Chapter Text
A couple years back, you landed yourself a medical position for the militant mercenary group simply known as ‘The Mercs’.
At first you were plagued by all the usual worries that come with a new job, but this time it was particularly about how you’d fit into the unusual environment. But hey, at least the rules were simple; Get the troops up and running again as soon as possible, and don’t ask too many questions. You could do that, you conveyed to the senior staff member on your tour around the makeshift mercenary hospital. Well, ‘makeshift’ makes the place sound like a battered little garage on the edge of a combat zone, which couldn’t have been farther from the truth. This place? Oh, this place was nice…
When you finally got the call to see and move in to the workplace, you were certain you’d managed to get yourself lost when all you found was what appeared to be little more than an, albeit large, bomb shelter trap door. A good bit of time passed before either your own curiosity, desperation, or perhaps plain insanity compelled you to open up one of the bay doors. It was heavy, and it crossed your mind that it might be rusted shut, if not locked altogether, but once it finally did grate open, you descended the ancient stairwell to what would turn out to be one of the best decisions of your life.
---
The mercenaries in question were a diverse, but odd bunch. Not to say most of them didn’t seem to be relatively good people, but there was something about the anti-government, killers for hire mood permeating the air and sterile concrete walls that put you on edge.
As you had been told, your primary duty was to the regular troops, but when a specialist was in, your focus should shift to them. Although you hadn’t gone for any special doctor or surgeon gig in college, the Mercs needed all the help they could get, and your top of the line nursing skills certainly made you a valuable asset to the understaffed and frankly, underskilled, establishment. The troops were by and large forgettable. An endless horde of tired men and women, itching to get back into the fight, but the as for the specialists…
You didn’t have the clearance to learn any identifiers other then their callsigns, particularly since it would be a breach of your agreement to ‘not ask questions’, but you almost felt confident enough to claim one or two as friends. But the only one to really fascinate you, was a man they called Firebreak.
Most came in for more severe bullet wounds or injured limbs that they either couldn’t take care of themselves, or couldn’t have patched up by the team’s Australian combat medic. That considered, the specialists were rarely in, perhaps one a month or so, depending on the individual, but him?
After a while, you were honestly surprised the Slav was still alive.
He spoke rarely, an incredible feat considering he was in roughly twice a month. The few occasions he did say anything, it would almost always be just to crack a joke in his heavily accent voice. Eastern European you could tell, but any guess on a more precise location eluded you. Other then that, as one of the few privileged enough to see him unmasked and without his suit, you could confirm to your curious colleagues that the man was not only built like a front door, but also covered in burn scars and some sparse, fire themed tattoos. All these being important identifiers and some health footnotes of course, but as far as off the record was concerned…
While you couldn’t bring yourself to call him conventialy handsome, he certainly wasn’t bad looking, especially considering his line of work. Must be one hell of a mask, you joked to yourself. His hair was cropped close and his face was fairly clean shaven, all for safety reasons most likely. Meanwhile, his face itself was angular and a little harsh with an odd bump here and there where his nose and brow bone in particular had be previously broken. But over all, it was built solidly as though he could easily shrug off a punch. Though often times, what caught your attention the most were his eyes.
You worried about getting caught staring, but you just couldn’t help it.
They were crystal clear and bright blue, a striking contrast to his dark brown hair, and housed inside narrow, piercing eyelids with creases at the corners that were far too deep for a man his age. The looked almost sagely, as though a man this young, who’d seen too much, had all the answers to all the questions you could possibly ask. Sometimes you felt like he could see right through to your mind, calculating your every feeling and predict your moves. Sometimes you swore you could see a storm of thoughts. His humor, his memories, and if you really focused, his regrets.
“We done here, or what”
You snapped up from your data sheet, mind caught elsewhere in a daydream. Firebreak sat on the examination bed glaring at you, not particularly angry or even really all that annoyed, but certainly ready to leave.
“Uh, yes. Yes, of course, my apologies”, you managed, not quite adjusted to the gruff environment yet.
Firebreak merely grunted at you before redressing the upper portion of his suit, as well as his protective mask before wandering off to the quartermaster for yet another replacement hazard suit.
