British agent to assist him.
Agent Carson had other plans.
Curt found his gun kicked away from him. He reached for his spare only to have his hand shot, his watch being destroyed along with it. “What are you doing?” He questioned. “I’m sorry. We’ll be too slow. We’ll never make it across the grounds to the car in time with me supporting you. They’re too close.”
Curt was about to shout at him when a gun pointed at him shocked him into silence. “This is for the best. If they catch you, who knows what they would do? This is mercy.” Agent Carson spoke as he took aim at Curt’s heart. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Curt hissed out.
He didn’t receive and answer, only a shot to the chest that sent him careening back.
Agent Carson took a step towards him only to hear the footsteps of the approaching guards and quickly run off, heading straight for their getaway car.
Back inside Curt Mega, lying flat on his back now, opened his eyes. “Guess Cynthia had a point pestering me about wearing a bulletproof vest all these years.” He mumbled to himself. His chest hurt like a bitch but he was alive. However with the guards minutes away at most, no way of escaping, no way of contacting anyone, and no chance of beating all the guards in his position he actually agreed with Agent Carson. Death would be a mercy. If only he could take out some of these bastards with him.
That’s when he saw them. Four large propane tanks. He could see them through the little window in the door to the room next to him. At this level those tanks exploding should take down the second floor too. Collapse the whole build.
Curt struggled and crawled until he reached his kicked gun and got out his spare as well with some difficulty. He crawled to the spot in the room with the most cover he could get to. He took a deep breath and raised both arms with all the strength he could muster. He shot. The window broke. He fired every bullet he had into those propane tanks until he was rewarded with a resounding boom.
One tank exploded and set off a chain reaction taking out the others with the force of a bomb, the last Curt remembered as he tried to duck away was a searing, burning pain washing over his back.
Curt Mega blinked open his eyes, squinting in the harsh light of an unfamiliar hospital room.
He felt sluggish and could tell he was on heavy pain medication and yet he was still in agony. He could barely move. He lifted his head just a little and called out. “Hello? Anyone?” A doctor soon entered the room, smiling at him.
“Good to see you are awake Agent Mega.” He tried to nod but winced. “Are you with A.S.S.?” He guessed. They couldn’t be MI-6. No way Agent Carson sent someone after him. And the doctor’s accent had sounded American. “Not exactly.” The doctor replied. Curt froze. He resisted the urge to sob. All that effort and he had ended up in the hands of the enemy anyway. “I am not your enemy Agent Mega. In fact right now, I might be your only friend.”
Curt raised an eyebrow, taking note of the fact that he must have spoken aloud. He could almost hear Owen scolding him to be more careful. Owen. He cut himself off before he could go down that road, focusing back on the doctor. “My friend. Really? My only friend?” The doctor nodded. “Well considering your agency abandoned you and the organization I work for saved you I would say yes. We’re certainly more your friends than the American Secret Service.”
His agency abandoned him? No, that couldn’t be right. Cynthia wouldn’t…..Curt pushed that aside for now as he also took note of the fact that these people knew who he worked for. That was a question for later though as there was a far more pressing one to ask right now. “And just who do you work for?” He asked, not truly expecting the enemy to give him an answer. Thus he was quite surprised when the doctor turned and gave him a wide smile before speaking.
“We’ve been called many things by many different people Agent Mega, but we like to call ourselves Chimera.”