You watched him disappear around the corner, before turning back to your work. At this point, you were willing to bet money on your ability to put Firebreak’s visit and procedure info into the system blindfolded. Burn treatment, stitches/stitches repair, and above all, radiation detox. You shook your head as you scrolled through week after week of radiation treatments, before closing out the software. One would think that that sort of thing is what his suit was for, but you supposed the suit could only protect from so much, not to mention a single bullet hole was all it took to compromise the suit’s ability to protect. All that, on top of the man’s preference to fight aggressively and wait to replace his badly damaged equipment…
Had you mentioned that you couldn’t believe he was still alive?
But, what could you do? What you always did you supposed; Smile, nod, and give him his treatment. No questions.
---
As your career with the Mercs developed, your usual course took a turn to a new normal. You’d attend to Firebreak when you could, but you were roughly as distributed around the several troops and occasional specialist as the few other nurses and even fewer doctors. All that to say, you were more than a little surprised to be stopped on your way to assist two other nurses with some critical condition troops.
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to see Firebreak”, the oldest of the three or so in house doctors informed you. Your face must have stated your confusion for you, as before you could utter a single sound, the doctor rolled his eyes and shoved a clipboard under your nose. Written in sloppy penmanship on a sticky note was a reminder to inform you that you’d been requested as Firebreak’s primary doctor by the man himself.
You looked up, a little incredulous, “But I’m not a do-”
“You’re good enough for what he needs”, The older man held up a hand and shot you a look that all but told you to get going if you wanted to keep your job. Not one to argue, or at least not too much, you were gone within in minute.
A little perplexed, a few halls and corridors later you walked calmly into the usual room. Firebreak was laying patiently on the exam bed, despite his almost obvious radiation sickness, and was stripped to the waist as usual. He turned his head to make sure the intruder was who he was expecting. You smiled your usual wordless greeting and walked around to his side. He huffed lightly as you picked up his wrist, checking the basic vitals.
“So, the usual?”, you joked, already reaching for the radiation detox shot. Firebreak said nothing, but signed gratefully as you administered the injection.
“Thanks doc”
You almost jumped from the surprise of hearing him speak. “Of course…”, you trailed off for a moment, collecting your thoughts. The curiosity over why he’d requested you to be his primary was eating you up, but at the same time… Was it really your place to ask? Specialists pretty much always get what they want in here, and besides, no questions. And yet… “You know, I’m just a nurse though, right?”
The hint of a smile on the man’s face faltered as he failed to see the problem. “Well… Is ah, ‘figure of speech’, yes?”
“No, you’re right, I just… I saw you requested me as your doctor, and so I thought you sho-”
“Bah!”, he swatted his hand, as though clearing a cloud of smoke, “Could have fooled me. Besides, you are by far favorite. Everyone else, say ‘Ugh, back again Krystof? Blah blah blah’, with you, no word, just smile then”, he mimed a stabbing gesture, accompanied by a hissing sound, “and done!”
You gave a short chuckle, simultaneously not sure how else to react as well as amused at his sudden burst of talkativeness, before muttering some form of passive agreement. Firebreak laid back, closing his eyes and seemingly enjoying the peace as you cleaned the area of skin around the needle prick.
Krystof.
The name bounced around in your head for a long while after the fact. It was rather charming, as far as Slavic names go, though the way it contrasted with his battered appearance and rough personality almost made you want to laugh. But as much as that interested you, you couldn’t forget that Firebreak, pyromaniac and paid killer, gave you a compliment. True, it wasn’t the most romantic thing you’d ever heard, but for some reason it stuck out to you nonetheless.
Holding back a giddy laugh, you took a sip of your beverage as you winded down in your bed for the night. To be honest, you were under the impression that he didn’t like anyone, let alone would he have a “favorite”. With that in mind, how much more special was it that that “favorite”, was you? You put down your cup, smiling serenely as you fell into a lying position.
There was a very probable chance that you were reading too much into this, especially considering the man’s english wasn’t the best, but it was nice to have a little excitement in your life. Ever since you signed on, you’d basically been forced to give up your normal life. You were currently living in the bunker, alongside the other staff, and had almost all communication to friends and family cut off, and what you were allowed was under heavy surveillance anyway.
Most of the male nurses here were nice enough, but none of them could hold a candle to the crazy mess of scar tissue, muscles, and danger that was Firebreak. You pulled the sheets up as you prepared to finally get some sleep. This place must be driving you crazy... You shook your head at yourself, smiling a little as your silly thoughts carried over to happy dreams.
---
Things went on like that for a while. He’d come in for the usual, and naturally the two of you had more opportunities to make conversation. Eventually, he got so comfortable around you that you swore he tried his hand at playful flirting once or twice. He even called you baby once. Though as you were quick to find out, Krystof had a surprising sense of humor, and you could never quite be sure if he was shitting you or not, despite what your growing feelings wanted you to believe.
But as you grew more attached to him, along with it came your worrying.
The more you thought about it, he did come in an awful lot didn’t he? And for radiation treatment, of all things… Sure, through the wonders of modern medicine, that wasn’t nearly as severe an issue as it had been say 20 or so years ago, but that didn’t mean the danger was completely gone either. Add on the fact that he was beginning to have to come in even more, as well as bringing in the odd issue here or there along with him, and you had quite the weight on your shoulders.
A while back, he had started complaining about sharp pains in his hips and knees. You raised an eyebrow, but investigated regardless. It was only when you confirmed that nothing was broken or otherwise damaged, that you began to worry. Could be tendonitis or even early stages of arthritis, you warned. The best thing he could do was take some medical leave and hope that a break from all the extreme running, jumping, and indeed falling that his job required would be enough.
He complained about it everyday, not at all happy about being kept off the field over what he felt to be a fairly trivial matter, but as his primary your advice was trusted and the knowledge that he’d be safe in the bunker for about a week was enough to keep you placated. That is, until you found out that rest wasn’t doing the job.
You were given the go ahead to put him on painkillers, but curing the symptom did little to ease your mind when the cause was still at large.
It wasn’t until he nearly got himself killed in the field that you were allowed to do a full diagnoses. And then the red flags were blinding. The symptoms he carried pointed to a wide array of possible issues, requiring you to spot check for the more dangerous problems first, and what you found made the whole world feel silent.
He’d tested positive for tendonitis and cancer.
Your heart dropped to your stomach when you read the results from the blood test. Leukemia, likely radiation induced. Or so the report read. Sure you could cure it, although it wasn’t as simple and nice as the radiation detox, but it could be fixed for sure. No, the real issue was what this meant. You looked over your shoulder as Krystof laid on the hospital style bed, looking a little bored. The joint pain, you had discovered, predated the cancer meaning that the two together were a strong indicator of a mercenaries worst fear.
His body was failing him, plain and simple. This wasn’t an issue of age or lack of will, but simply the harsh boundaries set by his own genetics. After all when you’re in the business of pushing your body to its limits, it’s inevitable that you’ll hit a wall.
How were you going to tell him? Most Mercs stayed in the business until they either were killed or reached a more appropriate age for retirement, and with good reason. Those were the best ways to exit this life, because if not… Well, if government endorsed ex-military had difficulty adjusting to a civilian life or obtaining work, how much more difficult would it be for an ex-hired gun from a rebel organisation, who also happened to have a deep criminal record?
You looked over the patient info sheets, on the faint hope that the information released to you was somehow mistaken. He’s only 27. Too young to possibly live off of what he’d made so far.
Heaving a quiet sigh, you gathered your papers and exited the small side office. Waiting wasn’t going to make anything easier, and so you did your best to force a calm, professional face. As you approached, Krystof turned to watch and read your expression. His mood lifted as he misinterpreted your passive face for good news. He pushed himself up into a reclined sitting position, doing his best to hide a grimace, as even the simple motion caused him pain nowadays.
The scene reminded you of a crippled animal that had lost the use of its back legs.
Firebreak took a long, but shallow breath as though he was having trouble breathing before. “So doc, tell me good news! When can I get back out there?”
“Not as soon as you think, I’m afraid”, you paused a moment, but conceded that there was no smooth or easy way to say it. Might as well get it out there… “Krystof, you have cancer”. You showed him the report, and he glanced through the medical jargon quietly as you looked on sympathetically, ready to comfort him.
Krystof barked out a laugh, “That’s it?”, he coughed harshly a few times, then chuckled a little as he met your despondent eyes. “Why so sad? Even I know cure exists, so no worries!”
For the thousandth time since you had your first interactions with him, you stood taken aback with surprise. How could he be so nonchalant? Maybe he just wasn’t aware of the implications yet… “Yes, but it’s still a process. Besides, I’m worried about your overall deteriorating health”, you gestured to his legs, then pulled the clipboard back to yourself, flipping through the notes to find some evidence for your argument. But shortly after you sighed and gave up, deciding instead rely on charisma first, and complex medical terms only if necessary as you looked back at him, “Just… Have you considered maybe going easy out there?”
The big man fixed you with a look of mock hurt, “Easy? Deteriorating? Does this look like deteriorating to you?” Before you could get a word in, he flexed his entire bare torso, arms meeting in a U-shape in front of him, in a pose not unlike one often seen at bodybuilding competitions. Caught off guard, but not unpleasantly so, you took in the display and had to admire his physique. It seemed any trace of fat had been purged off of him from the cancer, leaving nothing but coarse body hair and perfectly defined muscle.
Krystof smiled smugly as you tried, but failed, to not stare. He pulsed his pecs, once each, before finally relaxing. “See baby? All good!”, he slowly lowered himself back to lay on the bed, gritting his teeth but closing his eyes in an attempt to seem relaxed, “Don’t worry pretty face, otherwise you start look like me, heh”
“Right. Well. I-I’ll get the treatment plan set up for you…”, you turned on a dime, desperate to go meditate on what just happened somewhere quiet. You stopped. “Oh, and you can go”, you looked back to make sure he’d heard you. Krystof gave a quick thumbs up, but otherwise didn’t move, a contented smile gracing his rough features.
---
As you’d promised, the process of curing the cancer took the better part of a month before Firebreak was free and clear. During that time, he’d lost most of his hair and a small amount of muscle mass. Although he wouldn’t admit it, you could tell he was a little bothered by it all, but you weren’t sure how to help.
You supposed all you could do was offer your company, but what really surprised you was how receptive Krystof was to the attention.
Once progress was underway to curing his cancer, he was usually too weak to do much other then rest in his assigned ward. Whenever you could catch a break, you spent your time with him. You did anything you could together, with sometimes you reading him the local news or the latest mission report, and sometimes the two of you just sitting together in silence. On particularly good days, he’d do his best to hold a conversation with you, which you were eager to participate in.
At first, he asked a lot about you. Some basic things like where you were from and what was your family like, but eventually it got a little more personal. He asked what you liked to do in your free time and if you liked working here. But it was when he started telling you about himself that you suspected something.
At that point in time, he’d finally completed the taxing process of cancer treatment and was only being held for recovery. You came in to give him the news, barely able to contain your excitement. You spent a good hour or two together afterwards, with you doing the majority of the talking, but this time mostly because he let you.
“Well, I’m sure the others will be glad to hear you’re back”, you squeezed his hand, smiling brightly.
Firebreak’s cool smile faltered slightly, but he held your gaze for a few silent moments. Before you could ask after the matter, he slowly started up what would be one of the longest, yet most important monologues you’d ever heard him give. He started small, admitting that he wasn’t too well liked among the other specialists. Appreciated and begrudgingly respected? A little, sure, but always from a distance. To them, he was fairly expendable. After all, he was the pyrotech. If the enemy didn’t kill him on the front lines, then his equipment would eventually, meaning it was probably not a good idea to get too attached.
You tried to offer some sympathy, largely unsure why he was telling you this, but he brushed the comments off, uninterested, as he continued. One thing led to another as he directed the conversation from his squad mates, to his start up in the Merc corp, all the way back to his “family life” in the Czech Republic. The more and more he divulged to you about his personal life, the more it dawned on you what was really happening here.
His face went dark, his voice steady and serious as he went on about his troubled childhood, from the day his mother left, to his sister’s abuse at their father’s hands, and finally to the murder he commited, accidental as it was.
Clearly this was more then the ramblings of an exhausted medical patient. He trusted you. But this… This was somehow deeper then just “trust”. Perhaps even more so than that which he shared with his fellow soldiers. Because, this was a trust of character. It was easy to trust the trained killers on the field to not shoot you in the back over any battlefield loot, but trusting someone with who you were, with all your secrets, even the darkest ones… felt almost unthinkable.
You sat in complete silence, trying to process everything as Krystof finished his speech. He looked over to you, trying to read your emotions quickly, before looking away.
“I uh-, sorry, I guess I got carried away”, he rubbed at the dusting of fuzz that was returning to his head. Krystof frowned, looking legitimately disappointed as you continued to stare in contemplative silence. Truth be told, you weren’t really sure what to say after all that, but at least a part of you was aware enough to know you needed to come up with something.
“I understand if you do-”
“Sounds like the bastard deserved it”, you blurted out. Now it was his turn to stare wordlessly. You were certain he wasn’t sure what he was expecting you to say, but apparently it wasn’t that. Before you could try and smooth over your abrupt response with meaningless words, Firebreak cut you off, suddenly growing excited.
“Right? Finally, someone agrees!”, Krystof broke into a genuine smile. He pushed himself up a little, suppressing any expression of the lingering pain his hips and knees were giving him. “I knew I liked you, but I never knew I could this much!”, he pointed at you playfully, but smiled sincerely.
You laughed quietly, somewhere between shy and surprised, but didn’t try to argue with him. After all, you’d liked him for a while and if speaking the truth was all it took to get him to reciprocate your feelings, even just a little, it was worth it. You looked away, rubbing at your cheeks, while Firebreak did a quick survey of the area, a smug grin spreading across his face.
Once he’d assured no one was around, he made you an offer. “You know what? We should have some fun. Celebrate, yes?”
“What?”, you froze, wondering what he was implying.
“Come on, I want to show you something”, he tossed off the thin sheet and spun, jumping onto the ground. He grit his teeth from the impact, but pulled you out of your seat and urged you to follow regardless, ready for anything in his boots, pants, and old t-shirt thanks to the Merc’s decision not to invest in any sort of patient ware.
Whether you were exhausted or simply caught up in Krystof’s energetic attitude, you found yourself willing to see where he’d take you, trying but failing to suppress your laughter l, feeling for the first time in ages like a teen again. You wound through the halls together, avoiding as much night duty personnel as possible, until finally you reached a thick, official looking blast door, just big enough for single file entry. Firebreak pulled out a heavily damaged looking keycard from a lanyard attached to his belt loop and swiped it. The door opened immediately, with no sirens or other signs of breach to been seen.
“This way”, Krystof turned back, encouraging you to finally leave the only place you’d known for the past two years.
You hesitated for a moment, looking between the night sky beyond the open door and the dour, white cement hall behind you. Though you’d never admit it aloud, this was one of your wildest fantasies come true. Here you were, running off into the night hand in hand with the odd yet charming mercenary of your dreams, and yet suddenly all you could think of was whether or not this was actually a good idea.
After all, how much did you really know about the enigmatic “Firebreak”? You knew he was stubborn, had something of a short temper, and was easily twice your size. Besides, these were all just surface issues, dancing around the most glaring problem. Sure he was nice enough to you, but the truth was... he’s a murderer. Even if you ignore the manslaughter committed by a child who hardly understood the element he was wielding, the fact still stood. Gun for hire, mercenary, contract killer… all of these were just niceties to hide the unpleasant truth.
Krystof looked back at you, standing in a halo of moonlight, bright blue eyes boring into yours. His excited expression calmed down, as though he’d activated those same mind reading like abilities that drew you to him in the first place. He took a few steps towards you, but something compelled you to stand still and let him. “Hey… Is alright, don’t worry. I protect you”, he smiled confidently and knocked twice on his chest, before having to cough rather harshly. “Well, hopefully heh”. He smiled genuinely, and offered you a calloused paw, “Come on”
You blinked and shook a little, as though you’d caught a chill. Maybe you really had gone crazy from this place, or maybe you were just so hungry for this kind of human interaction, and with such a strapping man nonetheless, that with little more than a second thought, you grabbed his hand as he dragged you into the night.
If it hadn’t been for the celestial light overhead, you wouldn’t have had a single clue where the two of you were heading, but as you surveyed the area in the dim night lighting you found yourself already enjoying the experience. Warm, night air breezed across your face and through your hair as the two of you skulked across a beat up parking lot, purposely kept in disrepair by the Mercs as cover for their subterranean outpost. Finally you came to a hole in the tall, chain link fence atop a short, cement barricade. Krystof turned and easily picked you up, lifting you over the half wall, before vaulting himself over with a suppressed hiss.
“Almost there”, he huffed, a little winded from running like this after being bed ridden for so long.
Beyond the base perimeter, miles and miles of undulating grassy hills continued as far as you could see. Fireflies glittered here and there in the summer air, lighting the way as Krystof helped you up a huge, grass covered slope. The climb was a little taxing, although it seemed to be more so for Krystof’s lower joints. But the payoff? To say it was worth it, was an understatement.
At the top was a small plateau, perfect for laying out a blanket, though the grass was certainly lush enough for there to be no need. You looked up to see the full moon hanging large and bright in the center of the cloudless sky, amid an infinite sea of stars and nebulas. Looking around, you found there was even more right here on earth. Grass and a few sparsely distributed trees swayed in the gentle breeze for several miles like a great, black ocean with smatterings of fireflies, like small fallen stars spread throughout. Finally, in the distance gleamed the lights of a city. Beautiful in its urban way, but tiny like a gem and almost unnoticeable on the very edge of the horizon.
With a soft gasp, you fell sitting to the grass, arms back to brace you. Never before had you seen anything so magnificent, let alone anything that made you feel so alive.
Firebreak crashed into the grass beside you, heaving a heavy but relieved sigh. He looked up at you, far more interested in your wonderstruck expression then any of the beautiful scenery around him. Finally, you collapsed back, lying beside him with your eyes firmly fixated on the untainted galaxy above you.
“See? Worth it!”, Krystof said proudly, panting about as much as you had been before your breath was taken away. You nodded wordlessly, mouth slightly agape as you continued to take in all that lay around you. He turned to lay on his back, allowing you to enjoy the moment, until you were ready to talk. In the meantime, admiring the smile he’d help bring to your face was enough.
You huffed a quiet laugh, before finally turning your gaze to the man beside you, thousand watt smile still beaming from your moonlit face, “How did you find this place?”
“What, you think all I do is shoot and sleep? I have personal life you know”, he feigned a look of condescension, but couldn’t keep it up for long before being infected by your elated mood. You just looked so… happy.
Your eyes flicked away for a second, breaking the trance as Krystof realised he had been staring. He coughed into his fist, grateful for a suitable excuse to look away. “Besides, I use do this all the time with my sister”, he gestured to the stars, but no sooner had the sentence left his mouth then he questioned how the statement sounded aloud. “Eh, not that I think of you as sister… I just thou- Er, what I-”
You watched him flounder for a second, a small part of you almost wanting to let him go on. It was just so rare to see the Krystof “Firebreak” Hejek act nervous, that you were almost expecting it to start snowing too. Instead, you gently took his closest hand with your own, fixing him with a silent, calming smile. After all this time spent at his bedside, by now you had a rare gift for almost always being able decipher what he was trying to say.
Krystof went quiet at your touch, and silenter still as you sat up, soft eyes never leaving his war torn face. He watched you bend slowly to lean over him, before smiling a rare smile in relief. Of course you knew what he wanted to say. Just like always.
He moved to meet you halfway, but fell back into the grass with a growl, hands shooting to clutch his right hip joint. Firebreak swore frustratedly in his own language. Mostly thanks to the nearly unrelenting pain as of late, but also for foolishly not realizing how hard he’d pushed himself with all the running and climbing out here with you tonight. His instinct were getting soft from all the dotting. This is the kind of short sightedness that would get him killed out on the batt-
All thoughts were purged from his mind, leaving a blank, receptive slate to the rush of wild emotions he experienced as your soft lips met his rough ones. You held it for a moment, as he allowed the sensation that had since been so foreign to him engulf his entire world, lighting up every nerve with a fire of ecstasy that he hadn’t known was achievable, let alone by someone as undeserving of happiness as himself.
When it was over, you pushed away gently, hand on his broad chest. “I’m sorry”, your voice barely a whisper as you looked at him sadly, with an expression that told him you weren’t saying that for the kiss.
His utter shock melted into a look of gentle understanding. None of what was happening to him was your fault. If anything, if it wasn’t for you, he’d have been forced into retirement long ago.
“Don’t be”
Krystof wrapped one arm around your lower back, pulling you closer onto him, and tangled the other in your hair, bringing you firmly, and yet gently, back into a kiss. And, for just a moment, the world was silent.